It took me a moment to realize what she wanted, but less time to do her bidding. When someone knew what they were talking about, you didn’t stop to ask them stupid questions.
That’s better, Antoinette said, once there was blood all over my neck again. You’re much cleverer than Royston would have had me believe.
He likes to talk me down, I explained. Doesn’t want to raise anyone’s expectations.
Enough small talk, Antoinette replied. I’ve done my best to bring a rescue party. Is there anything in your cell you might use as a weapon?
I glanced around but without high hopes. Troius respected me—though his respect wasn’t worth the dirt on the back of a ha’penny—too much to leave me with anything I could use as tool for my own escape. But he’d given me that little chair to sit on. While I wouldn’t be able to break any doors down with it, I could sure as shit get a few good blows before the wood splintered.
Not ideal, but I’ve got something, I told her.
I have a chair as well, Antoinette said. How inglorious this will be.
Ain’t about the glory, I said, recalling just how often I’d given that same speech to my boys, and a couple of the less practical ones in particular.
How true, Antoinette said. Something about her voice gave me the idea that she might’ve been smiling. There is very little glory in being taken captive by someone you once considered an ally. Even worse when it’s a friend.
I sure would’ve liked to ask her more about that one, maybe ascertain whether all that shit Royston’d told me about Antoinette and th’Esar was really true. I wasn’t exactly one for gossip, but if she’d been his lover before, something told me that relationship was about to get colder than the Cobalts’ highest peak. There weren’t enough flowers and chocolates and even fine jewelry to make a woman forgive you after this kind of betrayal. But before I could get another thought-word in, I heard footsteps approaching down the hall.
Someone’s coming, I told her. Think that might be your rescue party?
No, Antoinette said. It isn’t them. All I can sense is the stink of that woman’s magic.
I stilled, waiting for Troius to present himself—maybe with his dragon, this time, just to impress upon me one more time who was who in these negotiations. He was probably coming back to see if I’d made my choice yet, thinking he could lean on me a little bit. As if there was any real choice to make. A man needed to be decisive in order to be a good soldier, but that didn’t mean his decisions didn’t trouble him at all.
I was so focused on Troius and how much I disliked him—and whether or not I could get away with clanging him on the head with my chair straightaway—that I didn’t realize until the last second that it wasn’t Troius coming for me.
Instead, it was some kid I didn’t recognize, closer to Laure’s age than Troius’s. He was tall and a little vacant-looking—and there was just something familiar about his face that I couldn’t quite peg down. It niggled at me, the way so many things were doing lately, distracting me.
They had the boy dressed all in green like the rest of these Dragon Guard piss-buckets, and I figured maybe that was what was messing with my perception, since the uniform didn’t suit him at all.
“Professor Adamo?” he whispered.
All at once, it hit me like shrapnel kicked up during one of Ghislain’s crusher-runs. This was one of my kids—maybe even the one Laure’d told me was missing. So I’d been wrong about them being shirkers—they hadn’t been going out with the fever at all. They’d been “disappearing” and landing in prison, same as I had.
I stood up, getting as close to the cell door as I could without leaving my shackled leg behind.
“Don’t suppose you could come in here?” I asked. “Might be more comfortable for the two of us.”
“They don’t give the likes of us keys to important things,” the boy said, shaking his straw-colored head. When he turned back to me a funny light passed over his eyes, too quick for me to study. “I … Well, to be blunt, Professor Adamo, I’ve gotta admit that I came to you for help. My name’s Gaeth. Don’t know if you remember me, but I sat in on some of your classes—at least, before I got the fever. They were my favorite, on account of how there wasn’t any reading or writing involved.”
This time, I didn’t have to dig deep into the dried-up, near-senile grounds of my poor mind to place a memory to the name. It was the one Laure’d given me, what felt like ages ago now, when we’d met in my office and she’d trusted me to help her. Since I hadn’t seen any of my boys around the place, I had to hope I hadn’t sent her straight from one trap into another.
