Chapter 21
The smells of seasoned roasting meat were scintillating, and the faction people even produced bottles of gin and cactus wine to share with their guests. The alcohol produced from items foraged from the desert gave Vorik an idea about where their last headquarters had been.
As he watched the preparations, Vorik felt more like a prisoner than guest, and he tried to figure out which food or beverage Atilya’s people would drug or poison. If not for the teal ore glowing from the back of the cavern, he wouldn’t have stuck around.
Wise sat shoulder to shoulder with him around one of the campfires, the smoke wafting up to haze the air in the high ceiling of the cavern.
Vorik hadn’t yet gotten an opportunity to speak privately with him and suggest he might not want to eat much of the food.
Or would it be the drink? With its strong flavor, wine could hide bitter substances.
Faction members loomed close though, too close for even whispered conversations.
Since Captain Atilya was bonded to her dragon, she would have keen hearing, and others present might also have magical enhancements.
He eyed everyone wearing the fingerless black gloves of riders, gloves like his that could hide a dragon tattoo.
It surprised him that so many of the self-interested predators had stuck close to the stormer deserters, but maybe they’d convinced the dragons that their plans would one day result in them gaining access to the Garden Kingdom islands and the protected prey and livestock that they craved.
Will offerings be made to dragons? Agrevlari asked from the back of the cave where he was ostensibly socializing with the scaled locals.
Vorik had asked him to subtly investigate the ore and whether it might be extracted without special tools.
His gargoyle-bone blade had the strength to cut through many substances that would be impervious to simple steel, but he couldn’t imagine using the slender sword to gouge out pieces of ore.
And how much did they need? Wise hadn’t mentioned if the scrolls said that.
There are many former riders here. Vorik waved toward Atilya, who hadn’t gone far, and a couple of others he recognized as previous members of the Sixteen Talons. I’m certain they’ve learned to treat their dragons well.
What about visiting dragons? Agrevlari flicked his tail toward his body, then also looked at Tonasketal, though Wise’s dragon had chosen a spot close to one of the fertile females and was attempting to woo her.
More than once, Wise had sent exasperated looks in his dragon’s direction, probably because of Tonasketal’s distraction—and his having flown them into a trap that could have been deadly.
Do you want me to make a request? Vorik asked as older men and women brought over platters of meat. His nose twitched at the spices. Not because they were unappealing—quite the opposite—but because they, too, could hide bitter poisons.
Need you ask, Vorik? I’d enjoy some of the fang porcupine and bayrok. But not the wyvern rotating on the spit there. They’re too close to relatives.
Almost everything being served is an offspring of the mad god’s tinkering. As you well know, those creatures are far easier to find these days than the juicier and tastier herbivores.
Yes, but some of the mad god’s creations were less dragon-ish than others. Are those rabbits on that spit? Do have some rabbits sent over.
I’ll do my best.
“How long will we stay, sir?” Wise asked.
Atilya sat across the fire from them, easily close enough to hear.
“As long as our hosts wish to feed us and provide good company.” Vorik offered her a seated bow.
It appeared more that the chieftess was interrogating you, Agrevlari said.
Yes, and I expect that to pick up again after she drugs us.
“The storm outside looks rough too,” Vorik added when a flash of lightning briefly brightened everything in the cavern.
A faint buzz emanated from all the visible ore, as if the nearby electricity charged it further.
He half-expected the dragons to spring off if surges of power went through them, but they settled lower on the ore, as if it felt good.
“Maybe Atilya will allow us to spend the night.”
“You’re welcome to sleep here, Captain.” Something in Atilya’s voice made him think that had been the plan before he’d spoken.
Because the drugged interrogation would take that long?
A woman in her forties that Vorik recognized as a former instructor for the Sixteen Talons sat down beside Wise. She elbowed him, asked if he’d managed to swing his sword without falling off his dragon yet, and he smiled, appearing relaxed.
Yes, these were all former stormers, so why not relax and trust them?
Vorik did not.
Atilya lifted a platter. “We thank the earth, sun, and moon gods for blessing us with the power to find sustenance.”
“We thank the gods,” Vorik joined the others gathered around fires in saying the response to the short prayer.
