Balanced on the Blade's Edge (Dragon Blood, Book 1) (24 page)

Sardelle sat in the chair next to him.
“Perhaps you could give me some context. I’m not certain whether I
should be trying to cheer you up or commiserating with you. Or
simply sitting in silence.”

Ridge used the back of his hand to push the
bottle toward her.

“Or joining you for a drink,” she added.

“Two of my pilots were killed.”

“Oh.” It wasn’t the general that had
distressed him so, or not only the general. “Men you flew with?
That you knew well?”

“A man and a woman. A girl, really. Ahn was
only twenty-three, barely out of the academy, but she had a real
feel for the flier and the archer god’s gift for accuracy. She—”
Ridge swallowed audibly, then cleared his throat and picked up the
bottle. He took a long swig.

Sardelle wondered if this Ahn had been more
than a fellow pilot for him, but kept herself from asking. This was
not the time, and she refused to feel petty jealousy toward a dead
woman.

Ridge set down the bottle. “She was a good
kid. Would have had a great career. Made a difference, you
know?”

Sardelle didn’t have any words, none that
wouldn’t sound pointless and inane, so she simply laid a hand on
his forearm.

“Dash, too,” Ridge said. “Even if he was
reckless. They both were. Probably got that from me. And then I
wasn’t there when—” He broke off again, gazing into the dark
nothingness.

“I’m sorry,” Sardelle whispered. It seemed so
inadequate. For him, and for her too. Her thoughts drifted to those
she had lost, friends and relatives who also would have had great
careers if the fates had allowed it. Some had been younger than
Ridge’s lieutenant when the mountain had come crashing down.

They sat there in silence, letting the
candles burn lower, their lights dancing with shadows on the
bookcase. After a time, Ridge pushed the bottle toward her
again.

“You should drink. I’m more interesting when
you do. Better company.”

Because he wished it, Sardelle took a sample
of the strong-smelling brew. As she had suspected, it burned like
fire going down her throat. She managed not to cough and
sputter—barely. “As I told you this morning, you don’t have to do
much to be better company than a brigade of snoring women.”

“Yeah? Guess I’m lucky standards here are
low.”

Sardelle too. She thought of the pretty
blonde girl and the way she had fallen over Ridge from the moment
she stepped out of the plane. It occurred to her that the hero
worship she had seen from many of the soldiers must extend to women
when he was back home. He must have his choice of female
companions. If she were to knock on the door of his cabin by the
lake someday, would she find him alone? Or, with so many other
interested parties around, would he forget about her?

You never used to be
insecure.

I never used to date
much.

You’re an attractive
woman, Sardelle. He’s in the library with you, not drinking with
that blonde girl. She offered.

I’m sorry, were you
trying to make me feel better?

No, just making
observations.

Time for a different topic. “It sounded like
that general was giving you a hard time. Will you get in trouble
over… the changes you’ve implemented?” Or over me, she added
silently.

“Already did. He thinks I’m running the place
like the officer’s club back home. He figures I’ll bring in
masseurs to rub down the prisoners next.”

“Wasn’t he at least pleased by the crystals
you’ve found?” Sardelle asked.

“He was so happy he almost didn’t scowl for a
second. Wouldn’t credit me for them though—not that I’ve had
anything to do with finding them—” Ridge nodded toward her. “Even
though Heriton told him differently, he’s convinced they came out
of the ground on General Bockenhaimer’s shift.”

“Well… your men are close to another one.
He’ll be able to see that one for himself when they dig it
out.”

“Yeah.”

“If I were down there, I might be able to
find even more. Pretty soon, you’re going to get into some of the
old rooms, and there’ll be a higher density of… ” Sardelle stopped
because Ridge had twisted in his seat to face her.

He clasped the top of the hand she had been
resting on his arm. “Listen, Sardelle. You need to make yourself
scarce. Don’t let him see you, and don’t show up when Heriton is
around either. If he starts blabbing about what that prisoner said
or about any of the admittedly unusual things that have happened
since you came around… you’ll be in danger. I won’t be able to
protect you. As much as I’d like to, I can’t throw a superior
officer off a cliff.”

