Patterns in the Dark (Dragon Blood Book 4)

by Lindsay Buroker

  “Over here, Caslin,” came a soft voice from the trees behind her.

  Cas spun in that direction, her knife ready. She recognized that voice, but hearing it didn’t make any sense, not way out here. She had to be mistaken.

  She waited for him to speak again, even as she tried to pick his figure out of the shadows. But the voice had come from too deep in the trees, and his dark clothing hid him too well. As sharp as her eyes were, she couldn’t find his silhouette among the foliage.

  “Yes, it’s me,” he said. “I must speak with you. Move away from the rim, so the guard won’t hear us.”

  Cas swallowed and tried to sound calm when she answered. “What are you doing here, Father?”

  She didn’t move from her spot. She thought of the dirigible, the familiar look of that form sliding along that rope. She should have known. Even looking on from the distance, she should have known. And maybe, on some subconscious level, she had known. Maybe that was why she had been so wary, so alert all the way up here.

  “I’m on assignment,” Father said, his soft voice giving away nothing.

  It was the most obvious thing he could have said and the most bewildering, as well. “On assignment for whom? And to do what? To spy on us? To follow us? How could you have even been able to follow us?” Or was it possible he was on some independent mission that had only by chance intersected with hers? It seemed so unlikely. This wasn’t exactly a popular destination. Could someone else have learned of the dragon blood and been researching the source independently?

  “That is my secret to keep until I’m done,” he said. “Now, step away from the rim. I have a warning for you.”

  Cas warred with her natural instinct to obey his orders, as she had for so much of her life, and with her instinct to not trust the situation, to not trust him in the situation. She doubted he was a danger to her specifically, but she had no doubt that he would accept an assignment that would hurt her in emotional ways if not physical ways. Could Tolemek be his target? Or maybe even Zirkander? Since he had disobeyed orders and veered off on his own, someone back home might be irritated with him.

  Finally, she picked her way toward her father, her shoulders tense, her knife still in hand. Could she strike at him if she found out he had come for someone on her team? For one of her friends? In Tolemek’s case, more than a friend. Even though her father had molded her into the sniper he wanted to add to his business and treated her more like a son than a daughter, he had never been cruel, just distant. He had never caused her to loathe him in a way that made her want to hurt him. Oh, there had been times when she had imagined unpleasant fates for him, usually when he had been inflicting some training on her while the other girls her age had been playing games in the schoolyard. But surely other children had worse childhoods. She couldn’t imagine shooting him, even if she hated him at times for trying to make her into his ideal progeny instead of letting her choose a life of her own.

  Full night had long since fallen, and she had to feel her way deeper into the trees. She stopped when her boot encountered soft mud that might have signified a sinkhole. Figuring she had gone far enough, she put her back to a tree, sheathed the knife, and folded her arms over her chest.

  “What is it, Father?” she whispered.

  From far closer than she expected, he responded. “Find a reason not to go into the pyramid with the others.” He clasped her arm, and she fought the urge to pull away. His voice was intense, an order, but it seemed to hold a plea, as well. Was he worried about her? Could he somehow know more than their team did about what lay in wait? “You’ll be in danger,” he added.

  “I’ve been in danger all week.” Her entire career, for that matter.

  “I must complete my assignment,” he said. “I don’t wish you to be harmed.”

  “Does your assignment have anything to do with anyone in my party?”

  He paused. “My assignment is confidential. As always.”

  Of course it was. “How did you find us?” She had already asked it and didn’t know if he would answer, but maybe he would give her something, want to give her something. So long as it wasn’t confidential. She wanted to snort at that idea, but it was consistent for him. He had never spoken of his missions to her when she had been growing up, and he had spoken of the need to remain trustworthy to clients when he had been teaching her the business.

  He released her hand, stepping back. Cas had only the vaguest sense of his form in the darkness beside her; he was probably wearing a hood, as he often did, to hide his light brown hair. He might also have dark paint on his face. How long had he been following them? Had he been close enough to touch them—to shoot them—more than once, without her detecting it? Had he overheard private conversations? She grimaced to think of him listening to the chat she’d had with Tolemek in their room back in town.

  “I can’t speak of it with you,” Father said. “I only revealed myself because of my concern for you. I implore you to find a reason to stay outside the pyramid. Tell your commander—” his voice took on a snide quality as he said the word, “—that someone should stay outside to remain on watch for the pirates.”

  “Are they still back there?” Cas wondered if the pirates had been shooting at him, or he at them for some reason. But it seemed unlikely that they would have noticed him if he didn’t wish it.

  “A handful of them have pressed on. They believe you are on a treasure hunt.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “Be careful, Caslin.”

  She hadn’t heard him move, not so much as a leaf rustling, but already his voice had grown more distant.

  “I do not wish to see harm come to you, but I have accepted this mission, and I will not fail in carrying it out, even for you.”

  “If you kill any of my friends…” She bit her lip, not sure how to finish the threat, or if she even wanted to make one. She didn’t think her father would turn on her, but was she entirely positive that was the case? Would he have needed to warn her to stay away if it were?

