“Besyn larveth’is,” Ghylspwr said reassuringly, and Kail looked up at Desidora to see what the hammer was saying to her, only to realize that she was still looking over the railing, and the hammer was, in as much as Kail could tell, pointed at him.
“Yeah, we’re all good,” he said, and looked back down at his console.
“We’re not,” Desidora said, not turning back around. “A tiny bit to starboard, please.”
Kail edged Iofegemet over. “You’re supposed to say ‘right’, so that I can correct you irately like a good airship captain.”
“You need to do something to feel strong again,” she said quietly, “after having your soul trapped by Silestin, you need something that makes you remember who you are, something nobody else can touch.” She looked back at him. “That’s what I see when I look at you with the eyes of a love priestess.” Her eyes shone with unshed tears. “And I can’t give you that, because I’m part of the thing that hurt you.”
“Thanks, Diz. That helps a ton.” Kail kept working at the console.
“Kun-kabynalti osu fuir’is,” Ghylspwr chided.
“Hey, big guy, you can spit out those three lines as often as you like. You already did your big deal for your people, helping Dairy stop the Glimmering Folk and saving the world and everything.” Kail pointed. “You get to hit crap with no cares in the world and make Diz look good in fights. The rest of us are just trying to get by.”
“Kutesosh gajair’is!”
“No, it’s all right.” Desidora patted the hammer and gave Kail a harder look. “It must seem awfully easy to have your destiny already fulfilled, looking at it from your side. Did you ever think about what it’s like afterward?” She turned all the way around, leaning back against the railing, her casual stance a deliberate challenge. “Knowing that you had one reason to live this life, and now that reason is done? Dairy feels it, now that his time as the Champion of Dawn is done. Ghylspwr feels it. I feel it. There’s no reason for us to be here anymore.”
“I’ve got two countries full of scared people who say otherwise.” Kail smiled. “That’s why Dairy has you two beat, even though he screwed up with the Knights of Gedesar. The kid never knew he had a destiny, so he just did the best he could. Same as Loch, same as me. And yeah.” He patted the console. “Maybe I started training with airships as a way to regain control. Maybe I’ve got some work left to do. But I’m working on it while saving the Republic with no fancy destiny or godly powers or any of that. Sit back and take notes if you like. Or better yet? Help.” He pointed at Ghylspwr. “Not because you’ve got some big magical destiny, but because it’s what needs doing.”
Desidora swallowed. “A bit to port.”
Kail nudged Iofegemet over. “Thanks.”
“I think I know where Heaven’s Spire went,” Pyvic said, headed over from where he and Icy had been charting their course on a map. “I initially thought they’d be trying to pull the city back somewhere safer, further from the fighting.”
“But they are not,” said Icy, holding up the map so that Kail could see.
“You guys wrote all over my map!” Kail said, followed shortly by, “Why in Gedesar’s name would they take Heaven’s Spire to the Temple of Butterflies?”
“Good question.” Pyvic grimaced, then looked at Desidora. “Sister, the only thing we know about Shenziencis is that she has lived at the Temple of Butterflies for centuries. Could the temple be tied into her power?”
“If the temple is a legacy of the ancients,” she said slowly, “then yes.”
Kail grunted. “And if the four of us—”
“Besyn larveth’is!”
“Sorry, if the five of us can figure it out, it stands to reason somebody up on the Spire could as well.” Kail nodded slowly. “So they’re going to fly Heaven’s Spire over to the temple and threaten to send down the giant beam of fire.”
“It stands to reason.” Pyvic nodded. “The Imperials are already worried enough about it to go to war. Might as well make use of it.”
“So they will make a show of force, hoping my people will back down,” Icy said. “But since my people are not in fact responsible for the attacks, the bluff will fail.”
“We had better hope it’s just a bluff,” Desidora said. Everyone looked at her. “You all saw what Heaven’s Spire did to the ground below.”
