by T. A. White
"Why? What's in this for you?"
Keel's expression became thoughtful as he considered his words.
Tate glanced in the direction of his companion. The man wasn't much older than Tate. He was average height and with his loose robes it was difficult to get an idea of his body. They could hide a form softened from a lifetime spent poring over books and relics, or it could be kept in top shape through rigorous exercise.
His hair was brown, and his face plain. He was the sort to blend in wherever he went, unremarkable except for his eyes. They were sharp and intelligent—and also confused.
It seemed he couldn't understand why his grand master acted so diffident with Tate.
That fact tickled her inner humor. What would this guardian say if he knew she was one of the very people he worshiped? He'd probably be horrified.
"You're one of the few outsiders the Silva respect," Keel said slowly. "Your actions with the tunnels near the swamplands impressed them. They know you'll deal fairly, regardless of what you find."
"We know why the Silva want me there. That still doesn't explain what you want out of this," Tate said, her tone borderline rude.
The guardian at Keel's side stiffened. Ah, there he was. He didn't like when the grand master was disrespected. She couldn't tell if that was because he was a true believer or if he was simply loyal.
If he was a true believer, he'd either try to eradicate Tate if he ever found out the truth or fall at her feet in mindless worship. Both scenarios would cause trouble.
"You're honorable. I know if they send you, any history between us will not be used as a reason to damage my sect further," Keel said.
Tate's smile lacked humor. It was grim and self-deprecating. "That's an awful lot of faith you have in me."
He inclined his head. "Faith you've earned."
Tate studied him, trying to decide whether to trust him or not. A man in Keel's position didn't get there by being nice. She doubted it had much to do with his faith either. What scheme was he cooking up, and did it have the potential to cause her or those she loved harm?
"What's this favor?" she asked reluctantly.
He gestured toward the house. "May we go inside to discuss?"
Tate pulled the door open then stepped inside. Might as well. She was curious now.
CHAPTER THREE
Tate led the way into a foyer with dark wood floors and trim. It should have felt oppressive. Instead, the natural light from the tall windows beside the door and the circular one above brightened the space, instilling a feeling of welcome and history. The entire house was designed with views of the lower city and harbor in mind. Most rooms had multiple windows overlooking the vista.
To one side was a staircase with a dark wooden banister leading to the two floors above. Tate glanced up, conscious of Dewdrop peeking over the side, his expression open and curious.
His nickname suited his baby face. His skin was smoother and younger than his apparent age would suggest. She'd met his family and knew even when he gained in years, he would still look decades younger than he actually was. His given name was Daniel, but he had adopted the nickname she'd bestowed on him during their first meeting, to the point where he was known to most only as Dewdrop.
He was the little brother she'd never had, irritating and sarcastic at the worst of times but with a fierce loyalty. He was ready and willing to face any threat at her side.
Today, his brown hair curled away from his head in odd licks. A crease on his cheek and sleep-heavy eyes revealed he'd just woken up. He must have gotten curious when the bearcat crouched at his side brought news of their guests.
A frown crossed his face at the sight of the two men beside her. Recognition flashed, followed by dislike and distrust. The grand master's thirst for power and deliberate lack of oversight involving his disciples had nearly caused Tate's death, resulting in a monster being put back into the world. Dewdrop wasn't the most forgiving of individuals and could hold a mean grudge.
To Tate's relief he held his tongue, moving his hand so his palm was face up, silently asking if she needed his help.
Tate jerked her head in the slightest negative, flicking her fingers to indicate she was fine and to not interrupt.
His question and trust filled her with warmth. Her makeshift family might tease and torment, but when outsiders intruded, they closed ranks faster than the fishmongers could shell oysters.
Dewdrop didn't argue, disappearing back into his section of the house, with Night a reluctant shadow behind him.
Tate gestured for the other two to step into the sitting room, not even waiting for them to take a seat or make themselves comfortable before she folded her arms across her chest and fixed Keel with a hard stare. "We're inside. Talk."
Keel showed no sign of intimidation at her abrupt words, moving to one of the tall windows and peering out with curiosity. "Your views are quite impressive."
"Uh huh." He hadn't come here to talk about her views.
"You're quite rude," Keel's companion stated.
She didn't bother acknowledging the guardian. He wasn't the primary threat in the room.
Keel unfolded one hand from where he'd clasped them in his sleeves and made a calming motion to his companion. "It's fine, Vale."
Tate struggled for patience. Every moment she spent here was a moment she wasn't preparing for her journey.
"You could have settled anywhere," Keel said, finally addressing her. "I know the Emperor would have personally assured you a spot in the Upper. Why didn't you take it?"
"Is that why you're here? To question my housing choice?" Tate asked.
Keel didn't speak, watching her with an inscrutable expression.
She sighed. Playing the game seemed like the path of least resistance for now. "I like the views and I have business in both parts of the city. This place gives me easy access to both."
"A foot in both worlds, yet part of neither," Keel murmured.
"If that's all, I'm very busy," Tate said, trying to hurry him up.