  She let her head thunk back against the tree. It didn’t matter now. He was gone. She might not have heard him leave, but she had sensed it. Maybe he was even now sneaking back to her team, intent on finishing his mission.

  That thought almost made her sprint back to them, but the thickness of the brush impeded her, and her own spinning thoughts impeded her too. If her father wanted to kill Tolemek or Zirkander or even Sardelle, couldn’t he have already done it? He had been stalking them for days. Surely, he’d had them within his rifle sights. Of course, if Sardelle was his target, maybe he hadn’t been certain a bullet would be enough to kill her. If he had seen her shield the group from those arrows, he might think she had that capability to shield herself all the time. Maybe she did. Cas had no idea if the soulblade slept or if it was cognizant of dangers to its wielder all the time. Cas knew nothing about magic, beyond what she had learned in the last couple of months, and she doubted her father had any particular knowledge of it, either—it wasn’t as if people were hiring him to assassinate witches every other week. He could be studying Sardelle from a distance, trying to get a feel for her abilities, before pouncing.

  But what would Sardelle have to do with the ziggurat? If she was his assignment, why would he have to come all the way here to find her? He had warned Cas not to go inside. Could he know about the dragon? Maybe he had also been sent to ensure the Cofah had no more blood to use. Or for all she knew, he might be there to collect a few vials for a wealthy client back home.

  Cas swiped a vine away from her face and pushed aside her thoughts. She was almost back to the others. Even though she knew it wouldn’t be what her father wanted, she would have to warn Zirkander. And Tolemek too. In case she was wrong and he was a target. Her belly clenched at the idea of that. He would need every chance at defending himself.

  She paused at the sound of voices.

  “…what about inside the gate?” Zirkander asked. “Any idea how many people are in there? Or if there ar
e any booby trapped doors in the ground that send a man plummeting a hundred feet into a room to be incinerated?”

  “A hundred feet?” Sardelle asked lightly, her voice close to his. Cas hesitated, reluctant to walk up on them if they were embracing—or doing more than embracing. “Really? However did you survive the fall?”

  “I landed on Tolemek’s hair. It’s cushy.”

  Sardelle snorted. “I’m sorry, but it’s still a hazy blur in there to me. The dragon makes it like trying to find the stars in the sky when the sun is out. And the trying is giving me a headache. I shudder to think about what power he can wield when even his aura makes my brain hurt.”

  A twig snapped. Cas didn’t know if they were shifting positions to kiss, or if someone had turned in her direction. Sardelle had mentioned she was struggling to sense people, but Cas was probably standing close enough for her to know she was there.

  Cas cleared her throat before coming closer. “Sir? I have a… concern to report.”

  “Another one?” Zirkander sounded about as enthused as the pig on the spit about to be roasted over the fire.

  “Sorry, sir.”

  More twigs snapped, and he stepped away from a tree, so she could see his outline facing her. She winced, knowing that her father would see his outline—all of their outlines—too, if he was in the area, watching this conversation. For now, she didn’t have that feeling of being watched, as she had for so much of their journey, but that wasn’t all that reassuring. It could mean he had gone inside the ziggurat already, that he was ahead of them, doing something that might be at odds with their mission.

  “There’s an assassin here,” Cas said, “from back home. A sniper, really, but he’s accurate with a knife and a garrote too.”

  Zirkander sighed. “And would you by chance happen to know this assassin-sniper?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  A long silence followed.

  “Do I know this assassin-sniper?” Sardelle asked.

  “You’ve met briefly,” Zirkander said. “He showed up after my house had been vandalized. At the time, I thought it was merely inconvenient timing. Now I’m wondering… Ahn, did you speak to him or just see him? Any idea who sent him or why he’s here?”

  “Or how he found this place?” Sardelle added.

  Zirkander’s words had set her mind to turning again, and Cas didn’t answer right away. He had mentioned that he had seen her father before they left for the mission, but she hadn’t realized it had been at his house or that Sardelle had been there.

  “I did speak to him,” she said slowly, mulling over the possibilities. “He wouldn’t tell me anything, except he warned me not to go in the pyramid. Sir, what was he doing at your house? I haven’t spoken to him in…” She couldn’t even remember the last time. They had been avoiding each other since she joined the military.

  “He gave the impression that he was there to pummel me—or worse—because I’d allowed you to cavort around with a certain pirate. Because, as you know, I had so much to do with that.”

  “Right. And he met Sardelle at the time?”

  “Briefly. He also offered me his card, in case I wanted to hire him to deal with the vandals.”

  “Thoughtful,” Cas said. “Did he also go into your house?”

  “Not that we were aware of. Why do you ask?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I was just thinking he might have tracked us here somehow, but unless he’s become a sorcerer in his spare time, I don’t know how he could have followed us across the ocean, to multiple stops.”

  “I assume he’s the one who came down on the dirigible?” Sardelle asked.

  “I didn’t ask, but it seems likely,” Cas said. “And that was a civilian craft, wasn’t it?”

