Stormcaster

by Cinda Williams Chima

  In order to make a plan, they needed more information. Hence their current mission—looking for one of the empress’s soldiers they could question.

  As they closed in on the couple, Jenna could make out more of the conversation. The male wanted to mate. The female most definitely did not. Jenna caught the words princess and empress and treason.

  Were there princesses on the Desert Coast as well as empresses?

  The female didn’t look like a princess, from Jenna’s limited experience. Both parties were dressed in the garb of the empress’s soldiers, though neither had the smudgy glow she’d seen before.

  All at once, the male charged at the female, knocking her backward. Pinning her to the ground, he began tearing at her clothing.

  See? Mating.

  “No,” Jenna said. “This is not how humans mate. This is wrong.”

  The female sent the male flying and scooped up her knife. She managed to draw blood before the male had her down again. Then he had something in his hand—something that glittered in the moonlight. Her knife.

  “Cas. Stop them. Hurry.”

  The dragon folded his wings and plummeted earthward. Jenna knew from experience how that looked from below. They’d been flying so high, they were all but invisible to human eyes, especially at night. Now they descended so fast that they would be on their prey before the male and female knew what hit them.

  Jenna scented blood as the dragon’s claws sank into the male’s back. He screeched, kicked, and flailed while Cas struggled to lift him into the air. Jenna could feel the dragon’s heart pounding against her chest, feel his blazing heat beneath the scales.

  The female stared up at them, eyes wide, blood spattered across her face.

  Jenna?

  “Kill the male. Catch the female.”

  With one final effort, Cas swooped off the mountain and let his cargo go. With that weight gone, they rocketed skyward.

  By now, the female had retrieved her sword and was making a run for it. Cas circled around and drove her back with torrents of flame. She threw her knife, dove, rolled, scrambled, then, finally, made her stand like a warrior, feet slightly apart, sword at the ready.

  Cas landed heavily on the ledge a short distance away, folding his wings as best he could. He swung his head toward the female—the girl—breathing in her scent. She raised her sword in warning.

  Jenna slid to the ground, into the shelter of Cas’s wing. Then stepped out from behind it so that she could get a better look at their captive.

  The empress’s warrior stared at Jenna as if she’d emerged from the dragon’s bunghole. The girl’s hair was the color of winter-seared wheat. It had been braided, but now was mostly hanging free around her battered face. She was tall, muscular, and fierce. Her curved blade was the kind carried by the empress’s bloodsworn.

  “Drop the sword,” Jenna said in Common.

  The soldier flinched, as if she hadn’t expected human speech. She swiped blood from her face with her sleeve, glanced to either side as if looking for options, then finally let her sword fall to the ground at her feet. Chin up and defiant, she met Jenna’s eyes.

  There was something familiar about her that raised gooseflesh on the back of Jenna’s neck. A fist of memory squeezed her heart and drove the air from her lungs.

  Wolf, Cas said, before Jenna could put it into words.

  Yes. This girl had the same wolfish aspect as the healer Adam Wolf. While the healer had smoldered, this wolf burned hot. She was wilder, more savage.

  Cornered wolf. And then, nudging her back into the shelter of his wing, added, Wolf pack.

  Out of the darkness they came, silent as smoke, with their thick gray fur and brilliant, intelligent eyes. Their hot breath froze on their muzzles and ruffs and their massive paws barely dented the earth.

  With her attention focused on Cas, the warrior did not seem to notice the wolves all around her.

  The wolves gazed at Jenna and Cas for what seemed to be a long time, then turned as one and melted into the darkness. Jenna, awestruck, stared after them.

  By now, the warrior was growing restless. “This is your meeting,” she snapped, in Common. “What do you want?”

  “Who are you?” Jenna said, the words awkward in her mouth after the ease of communicating mind-to-mind with Cas.

  “I’m Alyssa Gray,” the soldier said. “Captain.” She spoke in a clipped fashion, like a prisoner of war identifying herself.

