A Storm in the Desert: Dragonlinked Chronicles Voume 3 (34 page)

Bertram’s gaze flicked to him for a moment, and a faint smile briefly lifted the corners of his mouth before he continued. “He expects his employees to work their asses off, but only pays average wages. Less than average, in some cases. I’d guess Tiberius is the same.”

Her gaze lowered.

“The manufacturer’s name was chiseled off all your tools. Your bosses must expect that some of the wrecking crews, if not all of them, will be caught. They want nothing physical that can lead anywhere near them. But as far as the crews themselves, they probably don’t care what happens to them. I bet you’ve been paid in cash for these types of escapades, too, so there will be no evidence of payment to you in the company’s accounting books. If anything goes to court, there will be no solid proof—it will be the word of the company against the word of a few less-than-reputable scoundrels.”

Iris stared at the ground.

“You’re done, my dear. If you even exist on their payroll, you’ll be fired the minute word reaches National Transportation that you were caught. They’ll say they were shocked to learn of your doings and were forced to let you go for such heinous actions. Or, something along those lines, anyway. Meanwhile, you’ll rot in gaol for who knows how long. However, if you help me, I could help you.”

She didn’t lift her gaze. “What do you want to know?”

It wasn’t until much later, as Fillion lay awake listening to Gregor’s soft breathing, that he realized why the name Tiberius was familiar. He was the one who signed for the chests on that shipping receipt from the safe deposit box! Fillion’s excitement and surprise was such that he almost shook Gregor awake to give him the news, but he refrained. It had been a busy day for the healer and tomorrow was another combat training day for them all. He should really get to sleep himself. Thoughts about his realization kept him awake for a bit longer, however.

Tiberius owned National Transportation, yet he received the chests personally. Whatever was in them was important enough that he didn’t leave that task to another. But what could have been in them? What was so valuable that he’d have someone killed over it?

What in Yrdra’s deepest hells was National Transportation digging up in the desert?

Fillion took a swallow of the hot cider and glanced at Aeron. He was complaining, again, about his shrine lessons.

“It’s not as if I have extra time to learn all this, too.” He poked at his lunch with a fork.

“It doesn’t matter.” Willem looked a little frustrated. “Complain all you want, but you
will
learn the proper rites. It’s a small price to pay to help ensure your safety.”

“Besides,” Sharrah added, “Guildmaster Millinith wants you to as well.”

“We’re almost done, anyway,” Polandra said. “You’ve been surprisingly good at learning it all.”

Renata nodded. “Yeah, we’re going to be there with you, so you only need to know enough to not make any big mistakes. We’ve given you everything already. It’s just a matter of memorization and practice.”

“I suppose.” Aeron’s expression brightened. “Hey, after lunch, anyone want to go see what progress they’ve made on the living quarters at the Guildhall?”

“That’s a great idea,” Fillion said. “I’m looking forward to moving in there.”

“Can I catch a ride with you, Aeron?” Sharrah said. “I’d like to see the rooms, too.”

During the last of lunch, they worked out who was riding with whom. It seemed everyone wanted to see the progress on the rooms they all would soon be living in. Even the light snow couldn’t put a damper on the short trip.

All the dragons, at least those large enough to be ridden, stood about the courtyard, riders on their backs. Fluffy flakes fell slowly around them. Now and then a few swirled about, caught in unseen air currents caused by one thing or another—dragons exhaling, people talking, enormous wings and bodies moving.

Xochi snapped her mouth at a few and caught them. The action, reminding him of a curious dog or cat, made Fillion smile. Zolin must have said something, because Jessip glanced at his big bond-mate and chuckled.

“I’ll open the gateway there,” Fillion said from Coatl’s saddle.

“I’ll do the one back.” Willem glanced at him. “To share out the load, so to speak.”

“Sounds good.” Fillion looked up and wove the enchantment. The portal appeared moments later, a misty orb floating in the gray sky. By tradition, the pair who’d created the portal led the way through.

Let’s go, big guy.

Coatl rumbled in acknowledgment, lowered slightly, then leapt upward, enormous wings pounding the air.

Gregor’s chuckle vibrated against Fillion’s back. The healer loved flying on Coatl. Chuckles and laughs and even wild whoops of joy sometimes came from him as they were taking off. His love of flying was but one more thing that Fillion shared with him.

The same fat flakes twirled and fell lazily at the Guildhall. Coatl circled down to one of the ledges open to the sky. Depending on the size of the ledge, up to four suites of underground rooms would open on it from inside. This one currently had but one suite of rooms attached, though the plans showed that eventually there would be three.