  “Perhaps someone else in the city is aware of the dragon blood and wants to make sure the possibility of the Cofah weaponizing it is eliminated,” Sardelle said.

  “Not many people should know about it,” Zirkander said. “The king, General Ort, Colonel Therrik, and possibly other men on his team.”

  “Colonel Therrik,” Sardelle mused. “Perhaps he didn’t care for being left behind and took matters into his own hands.”

  “I doubt he makes enough to hire Cas’s dad. If he does, I’m going to have a chat with the king about my own insufficient wages. Besides, how would he have known to send Cas’s dad here? We had to do some figuring to learn where the dragon was.”

  “Others may have figured more efficiently.”

  “Really,” Zirkander said, sounding slightly offended.

  “Judging by what we’ve seen so far, this isn’t a small operation. One of the Cofah who was stationed here might have blabbed at some point.”

  “Hm.”

  Cas shifted her weight, feeling the press of time on her shoulders. Maybe Tolemek had been right and they should have gone inside immediately.

  “Would the king hire an assassin?” Sardelle asked.

  “I suppose it’s possible. We’re not close drinking buddies. He doesn’t confide his feelings about these things to me.”

  “Sir,” Cas said, “I definitely got the feeling my father was planning to do something in the pyramid tonight. Maybe we should make sure we get in there right away. In case what he plans to do isn’t what we plan to do.”

  “If someone in Iskandia hired him, it might just be to destroy the dragon blood,” Zirkander said.

  “Or the source of the dragon blood,” Sardelle said.

  “Er, how much does it cost to hire a sniper to kill a dragon?”

  Cas didn’t have an answer for that. It didn’t sound like something that would be possible, even for her father.

  “I’ll get Duck and Tolemek,” she said.

  She slipped through the brush, hearing Zirkander grunt as he hefted his pack to his shoulders. Good, he was ready to go. Cas didn’t want to delay any longer.

  She found Duck snoring softly as he lay on a log. But Tolemek wasn’t in the spot where she had left him. With an uneasy feeling dropping into the pit of her stomach, she circled the area, calling his name softly. Nothing except for a few frogs answered her.

  *

  Tolemek followed the wall of the ziggurat, staying close as he approached the entrance, so the guard wouldn’t see him until it was too late. He trod softly through the tall grass swaying about his waist, placing each foot with care. With one hand, he followed the lumpy, moldy contours of the great rectangular stones that had been used to build the place. With the other, he held a small leather ball that could unfurl and deliver knock-out gas. Sardelle wasn’t the only person who could convince people to take naps.

  He glanced up the trail before creeping the last few steps to the entrance, making sure it remained empty. If there were any pirate treasure hunters descending on the ruins, they hadn’t made an appearance yet. He couldn’t see Zirkander and the others from down here, either. Good. Once he had Tylie out and some place safe, he could reunite with them.

  A soft rain had started falling, sifting through the woven vines and leaves that comprised the ceiling far overhead. Tolemek crept to the recessed doorway, listened for a moment, and didn’t hear so much as a rustling of clothing or a sigh of breath. He leaned around the corner, ready to throw his ball at the guard’s feet.

  But the guard lay crumpled on the ground, unmoving.

  Tolemek glanced behind him again, expecting to see Zirkander and the others strolling down the trail, Sardelle with her hand held out, showing some indication that she had just slung her magic about. But the path remained empty, as did the entire crater.

  Tolemek eased through the doorway, into a stone tunnel lit by hanging lamps that burned a stinky animal fat and left sooty stains on the walls. He knelt beside the guard, curious as to whether magic had felled him, or if something more mundane had been responsible. As soon as he touched the man’s neck, he felt the stickiness of still-warm blood and had his answer. A small dart stuck out of the side of his throat. It didn’t appear big enough to have pu
nctured his jugular, but it might have delivered some fast-acting poison. Tolemek could name a number that might work, some that could be made from ingredients procured around here.

  He pulled his hand back, wiping his fingers carefully before walking deeper into the ziggurat.

  As Jaxi had mentioned, there was far more stone inside the structure than open air. The tunnel was tight, claustrophobic, and he wondered how a dragon could have found its way inside to start with. Surely, they couldn’t suck in their bellies and fly through spaces this narrow. But he no longer found himself skeptical as to whether there truly was a dragon. He might not be as sensitive as Jaxi or Sardelle, but he could feel a presence now too. Something weighing on his mind, like an impending headache.

  By now, it didn’t surprise him that etchings of dragons had been carved into the walls. The edges had worn away, but many of them were still visible. Though he was determined to press ahead and find his sister, not take his time sightseeing, one block of images did make him pause. Unlike with the dragon carvings, these were paintings, the colors fairly vibrant, more recent perhaps. They were of people instead of dragons, of bare-chested warriors carrying spears and attacking other groups of warriors. The war scenes were normal enough, and wouldn’t have made him slow down, but others featured men around a fire, eating from skulls as if they were bowls. Given the dead people he had seen in the grave, the skulls cut open for examination, the parallel made him uncomfortable.