Chapter 3 #2
“I’m determined now, but I’ll concede your point that more people are watching my every move now than before.
” That didn’t keep Syla from fantasizing about having Wreylith carry her to the brothel for a quick meeting, but the entire town would see a dragon flying over the city.
It was not a discreet mode of transportation.
“Maybe I’ll visit one of the temples in town and ask the woman to come by while I’m there.
If I’m to recruit spies, utilizing the city’s network of healers—my old colleagues—would be a logical place to start.
Unfortunately, a number of them were killed when Moon Watch Temple was destroyed.
” Her throat tightened at the reminder of the home and friends that she’d lost, in addition to her family, and Syla had to pause to blink away tears.
“Others survived and have started working at different temples in the city and the surrounding countryside. They frequently get soldiers for patients and might hear things.”
Fel nodded. “A good idea.”
Syla removed her spectacles to wipe a smudge that was distorting the light of a nearby lantern.
When she returned them to her face, Fel was looking toward a side gate.
Her cousin Relvin walked into the courtyard with several military officers and a minor lord Syla recognized as a landowner from the western end of the island.
Zlargard. That was his name. She also recognized another older man with the group and groped for his name.
Well-dressed and impeccably groomed, he wasn’t a military man.
Lord Fograth. His family had owned land on the islands since before the gods had established the shields and the Kingdom.
Relvin blinked in surprise when he spotted Syla but recovered and smiled and waved to her. He held up a blue-velvet bag with a silver moon and dice embroidered on the front, and it jangled with game pieces. “Come join us later if you’re free, Syla.”
She lifted a hand in acknowledgment, though she knew the invitation hadn’t been in earnest.
“Brazen of them to scheme so openly,” Fel murmured as the group disappeared into the barracks instead of the keep. “Get your spies in order swiftly, Your Majesty.”
“You don’t think I could show up at the dice game, and they would tell me all their plans?”
“No.” Fel hesitated, then added, “For them to be this open about everything suggests… They may believe that events that you can’t stop have already been set into motion.”
“I can stop a lot. I have a dragon.” Syla looked around, but Wreylith hadn’t lingered. Maybe she was off to look for her next meal. “Somewhat part-time, admittedly. Did you know how much time dragons need to spend hunting to keep themselves full and fit?”
When Fel shook his head, it probably had nothing to do with dragon hunting schedules.
Syla’s spectacles didn’t need another cleaning, but she removed them to wipe anyway. “I don’t have a lot of time, do I?”
“I don’t think so.”
“I will do my best to get spies employed, but… while people are listening to others on my behalf, I’m going to give the order to have warships prepared, the weapons platform loaded onto one, and, unless Tibby and Teyla are able to find someone else who can operate it, I’ll plan to go along and reclaim Harvest Island. ”
Fel’s wyvern-withering glower returned in an instant. “That’s not a good idea.”
“Trying to take back the island or—”
“You being involved with it.”
“You can come along with me on this trip.” Syla knew that wasn’t his objection but smiled anyway, as if she were solving his only problem.
His scowl didn’t lighten. “Exactly what happened before could happen again. Whoever created the orders for fleet ships to follow you and attack—and for assassins to board your vessel—might not fail a second time.”
“This time, we’ll leave with the fleet, and I’ll write the orders to hand to the captains myself.”
“It would still be an opportunity for your enemies to strike against you.”
Syla lamented that she had enemies. Never as a healer would she have considered any Kingdom subjects to be foes. She’d saved the lives of countless soldiers during her years at the temple. Why couldn’t their senior officers shift their allegiance to her without a fight?
“Wreylith will fly along with us and perch on the wheelhouse.” Syla hadn’t checked with the red dragon yet but believed she would do so, though Syla might have to arrange a large offering of delicious livestock as part of the deal.
Fel opened his mouth, likely with an objection on his lips, but he didn’t utter it.
“That might deter assassins, but I still don’t think you should risk yourself.
Even if our own people don’t strike against you, your plan is to engage with the stormers and their winged allies.
And they have many more dragons than you do.
” He waved toward the sky where the yellow and blue dragons had tried to get her.
“I know.” Syla wished she could reach out to the Freeborn Faction for help.