“Well, yeah.” Kail shrugged. “But the Temple of Butterflies is kind of an ugly temple, anyway. No offense, Icy.”
“None taken.”
“No,” Desidora said, “you don’t understand. The Temple of Butterflies is an artifact of the ancients, just like Heaven’s Spire. If we’re right, it has enough magical strength to augment the naga’s power and let her control a massive army of the dead from halfway across the Republic.”
“So you’re thinking it might be hard to attack?” Kail asked.
“I’m thinking,” Desidora said, “that attacking it with another artifact of the ancients might blow up a good chunk of both the Republic and the Empire.”
Loch played suf-gesuf as her father had taught her, getting out of bad hands with minimal losses and staying in enough of them to keep her chips up. Her luck was less than great, but good enough that she was ahead of the ever-increasing minimum ante.
The dwarf in the enormous hat came in too aggressively, staying in bad hands longer than he should have. He busted within the first hour and left swearing that the game was rigged. The elf in the feathered half-mask was holding back, her chips slowly dwindling as she folded each turn rather than take a risk on an uncertain hand. Loch figured she’d be out in a few more hours.
Veiled Lightning’s stack of chips was the largest at the table, and she looked over at Loch with a little smirk as the dealer flipped out the cards for the next hand. “I will stand on my cards and raise two hundred.” She looked at her hidden cards as Loch did the same. The flop showed a pair of eights, and Veiled Lightning had another eight in her open cards. By her smile, she was sitting on a fourth.
“Not for me,” Lechien said, sighing and tossing his cards away.
“I am interested in seeing what the young lady has,” said the Imperial, smiling affably from behind his spectacles and pushing a few chips forward.
“Draw one and one,” Loch said, pushing forward a hidden card and an open one, along with the chips to keep her in the hand.
“Two for the Urujar.” The dealer flicked two cards her way, flipping one of them open. “Possible straight, depending on what she’s got hidden. Ranger?” He looked to the elven woman in the feathered mask, who shook her head. “The ranger folds.”
“I will raise,” Veiled Lightning said, tossing in more chips.
“Hmm.” The Imperial hemmed and hawed for a moment, then checked as well.
“The Imperial evidently has something exciting that isn’t showing for the rest of us,” the dealer said, then looked at Loch. “Urujar?”
“Two,” Loch said, “and two more.”
Veiled Lightning slid her chips into the pot. “You don’t think I have the fourth eight.”
“Nobody thinks you have the fourth eight,” Loch said. “But by all means, call me.”
Veiled Lightning glared, and then shook her head sharply at the dealer.
“The princess folds,” he said. “Imperial?” The Imperial wiped his face and dropped his cards as well. “Hand goes to the Urujar. We’ll take a half-hour break, now. If you aren’t back in thirty, you forfeit.” The dealer gathered the cards in and shuffled them quickly enough that his fingers blurred.
Loch stood, stretching out tight muscles in the back of her neck. Dairy hurried to her side.
“Ma’am?”
“Drink,” she said, heading for the bar, “and report.”
“Nothing yet from Tern and the others,” Dairy said, pushing a drink of dwarven whiskey into her hands. “How did you
know she didn’t have the last eight?”
“Because I was sitting on it myself. That wasn’t about winning.” Loch bolted the whiskey, winced, and handed Dairy the empty glass. “If it’d been about winning, I’d’ve drawn it out a bit more and lured her into raising.”
“What was it about, then?” Dairy asked.
“It was about the Imperial.” Loch saw Baron Lechien standing by the bar, playing with a cocktail sword while sipping a fruity drink Tern would have liked. “Give me a minute, Dairy.”
Lechien lifted his fruity drink in a toast as Loch came over. “You’ve had a good run so far.”
“As have you,” Loch said, smiling. It was a professional smile this time, not a flirty one. “You’re only a bit behind the princess at our table.”
“Yes.” Lechien sipped his drink. “About that.”
“Noticed, did you?”