"We've been asked to provide a representative for the mediation since some in our sect were among those responsible," Keel said. "Vale was chosen to represent us during the negotiations."
"He's to be your sacrificial pawn?" Keel should be the one answering for what happened. Not one of his underlings. "What will you do if they decide the blood debt can only be satisfied with his death?"
"Those of us who remain were not responsible for what happened," Vale stated emphatically.
Tate stared at the other man, seeing the same ideological arrogance responsible for sacrificing untold numbers of children so they could raise a monster.
"It won't go over well if you send someone like him." Tate jerked her chin at Vale.
He stiffened. "What does that mean?"
Tate didn't bother answering.
Keel sighed. "Vale, if you could step outside for a moment. I have something to discuss with Lady Fisher."
Despite his frustration, Vale didn't argue, stepping outside the room without further protest and pulling the door shut behind him.
Tate waited.
"I need to ask you a favor," Keel said.
"So you've said." Tate shifted her weight to one side and folded her arms.
He nodded. "Please take Vale with you when you leave for Silvain."
Tate didn't speak for several long moments as she tried to come up with a suitable response. "You seem to be confused. We're not friends. I'm not obligated to do you any favors. You’re partially responsible for fostering the climate of hate which caused this current predicament. You might not have been the leader, but you stood by while those responsible spouted their filth and carried out horrendous acts. From what I've seen, he doesn't seem too different from the guardians who tried to kill me last time."
"You're right, and I'll have to live with my role in those events for the rest of my life. I've failed the basic tenets of my faith, failed my Saviors. I can only try to make up for my shortcomings as we
move forward."
Tate didn't say anything as he rubbed his hands together.
"Vale is young, but he's smart. I hope time in your presence can guide him onto a better path," Keel said carefully.
Tate stiffened.
"He doesn't know about me." The words were an emphatic statement, as if by saying them with enough conviction it would make them true.
"He does not."
"I'm not telling him. You won't either." Tate's voice was firm. This was one thing she wouldn't budge on.
No one knew she was one of the Saviors. She was very careful about that. There were those who might suspect but without proof they weren't likely to act. Even Ryu and Thora only knew she'd been one of the sleepers. She didn't plan on letting anyone else in on the secret either. There was too much of a chance things would change once it was out. People would look at her differently. Treat her differently. She liked her life. She didn’t want anything to mess it up.
"That is your choice," Keel agreed.
Tate relaxed slightly, her guard still up. "What do you hope to get from this?"
"He will learn a different way, a better way, from watching you and spending time in your presence," Keel said, his words stark.
Tate gritted her teeth. What he was asking was impossible. He was placing faith in her abilities where she didn't necessarily deserve it. Maybe it was because of his regard for the Saviors—but she wasn't them. Not anymore.
A refusal hovered on her lips. She hesitated as she took in Keel’s state. He looked tired and worn, older, as if now Vale wasn't there he no longer had to pretend.
She couldn't tell if he was trying to manipulate her in some way or if he truly wanted to atone for his inaction.
A thought occurred to her. "If the guardians are sending someone, does that mean the Black Order is too?"
Surprise filled Keel’s expression before he nodded. "Of course."
Tate groaned.
Those in the Order made Vale look sympathetic. The guardians at least professed to believe in something higher. The only thing the Order believed in was money and human superiority over all other creatures. They thought it made them above the law and made it their mission to cull all remnants of the creators’ creatures from the population lest they infect everyone else with their abominations.
Tate grimaced. "Just what I needed."
Keel reached inside his robes and pulled out a leather-bound journal before holding it out to Tate. She took it, flipping through it briefly. It was old, the paper inside yellowed and brittle.
"What's this?"
"One of the many journals Jaxon Kuno kept in the years after the Creators were driven from power," Keel said. "It's a copy, the original doesn't leave our vaults, but I thought it might be helpful considering where you're going."
Tate looked up, a question on her face.
"He was known to have a link to the Silva and spent many of his later years out there. Some of his experiences are written here." Keel nodded at the journal in Tate's hands.
She closed it and considered him. She didn't want the responsibility for Vale, nor did she think he would learn anything from her.
Still, the chance to learn something about one of the Saviors was too good to pass up. Add in the fact she’d be able to keep an eye on Vale and perhaps mitigate any damage he might inspire, and she was torn.
"He can come with us," Tate said reluctantly.
A smile spread across Keel's face.
"I'm doing this for me, to make my job easier," Tate told him before he could get any ideas. "He gets into trouble or angers the Silva, and he's on his own. I'm not getting between him and their claws."
"I understand and would never expect you to," Keel said.
Tate didn't say anything to that. Somehow, she had a feeling she was going to end up regretting this.
*
The distinctive form of the Marauder loomed out of the water like a great hulking beast, growing closer with every second as the men around her rowed, their oars dipping in and out of the water in steady time.
The sun was just beginning to set. There would still be a few hours left until the ship cast off.
The journey ahead brought back memories of the last time she'd seen the Marauder, only then she'd been rowing away from it with no intention of ever returning. What a difference a little time made.