  “Who was that?” Jenna pointed toward the canyon with her chin.

  “Quill Bosley. Lieutenant.”

  “You both fight for the empress?”

  With a flicker of hesitation, Gray said, “Yes. I am—was—his commanding officer.”

  “Why was he attacking you, then?”

  “Because he does not understand the chain of command,” the wolf girl said.

  “What?”

  Gray rolled her eyes. “Because he has the talent of a turd floating in an ego the size of the ocean.”

  Jenna laughed, which took her by surprise. Stop it, she thought. This is the enemy. You must interrogate her, and then you must kill her, so that she doesn’t give you away.

  Meanwhile, Gray had been studying Jenna with equal interest. “So—you were riding the . . . uh . . . dragon?” she said, as if choosing her words carefully.

  Tell her my name is Cas.

  “She doesn’t need to know that,” Jenna said, in their silent speech.

  “Yes,” she said aloud.

  “I didn’t know that the empress had . . . a flying army,” Gray said, clearly fishing for information. “How many dragons do you have?”

  Tell her people don’t “have” dragons.

  “Let me handle this.”

  Gray was looking from one of them to the other as if she suspected that she was being left out of something.

  “I am more of a scout,” Jenna said.

  “Who are you scouting for?”

  It was striking how quickly Gray turned the conversation, as if she were used to questioning prisoners, issuing orders and having them obeyed.

  “I ask the questions, you answer,” Jenna said. “Isn’t that how it works in an interrogation?”

  “Is that what this is?”

  “Where are you from?” Jenna said. “You’re not from around here.”

  Neither are you.

  Jenna lost patience. “Cas.”

  Cas straightened his neck, bringing his head to within a few feet of Gray, so that his fuming breath swirled around her. The captain skipped back a step as Jenna caught the scent of scorched wool.

  “It seems . . . very well trained,” Gray said, then leapt back again to avoid a gout of flame.

  Trained? Cas’s scales rattled as he bristled.

  “We’re partners,” Jenna said. “Cas is sensitive about what you call the ‘chain of command.’ Now, where are you from?”

  “I’m . . . from the wetlands,” Gray said. “That’s what they call it here. From the mountains in the north.”

  “The north?” Jenna’s heart accelerated. The healer was a wolf from the north, too. “What are you doing here?”

  “I was captured in the fall of Chalk Cliffs,” Gray said. “The empress brought me back here and drafted me into her army.”

  “You don’t shine like the others.”

  Gray licked her lips. “No. I don’t shine like the others.”

  “How many of you are there?”

  “Prisoners, officers, or troops?” She spoke with precision, like a soldier.

  “How many troops?”

  “Tens of thousands,” Gray said. “More every day.”

  “What does the empress intend to do with these troops?” Jenna said. “What is the plan?”

  Gray cocked her head, clearly puzzled that the empress’s scout was asking a soldier about the empress’s plans. “The empress hasn’t shared that with me,” she said.

  “If you had to take a guess,” Jenna persisted. “What do you think she is planning
?”

  “If I had to take a guess,” Gray said, “I would say that she plans to conquer the Seven Realms.”

  “When?”

  “Soon.”

  Jenna pulled a scroll from her carry bag. “Sit,” she said, gesturing toward a flat spot on the ledge.

  Warily, Gray sat cross-legged. Jenna sat across from her and unrolled the scroll on the stone between them, anchoring the corners with pebbles.

  Cas extended his body into a semicircle around them and promptly went to sleep. He still tired easily when forced to fly for long periods or when carrying extra weight.

  Gray kept peering nervously at the dragon coiled around them. Jenna touched her shoulder and pointed to the map she’d drawn.

  It was an aerial view of Celesgarde. It was all there—the wharves, the buildings, the marble stump that was the beginnings of a palace. The rows of tents represented with little triangles.

  Gray stared down at it, then raised her eyes to Jenna. “This is fine work,” she said, as if surprised. “Did you draw this?”

  “Yes.” Truth be told, Jenna was rather proud of it.

