Chapter 4 #3
“I think my aunt took over our incursion,” she murmured to Vorik.
Fel climbed in after Aunt Tibby, and Vorik grunted an agreement. “I’m surprised a random passerby is offering to help strangers when your kingdom has been embroiled in a war.”
“He may sense that we’re not that strange. Or at least I’m not.” Syla waved her hand, certain Vorik’s vision was keen enough to make out her moon-mark even in the dark. Her own night vision had been sharper of late, and she assumed that was a gift from Wreylith.
“Your people don’t consider you strange?” Vorik asked lightly once they were settled in the back of the wagon, resting on what felt like sacks of potatoes. “Would your allies agree?”
“No, but they’re strange too.”
The wagon lurched into motion, and Tibby slid off her potato sack and into Fel. He caught her and helped her settle in a less precarious spot. Was it Syla’s imagination, or did she lean voluntarily against him? And not shift away?
“I won’t disagree.” Vorik looked back along the highway again.
Syla wondered if he’d glimpsed Lieutenant Wise. If her memory was correct, the rider didn’t have the magic of a dragon bond, so she doubted Vorik would sense his approach, but little escaped his notice. He’d spotted the snipers atop the bluff before anyone else had.
“You heading to Lyvor?” the driver called back.
“Yes, please,” Tibby said. “The glass district.”
The driver looked back. “Tabuvar’s Glassworks, by chance?”
Yes, the man must have sensed their moon-marks and be familiar with the marked glassmaker as well.
Though Tibby had seemingly taken charge, she looked at Syla before answering. Not certain they should share their exact destination?
“If you’re going by there, yes.” Syla doubted they had much to fear from the driver.
“You’ll want to be careful.” The man lifted his hand, then patted something on the seat next to him. Was that a crossbow? “Lord Fograth’s agents have been busy rounding up our kind, and Lyvor houses quite a few of us.”
“What do you mean rounding up?” Syla assumed their kind referred to their birthmarks and shifted uneasily at the thought that Fograth was targeting her kin.
“Just that, my lady. We’ve witnessed enforcers that he sent surrounding moon-marked folk and carrying them away in wagons.
The enforcers don’t give reasons why, and none of their captives have returned to talk about it.
People who are many generations removed from the royal family are still being taken.
At first, it was figured that Fograth wanted to make sure he had someone who could access the shielders, on account of him not being marked himself, but he’s made a lot of people disappear.
We’re worried… he wants to get rid of us and may have already started.
Like he doesn’t want any magic left in the Kingdom, anything that might be used against a mundane human such as himself. ”
“I’ve got a dragon I’ll use against him if he’s hurting my relatives,” Syla muttered, keeping her voice too low for the driver to hear.
Or so she thought. But maybe part of his gift helped his hearing because he gave them a long look back.
“I thought I recognized you, Your Majesty,” he said.
Syla bit her lip. So much for the hood hiding her identity.
“Are you here to take the throne back?” The driver sounded hopeful, not like a threat she had to worry about. “And keep Fograth from rounding up more of our kind?”
“Yes,” she said firmly.
“Starting at Tabuvar’s?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll swing by there. It’s not like these potatoes can start their journey to the other islands while dragons are attacking freight ships anyway.”
“I’m going to take care of them too.” Syla hoped it was the truth.
“I heard about the big marble bed that can shoot them out of the sky. Hope to see that for myself one day. Did you bring that weapon with you?” His tone was hopeful again, and he looked back, as if she might have the massive weapons platform in her pocket.
“It’s nearby.”
“Good. It’s… an uneasy time. We need someone who can… We need you.”
Syla swallowed, daunted but also relieved that some people were hoping for her to return and take over.
Vorik squeezed her hand.
“As if the threat of the stormers wasn’t enough,” the driver added, “did you hear that Fograth had Teyla Moonmark arrested yesterday? Because she’s the heir after you?
We all thought— Well, her brother, Relvin and their father were supposedly a part of helping Fograth take the throne.
You’d think that would make them all allies and that nobody would target a young woman.
She’s just an academic, anyway, isn’t she?
But I reckon people change once they get what they want.
Or maybe it’s just that they let their true selves stand on display. ”
“Teyla was arrested?” Syla had almost taken her cousin with her when she’d departed with the fleet, but, after Teyla had finished translating the runes on the weapons platform, there hadn’t been a reason to risk her in sea battles.
