A Storm in the Desert: Dragonlinked Chronicles Voume 3 (26 page)

“Yep.”

After Jakkar had run off, she and Aeron had watched the people on the flats. They’d hastily broken down the odd contraption, packed it onto a small wagon, and then one of them poured something on the ground, splashed it about, and tossed some kind of rags or cloth in the middle of it all. Then, the entire group had quickly ridden off to the southwest.

About half an hour later, as she and Aeron were still discussing what to do without a guide, a manis patrol had come by at a trot. She and Aeron figured that the patrol, it came from the east, must have been one of the remaining hands from Bataan-Mok. As the manisi searched the area, they finally came upon the spot the people had abandoned earlier. Looking through the field-glasses, watching them, it occurred to Polandra what was going on. She and Aeron had witnessed a dragon attack being fabricated.

The patrol must have heard the odd roars and come looking. Another thing occurred to her: The manisi, at least those still at Bataan-Mok, might not know they were being duped. National Transportation was the one faking the attacks. Did the faction working with them know this? Were the hands patrolling below from that faction? Did those manisi know?

So many questions, and Polandra had no answers. At least not yet. One thing she did know was that National Transportation wanted to keep people away. Why was that?

The poor excuses for horses had carried them along the hills in the same direction the small wagon had gone until they saw the camp below in the distance. This secluded ridge a little ways in the hills gave them a good vantage point from which to observe the camp without being seen. If they were careful. And quiet.

She glanced at Aeron. His lips were twisted in a frown.

“But why go through so much effort to keep people away?” He shook his head. “We really have to get down there and see what’s going on.”

“Do you think that was real blood they used? And the victim’s clothing?”

Aeron glanced at her, then away. “I don’t think so.” He looked like he wasn’t actually sure. “I mean, they’d have left a body, too, wouldn’t they? If they’d killed someone?”

“Probably.”

Horses were coming. There were at least three, by the sound of it. They were walking, not in a hurry. And . . . a wagon? Something was continuously crunching through the salt crust. Had those people come back?

“You hear that?” Aeron’s eyes were locked with hers.

She nodded, then they both quietly and carefully peeked over the rise. Four people were on the flats, approaching from the east. Two drove a wagon, while the other two rode horses. The large wagon appeared empty. It was a different group.

“Sound does carry pretty damn far,” Aeron murmured. He watched the people through binocs.

Using her own, Polandra saw that a woman and man drove the wagon, while a man and woman rode on two horses. “Who are they?”

“And what do they need such a large wagon for?”

A loud whisper came from behind. “That’s the question, isn’t it?”

Polandra and Aeron spun to face the voice. A young woman stood with her arms crossed, smiling. Guildmaster Millinith stood to her left, and to her right, stood Fillion.

“Millinith?” Aeron sounded shocked.

“I thought of having Coatl tell you we were coming,” Fillion said, an enormous smile on his face. “Your reactions, however, make me oh so glad I didn’t.”

“By the gods, I’m going to throttle you!” Aeron stood and started toward them.

“Keep it down,” Polandra whispered fiercely.

“Yes,” Guildmaster Millinith said. “We don’t want to let anyone know we are here. We left Coatl farther in the hills and walked from there. Let’s not have that all be wasted effort.”

She approached and carefully looked over the ridge. “It seems your trip and ours share the same destination.”

Aeron, admirably controlling his embarrassment, said, “What are you doing here? And who is she?” He eyed the smiling woman.

Guildmaster Millinith lowered herself back to the ledge. “She is Master Gella, Special Investigator for High Lady Hasana.”

Aeron’s eyes widened.

“With Dragonlinked Fillion and Guildmaster Millinith’s assistance,” Master Gella said, “I’ve been looking into a murder.”

Polandra blinked. Murder? She took a closer look at the young woman. Special Investigator meant nothing to Polandra, but there was more to her, it seemed, than was at first apparent.

Master Gella frowned. “A fellow investigator was killed while checking into National Transportation. He left behind notes and clues that led us here.”

“Clues?” Aeron stepped closer to her. “What kind of clues?”

“Three clues, actually,” Fillion said.

Master Gella glanced at him. “Apparently, the investigator found some salt from the flats below. Where he found it, I am not sure, but find it he did. He had it analyzed. The report listing the results of the analysis was one clue.”

“There was also a worn coin,” Fillion said, “and a bag of course powder, grit, he called it. Which makes sense. It was very gritty.”

“His notes said the analysis led him to GF,” Master Gella said, “which turned out to be Ghost Flats.”

“And, he said that GF led him to NT, which we think means National Transportation.” Fillion shrugged. “He must have found this camp, too.”

Master Gella nodded. “The notes further mention that he got the powder from NT, which means he must have gotten into the camp.” She walked over and peeked down below. “If he did it, I can do it.”

Aeron moved up and looked over the ridge beside her. “I wonder what they’re polishing down there.”

“Polishing?” The Guildmaster looked at him.

Master Gella turned to him. “What do you mean?”

“Hmm?” Aeron glanced at them. “With the grit. It’s used for polishing.”

Master Gella grabbed his arm and hauled him back down to the others. Brows drawn together, she said, “Explain.”

Polandra stared at the woman. Why was she so agitated?

Aeron looked surprised, too. “Um, well, my mother often used sandpaper to smooth out finished pieces. Course grit paper first, then finer and finer grit as she went along. The last paper was so fine, you almost couldn’t tell it was sandpaper at all.”

Master Gella grunted. “That’s not really polishing.”

“Actually, it kind of is. After that last paper, she’d clean the piece really well to remove wood dust and then she’d apply the varnish. It was so smooth, it looked like glass.” He looked from Master Gella to Guildmaster Millinith. “I also know that the powder used for polishing gemstones is often called grit.”