  No. Don’t be taking a liking to this girl. She is the enemy.

  “I need to know where the empress stays,” Jenna said, running her fingers over the harbor front. “Is she in the marble palace yet, or is she sleeping somewhere else?”

  Gray straightened, understanding dawning on her face. “You don’t work for the empress at all, do you? Who do you work for?”

  “I work for myself,” Jenna said.

  “You’re planning to attack the capital,” Gray said, unable to hide her excitement.

  “I am planning to attack the empress,” Jenna said. “If she is in the capital, then I will attack the capital.”

  “Why?” Gray said, leaning forward, her hands on her knees. “Why are you doing this on your own?”

  “I’m not on my own,” Jenna said. “I’m with Cas. And I have my reasons. Now,” she said, meaning to put an end to the counterinterrogation, “tell me, Captain: Why do I see a wolf in you?”

  It was a tactic that had worked well on the healer, and it did not disappoint now. Gray folded a bit, as if she’d taken a hard punch to the gut, and her face turned the color of ashes. She took two hard breaths, clenched her fists, then looked up at Jenna.

  Once again, the wolf was cornered.

  “What—what do you mean?” Gray said.

  “I fly with dragons,” Jenna said. “You run with the wolves.”

  Gray was doing her best to look baffled, but it came off as slightly nauseous.

  “You see, I’ve met a wolf like you before. We met in Ardenscourt, but he was from the north.”

  Gray’s head came up. “What do you mean, someone like me?” she said. “Do you mean that he looked like me?”

  Jenna studied her critically. “No, not really. He was a red-haired healer, a lone wolf with wounded eyes. He wore a snake pendant—”

  Gray came up on her knees and gripped Jenna’s shoulders, her face a battleground between heartbreak and hope. “A healer? A red-haired healer?” she all but shouted, so that Cas raised his head in alarm. “What was his name?”

  Gray was asking questions again, but Jenna didn’t care.

  “He had many names,” Jenna said. “He called himself Adam Freeman. I called him Adam Wolf. Neither was his real name. He had strong, gentle hands, and he talked to horses.” She forced her mind back to the images that had poured in when they joined hands. “He saw his father die in a snowy street, his blood spattering the cobblestones.”

  “Ash!” It was more a primitive cry than a word. “You saw him in Ardenscourt? When?”

  Jenna’s heart leapt. This fierce wolf warrior knew the healer, under yet another name. She’d be able to tell her where he came from and where he was now. She could fly to him, and they could—but no. Her excitement abated a little as she realized that couldn’t happen anytime soon. Cas would have to be completely recovered before they launched an attack on the empress or tried to batter their way through the stormwall again.

  “When did you see him?” Gray repeated, louder than before.

  “First, you tell me. What is the healer’s real name, and what is the connection between you?”

  For a long moment, they sat, knee to knee, and all but nose to nose, staring at each other, each holding on to her secrets and trying to decide whether to trust the other.

  “His real name is Adrian,” Gray said finally. “And he was—or is—my brother.”

  46

  PARTY OF THE YEAR

  Destin Karn leaned against the wall, nursing his drink, watching and waiting. The Matelons were working the room, chatting with each of the guests at one time or another. They exceeded Destin’s rather low expectations, though he guessed that nobody survived at the Ardenine court for long without learning some knack for connivery. The captain and the corporal flirted gamely and danced awkwardly, which fit in with the role they were playing. They really needed to work on their blackbird swagger.

  Even Destin danced a little, choosing his targets carefully. For instance, he cut in when Granger seemed determined to monopolize the young Lady Harper all night long. He was afraid that if he didn’t intervene, one of the Matelon brothers would. Or the lady herself would punch Granger out.

  After two circuits around the dance floor, she spoke. “You’re a good dancer,” she said, cheeks flaming. “That loathsome Bailiff Granger needs to learn some better manners.”

  “That’s why I cut in, Lady Matelon,” Destin said. “I was tired of watching you fend him off. What did you two talk about?”