Maybe that had been a mistake. “By enforcers? To be taken with the other moon-marked people?”
“I heard she’s being held on her family’s estate and that— Well, there are rumors that Fograth wants to wed a moon-marked woman with a tie to the throne.
It would further legitimize his claim, and he probably needs someone around who can access the shielders and other ancient artifacts that only respond to the gods-gifted. ”
Syla thought of the weapons platform. “What’s Relvin up to?”
“I don’t know that, Your Majesty.”
“You can call me Syla. I assume we’re related.”
“I’m Jibbs, Your Majesty. And I’m not sure that would be proper.
It’s been about eight-hundred years since my family had any kind of tie to the throne.
I use my power to develop hybrid strains of vegetables.
My only claim to fame is that my father was the one to cross cauliflower with turnip greens to make broccoli, which has become a popular vegetable in the Kingdom. ”
“We like relatives who use their powers to be useful,” Tibby said.
“I might not like one who invented broccoli,” Fel muttered.
“You’re a heathen,” she told him.
“Who prefers meat to vegetables.”
“Heathenishly,” Tibby said.
“You two sure you’re not married?” Jibbs asked.
“Quite positive,” Tibby said, though she still hadn’t shifted away from Fel. It almost looked like she was in his lap, but who could tell in the dark?
The highway widened as the wagon entered the outskirts of Lyvor, houses lining the way and dogs in yards barking as they passed.
Ahead, an arch over the road marked the official entrance to the harbor town, and two stone guard towers rose to either side.
Since it was after dark, the men on duty might pass the wagon through without question, but Syla wouldn’t bet on that.
“We may need to hide you under sacks of potatoes,” she whispered to Vorik.
“You could tie my hands and claim I’m a prisoner,” he said.
“Nobody believes that.”
Vorik snorted softly and lay down so he wouldn’t be visible from the distance. Hopefully, the guards wouldn’t bring lanterns and search the wagon. “Your major had some delusions.”
“He must not have come by your prison cell when we were chatting without shackles.”
“Chatting.” Vorik took her hand and pulled her down beside him. “That’s not what we were doing.”
“Words were spoken.” Syla let Vorik draw her down, agreeing that the guards might be less likely to stop the wagon if the driver didn’t appear to have passengers, but it wouldn’t take much of a search to reveal them all.
“Words were cried out in the throes of passion,” Vorik murmured, wrapping an arm around her.
“We may have to retrieve Teyla.” Syla snuggled into his warmth.
Fel and Tibby had also lowered themselves below the sides of the wagon.
“I wouldn’t think she would be in danger from her father—Relvin may be more doubtful—but I’m not as positive as I’d like to be.
Even if she’s safe, as I was saying to Vonla earlier, it would be a good idea to speak with her.
Teyla was probably in the capital when Fograth made his move and will know as much or more than the healers and prostitutes I sent Vonla to visit. ”
“How far is her estate from here?” Vorik asked.
Syla pictured a map of the island in her head. “About ten miles. Maybe twelve.”
“A short flight by dragon. Maybe you could have Wreylith take you over there while your aunt works.”
“I like that idea, especially if you’ll come with me.
” Syla realized she’d been burbling her thoughts and plans to him as if he’d been her confidant for years.
Maybe it was that she’d needed a confidant like him, if not for years, then since this had all started, since her life had been uprooted and so many of her family and friends had been slain.
She still wrestled with knowing he’d been part of the initial invasion, but…
that didn’t change her feelings for him. And that he was easy to talk to.
“Wreylith does adore having me on her back,” Vorik said, “but she may be unwilling to carry three, should you succeed in retrieving your cousin.”
“True, but I would only need to unlock Teyla’s door, not fly her away by dragon. If she’s on her own property, she can grab a horse if she needs to flee.”
“A horse is far inferior to a dragon.”
“I don’t disagree with that, but I seem to recall that her father races some of his. They’re from good stock.”
“Dragons occasionally eat horses.”
“Are you telling me that to emphasize their superiority? Or as a warning that Wreylith might eat one of my uncle’s thoroughbreds?”
“If he locked up your cousin, he may deserve having his horses eaten.”
“The horses wouldn’t deserve that,” Syla said. “Remind me to instruct Wreylith on which livestock are and are not raised for eating.”
The wagon was slowing, and Vorik didn’t answer. A call of, “Halt!” promised the guards were on duty.