The dragonlinked suites took up most of the top ‘floor’ of the Guildhall, because they needed places of one sort or another to allow dragons to take off and land. The inner rooms, however, those not near the sides, needed a different kind of dragon access. Instead of ledges, they’d have large openings that put him in mind of the sinkholes he’d heard about but never seen. From the sky, they’d look like enormous mouths opening on courtyards about the size of the one at the dragon stables. Four suites would surround the yards. Drainage grates would keep the courtyards clear of water during rainstorms and would carry off snow melt, as well. Fillion had heard tell of debris traps in those drains that would require periodic cleaning. More chores for them, no doubt. It would be worth the effort, though. These rooms were very nice.

Coatl landed and they hopped off, waiting for the rest. When the last dragon was through the portal, Fillion closed it. One by one the other dragons set down beside them on the ledge.

Rubbing his hands together, Aeron headed inside. “Let’s see how many more rooms are complete.”

To their disappointment, it seemed the focus of living quarters enchanting had been on the non-dragonlinked suites on the floors below.

“It sort of makes sense,” Sharrah said. “After all, there are a lot of support staff that will need rooms, too. I imagine staff will always outnumber dragonlinked. At least dragonlinked that live here at the Guildhall. Once their training is complete, like in other crafts, most dragonlinked will likely head off for work elsewhere.”

“That’s exactly right,” Renata said. “Dragonlinked quarters aren’t as high priority right now as staff quarters, though a few are still being enchanted.”

Cheddar nodded. “I spotted a couple more dragon suites being worked on as I flew in. I wish they’d work on more of the ledge suites, though. I want one of those.”

Sharrah seemed troubled. “You’re not worried about falling off?”

Fillion thought he remembered seeing railings on the plans for those suites.

Cheddar laughed. “How would I fall off? Besides, I think there will be a protective fence of some kind along the edge.”

“I was hoping more of our rooms would have been completed,” Willem said, sounding a little deflated. “I wanted to see if there would be any variation in them.”

“Other than how dragons will access them,” Renata said, “I’m pretty sure they’re all the same.” She shrugged. “Even so, I love the rooms. They’re similar to the ones in the stables and are certainly nicer than the caves.”

Polandra laughed. “That’s true.”

“They’re a little bigger than your old room in the Magic Craft Hall,” Sharrah told Aeron, “but are divided up like the rooms at the stables.”

Aeron looked at her. “You’re right. It’s like the designers took the best parts of each of them.”

“Personally,” Liara said. “I love how they combined a shower and a tub in the water closets. Whether you’re in a hurry or want a long soak, both facilities are there.”

“And,” Jessip said, “you don’t have to slog down a long hallway, hauling your clothes and toiletries along, to do so.”

Fillion turned to Gregor. “What kind of room would you prefer? Courtyard or ledge?”

“It doesn’t matter to me.” He shrugged.

Fillion nodded. “Well, I think I’m with Cheddar on this one. A ledge suite would be good. Especially one with a nice view. After a rough day, you could sit on a chair or something on the ledge, sipping cider and relaxing, taking in the scenery.”

“That does sound nice.” Polandra smiled.

“How about the dining room?” Aeron said. “Anyone know where that is going to be?”

Willem chuckled. “You would think about food.”

“Of course,” Aeron said with a grin.

Renata led them to the large room. It was about a third the size of the Dining Hall at Caer Baronel. Even so, it was impressive. Especially when one remembered that it was just for the Guildhall. Fillion wondered how many people could eat in here at once.

Aeron looked at Renata. “Has the chef been hired yet?”

“Not yet.”

“I hope you get someone as good as Master Tallah. Good food helps keep people happy.”

“Guildmaster Millinith is searching for a good chef,” Renata said with a wry grin. “Have no fear.”

The last stop for the day was the clutching room. The portion completed so far was enormous. Fillion wasn’t the only one looking around open-mouthed.

“It’ll be gigantic,” Liara murmured.

“Bigger, even,” Cheddar said, “than the cavern Nayra used in the caves down south.” He stared at the domed ceiling high above.

“We’ve been working hard on this for a while,” Aeron said. “Anaya’s memories, along with those from others, show that several dragons could clutch at the same time. In the wild, they all go their separate ways, going to caves and such to be by themselves. But as we’ve learned from Nenet and Chel, if they feel comfortable and safe, they are willing to come down here to clutch. So, we want there to be plenty of room in case some of our wild friends and our own bonded ones need the room at the same time.”