“I’d never ask you to.”

“I know you wouldn’t.” Ridge lifted his hand
and stroked the side of her face. “You’re more mature than I am.”
His eyes moved, following her face as his fingers traced her cheek
down to her jaw. A pleased shiver ran through her. “Sexier too,” he
murmured.

“I would refute that statement. You’re quite
sexy. Especially when you smile.”

He managed a small one. “No argument on
mature, eh?”

“No.”

Ridge chuckled softly and leaned closer. He
kissed her gently on the lips, then lowered his face to the side of
her neck. Sardelle wasn’t sure if he had commiseration in mind or…
something more, but her body was certainly responding to his touch.
It would be a shame to go back to the barracks now. He pushed his
hand through her hair and massaged the back of her neck.

“I suppose being pawed over by a drunk
wouldn’t be much of a reward for you coming all the way out here to
keep me company,” he murmured against her throat, his lips grazing
her skin.

She wondered if he could feel the rapidness
of her heartbeat there. “Depends on the drunk,” she whispered,
slipping her hand behind his head and wondering why their chairs
were so far apart.

“Oh?”

“You still seem to have… ” That massage felt
so good, her brain slipped a cog and she momentarily forgot the
rest of her sentence. Good and… stimulating. Not to mention what
his lips were doing on her throat. “Retained your faculties,” she
breathed.

“I was hoping you’d come.” His other hand
found her thigh. Even through her clothing, it charged her with
heat.

Sardelle left her chair to sit in his lap and
wrapped her arms more firmly around him. “Me too.” That didn’t make
sense, but she didn’t care.

“You’re the only thing keeping me sane
tonight,” Ridge whispered, and it was the last thing either of them
said for a time.

* * *

After spending the night with Sardelle,
something Ridge resolved to do more often, whatever he had to do to
manage it, he found himself struggling to pay attention to the
lecture from the general’s daughter. Oh, Professor Vespa surely
didn’t mean it to be a lecture, but by the time she had explained
the significance of the tenth type of rock from her sample case,
Ridge was hoping General Nax would show up to send her away. Odd,
when Sardelle had recited summaries of all those books, he hadn’t
found it pompous or boring, but Vespa had an air of self-importance
that made him want to pull out something else to work on while she
spoke. He also got the impression she thought he wasn’t that
bright.

“It’s important that we start getting the
miners to categorize the non-valuable debris they clear out in each
level,” Vespa stated. “I’m here to determine the most likely types
of rock that we can find crystals in.”

“Someone has already determined that,” Ridge
said. “That’s why we’ve found four in the last couple of
weeks.”

“Someone.” Vespa crinkled her tiny nose. “A
geologist? An expert?”

“I’m not sure what field she studied. She’s a
prisoner.”

“You’re taking excavating advice from a
prisoner? Oh, Ridge.”

“She’s educated.” Ridge probably shouldn’t be
talking about Sardelle at all, but he didn’t want to have to
institute some idiotic rock cataloguing system—he could just
imagine how well that would go over with the miners, having to
separate and label every chunk of dirt they removed—when they had a
better way.

“From where?”

“She didn’t say.” It occurred to Ridge that
he might have an unexpected resource to unearth a little more about
Sardelle’s mysterious past. “Although, maybe you’ve heard of her. I
think she was an archaeologist or in a similar field before… ending
up here.” Did geologists and archaeologists work together from time
to time, read each other’s papers?

“What’s her name?”

“Sardelle Sordenta.”

Vespa shook her head. “I’ve never heard of
her.”

“Hm. She has some interesting ideas about
where the crystals come from. Have you ever heard about there being
a Referatu outpost here at some point in the past? Here, inside the
mountain itself?”

Vespa took a step back. “The sorcerers? Of
course not.”

She was genuinely surprised. Huh. Ridge had
thought he simply didn’t spend enough time in the halls of academia
to have stumbled across the information himself. Well, a geologist
wasn’t an archaeologist. “You might find it interesting to actually
go down into the tunnels,” he said. “See the mine shafts. You can
tell that some areas appear to have been mined before, and then
collapsed.”