Still, now that I knew they were poaching country folk brought to the city under false pretenses, it was anyone’s guess what th’Esar would stoop to.
“Sure, I remember you,” I said, which wasn’t exactly true. I remembered Laure talking about him, which was different. But it didn’t matter, since it was what he wanted to hear, and if I was judging him right, he looked comforted. I just had to hope that this wasn’t a trap, but that didn’t seem like Troius’s style at all. If he was gonna use subterfuge, then he’d want to be the one to do it, for the bragging rights—and he’d never send this kid from the country, reminding me in his quiet way of Balfour, though not nearly as well spoken. “Don’t know if you’ve noticed—and I’m sorry to be the one telling you this—but I’m not in much of a position to be helping anyone at the minute.”
“I know,” Gaeth said, concern flashing over his simple features. “It’s awful rude of me—my mam always said you shouldn’t ask no one for nothing, ‘specially if he’s worse off than you, and I’ve tried to abide by it, even here in the city. But I heard that man talking about how they had you here and I had to come and see you.”
“And now you see me,” I said, wishing I had higher hopes of being able to help him. “You’re not hurt, are you?”
“It ain’t that,” Gaeth said. “They’ve had me here for ages. I went to see the doctor and must’ve fallen asleep, ’cause when I woke up, there I was in that big room that looks like a smithy! Couldn’t find out where I was, nor if my mam was worried for me. Not to mention … well, best not to speak of the beastie.”
“Beastie?” I asked, latching onto that last bit. I was getting real predictable in my old age; I just had to hope Gaeth wouldn’t hold it against me.
He paled; then his cheeks flooded with color, like he was embarrassed.
“The … the dragons,” he said, leaning close and whispering nervously, like he was afraid they’d hear him—wherever they were. “They told me I was very lucky—a ‘prime candidate,’ they said—and they wouldn’t let me leave no matter how many times I told ’em I had reading to learn and my mam to write to. Then they locked me in a room with a … well, I thought she were a monster at first, but I guess I can’t call her that anymore, since in none of the tales can the monsters talk so right. She’s all over silver and blue, and real gentle, but only once you get to know her. She wanted me to name her so I did—a good name, Cornflower—though the man in charge didn’t seem to like that very much, but I suspect he’s got feelings about simple country folk. But she reminded me of my prize milk cow—a real beauty. I do miss home.”
Gaeth added this last bit with a deep sigh, and I didn’t blame him in the slightest. Arresting a full-grown man like me—or a scrapper like Antoinette, who could clearly take care of herself—was one thing. Not that we’d deserved it, but we knew the city, and to some extent we understood its pitfalls and dangers, so that even when th’Esar went off his rocker and came flying at us sideways, we weren’t too surprised. But this poor bastard was still a kid, not to mention simple as sweet cream. He had no way of knowing Thremedon’s politics—presumably that’s what he’d come to the city to study in the first place—or what it meant that th’Esar’d decided to re-create his own miniature army, violating a pretty important treaty alongside our trust. Far as I could tell, he just wanted to go home. And I didn’t blame him. Hell, I wanted that,
too, and I was a seasoned veteran.
“Where’s your dragon now?” I asked.
“I told her to stay put,” Gaeth said, peering over his shoulder. He looked nervous, and I couldn’t say I blamed him for that, either. Dragon Corps had been staffed mostly by volunteers—the problem had been too many people wanting to join, not too few. I couldn’t imagine what it’d feel like to black out and wake up in a stable, with some mean weasel-faced bastard telling me that I’d been picked to ride one of th’Esar’s finest, without actually having volunteered. “She doesn’t always listen, though. Just like my old Cornflower.”
“Troius told me these dragons always listen to orders,” I said.
“Well, sometimes,” Gaeth said. “But sometimes Cornflower has a few words to say about orders. And sometimes she don’t follow them at all.”