Two older men had sat to his right. One wore a faded black rider’s tunic, the leather creased with age, and openly displayed a dragon tattoo on the back of his hand.
Like the tunic, it was faded, which usually indicated the bond was no longer active, either because the dragon had died or had, upon deciding its aged rider wasn’t an effective warrior anymore, chosen to depart.
It happened often with riders who survived enough battles and hunts to live long enough to reach old age.
Since dragons had much greater longevity, they could have many riders during their lifetimes.
I haven’t gotten a chance to speak privately with Wise, Vorik told Agrevlari, wishing he had the power, as his brother did, to speak telepathically to other riders, not only dragons. Will you tell him—or have Tonasketal tell him—to be wary of poison?
One of the male dragons near a nesting dragon stood and growled at Tonasketal. Agrevlari rose to stand at his wing mate’s side. Numerous dragon tails went rigid.
You’re not picking a fight when you’re outnumbered, are you? Vorik asked Agrevlari.
Other than to glance over, the faction members didn’t appear that concerned. So far, none of the dragons had shown their fangs or breathed fire.
Tonasketal is flirting with a female that this oaf has decided has a link with him. Never mind that he decided that only in the last ten wingbeats.
I don’t suppose I could convince you two to focus on the mission instead of wooing females.
I am not attempting to woo anyone.
How long has it been since you lost yourself in musing ways to seduce Wreylith?
I am not attempting to woo anyone in this cave while we are outnumbered and possibly in danger.
Good. The warning for Wise, please?
Tonasketal lowered his head and showed his fangs while growling. Agrevlari’s tail went rigid. Was he promising he would help his comrade if necessary?
Vorik sighed.
As Atilya and the others around the fire opened the wine and gin flagons and ate from the platters, Vorik lifted a drumstick from one in front of the older men, opting for that instead of the offering directly in front of him.
Atilya was watching him but didn’t react in any way to suggest he was foiling her plans.
He took a small bite while attempting to make it look hearty.
The former instructor handed a flagon to Wise while cracking another joke about his skills. He smiled and drank the wine. It wasn’t a shallow sip but the drink of someone having a rough day and looking forward to some alcohol-induced relaxation.
Did Atilya’s eyes sharpen with interest? Or… triumph?
Vorik took it from Wise and pretended to sip.
Unlike the cactus wine, it was a rich purple berry wine and quite pungent, its scent easily able to mask lesser smells.
After pretending to drink, Vorik set it to the side to keep Wise from imbibing more, at least out of that particular flagon.
He hadn’t seen anyone else’s lips on it.
Hopefully, whatever drug Atilya was using wasn’t lethal.
She wouldn’t want to risk hurting her own people.
“You’ll be even more welcome to spend the night,” Atilya said, meeting Vorik’s eyes, “if you tell us what use you have for the ore. And an old ceramic vase.”
“As I explained,” Vorik said, “I’m collecting the items for General Jhiton. For more information, you’ll have to invite him for dinner.”
The flagon he’d set aside was picked up, one of the men taking a drink—or pretending to take a drink?—and moved around the fire. Some people passed but others lifted it to their lips, including Atilya. Hm, maybe that one wasn’t drugged.
“He’s the last person I would invite here.” Her eyes flared with distaste. Maybe loathing. “He’s holding two of my people prisoner, and he killed another. Were you aware, Captain?”
“I remember a few spies being captured last month.” Vorik decided to distance himself from his brother, at least while speaking with Atilya.
She wasn’t yet looking at him with hatred.
Even so, he had a feeling he would have to find a way to sneak off with the ore in the middle of the night.
She wasn’t going to give him anything. “Were they not there to observe the tribes and try to gain military intelligence?”
The faction members had been spying for years.
Usually, Jhiton merely chased them off when he caught them.
Since many faction members had ties to family still in the tribes, he rarely used deadly force, but it had been different when the general had been planning the destruction of the shielders and invasion of Castle and now Harvest Island.
He hadn’t wanted advance word of that to reach the gardeners, so he’d been harsher with the spies.
One person had been killed, but only because she’d fought instead of allowing herself to be imprisoned.
The others, the last Vorik had heard, were bound and under guard with the Sunchaser Tribe.