Flamecaster (31 page)

Botetort made no move to do so. “It smells vile down here,” he said. “Like a piss-pot in a bawdy house. Do dragons always stink like that?”

“We were anchored crossways in the current and I think it's a little seasick,” Strangward said. “It's been closed up down here since we sailed.”

Botetort nudged a washtub with his foot. “It smells like rum. Is that what it drinks?”

“Rum keeps it calm,” Strangward said. “It seems to like it.”

“I suppose that would put a fire in its belly,” Botetort said. “Do dragons really breathe flame, like the legends say?”

Strangward rocked his hand. “Sometimes.”

Lila squatted in front of the dragon. Its eyes were glazed, its breath coming fast.

“I wouldn't get too close,” Strangward said sharply.

“It's not trained?”

“This one is not quite training size,” Strangward said. “But once you begin, they catch on quickly.”

Lila looked from Strangward to the dragon. This emissary's more nervous than he lets on. It's like he's not entirely sure what this dragon might do. Is it because it's a young dragon, and untrained? Or are they always that unpredictable?

“How old is it?” Destin asked.

“I'd say six months to a year. I don't know for sure,
since it was captured in the wild. But they grow fast. It's nearly doubled in size since we sailed. We had to bring a young one. It would be impossible to transport a full-grown dragon.”

“Why? How large can they get?”

“Double the length of this ship.”

“Truly? They get that big?” Botetort's eyes gleamed.

Before long, this dragon will be too big to get through the hatch, Lila thought. Even now, it would be tight.

“Is it a male or female?” she asked.

“I don't know,” Strangward said. “Dragons are like some people—it's difficult to tell without close examination.”

“How long has it been locked in the hold?” Destin asked. “Shouldn't it get some fresh air?”

“The ship is made of wood, Lieutenant. Would you give a dragon the run of a wooden ship?” Strangward patted the tile wall with the flat of his hand. “If our deal goes forward, it will have plenty of room to roam here in the wetlands.”

“I'm trying to imagine how dragons could be used in warfare,” Botetort said, rubbing his chin.

“Here's an example,” Strangward said. “One problem you have in fighting the northern forces is that the mountains are a formidable barrier. Another problem is the distance you must travel to get to the enemy. A full-grown dragon could fly over the mountains, destroy a city, and be back in Ardenscourt in time for supper. It would
no longer be necessary for you to send your soldiers north, year after year.”

The thane looked from the dragon to Strangward. “You have seen this with your own eyes?”

“Where I come from, the sight of a dragon will send any army fleeing for their lives,” Strangward said. He turned toward the ladder. “It's crowded down here. If everyone's had a look, perhaps we could continue this conversation back on shore.” He hurried all of them back up on deck. Von seemed visibly relieved when Strangward emerged from the hold.

Back in the palace, they reassembled in the presence chamber so that they could make their reports to the king. Lila noticed that Ash lurked nearby. When he heard about the dragon, he abandoned all pretense and moved in closer.

“Have you used them for reconnaissance work?” Montaigne asked Strangward.

“They can see long distances, and in the dark, so even the young ones would be suitable for that sort of thing,” Strangward said.

“Can they understand orders?” the king asked. “Can they tell the difference between enemies and allies?”

“Dragons are the most intelligent creatures I have ever encountered,” Strangward said. “They are much brighter than most people I meet.” He smiled a feral smile. “I have no doubt that they could make that distinction.”

Lila thought of the collar the dragon wore in the hold.
It faintly resembled the flashcraft collars used here in the south. “Can dragons be controlled using collars, in the way that mages can?”

“With dragons,” Strangward said, “it's more a matter of knowing how to train them.”

Something about the way he said it reminded Lila of a barker at the fair.

Maybe the king thought so, too, because he motioned to Destin. “Lieutenant,” he said, “can you verify the truth of what the emissary is saying?”