“Based on the size so far,” Fillion said, “it looks like when it is complete, six or seven dragons could fit in here at once with plenty of room to spare.” He smiled as he thought about how much fun it would be to have that many eggs in here, waiting to hatch. And, too, witnessing the choosing and then the bonding afterward would be exciting and thrilling.

“Even more might fit,” Gregor said, “depending on how much space they want between them.”

“Our dragons are a great deal less skittish,” Aeron said, “a great deal more friendly toward each other, than wild dragons. So, it is very possible that more could fit comfortably.”

“Still,” Sharrah noted, “you wouldn’t want so many dragons in here that a stumble or misplaced foot might damage an egg.”

“That would be terrible,” Liara said.

Jessip, standing near the short set of stairs about twenty feet in from the entrance, said, “This three foot drop-off, the sunken floor in most of this room, is it to be filled with dirt and gravel so they can make their egg mounds?”

“That was the initial thought,” Aeron said.

“Initial?” Sharrah glanced at him.

“Yeah,” Aeron said. “But I think Xochi made a different suggestion, didn’t she?” He turned to Renata. “Actually, if I recall, it was more of a demand.”

Her brows drew together. Then, she suddenly smiled. “Sand!”

“Yep.” Aeron nodded, grinning. “Our dragons all loved the sand from your caves. Xochi’s mom used it for an egg mound, so why not have it here?”

“Fillion,” Gregor said, “we have to go.”

His brow wrinkled. “To get sand?”

Gregor shook his head. “No. You and I have to return to Caer Baronel.”

“Hmm? What do you mean?”

“Guildmaster Millinith wants you at the investigation office immediately.”

“She does?”

“She woke up Kisa to send a message to me.”

Fillion’s brows rose. “It must be important.”

“Is anything wrong?” Aeron said.

“I don’t think so, but Kisa said the Guildmaster sounded like she was in a hurry.”

Fillion turned to the others. “You folks have fun. It looks like we have to go.”

As they dismounted in the courtyard, Gregor said, “You go on. Kisa’s worried that something is wrong. I’m going to see if I can’t get her to relax and go back to sleep. I don’t think the Guildmaster needed me anyway—it sounded like she just wanted you.”

Fillion nodded and jogged to the investigation office.
Help Gregor calm her down, big guy, while I see what the Guildmaster wants.

His bond-mate’s affirmative bark came from behind as he shut the office door.

Guildmaster Millinith, seated at her desk, looked up at him. “Master Gella contacted me a few minutes ago.”

It
was
important. “Did she get a look in a chest?”

“No. But the chests are being moved. She wants us to meet her near the rail station we found north of the flats.”

Fillion grunted. “An overnight stay?”

“I’m not sure. Prepare for one anyway.”

“I just need a few minutes and I’ll be ready.”

“I’ll let her know we’re on the way. Meet back here in ten minutes, I’ll need to run to my room to pack.”

He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

As he shoved items into his carryall, Fillion caught Gregor up. “We don’t know how long we’ll be gone, but we’re planning for an overnight stay, just in case.”

“Be careful. Those people are dangerous. Don’t forget that they are probably who had that investigator killed.”

“I know, and I will.”

They double-checked Coatl’s gear. Fillion, Guildmaster Millinith, and Master Gella would all be riding. It wouldn’t do for a strap or binding to be worn or loose. Finding all in order, they walked to the courtyard.

The Guildmaster arrived shortly from the direction of the Magic Craft Hall. “Ready?”

Fillion nodded. “Ready.”

Night was already falling when they arrived. He’d forgotten about the two hour difference. The rail station, five hundred feet below, looked different at sunset. The whole land was covered in deep reds and ruddy golds, and long, dark shadows pointed east.

A tap on his shoulder drew his attention.

Guildmaster Millinith pointed behind them to the portal.

Fillion’s cheeks burned at having to be reminded. He’d been distracted by how different everything appeared. At least he’d taken the precaution of setting this end of the gateway much higher than normal. Still, the faintly glowing portal outshone the fist stars peeking out from the darkening heavens. It was dangerously easy to spot. He quickly closed the gateway.

Focus, Fillion, focus.

There was no sign of the woman.
Can you sense Gella?

I can. Should I fly to her?

Please.

As the last rays of sunlight lanced upward from beyond the horizon, Coatl flew north. After about three-quarters of a mile, he landed near a dark copse of trees.