“Interesting,” I said, wondering if the reason for the discrepancy was Troius lying to me or Gaeth having a weaker will. Chances were it was the former—and it made sense Troius’d want to believe everything with the new dragons was working out peachy, since no one wanted to be the first to tell th’Esar that things weren’t running according to plan. Used to be my job. Not anymore. I just hoped Troius would be able to have some real good fun with it.
“I thought maybe I’d try to run away,” Gaeth added. “Not that I’m a runner—my da always said, ‘Face facts, boy’—but if my mam was worrying about not hearing from me, I figured that was more important than honoring my da’s memory. But then I thought, I just don’t know what I’ll do with Cornflower at the farm. She might set fire to the barn, and then Mam’ll have to take her down to the river.”
“Don’t think they’re gonna let you pack up and take her home,” I told him before he could get too carried away.
“But I have to go home,” Gaeth said, concern giving way to plain distress. “I done what they wanted … and I miss the sunlight. Without good exercise, I can’t even sleep proper. You don’t think they mean to keep me here forever, do you?”
“That’s exactly what I think,” I said, wavering for only a moment before I told him the truth. Why sugarcoat it? Because he was poor and from the country? Because I felt sorry for him? Nah. That kind of shit never flew with me. I’d only had one way of talking to my boys, and this Gaeth had a dragon now, which made him one of my boys just by default. If I didn’t toughen him up a little, there was a chance no one would, and he’d end up in pieces somewhere, his fate weighing heavy on my conscience.
Anyway, he took it well, so I knew my instincts hadn’t been all off about him. He just stared at me, breathing in deep before he nodded.
“I guessed it,” he said.
“Wish I didn’t have to confirm your suspicions,” I said, starting to lose feeling in my shackled-up leg.
“But will you help me?” Gaeth asked.
“Don’t know how much I can do from inside here,” I reminded him, clanking the chain a bit for emphasis.
“You could pretend to do what they want, couldn’t you?” Gaeth asked. “That’s what I did—what I’m doing—not that it’s done me much good. But if there’s two of us … And my Cornflower; not forgetting her. One dragon against the other two—there’d be three, but they’re having trouble with her. So I’m thinking we’d have better odds. Some even say there’s magicians in here now, and I know they’re smarter than me—and I’m smart enough to know being locked up ain’t good … Maybe they’d join us.”
Well? Antoinette asked, and I was real proud of myself for not jumping when her voice suddenly invaded my head. Are you being carted off or not?
Hang on, I told her. It’s a kid. They’ve got kids down here. Th’Esar’s pairing kids up with new dragons and Regina only knows what horseshit plan he’s following.
Silence, from inside my head and outside, too, as Gaeth waited for my answer, all white around the mouth the way Balfour used to get before a raid.
When I’m finished with that man, even the worms will not want to eat him, Antoinette said finally.
Good plan, I replied. Why poison the worms?
“Listen, Gaeth,” I said, lowering my voice as best I could, so that he’d have to lean in. “Someone’s coming to break us out. Friends of mine, I think. If we’re lucky—and I’m not saying we will be—can you stick around here to wait for them?”
“I could,” Gaeth admitted, looking up and down the hall again. “But my Cornflower …”
The reluctance in his voice sent a pang through me. If he thought it was bad being nagged by her now, try after they’d been together for years, and she knew him well enough to outsmart him all the time.
“Where are they keeping the other dragons?” I asked. Not because I was fool enough to think we could go after them but because it seemed like good information to have—for later, maybe, so we didn’t stumble into a damn nest.
“There’s another building,” Gaeth whispered. “Across a bridge—I’m always worried I’ll take a tumble straight off the thing. I can swim, but the water’s so dark, it ain’t natural. No one’s fallen in yet, but it makes me sick to look down.”
“I’ve been there,” I told him, remembering the metal key in Troius’s palm and Ironjaw’s claws tearing up the floor.
Just then I heard more footsteps—several pairs this time and all at once, like a team of guards heading toward my cell.
“Is that for you, or me?” I asked, hoping Gaeth wouldn’t spook.
