Balanced on the Blade's Edge (Dragon Blood, Book 1) (21 page)

“No,” she murmured, gazing at the dark night
beyond the window.

Ridge thought about taking her hand, but
clasped his hands behind his back instead. This was a professional
discussion, not… anything else. Though maybe she could be teased
into sharing more if he confessed the times he had considered
finding creative ways to extract information from her. “I knew I
should have tried my seduction plan.”

That pulled her attention back to him. She
raised an elegant eyebrow and murmured, “Hm?”

“At one point, it crossed my mind that you
might be here to seduce me. Then I decided you weren’t and thought
perhaps I should attempt to seduce you, so I could learn your
innermost secrets. But I was afraid I lacked the sexual allure and
charisma for the task.”

Her lips curved upward. “The deceit required
for the task, more likely.”

“So my allure is fine?” Ridge wiggled his
eyebrows.

“It’s quite nice.”

“Good to know.” He tapped a finger on the
freshly marked map. “I am going to keep trying to wheedle the
information out of you until you relent. I hope that fact won’t
damage my allure overmuch.”

“So long as you keep delivering me coffee in
the mornings.”

“Any particular care over which of these Xs
we mine toward first?”

Sardelle pointed at two in close proximity.
Interesting. They were down deep and not particularly close to the
shaft where she had supposedly been discovered wandering.

“If you tell me what you’re looking for… ”
Ridge started, though he wasn’t quite sure where he was going with
the offer.

“You’ll help me find it?” she asked, her tone
dry. She must understand that the military considered all of this
their property and anything found within the mountain theirs.

Ridge licked his lips. He had to be careful.
To promise anything that hinted of treason… he couldn’t do that.
But if she could truly help him find crystals, and what she wanted
lacked in military significance, then what would it matter if he
never mentioned it in his reports? He closed his eyes. The thought
of withholding information from his superiors made him
uncomfortable. But maybe he didn’t have to withhold it. The
crystals were of paramount importance. He would be justified in
trading something valuable for them.

“Though I fully acknowledge that what’s in
that mountain isn’t mine to trade, I think I could… make it work
for my reports if I received crystals in exchange for… something
else. So long as it’s not some huge ancient weapon that will be
used to destroy the continent.”

“This is my homeland too. I wouldn’t do
anything to harm it.”

He believed her. And it sent a wave of relief
through him. “Good.”

Sardelle studied the map, or maybe the floor
at her feet, or maybe nothing. Ridge felt her debating with herself
and didn’t say anything. He had already pushed enough. If she
didn’t—couldn’t—trust him, he understood. He had suspected from the
beginning that they were on conflicting sides.

Finally, she looked up, meeting his eyes.
“It’s a sword.”

“A sword?”

“A six-hundred-year-old Referatu
soulblade.”

Sardelle had known it would get colder, but
she wasn’t ready for how much colder. Now she understood why her
people had put their homes
inside
the
mountain instead of on it. If they had been less feared, maybe they
wouldn’t have had to use such a remote part of the world, but
relationships with mundanes had always seemed to work better with
separation. Until that didn’t work anymore either.

Sardelle sipped from a coffee mug—she had
another mug in her hand, a cover over it in a vain attempt to keep
it from chilling—and watched as Ridge and his engineer friend
worked on the rusted flying machine now residing in the center of
the courtyard, its dragon “feet” perched near the frozen stream.
There wasn’t a building large enough to house it, and there wasn’t
room to work on it anywhere else. Just getting it here had been a
gargantuan chore, she understood. It had come in pieces, pulled
around and across the mountain in stages by strange machines the
engineer had said were usually used in the logging industry.
Whatever route it had taken, it was here now, and the miners,
soldiers, and even the women working the laundry room were taking
bets as to whether it would ever fly again. Given the amount of
snow that had fallen overnight—there were at least nine new inches
blanketing its metallic carapace and wings—Sardelle wasn’t even
sure it would be able to remain standing upright through the
day.

