Chapter 19 #2
As it grew lighter in the stand-alone chamber they’d found—the apothecary, as Syla had been thinking of it—in the remains of a courtyard in the center of the ruins, she was tempted to explore.
A hint of magic permeated the place, and it hadn’t been raided or disturbed by animals over the centuries.
In stone niches in the walls, glass and ceramic jars and jugs remained, as if they’d been set down months or years earlier instead of in a long-distant past era.
Many containers had fallen to the floor and broken, probably once supported by wooden shelves that had rotted away, but it was still a fascinating find.
Muscles stiff and aching, Syla rose to expand upon her brief investigation from the night before.
When they’d found the place, with the lantern Fel had reluctantly allowed her to light, she’d looked around enough to see if another amphora of moss-bulb powder might be on a shelf.
When she hadn’t spotted one, she’d forced her attention to healing the others.
Fel hadn’t hesitated to accept her magical ministrations, grumbling only that he was still bound from the last time, so it hardly mattered.
Teyla also hadn’t been worried about it since she’d endured another healing only days earlier.
Her willingness to accept Syla’s ministrations was part of the reason Syla trusted her without reserve.
Even though she’d never believed Teyla planned to betray her or spy on her on behalf of Relvin, Syla was glad to know Teyla didn’t have secrets to hide.
Not like Vorik, who’d insisted she not use her magic to heal him.
“Oh, Vorik,” Syla said with a sigh, wishing any other dragon rider had been pitted against her on this quest. Another might not have hesitated to kidnap her, but she also wouldn’t have been conflicted about battling him.
Unfortunately, her second, more careful perusal of the contents of the apothecary didn’t reveal an amphora that Wise had missed.
Syla wished she could take some of the other ancient items with her and was momentarily distracted by a discovery of well-preserved argondar root, a species she’d read had gone extinct, but Teyla waking up and joining her reminded her of their mission.
They would have to eat breakfast, hope Wreylith came, and then… what?
Head to the mountains to seek the teal ore, even though no single component would work without the other two? Or maybe they should search the rainforest for the ruins of another civilization that might have preserved moss-bulb powder.
“I feel compelled to tell you something this morning,” Teyla said quietly with a glance toward Fel, who remained asleep in the doorway.
“Is it a magical compulsion created by a bond from your healing?” Teyla sounded more curious than distressed or disturbed by the notion.
Whatever secret she wanted to blurt must not have been that condemning.
“It could be,” Syla said, “but I healed you back in the castle too. Maybe you just woke up with a need to divulge deep dark truths as a result of your near-death experience last night.”
“That’s possible. The gargoyle did almost take me out.”
“Are there deep dark truths?” Syla wondered.
“Nothing you couldn’t have guessed at, but my father… Well, he did say to keep my mouth shut around you. My beak, as he calls it.” Teyla smiled, but her eyes were concerned.
Eyes of the moon, maybe there were secrets.
“I wasn’t supposed to overhear their conversation,” Teyla added.
“Between your father and… Relvin?” Syla guessed.
“Yes. It was after your message arrived and before we left. I got a little distracted by everything that happened after that and forgot about it for a time.” Teyla frowned toward the doorway, some animal skittering through the leaf litter in the ancient courtyard.
“I didn’t heal you so that you would tell me secrets. You don’t have to say anything.” Syla walked over to the krendala. When she’d gone to sleep, she’d left it on the floor, not wanting to risk annoying Wreylith further, but she had to find out if the dragon would return.
“I know you didn’t. You wouldn’t. I actually wanted to tell you from the beginning, just to spite Relvin and Father.
I just wasn’t sure if there would be… consequences if they found out, but I decided I don’t care.
” Teyla brushed off her hands. “Father said that he would back Relvin financially and work on getting some of the minor lords and ladies on his side if Relvin attempts to acquire the throne.”
“Ah.” Syla wasn’t surprised. Their father, minor lord Abbingdar, didn’t have a moon-mark or a claim to great familial power of his own, except through his deceased wife. He was someone else who would doubtless love to have a relative on the throne.
“Like I said, you could have guessed that Relvin wasn’t acting alone. But in that conversation, I also heard Father suggest that Relvin would have to hurry because others were already putting plans in motion.”
“Like General Dolok?”
