36. Problem-solving
36
PROBLEM-SOLVING
“We’ll have to rappel down,” Ris announced.
Anahrod had pulled everyone into a meeting, just not right away. Not everyone was hung over, but everyone was in shock over what had happened, and the entire campus had all the cheer of a looted mausoleum. It was evening by the time everyone was in a state to pretend they were human.
Anahrod shuddered. Two thousand feet down, with a lake of magma at the bottom. Perhaps that had been exaggeration, fun hyperbole to stress the danger of the situation, but Anahrod knew she wouldn’t be that lucky.
They were all gathered around the map table, drinks in hand, awkward in manner. At least as far as Sicaryon and Anahrod were concerned. They had yet to speak to each other a single word more than necessary after that morning.
Ris noticed the motion. “I thought you said your fear of heights wasn’t a problem anymore?”
“ Probably wasn’t an issue anymore.”
“In shadows cast by unseen plight, a journey fought both day and night. The dark shrike’s dance of strength and pain, a tale of courage, not in vain,” Kaibren recited over his cup of tea.
Claw snorted. “That means it’s always going to be ‘probably,’ and you better damn well not let that stop you. It’s not like the entire job is depending on this or anything.”
“Claw,” Ris admonished.
The other woman shrugged. “Not sorry. Not wrong.”
Jaemeh wasn’t at this meeting. He knew about it; he just hadn’t shown. Peralon said Jaemeh and Tiendremos were resting from their injuries, and they were fine.
Anahrod tipped her head back to stare at the ceiling. “I’m handling it.” Before Claw could make a derisive comment, she added, “What about the rest of it? Brauge, the rubbings, the sword, the timing?” She was no expert on robbery—no matter what Tiendremos believed—but she would’ve thought that when things went wrong, they did it in dribbles. Not this all-at-once tidal wave.
“Brauge is a problem,” Ris admitted, “but one with a solution. Two things: first, she’s a gregarious sort. In a few weeks, she’ll be bouncing off the walls wanting to talk to someone. Second, she’s a heavy drinker.”
“She has a hell of a wine collection,” Claw admitted.
“You’re suggesting we drug her?” Anahrod asked.
“Unnoticed remains the mundane,” Kaibren said.
“True,” Claw said. “If her dragon’s used to her drinking herself under, he won’t fuss when it happens again.”
“And this ‘stay at home and pay attention to your dragon’ thing,” Anahrod said to Ris. “She can receive guests?”
“Yes. She may invite a few friends over as long as she’s not throwing an orgy or anything equally indecorous.” Ris chewed on her lower lip. “Ultimately, it depends on her dragon, but Zentoazax doesn’t have a reputation for being jealous.”
Claw brightened. “What about—”
Ris shook her head. “Prefers leaves.”
Claw’s gaze slid over to Sicaryon. She smiled.
Sicaryon returned that smile with the proper amount of wariness. “What am I being volunteered to do?”
“We’ll discuss it later,” Ris said. “As for other issues, we’ve re-created the rubbing, thank you Kaibren”—she tipped her head to the inscriber, who returned her bow—“and it has gone to a different smith, but—”
“But he ain’t near as good as the first one,” Claw said. “So don’t expect the sword to hold up to close inspection. And it’s going to take a month.”
Anahrod grimaced. “That’s cutting it close.”
“Yes,” Naeron agreed unhappily.
“Why?” Claw asked. “Since when are we on a deadline?”
Anahrod replied, “Since Neveranimas has asked to interview Gwydinion. The only good side to that is it can’t happen until Gwydinion’s consecrated, so we have until they repair the Great Cathedral.”
“Is that the only church in the city?” Sicaryon asked. “And if it isn’t, is there anything stopping them from using a different church for the ceremony?”
“No,” Kaibren said.
Anahrod blinked. Naeron hadn’t given that negative— Kaibren had. She supposed he was still quoting something, just in the most truncated way possible.
The meaning of that negative, though, was worse. She knew there were multiple churches in the city. She just hadn’t stopped to consider the ramifications. “There’s a chapel here at the school. There’re others in town. Neveranimas is smart enough to think of it, which means we don’t have a month. We might not have a week.”
Claw set her cup down. “You’re talking about it like Neveranimas’s only goal is to kill that boy.”
“No,” Naeron said. “Not her only goal.”
Claw scoffed. “Why does she give a shit? What’s so important about Gwydinion Doreyl?”