Destin licked his lips. “Your Majesty,” he said, “as a diplomat, Commander Strangward is protected by a certain—”

“No worries, Lieutenant,” Strangward broke in. “Truly. I don't mind.” Smiling, he extended his hands toward the spymaster.

Destin took a breath, released it, then took hold of the emissary's hands. He looked straight into the diplomat's face. “Are you telling the truth, Commander Strangward?”

“Always, Lieutenant Karn,” Strangward said. “Or, at least, as often as possible.”

“Do you mean harm to the king, or the empire?”

“No,” Strangward said.

“Is this dragon as powerful as you say it is?” Destin whispered.

“If anything, I have underestimated its potential.”

“Can they carry soldiers? Or supplies?” Botetort asked.

“I've not seen that,” Strangward said, “but they are certainly strong enough. I suppose you would need some sort of harness. Or a saddle.”

Botetort turned to Lila. “Would you be able to procure something suitable? Clan-made, perhaps? Something that combines the control of a collar with the practicality of a saddle?”

“I could . . . look into it,” Lila said reluctantly. “Though, since my sources have had no experience with dragons, I imagine that it would take time to work up a design.”

Destin turned to the king. “Was there anything else you wanted me to ask, Your Majesty?”

“No, Lieutenant,” Montaigne said. “I am satisfied.”

Destin held on to Strangward's hands a moment longer, then released his hold and stepped back.

But Lila wasn't done. She took a quick breath, knowing she had to tread lightly. “I am concerned about the health of the dragon we saw today,” she said. “It seemed . . . listless.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ash sit up straighter.

“Dragons eat large meals, and then sleep for long periods in between,” Strangward said. “The dragon you saw made a fresh kill immediately before we sailed. He will get progressively more . . . lively.”

“What do dragons typically prey on?” Lila asked.

“They are meat eaters, so they'll eat pretty much anything large enough to catch their interest.”

“Including people?” she persisted.

“They have been known to eat people, yes,” Strangward said.

“Would you be able to supply more dragons, if we needed them?” Botetort asked.

“I know where to find large numbers of dragons,” Strangward said. “More than you'll ever need.”

There were nods all around. This is too easy, Lila thought.

Strangward must have sensed that, too, because now he moved to close the deal. “So. Here is what I propose. We will leave the dragon with you, and take the girl back to the Northern Islands with us. If the empress determines that she is the girl she is looking for, our armies will arrive in time for the marching season in the north. If you find the dragon to be useful, we can make arrangements to supply more.”

Montaigne shook his head. “I'm sorry. That is not acceptable to us.”

Strangward went perfectly still. “It's not acceptable? In what way, Your Majesty?”

“We were promised an army for the girl,” Montaigne said, “and we do not intend to give her up until we get one. We've given you the opportunity to examine the girl and determine if she is the one you are looking for. If you believe she is, inform the empress and return with the army, and we will make the trade. If you are interested in
establishing trade in dragons, I suggest that you leave the dragon here so that we can evaluate its potential usefulness to us.”

Strangward gazed at the king for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice had an edge to it. “So. The dragon and the diamonds stay with you and we leave empty-handed? That hardly seems fair.”

“You've learned a lesson, then—one you should have mastered long before now,” Montaigne said. “Life isn't fair.”

“I'll make a note of that, Your Majesty,” Strangward said, his jaw tight. “I am certain this lesson will be of great use to me going forward. In truth, I have little interest in establishing a trade in dragons. I'll report your requirements to Celestine and we will see what she decides.” He inclined his head slightly. “Gentlemen. And lady. Thank you for your time.”

With that, the delegation from the Empress in the East walked out, leaving behind their last vestige of protocol.

“Arrogant savage,” Montaigne said.

Lila glanced at Ash. His eyes were closed, his face slack with relief. Lila frowned. Was he relieved that Arden would not have a dragon at its disposal? Wasn't a dragon preferable to an army? Or was he just happy with the delay?

