Oaths (Dragon Blood, Book 8)

by Lindsay Buroker

  “Maybe he’ll think you harbor secret romantic feelings for him,” Tolemek said.

  “Sardelle might be distressed to hear that,” Zirkander said.

  “And Captain Kaika,” Cas put in.

  “I don’t know about that,” Zirkander said. “She seems flexible about her romantic feelings.”

  “You don’t think she would mind being replaced?”

  “I just imagine her inserting a newcomer into the equation. Angulus would be the one likely to object.”

  Cas wrinkled her nose.

  “We’re being passed,” Zirkander said, peering out the window as the carriage slowed. They had reached the portcullis, and not soon enough for Tolemek’s comfort. The conversation had taken an alarming turn.

  “That’s Colonel Therrik,” Cas said. “With Kasandral on his back.”

  “Looks like he ran up the hill,” Zirkander said. “Show off.”

  “Should we be alarmed by his appearance? With that sword?” Tolemek imagined Therrik having been called in to combat the shaman.

  “I requested it, actually,” Zirkander said.

  “That didn’t answer my question.”

  “I suggested he be added to the castle guard for a few days, in the hope that Kasandral will get all green and glowy if a shaman sneaks in and starts throwing magic around. As to whether that should alarm you, I always find it alarming when Therrik is stomping around with that sword.”

  One of the gate guards knocked on the door, then opened it to look inside.

  “General Zirkander, Dr. Targoson, and Lieutenant Ahn to see the king,” Zirkander said.

  “The king is very busy in preparation for the festival. He may not have time to see you.”

  “We’ll take our chances.” Zirkander saluted cheekily at the man.

  Tolemek half-expected the guard to tell them to turn their bullet-ridden box around and drive back down the hill.

  A second guard came over, this one an older veteran that Tolemek had seen often when visiting the castle. “They’re all on the guest list for the festival.” He nodded at Zirkander and kept speaking to his colleague. “Whether the king will have time to see them or not is questionable, but they’re all entitled to graze at the buffet and watch the lamps get turned on.”

  “I’m on the guest list?” Cas asked.

  “Park over there,” the guard told the driver, stepping back and closing the door.

  “Did you not get the invitation?” Zirkander asked. “All of Wolf Squadron and Tiger Squadron were invited, and some other soldiers who have distinguished themselves.”

  “Maybe I did. I’ve been distracted.” Cas brushed Tolemek’s thigh and met his eyes.

  “I didn’t mean to be distracting,” Tolemek murmured as the wheels bumped over cobblestones toward an area filled with other carriages, most a lot more luxurious than the army’s utilitarian vehicle. He wrapped his fingers around hers. She initiated physical contact so seldom that he had learned to appreciate the times she did.

  “If that were true, you wouldn’t still have that ghastly hair,” Cas said.

  “I did trim it.”

  “I don’t believe you.” She squeezed his hand.

  Zirkander reached for the handle, probably intending to flee before they started gazing dreamily at each other, but the door was yanked open before he touched it.

  Therrik loomed there, his sword in hand. Tolemek released Cas’s hand and reached for one of the vials in his belt pouch—after the kidnapping, he had vowed not to leave his home without some protective measures.

  “You,” Therrik snarled, looking straight at Tolemek.

  “Good evening, Colonel Therrik,” Zirkander said. “Are you the valet for tonight’s proceedings? I’m afraid I don’t have a bag or large purse for you to carry for me.”

  “I sensed someone with dragon blood.” Therrik hefted Kasandral, displaying its faint green glow. “I thought it might be the shaman.”

  Zirkander shooed him back so he could climb out. “I don’t give rides to shamans, only my officers. And their hairy boyfriends.”

  Therrik growled but backed away from the carriage.

  “Colonel,” the captain of the guard said, coming up to him and lifting a hand. “I believe you’ll find it most useful if you go inside and guard… the thing it is you were brought here to guard.” Judging by the perplexed and faintly annoyed furrow to his brow, he hadn’t been told.

