27. Interrogation under silver
27
INTERROGATION UNDER SILVER
Neveranimas increased security. Again.
“Neveranimas is doing what?” Anahrod whispered.
The dining room was empty—all the new people on the liner had gathered outside on balconies to watch the final approach. Not to see the city—it was too early for that—but to watch the never-ceasing storm that perpetually encircled the top of the mountain.
Those more experienced stayed inside. The others would regret their enthusiasm soon enough.
“Inscribed mirrors,” Naeron explained. “Reflection darkens if you lie.”
“Mirrorspells.” Claw said the word like it was a curse.
“How do we know this?” Sicaryon murmured. He didn’t sound skeptical—this was a request for sources, not a denial.
“Bursar,” Naeron said. “Worried about angry parents.”
Anahrod knuckled the corner of her eye and bit back a groan. It’s not like she hadn’t known the threat was real. She stood up and paced.
“What choice now,” Kaibren whispered, “with dawn approaching?” The old man was bent near double on the bench, with his hands on his head. She’d rarely seen a better depiction of abject despair.
Claw’s eyes were wide as she stared at Kaibren. What he’d said had just penetrated; she let out a laugh just shy of hysterical. “What he just said.”
Anahrod rubbed her hands over her upper arms and forced herself to stop pacing. The flyer shuddered as an echo of too-loud thunder rolled over the vessel. The liner had been flying at a slight tilt upward for hours now, but once they had flown over the storm, they’d begin their descent. That would be far more noticeable.
They didn’t have much time.
Anahrod sat down next to Claw and lowered her voice, which made everyone bunch in to listen. “Remember: we have two dragonriders already in Yagra’hai who are likely finding out about the increased security right now. And remember, Jaemeh’s dragon oversees this. We just need to buy them time.”
“Buy them time?” Claw squinted. “How do we do that?”
“Literally.” Sicaryon gave the ceiling a contemplative look. “You must have traveled before. There’ll be a queue. There’ll be someone who’s in a hurry and doesn’t want to wait, and they’ll pay for that privilege. No one will question if you swap places to go later.”
Claw snapped back, “And if we’re already in the back?”
No one said anything for a moment. Long enough for Claw to realize she’d just asked for advice on how to find water while standing outside in the rain. “Yeah, yeah, laugh yourselves sick, assholes. That’s the fucking plan? Delay and hope the dragonriders come to our rescue?”
“Delay and keep our eyes open,” Anahrod murmured. “Don’t panic. Answer their questions without lying. And yes, rescue is coming.”
“And if it isn’t?” Claw scowled.
“The Cauldron’s rumble wasn’t loud enough or early enough to escape the boiling,” Kaibren murmured.
Anahrod winced. A quote from The Lord of Fire that referenced the fictional city of Viridhaven just moments before the Cauldron’s explosion blew the top of the mountain apart (and took the city with it). She didn’t need Claw to translate.
If the dragonriders didn’t come to help them, they were screwed.
“Vanigh,” a man yelled into the almost empty room. “Anari Vanigh.”
“Good luck,” Sicaryon murmured.
They had moved everyone into a warehouse on the docks while the interviewers worked through the passenger rolls. Anahrod and the others had forestalled the interviews for as long as possible, but they’d reached the end of their tethers. Everyone else had already been interviewed. There was no sign of Ris or Jaemeh.
“You too.” His time would come soon enough. Anahrod stood, grabbed her bag, and headed to the indicated doorway.
The only reason Anahrod had stayed calm was because she’d realized an important fact:
The entire operation was as well planned and organized as stepping in drake shit.
The first problem was the guards who’d been commandeered to provide security, forcing them to abandon their “real” jobs. They were surly about it.
Then there were the mirrorspells, which could only be operated by people with magical talent. Since the idea of having priests fill security roles was seven layers of ridiculous, that left dragonriders as the only option. Dragonriders who knew the work was beneath them and weren’t afraid to act like it.
Lastly, the entire process was new enough that no one seemed completely certain if they were even performing their jobs correctly.
Maybe it would work to Anahrod’s advantage. Maybe it wouldn’t.
She was about to find out.
Anahrod was led to a small, cramped room containing four items: a table, two chairs, and a large silver mirror. The mirror was set up to reflect the vacant chair.
The empty chair where Anahrod was supposed to sit.
Eannis. If this thing worked the way Naeron said, she wouldn’t even get past “state your name” before the mirror gave away the game. She could try to coast by on a technicality—those legal identification papers—but she knew they were a ruse, and the mirror would check her belief, not facts.
She didn’t recognize the dragonrider sitting across from her—an older woman, gray-haired, with a clipboard balanced on her lap and a cup of tea long since grown cold next to her. “Have a seat,” the woman suggested in a way that wasn’t a suggestion.
Anahrod tried to catch a glance at the woman’s rings. She didn’t like the idea of flirting her way through security, but she’d do it if she had to.
She noticed the rings and sighed internally. Leaves. So that wasn’t even an option.
“Sit down and state your name, your city of birth, and your reason for visiting—”
She was going to have to stumble and break that damn mirror, wasn’t she?
Anahrod made a move toward her seat. As she did, she hooked her foot around the chair leg in such a way that guaranteed that she’d stumble. She did, overcompensated, splayed out her hand for balance against the tabletop, then spilled to the side…
The door behind her opened as she began her ill-fated tumble toward the mirror.
“Whoa there!” A hand caught her by the elbow. “Careful. When was the last time you ate? You’re shaky as a newborn calf.”
Anahrod looked up with wide eyes.
Jaemeh stared back at her.
“Sorry I’m late, Glorigha,” Jaemeh said amiably to the other dragonrider. “I think this one’s about to collapse.”
The other dragonrider, Glorigha, threw her clipboard onto the table. “She could decide to take a nap on the table if she wants, as long as you handle the paperwork.” The woman wasted no time at all retreating from the interview room.
She didn’t say even goodbye.
Jaemeh lowered Anahrod down into the chair. She didn’t have to fake how shaky she felt, her muscles pulled so taut they all but vibrated in the hot, thin air.
“Have a seat,” Jaemeh murmured. “When did you last eat?”
“It’s been a while,” she admitted. “No food allowed in the waiting room and that was—” She waved a hand. She was unsure how long it had been since they’d landed and first been called into the room. “Where’s Gwydinion?”
“The boy?” He kept his voice down, a reminder that it would be wise for her to do so as well.
“Yes.”
“He’s fine.” The dragonrider looked over his notes. “Passed his interview with flying colors.” He grinned at Anahrod, a smile she did not return. “He’s very excited to become a dragonrider, and you made sure he couldn’t reveal what he didn’t know. Good job there.”
Anahrod stared blankly at the man.
She suspected Gwydinion had long since figured out what they were doing, but maybe he’d flown through on a technicality.
Jaemeh saw the look on her face, the question, and shook his head. “No, he was interviewed by someone else.” Jaemeh shrugged, as if to both pass judgment and absolve guilt. “They never learn in time, do they?” He gave her the knowing look of one comrade to another, united by their mutual terrible experiences with dragons. If anything, he seemed a little jealous, but that made sense.
She’d escaped.
Anahrod ran a hand over her face. “Are we done?”
“Give it a few more minutes,” Jaemeh cautioned. “That way it’ll seem like I’ve asked you the right number of questions.” He gestured for her to hand over her entry papers.
He stamped them with a thick, carved seal. “Welcome to Yagra’hai.”