Anahrod hesitated, just for a second, thinking of an unpleasant recent memory and a single, important word.
Trust.
Perhaps she didn’t want to be that much of a hypocrite.
Anahrod exhaled. “He’s my brother. He’s showing every sign that he’ll one day be able to do everything that I can do. And I can talk to dragons, remember?” She took a sip of her cup, realized she’d already drained the thing, and got up to refill it. “Had I stayed and accepted Neveranimas’s bond, I wouldn’t have lived long.”
Ris made a face. “You think Neveranimas tried to assassinate a fifteen-year-old boy using a rampant dragon?”
“Oh sure,” Claw said, apparently in agreement, “because that fucking bitch can control when and where a dragon goes rampant.”
Silence.
Claw looked around the table with an expression of increasing annoyance. “Fucking hell. She can’t, right?”
“It’s possible,” Ris finally said. “She tends to benefit from rampancies in odd ways.” She added, “It changes nothing.”
Anahrod blinked. “Changes nothing? Ris!”
“What does she think you can do?” Sicaryon asked Anahrod. “What does she think you can do that scares her this much?”
“I have no idea,” Anahrod said. “Maybe she thinks I can take possession of a dragon the same way I can an animal—”
“You can do what ?” Claw’s mouth dropped open.
Anahrod did a quick mental recount on who knew what, and revised what she’d been about to say. “I can talk to animals, control them. I can also take possession of them, project my mind into their body. It’s like what a dragon does with their rider.” She realized she’d been standing at the tea tray for the last five minutes with a cup in her hand, doing absolutely nothing. She fixed that and returned to the table. “I would say it’s the last power, but I have it on good authority that any dragonrider can do something similar with training.”
“But only if the dragon allows it,” Ris pointed out.
“That might be true for me, too,” Anahrod pointed out. “Don’t you think it’s a little much for her to just assume? I didn’t know I could do that when she tried to have me executed.”
“What could you do?” Sicaryon asked. “What did she know you could do?”
“Talk to dragons,” Anahrod said. She paused. “Talk to animals… calm animals, too, I suppose.”
“Calm them down,” Ris said slowly, enunciating the words as carefully as if cradling something small and precious. “Think. You’re a highly intelligent, ambitious individual who’s eliminated all obstacles to power with an undetectable, incurable poison. Then, a child appears who can effortlessly cure that poison whenever she wishes. How do you respond?”
“Control her,” Sicaryon answered. “It could be handy to be the only person with the antidote.”
“But if you can’t do that…” Claw ran a finger across her throat.
“The boy.” Naeron stared at Anahrod. “Same blessing?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Oh yeah,” Claw said. “He’s as good as dead.”
Ris glanced sideways at Kaibren. “How are the diplomacy lessons coming, again?”
“Hey, fuck you,” Claw snapped. “This is no time for dancing around a titan drake and claiming it’s a scale cat.”
“I appreciate the bluntness, Claw,” Anahrod told her.
“See!” Claw pointed with both hands.
“Fine. Speed up the sword’s completion,” Ris told Claw. “I understand the quality won’t be as good, but it doesn’t need to hold up to close inspection. Once Brauge wakes up from the drugging, she’ll sense something’s amiss and inform Zentoazax. We’ll have to have finished the job and left Yagra’hai by then.” She turned to Sicaryon. “Where’s Anahrod’s sword?”
“It’ll be here.”
“It had better be,” Ris spat. “Because we have a week.” She swept her arm out. “Tell me where it is. Peralon and I will go pick it up—”
Sicaryon’s eyebrows rose. “You can’t—”
“One week,” she repeated. “Don’t make me spell out the consequences if you can’t.”
“It’s already on its way. It. Will. Be. Here.”
If Anahrod needed an example of why it wasn’t wise to sleep with one’s team members, this whole meeting qualified.
“Claw, deal with the sword. Kaibren, I need two ways to knock out Brauge. Naeron, find climbing kit and rappelling gear for the whole crew. Cary—the other damn sword .” Ris snapped out orders with a precision most generals would envy. Sicaryon stared at her like she’d just started a striptease.
Anahrod didn’t ask how they planned to deal with the fact that it might only take seconds for Neveranimas to return after someone triggered an alarm. She already knew the answer: there was no plan. If it happened, they were screwed.
But someone had been left out of the orders. “Wait,” Anahrod said. “What am I doing?”
“You’re coming with me,” Ris said. “We’re going flying.”