“Your Majesty,” Botetort protested, “a girl for a dragon? It seems to me that there is little risk to us in such an agreement. The empire is swarming with women, but with a
dragon we could fly all the way to Fellsmarch and burn the wolf bitch to a crisp.” Clearly, Botetort envisioned himself as just the hero to do that.

“I have examined the girl,” Destin said, “and I have not been able to identify any qualities that would match the value of a—”

“Enough!” Montaigne stood, trembling with rage. “I have made my decision. We may not see the girl as valuable, but the empress clearly does, and that is all that matters. I will not allow a shipload of unwashed pirates to conduct a bait and switch. When the empress sends me an army, we will do business, and not before.”

When Ash left the royal apartments, he headed straight for the stables. Though he was officially working full-time in the healing halls, he found that sometimes hard physical labor was the only treatment for the anger and frustration that accumulated at court. And right now he needed that sort of relief.

Grabbing up a pitchfork, he proceeded to pitch dirty hay out of the nearest stall and into the aisle, not particularly careful about where it landed. He mucked out a half dozen stalls, until the muscles in his shoulders and arms burned, and he was soaked in sweat.

All the while, his mind boiled like a mud spring. What could the empress of a faraway island realm possibly want
with Jenna? All of the possibilities seemed bad. Besides, any Ardenine alliance with a realm known for powerful magic spelled bad news for the Fells.

“I thought you were out of the stables,” someone said behind him.

Ash knew without turning around that it was Lila.

“Every now and then, I get in the mood to shovel horseshit. You're welcome to help.”

“We need to talk.”

“No. You
want
to talk. There's a difference.”

“This thing—this agreement—can't go forward.”

“Maybe it won't,” Ash said, digging into the dirty hay. “You heard the king. Maybe he and the empress will never come to terms. Which is fine by me.”

“I think they will, eventually. Unless something happens to stop it.”

Ash finally turned around to face her, leaning on his pitchfork. “What do you care? There's money to be made either way. Dragon harnesses, specialized clothing for dragon riders, dog collars for Carthian mages—the possibilities are endless.”

“The last thing we need is another army mixing in,” Lila said. “The situation is bad enough as it is.”

“
We
? I don't know whose side you're on, but I'm pretty sure it's not mine. How do you think all those collars, talismans, and amulets are going to be used?” Ash's voice rose. “I'm not interested in getting involved
with any of your schemes.”

“Shhh,” Lila said, looking around. “I don't think you want to share that with the entire stable yard.”

“We're done here, anyway,” Ash said, resuming his forking. “Now why don't you just go about your business, and I'll go about mine. That was our agreement, remember?”

“You're wrong about me,” Lila said. “I've not been straight with you, and that's why we need to talk—someplace we won't be overheard.”

Something about the way Lila said this caught Ash's ear—and made him turn around again. She looked and sounded serious as plague. It was like the smooth-talking, hard-drinking, unscrupulous slacker he knew had been swapped out for somebody else.

“All right,” he said. “We can go into the tack room. Nobody will be in there this time of day. But I'm warning you—you'd better not be wasting my time.”

As Ash had expected, the tack room was deserted. Rolley would be at dinner, and it was too dark to be out riding this late at night at this time of year. Ash hung the lantern from one of the saddle racks and sat down on a trunk, arms folded, prepared for smoke and mirrors.

Lila settled onto the bench that centered the room, raked her hand through her cap of curls, and squared her shoulders. “First off,” she said, “my name is not Lila Barrowhill. It's Lila Byrne. Amon Byrne is my father.”

As usual, Lila's first move set Ash reeling like he'd been
clubbed over the head. He didn't know what he expected, but it wasn't that. Amon Byrne was the captain of the queen's Gray Wolf guard. The queen of the Fells, that is. His mother.

“Close your mouth, sul'Han,” Lila said, sounding more like herself. “You look like a beached fish.”