Like everyone else working up top, she
checked the sky often. It had been nearly three weeks since the
encounter with the airship and the owl. She wanted to believe the
Cofah had forgotten about the fort and had gone home, but she
suspected they were still out there. Ridge thought so, too, and
there was an urgency about the way he worked on the flier, as if
the small one-man craft could stave off an attack from an airship
that claimed a sorcerer among its passengers. He said they had the
cold and the snow to thank for the peaceful days, citing airships’
sensitivity to changing weather conditions and thin air, but
Sardelle wondered if the other sorcerer had sensed her somehow, and
if they were acting more warily because of her presence. She would
have preferred to be a surprise… someone to lie in wait if needed,
especially since she couldn’t reveal to her allies that she had
powers. She wasn’t all that certain she was a match for this jungle
shaman anyway. Maybe once she had Jaxi…

Ridge had ordered new tunnels opened in the
directions she had indicated, and they had already found three
crystals. It was the reason she was allowed to stand around,
drinking coffee and watching the men work, even though she had run
out of days off some time ago. It was also the reason Ridge had a
bounce to his step, she assumed. Or maybe that was because he was
working on a flier, however rusted and dilapidated. She knew it
didn’t have anything to do with bedroom exploits, since she hadn’t
been invited up to his room for any of those. Not that she had
expected it here in the fort, where she was under scrutiny from
Captain Heriton and several others—she hadn’t had to use her mental
faculties to catch whispered gossip going around about her. Ridge
himself must be under scrutiny from associating with her too. No,
she hadn’t been expecting exploits, but she did… miss them. At the
least, it would be enjoyable to try bedroom activities with an
actual bed. The lumpy, rocky cave had made things a little awkward,
though she had found the experience quite enjoyable. The memory
could still cause her to smile into her coffee.

“Morning,” Ridge said, ambling over in his
full parka, fur cap, and mittens, all three smeared with grease.
For a pilot, he definitely had a hands-on approach to flier
repairs.

Sardelle tamped down the urge to wipe off a
smear on his nose. Even though it was snowing again—or maybe it was
still snowing, as she couldn’t remember the last time it had
stopped for more than five minutes—there were people in the
courtyard, miners tramping off to work and soldiers in the middle
of shift changes. “Good morning, Colonel.” She handed him the
second mug. “How is the progress?”

This had become a ritual, her showing up with
coffee, asking after his progress, and him spending a few minutes
chatting with her about it. Just because he wasn’t sending her
invitations for midnight trysts didn’t mean he didn’t care, or
wouldn’t
like
to send those invitations.
In the meantime, he smiled and chatted amiably with her, and
despite the frozen courtyard setting and the walls of cannons
surrounding them, she had come to find a comfortable familiarity in
the daily sharing of their morning coffee. She looked forward to
it.

“With the flier, about the same. We’re
building an engine from scratch from scrap parts pillaged from
around the fort. I swear Captain Bosmont was eyeing the cook’s
metal pans this morning in the mess.” Ridge removed the cover on
his coffee and took a big gulp. “The miners also found another
crystal last night.” He beamed at her, and Sardelle melted a little
inside at his obvious pleasure. “That makes four. I won’t need to
worry so much about testing the flier now.”

“Because… you’ll need to borrow one of the
crystals for it?” It still floored her that these people were using
three-hundred-year-old lamps to power their flying machines.

“Because this pile of wings and rust might
fall out of the sky and plunge to the bottom of a canyon on its
test run. It would be difficult for anyone to retrieve the crystal
then.”

Sardelle blinked at him. She knew it was
questionable whether they would actually be able to get the flier
in the air, but had assumed they would know if it was feasible
before risking their lives. “And its pilot as well?”

“Well, I’m not sure they would bother going
down to scrape his pulverized bones off the rocks. But the crystal,
that’s valuable.” Amazingly, he smirked as he described this
scenario. He had to be joking…

“You’re a unique individual, Ridge
Zirkander,” Sardelle murmured. She didn’t use his first name when
anyone was close enough to hear, but believed the snow would
insulate their voices from those crossing to the trams behind
them.