Master Gella bowed her head in thought. “Something. You’re on to something, I think. I just can’t quite . . .”

The woman’s focus reminded Polandra just how odd what they all were doing was. Surveillance, information gathering, and assisting with a murder investigation? There was obviously much more to the guild than she had first assumed.

Master Gella shook her head and said, “Never mind. How long have you two been here, anyway?”

Aeron frowned. “Too long.” He turned to Polandra. “Three and a half hours?”

She nodded. “At least.”

“Good. What can you tell me about the camp?”

As Polandra and Aeron explained everything they’d seen so far, Master Gella asked questions now and again. She was able to get more from them than Polandra thought they even knew.

“Excellent.” Master Gella nodded. “And what brought you two here?”

What could be revealed? Polandra bit her lip and glanced at Guildmaster Millinith.

“Yes,” the young woman said, “tell us anything you’ve learned.”

With her go-ahead, Polandra nodded. “Well, we know how they’re faking dragon attacks, for one thing.”

She and Aeron explained what they saw. She included her own questions about which members of the Order knew what. “It isn’t entirely clear if those manisi below know about the faked attacks. But they’re obviously part of the faction working with National Transportation.”

“Agreed.” Guildmaster Millinith twirled a bit of her hair with a finger. “What we still don’t know is exactly how closely that faction is in with the company. Based on your observations, the manisi here only seem to enter the camp to rest. Everyone else in the camp looks to be from the North, which likely means they are National Transportation employees or temporary hirelings. You said some of them went into the building and have yet to leave?”

Polandra nodded.

“Yeah,” Aeron said. “They must be the ones doing whatever it is they do.”

“It would be nice to know exactly what is going on down there.” Fillion frowned.

Master Gella glanced at him. “I aim to discover that this evening.”

Aeron, looking down through binocs, said, “Well, whatever they’re doing, it’s going to give them a lot of something to haul away on that wagon.”

“Sunset will be in three or four hours.” Polandra looked around. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m starving.”

“Gods, me too,” Aeron said.

“So,” Polandra continued, “how about Aeron and I summon our dragons, portal to the Caer, and grab some food for everyone?”

“What an excellent suggestion.” Guildmaster Millinith nodded at her in approval. “Could you bring something warm to drink, as well? Not so much for now, but for tonight?”

They asked Ikan and Anaya to join them, but to fly at an altitude of around two thousand feet. If someone could spot them that high and identify them for what they were, that someone would deserve some kind of award.

A little over an hour later, when the dragons let them know they were close, Fillion led Polandra and Aeron to where Coatl was hidden away deeper in the hills, a few miles south. Ikan and Anaya arrived not too long after, and Aeron opened a portal to the Caer. He suggested they fly straight to the courtyard in front of the Residence, just south of the Dining Hall.

“No reason not to,” he shouted, after they came through the gateway. “And it will save time instead of walking there and back. I’m really, really hungry.”

That was fine with Polandra. She was starving too.
Let’s land where he said.

Ikan rumbled agreement and followed Anaya to the northeast.

Though a few stared, most people didn’t spare them more than a glance or two when they landed. Aeron jumped to the ground and ran up the steps to the Dining Hall. Polandra followed. Once inside, Aeron headed for a door near the serving area and knocked.

“Mallory!” Aeron smiled at the woman who opened the door.

“Aeron, so nice to see yeh.” She smiled back. “What sort o’ trouble yeh getting into these days?”

“Oh, you know,” he shrugged and grinned, “the same.”

“A’course.” She chuckled. “Who’s yer friend?”

“This is Polandra,” Aeron said. “Polandra, this is Mallory.”

“What a pretty name,”  Mallory said. “Nice to meet yeh.”

“Thank you. It is nice to meet you, too.” Polandra bowed her head.

“And Anaya?” Mallory turned back to Aeron. “How’s she?”

“She’s doing great. Getting bigger all the time, though it’s slower going, now.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Yer keeping her well-fed? Not starving her, are yeh?”

Aeron raised his hands and laughed. “No, no. She eats as much as she wants. And speaking of which, Guildmaster Millinith sent us here to get some sandwiches or wraps for five people. Oh, and hot cider, too, in thermal bottles, for later tonight.”

“Ah, well, tha’ shouldnae be a problem.” She gestured behind them to the tables. “Have a seat, then, and I’ll have ‘em ready in two shakes.”

The woman was as good as her word. Not too long after, she brought out two packages while assistants followed, carrying two large satchels.

“One has beef wraps,” Mallory said, patting a package, “the other, chicken. And these,” she motioned the assistants to put the satchels on the table, “are the thermal bottles. I’ve included six, in case someone wants more.” She turned to Aeron. “I expect to get the satchels and bottles back, hear?”

He smiled. “Yes, ma’am.” Picking up the satchels, he told Polandra, “I’ll get these, if you’ll grab the wraps?”

She nodded and grabbed the paper-wrapped packages. “Sure.”

“Thanks again, Mallory,” he said over his shoulder as he headed for the door.

Mallory smiled and waved. “Any time.”

Outside, two groups of people had gathered, watching the dragons.

You okay?

I am fine. They are excited to see us.

The groups were small, three and four people, and they were mostly young, aged nine to perhaps nineteen.

“Good afternoon,” Aeron said and smiled as he started tying the satchels to Anaya’s saddle.

Several voices responded. “Afternoon, dragonlinked.” “Afternoon.”

One of the young girls spoke up. “Are you on a secret mission?” Her eyes were wide with excitement.

“What makes you think we are?” Aeron, still working on the satchels, glanced at her over his shoulder.

“You and your dragons are normally at the dragon stables or flying about. You aren’t normally other places in the Caer.”