“Truly? That’s fascinating.” She smiled,
flashing a pair of dimples at him. “And did I just hear you offer
to take me on a tour down there?”

“Er. I’m actually already late to meet
Captain Bosmont to work on the flier.”

Vespa held up a hand. “I wouldn’t go near
that thing if I were you. My father was furious when he saw that
rusted junk pile—his words, not mine—in the middle of the
courtyard.”

“Yes, I was there to receive his opinions on
the project yesterday.” His opinions on
everything
.

“I heard him say he wants it scrapped.”

“He’ll think differently if we’re able to use
it to defend against the Cofah, who could be back at any time.”
Another reason Ridge didn’t want to dither around giving tours. The
skies were clear. The snow and wind that had been keeping the
airship away wouldn’t be a hurdle now.

“I’m sure he will. I would love to see you
fly.”

Ridge would love for
Sardelle
to see him fly. Her background might still
be a mystery to him, but he had gotten the impression that she had
never seen a dragon flier before, despite her academic familiarity
with the Denhoft book.

A door banged open out in the hallway.
“Colonel? General?” came Captain Heriton’s excited voice. “News
from the mines!”

Ridge pushed to his feet. “Shall we see what
it is?” He held the door open for Vespa.

“Thank you, Ridge.”

She walked out first and as Ridge stepped
out, General Nax strode out of the office next door. Not
surprisingly, he scowled at the back of Vespa’s head, then at
Ridge, having caught them both coming out of the same room.

“Hurry,” the captain called from the base of
the stairs. “Out by Tram Three. This is unbelievable.”

“A crystal?” Vespa asked.

“Must be,” the general said.

Ridge wasn’t so sure. Heriton had been as
excited as anybody at the finding of the first crystal—the first
one in over a year—but now that it had become more common, he
didn’t shout for everyone to come look when a miner walked out with
one.

Ridge jogged across the courtyard. Quite a
few people, soldiers and miners, had gathered around the tram exit.
An ore cart full of something that wasn’t ore rested in front of
the shaft. The dusty contents looked to be…

“Books?” Vespa asked, jogging too. “Dug out
of the
mountain
?” Her face screwed up in
disbelief.

Ridge was less surprised, having been warned
of the Referatu by Sardelle. This must be the first true proof,
other than the crystals themselves, as to a prior civilization
living down there. One that had apparently had a mountain collapsed
upon their heads.

Men moved aside for Ridge and the general to
approach.

“We found ’em just this morning,” a miner was
saying, “and some old dusty carpets too.”

Another miner standing beside him elbowed him
and pointed to Ridge. “Tell them about the bones.”

“I know, I know, I’m getting to it.”

“Be quiet,” General Nax snapped. “Everyone.
Except you.” He pointed to the first miner. “Explain everything. No
one interrupt him.”

Several men muttered yes-sirs. A couple of
them glanced at Ridge, as if they felt betrayed he had allowed this
more authoritative—or despotic, depending on how one looked at
it—figure to take charge. He kept himself from rolling his eyes or
doing anything else that would let the men know how he felt about
Nax. Channeling some of Sardelle’s maturity, perhaps. He took a
deep breath and listened.

“It looked like an old room that had caved
in. Part of some kind of underground fortress or castle or
something. There were two crystals. Two! Within ten feet of each
other. The engineer took those right away, but we brung up these
books too. But, like Two-five-three said, there were bones too. All
smashed from the rocks, but human skeletons for sure. Two of ’em
that we got to right away. Could be more. Bunch of us are still
digging down there.”

The general was staring at the books and
didn’t seem to be paying attention.

“Good find,” Ridge said. “Thank you for the
hard work.”

The miners knuckled their foreheads in
something approximating a military salute. “Sure, boss. Sure.”

“What
is
this?”
General Nax asked, touching the spine of one of the books with a
single finger. The title was written in Iskandian, albeit an
archaic-looking version of the text, with more flowery touches than
one usually saw on a book.

“What is it, Da?” Vespa squeezed past two men
for a better look.