  “I’d love to if I knew where it was,” Therrik said. “Zirkander, go let the king know I’m here with the sword and ask him where he wants me.” He eyed the well-dressed guests arriving, some stepping out of carriages, some handing horses off to stable boys. “I’m going to mingle and make sure none of the guests are more than they seem.”

  “Mingle?” the guard captain balked. “You’ll alarm people with your huge sword.”

  “That happens a lot.” Therrik strode away without looking back.

  The guard captain strode after him, voicing further protests.

  “Does that man know you outrank him?” Tolemek asked Zirkander as he climbed down from the carriage.

  “Not that I’ve noticed.”

  Cas hopped down beside Tolemek before he could offer a hand. Not that she needed it.

  “I can pass along your information to the king if you two want to stay out here and enjoy the festivities.” Zirkander waved toward the gardens at the side of the castle where tables and a stage had been set up. A brightly dressed pair of women were already juggling there, tossing flaming torches back and forth to each other. “Since we all have the same message, more or less,” he added.

  “Yes, sir.” Cas appeared relieved. She had probably thought it presumptuous for a lieutenant to go see the king in the first place.

  Tolemek saw the king frequently enough that he wasn’t intimidated by him, but if Zirkander wanted to deliver his message, that was fine with him. As Therrik seemed to believe, it would probably be better to stay out here and keep an eye on the guests—and watch for any with buckskins or peculiar hats—than loitering in Angulus’s office. Besides, Tolemek wouldn’t mind attending the entertainment with Cas. It wasn’t quite the romantic dinner he had envisioned, but perhaps she would enjoy an evening away from work. Too bad she was still dressed in her uniform. She would likely feel more relaxed in some civilian clothing. He certainly wouldn’t mind seeing her in one of her summer blouses or that dress she had with the hem that floated around her knees, revealing far more bare skin than her uniform did.

  “Tolemek?” Cas poked him in the arm.

  Realizing she and Zirkander were both looking at him and waiting for an answer, Tolemek cleared his throat. “Yes, by all means, go chat with the king, Zirkander. We’ll enjoy the juggling, and it looks like a music troupe is setting up too.”

  “Such a shindig just for turning on some lights,” Zirkander said.

  “I bet the castle will look striking all lit up, sir,” Cas said. “A lot more impressive than the hangars. They hardly have any windows, so you can’t even see the lights from outside.”

  “All right. Have fun and stay out of trouble.” Zirkander saluted Cas, flicked a wave a Tolemek, and strode toward the castle doors.

  “My lady.” Tolemek offered Cas his arm. “Will you accompany me to the event?”

  “Gladly.” She slipped her arm through his, and they strolled in the same direction that other guests were heading. “Maybe we’ll get lucky, and there won’t be any trouble tonight.”

  Therrik stalked past in front of them, shaking his sword and growling to himself, or perhaps to any guests with a smidgen of dragon blood in their veins.

  “I wouldn’t take that bet,” Tolemek murmured.

  Cas sighed wistfully.

  14

  Even though Bhrava Saruth flew far faster than any steam vehicle on land or sea, he and Sardelle left the castle later than Fern had, and Sardelle didn’t spot the carriage until it was turning off the highway and onto the street with her house.

 
Would you mind setting down a few houses away, Bhrava Saruth? I can get off and walk the rest of the way, and perhaps you can go find some sheep to hunt.

  Sheep? It’s getting dark.

  Don’t animals like to head to streams to drink before nightfall?

  High priestess, it is most ignoble to attack an animal when it’s drinking. Besides, your mate’s mother bakes many sweets. I have enjoyed her dragon-horn cookies numerous times. What is that brown substance they are dipped in?

  Chocolate.

  It is delicious, Bhrava Saruth said, drawing out the word with loving enthusiasm.

  I don’t think Fern will be in the mood to bake tonight. Sardelle thought of the blood on the handkerchief. She may also not be in the right state of mind to appreciate your… you.

  But we have already met. Bhrava Saruth swooped straight for the rooftop of Fern’s house. I could turn into a human so I can fit inside. Then I can help you comfort her. Perhaps I should turn into a ferret. Are ferrets not cute and comforting? Oh, but her cats did not respect me properly when I was in that diminutive form. I believe they thought I was hunting competition. As if the god Bhrava Saruth would deign to eat mice.