“I’ve heard that a lot in my life, though
usually with cursing rather than fond smiles. You must be unique
yourself.”

Sardelle smiled into her cup again. “I think
you’ve already figured that out.”

He grunted. “I still haven’t figured out much
about you. No signs of swords down there yet. Do you think we’re
close?”

Sardelle shook her head. Though she had
relented and told Ridge what she sought, she hadn’t plotted a
direct shaft to it on his map. So long as the miners, with their
powerful explosives and constant shoring up and supporting of the
tunnels they built, got close, she should be able to drill the rest
of the way in.

“If the men do find it, will it look like…
anything other than a sword?” Ridge hadn’t asked much about it when
she had revealed it as the item she sought; if anything, he had
surprised her with his lack of surprise, but she supposed it fit
with this relic-hunting archaeologist persona he had constructed
for her. “Will it… it won’t be a danger to them, will it? Burn them
if they touch it or something like that?”

“Of course not.” Sardelle lost her smile.
“The Referatu weren’t evil.”

“Uh huh, that’s not what the history books
say.” Ridge frowned as well, giving her that concerned look he did
every time she spoke of magic, like he was worried for her
soul.

What was she going to do if he found out the
truth about her? For that matter, what was she going to do when she
got the sword? At that point, she could leave, unless she somehow
wanted to try and dig out more artifacts. She wasn’t sure how she
would do that, but it did irk her a bit, imagining the descendants
of those who had buried her people alive coming back later to paw
through their belongings.

“What will you do when you find it?” Ridge
asked.

Indeed, just the question on her mind. “Study
it,” she said, though she already knew Jaxi’s every inner and outer
contour intimately. Sardelle had a vague notion of traveling the
world and trying to find more of her people, descendants of them
anyway. Not
everyone
had been at that
birthday celebration. Almost everyone had been—which was no doubt
why their enemies had chosen that day to attack—but more people
than her had to have survived. Had they fled the continent? Were
they hiding in some distant corner of the world? Would they welcome
her into whatever community they had managed to create? Or could
she somehow live amongst the mundanes and be happy?

“Back at some university, I suppose,” Ridge
said, studying the liquid in his cup.

“Aside from one handsome and generous fort
commander, I have not found many people to welcome me here.”

“And he’s not enough of a reason to
stay?”

Sardelle swallowed. This was the first time
he had suggested he wanted her to. “I… ”

“It wouldn’t be forever. Just a year. Eleven
months and five days now. Not that I have a calendar I’m marking on
my desk or anything.” Ridge gave her that quirky smile of his, the
one that made his eyes glint as if he were planning some mischief.
“I have a much nicer place down near the coast. A little cabin in
the woods, next to a lake with some great fishing. It’s very
private and peaceful. Did I mention private? Nothing except the
raccoons and owls—normal-sized non-freaky owls—to pay attention to
what’s going on out there at night.”

“I see, and if I were to stay here for a
year—” or go off and check on the world and on her people and then
come back for him in a year… “—would I be working in the laundry
and sleeping in a tiny bunk surrounded by dozens of snoring women
the whole time?”

“I’m quite certain you’ve only worked in the
laundry one day so far,” Ridge said dryly.

“True enough, but there’s only been one night
when I haven’t slept in the snore chamber.” Sardelle wriggled her
brows at him.

“Yes, I’ve regretted that, but I’ve felt
somewhat… inhibited with Captain Heriton next door. The man has
actually had the gall to knock on my door before dawn a couple of
times and glance behind me to see if anyone else is in the room.
I’m going to have to make sure he’s not slipping any reports onto
the supply ship. I don’t need a spy in my own camp. Assuming that
supply ship ever comes.” He looked to the cloudy sky. “They should
have been here four days ago.”

Sardelle didn’t want to talk about supply
ships. She wanted to find a way to circumvent his spies. Of course
she couldn’t tell him that she could insulate his walls and keep
the nosy captain from hearing anything. “Perhaps a less closely
monitored location?” she suggested.