Tate drew her heavy coat closer, huddling into it for warmth as water slapped against the side of the boat and the chill bite of ocean spray against her face reminded her of one of the many reasons she'd left the pirate life in the first place.
The city might still be clinging to the last dregs of warmth before winter fully set in, but the ocean had long since given up the battle. Any time spent in its watery embrace would lead to hypothermia very quickly.
Hate the cold, Ilith griped at her, curling tighter against her back.
How can you be cold when I'm the one ascendant? Tate asked silently. It wasn't like Ilith had a body to feel. The complaint supported Tate's impression the dragon could still sense and feel the world around her despite being a tattoo.
Ilith didn't respond, whether because she'd heard or not, was anyone's guess. The dragon had been groggy and grouchy since waking. She'd been especially unhappy to learn Tate had left her horde behind and had no intention of returning to retrieve it.
"Remind me again how I let myself be talked into this," Tate said, staring up at the Marauder.
Dewdrop shifted beside her, his expression showing a distinct lack of enthusiasm. "The silver-tongued devil got to you."
Tate snorted as Dewdrop used her own words against her, having called him that exact thing a time or two in the past. It was a surprisingly apt description.
"You didn't have to come," she pointed out.
He was hunched forward, his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of a coat similar to hers. "I wasn't going to let you two leave me behind."
His head shifted slightly as he eyed the sailors behind them. He leaned closer. "Especially considering your history with these people."
"Ryu said most of the crew are new. The troublemakers are gone."
He bent a censorious look on her. "You know that's not what I meant."
Tate pressed her lips together, choosing not to acknowledge him. Her history with the crew of the Marauder was complicated. The captain, Jost, had been the one to find her where she'd woken up, alone and afraid, with no memory of her past. She'd been little more than a feral animal when he'd forced her onto his ship.
She might have been more grateful for his actions had she not discovered he'd done it because he knew she was one of the dragon-ridden. The revelation had thrown every conversation she’d ever had with him into question. How could she trust him if their entire relationship was based on the fact he’d been the spy responsible for reporting her actions to Ryu?
Jost’s betrayal had cut deep because she’d considered the crew her friends and thought they’d felt the same for her. She’d chosen to forgive and forget, knowing in the eyes of Jost and the rest of the senior members of the crew, they'd been doing their duty to their empire. Tate could understand that.
She'd been an unknown entity, possessing a rare and powerful dragon. It made sense to keep an eye on her to make sure she wasn't a danger to others.
"Anyway, what's with the robe?" Dewdrop asked, tilting his head at Vale sitting behind them.
Tate could feel the guardian’s gaze burning into the back of her head.
"I promised the Grand Master we'd get him to Sylvain safely."
"Did he forget to ask us to bring him back?" Dewdrop asked.
"I told him that was outside my abilities to guarantee."
"Finally, a glimmer of sense in that brain of yours," Dewdrop muttered as the ship to shore boat pulled up alongside the Marauder.
Tate didn't bother dignifying that with a response, standing and grabbing hold of the rope ladder dangling down.
She was up and over the side of the ship in minutes,
Dewdrop and the rest of their party following. There was a cry of upset when Night scaled the side of the boat, leaving gouge marks behind in the wood.
"Tate, get your people under control," Darren shouted. Jost's first mate was a big man who rarely smiled. Today was no exception.
Tate voiced an assent before sending a quelling look Night's way. The bearcat was unrepentant as he prowled the length of the deck, dodging busy sailors preparing to get underway.
"Not even on board five minutes and already causing trouble," Ryu observed from above.
Tate glanced up at where he perched in the rigging. He swung down, his body graceful as he seemed to fly through the air before landing lightly on the deck.
"This is nostalgic," Tate said, fingering the casual shirt he was wearing. His outfit blended with those of the crew. Simple pants and a loose, long-sleeved shirt under a sturdy, waterproof jacket, nothing like the more formal city wear she'd grown used to seeing him in.
"Have to fit the part," Ryu replied with a crooked smile.
She lifted an eyebrow. "And what part is that? Are you the pirate captain's advisor or the Emperor's advocate?"
She'd really like to know.
"Why can't I be both?"
Hmm. She narrowed her eyes at him. He was playing some type of game. She just didn't know what it was yet.
Two men caught Tate's attention and she stiffened. "Please tell me those two aren't who I think they are."
The two men in question were an oasis of calm amidst the bustle of the ship. Their postures were military-straight and the shiny buttons on their coal black coats practically glowed.
Prefect Ward and Diorite James observed the goings on with impartial gazes, seemingly untouched by the furor.
Ryu glanced at them and sighed. "I'd like to, but I'm afraid it's exactly what it appears."
"What are they doing here?"
Ryu tipped his chin to where Vale had stepped on the ship, looking around, ill at ease. "For the same reason he is, I imagine."
Tate snagged Ryu's elbow and pulled him further away from the men. "The guardian is here because his grand master is surprisingly capable of calling in favors he hasn't earned."