“Hard not to.” Lechien glared. “I’ve sat across the table from Benevolent Dawn a hundred times. He has never chased a hand that badly, and if he had some stratagem, he would have seen it through rather than folding.”
“He’s been feeding the princess,” Loch said. “Staying in on hands to put chips in her lap.”
“I told you before that politics and I generally agree to leave each other alone,” Lechien said, and shook his head, “but word around the ship is that you are here for more than a game, as is she.”
“The Republic and the Empire are hurtling toward war.” Loch lowered her voice. “If I stay in long enough, I can stop that from happening.”
“Benevolent Dawn has apparently chosen his side.” Lechien grimaced. “And it gets a lot more expensive after this break.”
Loch nodded. “You have a suggestion?”
Lechien swallowed, looked around, and then downed the rest of his drink. “All right. I can eat a tournament loss, if need be. Next time I draw a possible four of a kind, I’ll tap twice. It’ll actually just be three. You’ll be able to beat it with a straight or a concordance. If you can get either of those, tap twice back, and I’ll go all in.”
“You’re doing a service to the Republic,” Loch said gravely, and Lechien grinned and shook his head.
“All I wanted was a good game of cards with a pretty girl.” He turned away from her and signaled to the bartender for another.
Loch sidestepped the crowd and went into the hallway leading to the head. The treeship had better plumbing than most Republic cities, and everything apparently got recycled and used to help power the ship. Loch tried not to think about it.
She turned a corner, and that was when something slammed into her head.
Loch hit the grass-carpeted floor hard, arms shielding her instinctively, and curled up to catch the kick that followed on the elbows.
“Do you believe she will remain unconscious for a full half-hour?” an elven voice asked.
“She has proven durable even by human standards,” Irrethelathlialann replied. “I would appreciate it if she were placed somewhere where she was unlikely to escape until the allotted time had passed.”
A hand came down, curling into a fist in Loch’s hair, while another hooked under her armpit. “As you wish.”
Loch slammed the heel of her palm up and shattered the nose of the elf holding her. As he stumbled back, she kicked and caught someone else in the leg.
“The worst part about being injured,” she said, coming back to her feet, “is the first fight after. You’re always thinking, ‘Am I really back? Did it heal right?’ ”
There were three of them, plus Irrethelathlialann, though he stood back by the corner. One was already lunging in, and she kicked, caught him in the gut, then put him down with a right hook. “It’s not until the first time you get hit again that you really know for sure,” she added, stomping on the back of his knee and dropping an elbow onto the base of his skull.
The last elf crashed into her, and she hit the wall hard, got a knee up, and took a shot across the cheek as she shoved him back. The one whose nose she’d broken caught her with a kick to the gut, not far from where she’d been stabbed, and it felt tight, but not too tight, and she grinned, caught the leg, leaned in, and popped her palm down hard just under the kneecap. He squealed and went down, holding his leg.
“So what I really want to say . . .” She got her arms up in a guard as the other elf came in high, caught him with a low body shot, slammed him back into the far wall, and then reached up and tore one of the crystals from his cheeks. “Is thank you for getting me past that first fight.”
She tossed the crystal to the ground as the elf slid to a seated position, keening and clutching his face, and looked at Irrethelathlialann. “You must think I’m really good at suf-gesuf to be this worried.”
His hand went to the ruby-red blade at his waist. “You’re a savage, Lochenville, the worst of the breed of a race of savages. The ancients bred us for magic, and we carry the scars of that even today. But you?” He sneered. “You were bred for brute labor.”
“Shame you didn’t think of that before you tried to use brute force to stop me.” She looked at the elves on the ground. “You could’ve brought better fighters.”
Irrethelathlialann opened his mouth to reply, then glanced back out into the main hall and blinked. He slid back, his hand leaving the blade at his waist.
Captain Thelenea came around the corner with a pair of her guards with her. She looked at Irrethelathlialann, then at the three elves on the ground, most of them still rocking back and forth and making little noises to themselves, and then finally at Loch.