They had dragons. But, even though she’d spoken recently to Chieftess Atilya, and the woman had promised assistance, she hadn’t stuck around, and Syla didn’t know how to get in contact with her.
“Nonetheless, we have to take back Harvest Island, and I don’t know where the shielder components are.
Maybe if we capture one of the high-ranking dragon riders, we can question him or her for that information.
” She couldn’t imagine capturing Captain Lesva or successfully getting her to share intelligence even if she did, but there had to be less powerful individuals who knew where the components were.
After all, not all riders were bound to—and received magic from—their dragon allies.
“This is the logical way to achieve that.” She waved to the weapons platform again.
“Wait until your aunt finds someone else who can operate it,” Fel said.
“I would be open to handing the duty to someone else. It’s draining, and I agree that I’d be vulnerable to attack while using it.”
“Yes. Vorik knocked you off there, and you barely reacted. You’re lucky he didn’t thrust a dagger into your heart.”
“You know he wouldn’t do that.”
Fel narrowed his eyes, looking like he wanted to object, but he’d been with her the numerous times that Vorik had risked his life on her behalf, and the two men had even fought together against gargoyles. “You’re lucky his lieutenant didn’t thrust a dagger into your heart.”
“True. But he was busy stealing our components.” Syla sighed, lamenting for at least the twentieth time that she’d allowed herself to be distracted by her desire to use the weapons platform to end General Jhiton’s life.
He deserved death after ordering his troops to slay almost everyone in the royal family—her family.
Of course, she’d been thinking more about how he was Vorik’s superior officer and that if Jhiton disappeared, Vorik might…
What? Renounce his loyalty to his people and stand by her side? To spend his nights with her and help her stave off assassins, manipulative lords, and scheming relatives during the days?
If only. But he was as loyal to his people as she was to hers. It had been a foolish impulse, and she’d deserved defeat.
“I’m open to someone else operating it,” Syla said again, “but I also want to send it and the fleet to Harvest Island soon. Tomorrow, if the ships can be readied that quickly. As long as the stormers and their dragons have control there, more people will die and more property will be destroyed.” She remembered the fires that had burned throughout the countryside.
“And we have to assume that they’re coming up with other schemes as we speak. They want all of our islands, not one.”
“I’m aware,” Fel said grimly, then looked across the courtyard.
Carrying lanterns and armfuls of books, Aunt Tibby and Teyla were walking out of the keep and toward the weapons platform. In addition to what they held, Teyla had a pack slung over her shoulder. She set it down by one of the marble posts of the platform.
“Have you learned anything new?” Syla asked, joining them.
“Have you figured out how to have someone else operate it so that Queen Syla may stay safely in the castle?” Fel asked.
“We’ve not learned that, exactly,” Tibby said, speaking to Syla and ignoring Fel, other than to slant him a brief peeved look, no doubt for his troglodyte ways.
Teyla, who was usually chatty when discussing her archaeological passions, didn’t answer at all, instead glancing at Fel and blushing.
Syla, reminded that they’d had a sexual encounter in the canyon of randiness-inspiring cactuses, wondered if she should ask Fel to step away.
She didn’t think either of them had wanted that joining, nor had they figured out how to interact with each other in the aftermath.
Fel had a tendency to look over Teyla’s head instead of at her.
“We haven’t found anything about weapons platforms at all,” Tibby continued, not noticing the silent exchange, “but we did translate a text that talks about how a moon-marked individual might activate artifacts left behind by the gods. Once activated, those artifacts stay in that state for a time before falling into a dormancy that preserves their magical power. I’m surmising that if you activate the weapons platform, it might be easier for someone else to use afterward. ”
“Would it stay active long enough for a trip to Harvest Island?” Syla asked.
“I don’t know. We would have to experiment.”
Teyla climbed onto the platform and peered at a couple of runes under the handprint mark on one of the marble posts. “You pressed your palms against the marks on these two columns to activate it before, didn’t you, Syla?”
“Activate it? It was more than that. Those magical projectiles shot out to hit that black dragon, and then they targeted the weapons built into the laboratory that were firing at all the other dragons, friend and foe.”