He scrambled for something to say. “I know Byrne's a widower, but I don't recall any children except for Simon.”

“Simon was the oldest, then my brother Silva,” Lila said. “My mother died in childbirth with me. Simon stayed on with our da, and me and Silva went to live with my mother's relatives in the Southern Islands.”

When Ash took a closer look, he could see that it was possible. Captain Byrne's wife had been a Southern Islander, with dark skin and curly hair. Lila had inherited that, but her eyes were gray like her father's. Ash had guessed she was a mixed blood, but it had never occurred to him that it was this particular mix.

“I guess you could say that this apple fell pretty far from the tree,” Lila said with a crooked smile. “I never saw much of my da until I went to live with some cousins in Baston Bay when I was ten. They were smugglers, though they called themselves traders, and they had ships that ran up and down the coast. My da would visit my aunt Lydia in Chalk Cliffs sometimes, and I'd take a ship up and see him. Not often; I was kind of mad at him, to tell you the truth.”

“How come you were mad at him?”

“My mother was dead and he was busy saving the queendom, so he never paid too much attention to me until Simon died. Then he couldn't figure out how to fit a square peg like me into the plan.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was like this massive joke played on my father. I'm not good with stupid military rules, and I had no head for schooling. The things I was good at—like smuggling and role-playing and sailing and deal-making—he had no use for. Still—one thing you can say about Captain Byrne—he is persistent. He just kept calling in his markers, sending me back to Oden's Ford, trying to hone this bit of bad metal into a sword. I was damned tired of it.”

Much as Ash hated to admit it, his and Lila's lives had parallels. They'd been war orphans from the start.

“Then you ran off to Oden's Ford. Well, at first they thought you were dead or captured, but your friend Taliesin ratted you out.”

“
Taliesin
told them?” Just one more club to the head.

“You think you know a person, right? She wanted your mother to know you were still alive, but she talked her into letting you stay at Oden's Ford.”

“So the queen knew I was there all along.” A couple of minutes into this conversation, and Ash already felt beat up. Questions swirled through his mind. “Why didn't she—why didn't she ever . . . reach out to me? Or drag me home?”

“The queen doesn't confide in me,” Lila said. “But I think she was worried that any contact with you might put you at risk. Ardenine spies are everywhere.” She glanced around again, as if to make sure none had slipped into the room. “Except for a few key people, everyone in the Fells thinks you're dead.”

“Does Lyss—does my sister know?”

“I don't know,” Lila said. “She was pretty young, wasn't she, when you ran off?”

When he ran off. That's exactly what he did. “Yes,” he said. “She was.”

“By then Captain Byrne was beginning to realize that I could actually be useful. Maybe my name will never be up on the brag board in Wien House, but Oden's Ford is a great place to chat up assholes like Tourant. Being a smuggler is great cover for traveling around the Realms.”

“You were a spy?”

“Among other things,” Lila said vaguely. “My da asked me to keep an eye on you—from a distance, since following you around would just draw attention to you. I wasn't hot for the job—the last thing I wanted to do was nanny a runaway princeling. If King Gerard found out where you were, it wouldn't do any good anyway, and I'd get the blame.” Her gaze was frank and unblinking. “I finally agreed, but I negotiated summers off to do my own thing. It turns out I worried for nothing. Watching over you was an easy job until, you know, this year. After the
death crows came, I decided I'd better take you home, but you didn't cooperate.”

Good thing you didn't know what I did with my summers, Ash thought. “What are you doing here? Still nannying?”

She shook her head. “I've been working on a long-term project with a friend of mine. We're becoming major suppliers for the Ardenine army.”

“That seems to be going well,” Ash said drily. He rose and paced back and forth. “So you sold them a boatload of flashcraft. You don't think that was going a little overboard when it comes to winning their trust?”

“It would be,” Lila said, “if the flashcraft worked as intended.”