“Father doesn’t speak often with military officers. I’d guess he was thinking of other minor lords or ladies. And then he implied that some of the island lords might lay claims too. Sorry, I should have told you everything I knew before we left.”
“There wasn’t time before we left.”
There wasn’t time now either, but until Wreylith came, they were stuck. Syla gingerly picked up the figurine. It warmed her palm but didn’t feel hot or dangerous, as it had the night before. She risked calling softly in her mind to the dragon.
“Probably not, but I’m not sure what it says about me that I didn’t confess all this until after…
” Teyla waved at her left shoulder, which had been dislocated the night before, one of several injuries that Syla had tended.
“I didn’t feel as compelled to spill everything to you when you healed the bump on my head.
Does a greater healing instill greater feelings of loyalty? ”
“It can, yes. You also might have secretly disapproved of me since I don’t send letters listing historical errors to the authors of published texts.”
Teyla managed a smile. “I can’t believe you don’t do that.”
“My work has kept me busy.”
“Everyone needs a hobby, Syla.”
You are not on the high bank by the river, Wreylith boomed into Syla’s mind, the thunderous telepathic voice promising she was not only nearby but annoyed to be kept waiting.
Sorry, we had to camp inland where the insects weren’t as bad. We’ll be there as soon as possible. Thank you for coming.
If you are not here by the time Igliana finishes preening her wing-pit, we will depart.
Your patience and continued support mean the world to me.
Are you being snarky with a dragon? Wreylith asked. That is unwise.
I would never do anything unwise. Syla patted Teyla on the shoulder. “Grab your gear. Two grumpy dragons are waiting.” She strode over to wake Fel.
“Igliana is grumpy?”
“Well, probably not. She’s tending her armpit. Her wing-pit.”
“Good. I like her. I’m glad she’s not grumpy. She magically held us on her back. I’d been wondering how riders stay on dragons without something like a saddle and reins.”
“Some dragons offer magical assistance.” Syla hurried to put away her belongings, though she couldn’t help but grab the argondar root and a couple more small containers to take home to study. One was supposed to collect souvenirs when one traveled the world, right?
“What’s the plan?” Fel asked after they’d grabbed their gear and were trekking toward the river.
Yes, what was the plan? Wreylith hadn’t been willing to go after the stormer dragons. She wanted Syla to handle her own problems. But how? It wasn’t as if she could seduce Vorik and knock him out with Candles of Serenity. Even if she’d brought some along, he wouldn’t have fallen for that again.
Still, that gaze of longing he’d given her before leaving came to mind.
Might some kind of seduction work? Giving her an opportunity to take the amphora from him?
Maybe Fel could sneak in and snatch it while she distracted Vorik with a kiss.
But she would have to get past the stormer dragons too.
Maybe Wreylith could distract them with kisses.
She would probably object to the idea. Of course, Agrevlari was self-distracting when it came to Wreylith.
Maybe she would only need to fly around the area, throwing in a sexy dragon sashay or two.
Fel looked at her. Waiting for an answer to his question?
“We’re going to the Everfrost Mountains to get the next component,” Syla said.
“We don’t have the first component.”
“We will,” Syla said.
“You’re almost convincing when you say that.”
“What would I have to do to erase the almost from your sentence?”
“Lift your arms skyward, like your mother always did when she addressed the people,” Teyla suggested. “And cultivate a regal air.”
Fel nodded in agreement.
Still mourning her mother’s passing, Syla couldn’t manage a smile at her cousin’s attempt at humor.
Ahead, Syla spotted a red-scaled head through the trees. And an orange one peeked into view as well.
The two dragons had landed on the vertical side of the bank, finding the only perches in the area. The golden eyes that locked onto Syla didn’t appear pleased. She could understand why Wreylith was impatient, but she could have told Syla that she was coming and requested that they be waiting.
As they reached the edge of the bank, Igliana’s head disappeared. Syla peered over. She hung from her talons by a clump of roots and was twisting so that she could nip at her scales under her wing. It was closer to the belly area than the armpit that Syla had been imagining.
“Are you scratching an itch? Or are you injured?” Syla remembered the fanged fish or whatever had attacked the dragon in the river the day before.
These wounds are not deep, but they broke my scales, and the ones under my wing chafe terribly. Igliana growled at the offending area.