  I think she may need healing more than comforting. Since Sardelle hadn’t examined Fern yet, she didn’t know exactly what was wrong with her. If she had some illness that was beyond Sardelle’s healing abilities, perhaps it would be good to have the dragon nearby. She had seen Phelistoth wave his hand and heal people that would have taken her hours to attend.

  Yes, I could heal her certainly. Do you think she would wish to become my worshipper then? Since her son helped with the design of my temple, I am certain she will want to come visit it when it is complete.

  Undoubtedly. Just let me go in first, please.

  As you wish. Perhaps I will see if those pigs next door would like to accept me as their god. For dumb animals, pigs are quite clever, you know.

  This should prove interesting, Jaxi told Sardelle.

  Me attempting to get Fern to let me help her?

  Bhrava Saruth being trailed by a squadron of loyal pigs.

  Ah.

  Sardelle didn’t hear any alarmed shouts when Bhrava Saruth settled on the peak of the roof. It was dark enough that the chauffeur driving the king’s carriage might not have noticed him soaring overhead.

  As Sardelle slid off his back and searched for a way down from the roof, the carriage door slammed shut. Magic wrapped around Sardelle as Bhrava Saruth lifted her into the air and down to the path beside the house. She landed between the bench and pottery shed and remembered the conversation she and Ridge had shared there, about Apex’s death.

  Voices drifted back to her, the king’s man asking if Fern needed anything as he saw her to the door.

  “I’m quite fine, young man. Perfectly capable of seeing myself to my own door. I appreciate the ride, but you needn’t worry about me.” Fern coughed.

  “Are you sure, ma’am? You don’t sound well. Maybe there’s some neighbor who could stay with you or at least look in on—”

  “I don’t need any help. Please, return to your master. I have cats to feed.”

  Indeed, plaintive meows came from the front of the house. Sardelle sensed at least a dozen of them converging on Fern, wondering where their human caretaker had been all day.

  “Yes, ma’am.” The man squawked as he almost tripped over a cat.

  “Careful, young man. That was Mimi.”

  “Sorry, ma’am.” A quick thud of steps was followed by a door slamming shut.

  Sardelle waited until she sensed Fern step into the house before moving up the path. Even then, she had trouble making her legs propel her along. Fern hadn’t been happy to see her at the castle, and Sardelle doubted she would want to see her now, either. But if she was ill… Sardelle couldn’t let her sit there alone and miserable. If she had to, she could wait until Fern went to sleep and possibly heal her without waking her, but Sardelle would prefer to have her permission.

  At the front door, she started to knock, but realized she was standing in the dark. She focused on the lantern mounted on the wall, and a small flame flared to life.

  I could start a nice bonfire if you need more light.

  Not necessary.

  It’s dark inside too.

  Sardelle sensed that Fern had gone in and laid down on the couch, promising the cats she would feed them soon, that she needed to rest first.

  Sardelle took a deep breath and knocked. Fern didn’t answer. She was still awake, but she lay on the couch with her eyes closed and didn’t open them.

  The door wasn’t locked. Sardelle opened it enough to poke her head into the dark room.

  “Fern? May I come in?”

  The mumbled response could have been a positive or a negative. Sardelle came in anyway. She thought about lighting lamps, but Jaxi beat her to it.

  It was muggy inside, the house heated from the day in the summer sun, and the air smelled of paint and cats. Sardelle waved a few windows open and used her power to bring in a breeze and push out the stale air.

  “Fern?” She approached the couch warily.

  “Sardelle?”

  “Yes, it’s me. I was worried about you this afternoon. I came to see how you’re doing.”

  “Nothing wrong with me,” Fern said, though she didn’t open her eyes. “Just a little tired and—” She broke off into a series of wracking coughs.

  “I can see you’re going to be more stubbornly independent than Ridge is.”

  Fern opened her eyes. They were bloodshot, and she looked exhausted.