  “Mostly he talked about himself, about his horses and hounds, and how he wants to tear down Whitehall and build a bigger house, and how a marriage between us made a lot of sense.”

  “Did he mention that he’s already engaged?”

  She scowled. “That didn’t come up.”

  “What did you say?”

  “Very little.”

  “Good thinking,” Destin said. “The other piece of advice I have for you is to keep lots of people around the two of you at all times. If anything happens that you don’t like, scream bloody murder. Oh, and under no circumstances should you let him fetch you a drink, not even a cup of cider. And, here—” Destin slid a dagger from one of his many hidden sheaths and handed it across. “Hide this well. Don’t use it unless you have no choice. If you have no choice, the best entry point is here.” He demonstrated the proper placement by tapping just above his own collarbone. “Aim the blade downward and keep pushing until it won’t go any farther.”

  She stared down at the dagger, then up at Destin. “You’re saying I should kill him?” Clearly she thought it must be some kind of a trick or trap.

  “If you have to.”

  “I can’t take this,” she protested, running her fingers over the fancywork. “It looks like some kind of heirloom.”

  “Oh, it is,” Destin said, closing her hands around the hilt. “I think it will find a good home with you.”

  Harper looked around for witnesses, then slid the blade into her bodice, settling it between her breasts so that the hilt was hidden. Then gazed up at him, her head tilted, eyes narrowed.

  “What is it?” he said.

  “I appreciate your looking out for me, Lieutenant. What I don’t understand is why.”

  Destin looked over her shoulder, to where his father was hugging the other wall. “When I was a little older than you, I failed to protect someone close to me, and I’ve regretted it ever since. I should have acted sooner and with more . . . precision.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” she said.

  He half-smiled. “I’m a lot better at killing, these days.”

  The song came to a close and he bowed to her. “It’s getting close to ten o’clock,” he said. “Keep your mask on, Lady Matelon.” He walked away, toward the punch bowl, feeling the pressure of her gaze on his back.

  By twos and threes the others followed, some
lost in conversation and seeming to wander closer by accident, others apparently there to quench a sudden thirst. Several young children raced to that end of the room, their mothers chasing after.

  Granger returned to his quarry as soon as Destin left her side. But then the elder Lady Matelon intervened, giving him a sound scolding and sending him on his way with a thunderous look on his face.

  If tonight’s operation isn’t successful, I suppose I’ll have to kill him, Destin thought.

  Maybe even if it is.

  Hal flinched when the clock in the temple tower finally struck ten. The sound was still reverberating through the ballroom when the entire building shuddered. It sounded like an explosion coming from the direction of the temple. Then another, from the barracks. Then a blast from the direction of the armory. Moments later, another thunderous explosion, which must have been the munitions going up.

  All hell will break loose, Lieutenant Karn had said. Another promise kept.

  The party guests screamed and milled about, covering their ears, unsure which way to run. General Karn bolted from the hall, probably heading for the garrison house.

  The King’s Guard and soldiers came to life, herding the king and his down-realm guests through a doorway and out of the ballroom, toward the central bailey, the most robust fortification in the palace. All except . . .

  “Mother!” King Jarat cried, turning back and scanning the room. “Where’s Queen Marina? Where’s Princess Madeleine?”

  “Your Majesty, please come quickly,” one of the blackbirds said, hustling Jarat toward the door. “No doubt the queen and your sister are already in the bailey.”

  Jarat hesitated, still searching the ballroom with his eyes, until a brace of guards half-carried him through the doorway.

  Hal was so distracted by all of this that he nearly drew his sword when Destin Karn gripped his arm. “Go!” Karn said. “Get them out now! I can’t be seen with you.”

  Hal and Robert herded the bewildered families back behind the fountain, through the draperies, and into the hidden pantry. When all were through, they crowded elbow to nose in the serving area. Robert stationed himself just inside the exit door to hand out cloaks. Hal pulled on his own cloak and slipped out into the courtyard to see if the area was clear.