“Does anyone have anything they wish to report?” she asked.
Irrethelathlialann didn’t say anything.
Loch smiled.
“I suspect that if I did wish to report anything, I’d be taken to your cabin to fill out that report, wouldn’t I?” she asked, and caught Irrethelathlialann’s glare. “And that would take more than a half-hour, which would mean I’d forfeit my place in the tournament, which would in turn mean that you’d have to kick my ass off the ship.”
Thelenea pursed her lips. “That is indeed how matters would likely proceed.”
“Then no, thank you.” Loch coughed and rolled out one shoulder. “I have nothing I wish to report.”
“Then perhaps I will make a report,” Irrethelathlialann said, stepping forward with his gaze steady on Loch, “stating that this Urujar woman assaulted my three friends, a vicious and all-too-human attack—”
“If that would work, you’d have spoken first,” Loch said, waving at him absently. “Thelenea, if he files a report, do I have to come answer charges immediately, or are they deferred until after the tournament?”
“Our social laws dictate—”
“After the tournament,” the captain said, giving Loch a small smile.
“Well, then.” Loch nodded to each of them. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to hit the head.”
She turned her back on both of them and walked into the head, a large room with a number of individual stalls, and mirrors and sinks by the door.
Princess Veiled Lightning stood by the sink, staring at her wordlessly.
Her braids hung looser in the front than Loch had seen before. She’d removed the crystals at the tips, Loch realized, when she boarded the ship. Her little necklace hung over her brow, making it look like she was glaring, but the expression on her face was in fact carefully neutral.
“You want to take a shot?” Loch asked. “I’ve still got about twenty minutes to get back to the table.”
Energy crackled at Veiled Lightning’s fingertips. “I could take you in two.”
“Like you’ve taken me all the past times.” Loch shook her head. “No bodyguard, no . . . whatever Shenziencis is, and no chance that my surrender would actually stop the Republic and the Empire from getting a lot of people killed, now that your side is sending unde
ad to attack my towns.”
“My side?” Veiled Lightning glared. “Your own Republic has sent the undead into my Empire. You dare spout your lies!”
Loch stepped to the sink and turned it on. As she washed her hands, she looked up into the mirror at Veiled Lightning, who stood behind her, electricity snaking around both hands now. “Do your parents even know you’re out here trying to take me in?”
The question seemed to catch Veiled Lightning by surprise. Loch heard her catch her breath, trying to form an answer.
“I’m guessing they don’t,” Loch went on. “I’m guessing you went off because you saw trouble brewing and people hemming and hawing and politicking, and you decided that someone had to go do what was right. You snuck off on your own to show them how to get things done.” She scrubbed her hands. “Only it wasn’t really on your own, was it? Not with an attendant and a bodyguard and a magical ax. You come all the way to the Republic, all the way to the Elflands, and you still wonder whether you’re just coasting on things your family did.”
“Your family’s title bought your rank in the Republic’s army, Captain,” Veiled Lightning said behind her.
“Yes, it did. I went a long way before finding out that you can’t outrun the privilege you grow up with. All you can do is try to use it well, to honor the people who work in the fields so you don’t have to.”
“That’s what I’m doing,” Veiled Lightning said slowly, “and I swear to you, I will do everything in my power to end this war . . . once you are in custody.”
Her hand stabbed forward, lightning snapping from her fingers.
Loch spun and flung a spray of water from the sink. Veiled Lightning sidestepped it, face twisting into a smirk that vanished as Loch’s knuckles sank into her kidneys. She stumbled, the magic fading from her hands, and Loch feinted low, then drilled a straight punch clean into her chest. “Takes a peaceful, harmonious mind to get that magic going, doesn’t it? I try not to rely on any fighting style that doesn’t work when I’m pissed off.”
The Prophecy Con (Rogues of the Republic) Page 32