“Might be they learned I was coming,” Gaeth whispered, holding very still. That might’ve helped him while dealing with bears in the countryside, but it wouldn’t do much good with a trained guard. “I know my Cornflower didn’t betray me, though. She doesn’t like Troius, and she hates Ironjaw.”
Hush the boy, Antoinette said.
Are they friend or foe? I asked.
I’m a mind reader, Antoinette replied, not an oracle.
Either way, we’d know soon enough. I tried to indicate to Gaeth that he should hightail it out of there. If he was caught consorting with the enemy, I didn’t know how far his precious rare connection to a dragon would go to protect him, and I didn’t want him getting hurt on my account.
“It’s a big man,” Gaeth whispered, eyes fixed not on me, but staring off somewhere down the hall. “Very big man.”
I could see now why Troius wanted to recruit someone like me to the cause—someone who knew a little something about actual training.
Then, an arm—a very big arm—reached out to grab Gaeth by the shoulder, managing to lift him clear of the ground.
There was only one person I knew in all of Thremedon who could do that, and I was relieved for a moment to realize my rescue party had come at last. But I didn’t want Gaeth panicking and calling his girl to attack. That’d be a surefire way to let everyone know what was happening.
“Put ’im down, Ghislain,” I said.
Slowly, Gaeth was lowered to the floor. A moment after that, Ghislain’s head loomed into view. “This one’s not bothering you?” he asked.
I could hear the jingling of keys, which at least meant that while we were shooting the shit, just casually catching up, somebody was trying to bust me out.
“Not any more than young folk usually do,” I replied. “And I think he’s on our side. Though we’ve got someone a few cells down who’ll be able to tell for certain. In the meantime, Gaeth, this is Ghislain. Make your acquaintance on your own time. You don’t want to get on Ghislain’s bad side, now do you, Gaeth?”
“No, Professor Adamo,” Gaeth said, not so much wide-eyed as he was well mannered. I was even starting to like him, so it’d really chafe my chaps if he turned out to be pulling a fast one on me.
“Good,” I said. “What in bastion’s name is taking so long with the keys out there?”
“Keys’re getting stuck to Balfour’s hands,” Ghislain explained.
And, crazy as it might’ve sounded to anyone else, it made perfect sense to me. Which just went to show how upside down my world had become.
> “Gaeth?” I heard a familiar voice ask, a little too loud for my liking, from somewhere outside my cell. It belonged to that skinny cricket—the one engaged to Laure—though it seemed I’d forgotten his name outta pure spite.
“You’re the one who locked him up?” another voice demanded. It was the one I’d been hoping not to hear, truth be told, because it only meant that the girl’d gone and put herself in harm’s way—when I’d been trying to put her right out of it.
But I guessed it was exactly what I would’ve done, so I couldn’t fault her for it. Still, I certainly wished I’d been less complacent, so I wouldn’t look like the biggest fool this side of the Cobalts when Balfour finally got the cell door open.
“I didn’t know anything about it,” Gaeth protested. “Professor Adamo’s a hero. He doesn’t belong down here.”
Your little party could stand to be a little less boisterous, Antoinette suggested. And she was right, of course. I cleared my throat, which Ghislain and Balfour would recognize as a sign for everyone to shut the fuck up. It might’ve been a while since we’d all fought together, but some cues triggered instincts you just never forgot.
Ghislain lifted his hand—I couldn’t see his face anymore, since the opening in my cell door was set too low, but I could only assume he’d brought his fingers to his lips—and said, only once but very convincing, “Shh.”
Everybody quieted, so all we could hear was the jingling of the keys, and—finally—the sound of the right one sliding deep into the lock, turning with a click that was music to my ears.
I couldn’t celebrate just yet, but it was step one completed. The door swung open and I saw Ghislain—or the lower half of his body, most of his head cut off by the top of the door—and Balfour crouched beside him. There was Laure, too, standing with her hands on her hips like she needed to be sure I was really in the cell, taking in the details like a natural. Next to her was her fiancé, wringing his hands together, and Gaeth, scratching at the back of his head.
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