  “He brings his slivers and hangnails to me for treatment,” Sardelle said. She knew for a fact that Ridge was more of a baby about those kinds of things than he was about bullet wounds and gouges from giant feathered familiars.

  “Yes, he’s only selectively brave. I don’t know how a man can risk his life going into battle in those crazy fliers every day, but then get ashen and think he’s going to die if he drinks milk that’s gone bad.”

  “I suppose pirates and enemy soldiers kill you quickly. Food poisoning might be a slow, torturous way to go.”

  “He was captured by the Cofah once and tortured. With more than bad milk.”

  Sardelle nodded. “He told me some about that, but not much. I don’t imagine it’s an experience he wants to relive.”

  “He just says something flippant if you try to get him to be serious.”

  “I have noticed that tendency.” If talking about Ridge helped Fern relax and gave them some common ground, Sardelle would happily speak about him.

  “He didn’t get that from me. Or from his father.”

  “The flight academy?” Sardelle suggested. “His pilots all seem to be crafted from the same pattern.”

  “A dreadful pattern. Like those terrible dragon-print skirts all the girls are wearing this summer. He is a dear boy, though. He worries about me and cares far more than he lets on.” Fern closed her eyes for a moment.

  As cats milled about Sardelle’s feet, some rubbing her calves, she let her senses trickle toward Fern, examining her lungs first. She burrowed down to see with her mind what she never could have otherwise without a microscope.

  It wasn’t a cold or simple virus, but a fungal infection. Farmers’ Rot? That was what they had called it in her time. Windstorms could stir up the fungus in the dirt, and if enough was inhaled, it could infect people’s lungs. It was more common inland where it was drier, but there were plenty of farms and exposed earth in this area, and Fern spent a lot of time out in her garden.

  “Can I get you some tea, Fern?” Sardelle asked.

  “No, you’re the guest.” Fern struggled to sit up. “I’ll get you some. I need to feed the cats too.”

  “I can handle it. Why don’t you rest?” Sardelle did her best to influence her with a calming sensation, a desire to relax. “Seeing the king is stressful.”

  “Seeing a dragon fly through the window is stressful.”

  “That is
true.” Sardelle didn’t mention that Bhrava Saruth had been on her roof recently. Now, she sensed him several miles away. Communing with pigs, perhaps. “Let me get that tea started. Kitties, follow me for dinner.”

  She didn’t have Tylie’s knack for animals, but she touched their minds gently, conveying the idea that food awaited in the kitchen. Since they already suspected that, they were easy to sway. A few cats Sardelle hadn’t noticed earlier appeared, making the total at least fifteen. She wondered how Fern afforded feeding them all.

  “They are following you.” Fern turned her head to watch the procession into the kitchen. “Even though you’re a—uhm.”

  Because she was a sorceress, Sardelle thought, but she didn’t want to bring up magic and distress Fern further.

  “They know there’s food through this door, I’m sure.” Sardelle lit lamps and opened more windows in the kitchen. She found a turkey leg and a ham hock in the icebox, and a whole array of bowls lined up by the wall. She didn’t know how much the cats ate but carved some meat into each container.

  I’ll get the tea kettle, Jaxi said.

  Don’t heat it too quickly. We don’t want Fern suspicious that her tea has been poisoned by magic.

  My magic is sublime, not poisonous.

  I know that, but we’re still working on her.

  She’s oddly heartened by the fact that the cats followed you, Jaxi said. She believes animals can tell if a person is kind and good. She’s trying to decide if they know about your witchy ways.

  Lovely. Sardelle returned the ham to the icebox, and the meows lessened as the cats dug in.

  She thinks they do since she believes cats are perceptive.

  The tea kettle whistled.

  That water boiled extremely quickly, Jaxi. Especially given that there’s no wood in the stove.

  Details, details. It’s summer. Who wants to heat up a stove when a little energy applied directly to the water will do?

  Sardelle selected a pleasant lemon-smelling tea from one of a handful of unlabeled bins, found a couple of strainers, and poured two cups. She didn’t truly think Fern would suspect the beverage poisoned or tainted, but it might make her feel better if they both drank.