Ash swiveled to face her. “Why? What's wrong with it?”

“Let's just say that it was custom work.”

“But . . . I thought you said it was old flash.”

“My friend Rogan is a rum clan flashcrafter. He is very good at reproductions.”

“All along, then, you've been working for the Fells.”

Lila nodded.

“Why didn't you tell me that before? I would have been at least marginally more polite.”

“To be honest, I thought of you as an amateur—a spoiled, entitled, runaway princeling bent on revenge who would get caught and then complicate and compromise my elegant scheme. I figured the less you knew, the better.”

“I hate it when you sugarcoat things,” Ash said. “If you had access to the court, why cook up an elegant scheme? Why not just assassinate Montaigne?”

“Damn! Why didn't I think of that?” Lila slapped her forehead.

“I'm serious.”

“What makes you think I haven't tried?”

“That wasn't you with the gedden weed and the—?”

“No.” Lila rolled her eyes. “The thing is, I never inherited the Byrne gene for martyrdom. I enjoy life too much to want to spend it on gutter-swiving Montaigne. How do I know Prince Jarat will be an improvement? From what I've seen and heard, he probably won't be.”

“At least maybe he won't be hell-bent on murdering my family,” Ash growled. “So. Why did you suddenly decide it was time to have a heart-to-heart with me?”

“Because an alliance between the Northern Islands and Arden will dilute the effect of the project Rogan and I have been working on for three years. And because the loss of your father as High Wizard makes us more vulnerable to magical attack than before. Lord Bayar has stepped in, but—”

“Bayar is High Wizard? Really?” Micah Bayar and his father had been rivals, if not outright enemies, for years. Whether intended or not, the grudge had been passed along to Ash.

“You really need to get out more, sul'Han,” Lila said, looking amused.

Ash had been in a bad mood since the meeting with Montaigne, and being blindsided like this didn't improve things.

“So stop it. Kill the king. Kill the emissary. Launch an invasion of the Northern Islands. There are so many options.”

“The thing is, I need your help.”

What could a spoiled, entitled, runaway princeling possibly do for you? Ash thought it, but he didn't say it out loud, because then he would sound like one.

“What kind of help?”

“You're not going to like it,” Lila said, shifting her eyes away.

“That doesn't surprise me. Go on.”

“The simplest way to prevent the deal from going forward is to eliminate the girl.”

“As in kill the girl.”

“Yes.” Lila had the grace to look sheepish.

“And you want me to do it.”

“You still have access to her, right? You're likely the only person who could do it and get away with it.” She leaned forward, speaking fast and persuasively. “Look at it this way, healer. If not for you, she'd be dead. So, in a way, you're just undoing what you did.”

“Breaking what I fixed.”

“Exactly,” Lila said, looking proud that she'd come up with that.

“You can find a way to justify anything, can't you?”

“Look, it's the only way to kill the deal without giving everything away.”

“Without giving your scheme away, you mean.”

“Well, yes,” Lila said. “Plus, we survive. It's all good.”

“For everyone but Jenna.”

“Do you think it's better to send her off to the Northern Islands? Have you heard the expression ‘fate worse than death'?”

“You need to get out of the habit of thinking of me as stupid,” Ash said. “I'm not going to help you kill Jenna, and it's not because I'm naive.”

“If I went to her, and I told her what the stakes are, what do you think she would say?”

That was when Lila crossed the line.

In a heartbeat, Ash had her pinned up against the wall. She tried some cagey moves, but got nowhere. “You will not go near her, do you understand?”

Lila stared at him, an incredulous look on her face. “Blood and bones. How could I of missed that? You're not stupid, you're in love!”

“Just because I won't sign on to whatever plan you come up with doesn't mean I—”

“I can't believe it!” Lila crowed. “He has a heart after all.”

“You're not improving your chances of winning me over,” Ash said. “Just so you know. If you want my help, you're going to have to come up with a different plan.”