Lance of Earth and Sky (The Chaos Knight Book Two) (22 page)

Vidarian's hands tensed on the table and his thoughts raced. He hadn't even considered that Ruby would refuse to go. Yet—deeply aware that the walls most certainly had ears here in the Arboretum, he said, “I'm not sure when we'll be returning.”

*
Then Oneira shall have all the time she needs.
*

Frustration and anger lit in Vidarian, combusting suddenly from tinder of anxiety and guilt. He reached for the box.

An answering anger leapt outward from the stone, stopping his hand. *
Don't you dare.
*

“You don't know her,” Vidarian said, straining not to betray their mission, or Khalesh's trust. “This is the Alorean Import Company, Ruby.”

*
She's the best deal I have right now, Vidarian.
* The heat of her anger was still vivid against his mind, but her words softened. *
Go on your journey. When you return, maybe I'll be whole.
*

Iridan returned, wearing a hooded black cloak that covered all but his hands and carrying a large basket covered with blue cloth, like an odd kind of picnic kit. “
I am ready, Captain
,” the automaton said.

Slowly, Vidarian turned back toward the stairs. “Good-bye, then, Ruby,” he said.

*
Good-bye
. *

They went directly to the
Luminous
. Out in the north field, they passed Calphille, still a tree and planted in the same spot on the field. Large white flowers covered the tree's branches. Vidarian slowed his pace as they approached, hoping she would speak. In the end, they passed quietly beneath her spreading branches, and she did not stir. In her silence Vidarian could only read rebuke, and could not bear to force the issue and risk starting another argument with one of the few people he trusted. Part of him screamed to stay, to help her as he should have from the moment they arrived, and hated every moment of speed that had so many times now stopped him from paying proper attention to those he valued most.
If you can hear me
, he thought at her,
you'll be all right. Lirien will come to his senses. You'll see.

The skyship field was aswarm with activity. Ordinarily it would have taken days to prepare the ships, but imperial initiative could move time itself, it seemed. As promised, Thalnarra and Altair had been summoned, and were supervising the building of large makeshift nests on the forecastle deck with Brannon, Isri, Tepeki, and Khalesh's mechanical bird. Vidarian approached them and made introductions; Khalesh fawned over both the gryphons and his bird, and thanked Brannon for his attentiveness.

In a black mood from the argument with Ruby—a simmering heat that masked his deep worry and sadness poorly—Vidarian excused himself, making some prevarication about checking the hold. As he turned, he met another black-hooded face—the third on the ship, after Isri and Iridan.

The eyes within were familiar, but it took several moments to make sense of the rest. “Lir—” he began, before he could stop himself.

The emperor smiled and raised a finger to his lips. “Renard is a wizard, is he not?”

At that moment, a swell of sound from below turned Vidarian's head toward the
Empress Cimeria
. A man in the emperor's gleaming black satin robes was ascending the gangplank, surrounded by attendants. “He is,” Vidarian agreed.

“Shall we adjourn to the relay chamber for the launch?” the emperor said.

Vidarian started, then nodded. He would never become used to being aboard a ship and not being at its command—even as his life aboard the
Empress Quest
now seemed more than a lifetime away.

Lirien was correct, though, that their place was in the room equipped with relay spheres. Malloray was there awaiting his orders, as Vidarian had left word that as soon as the
Luminous
launched he was to begin contacting allies. The emperor took a seat at the table, and Vidarian followed suit, picking a chair between the three other bespectacled relay officers that stared intently into the relay sphere at the center of the room.

“I was able to make contact, sir,” Malloray said, and the way he said “sir” was an obscure comfort, a decades-long familiarity. “You were right, she does seem to have a relay sphere of her own.” Malloray handed him a pair of the now-familiar blue-lensed spectacles.

Vidarian fitted the spectacles to his face, and the world turned blue. It also changed in height and depth, in floor and furnishing.

To his surprise, the room that he saw was not in Kara'zul, but the fire tower in Val Harlon. Less surprising was the burgundy-robed figure that sat in the room, picking up blue-lensed spectacles while he watched. “Endera. It's been quite some time.”

“It has indeed, Captain. You've made some new friends.”

“I have need of old ones, also.” Mere months ago Vidarian would have choked on his beer to hear that he would refer to Endera as an “old friend,” and yet there was no denying now that he felt a flush of warm relief at seeing her. Dancing carefully around his words, he told her that they had a relay ship, that he was in Val Imris, and that he and the gryphons required safe harbor for some very precious cargo.

“Come to Val Harlon. The Fire Council—”

What she said next vanished in a buzz of sound, and the world went black. Across the table, Malloray cursed, and started barking orders to the other relay officers.

The blue world returned, but Malloray's orders only increased in volume and intensity.

And the room they looked in on was not Val Harlon. The ground shifted beneath Vidarian's feet, and part of him was aware that it was the
Luminous
, taking off and gaining altitude.

Justinian had had a new mask made. In basic shape it resembled his first mask, but its ornamentation, lavish with gold filigree and gems, suggested a much more open statement of station.

“I believe you have something that belongs to me, Captain,” Justinian said.

“The automaton belongs to the empire,” Lirien said, and Vidarian's pulse quickened at the steel in his voice.

To his astonishment, and Lirien's fury, Justinian did not answer him.

“This is a declaration of war, Vidarian.”

“I'm sorry you feel that way,” Vidarian began, channeling some of the patronizing arrogance that Justinian had spoken with from the day they first met. A day when Justinian's face had been whole, Ariadel had stood beside him, and Ruby still lived.

He opened his mouth to say more, but the glasses went dark completely, and after long moments of blindness he finally removed the spectacles and set them aside.

Malloray stood near the door, and had hauled one of the relay officers up by his elbow. Both were breathing heavily, as though they'd just come out of hand-to-hand combat, despite Vidarian having heard nothing of the sort. When Malloray turned toward him, his bearing reeked of misery. “A traitor,” he said, between heavy breaths. “A Company man. I'm so sorry, Captain. I should have known. His defenses were nearly perfect.”

Vidarian touched his palm to his forehead and closed his eyes for a moment, reeling with the implications. “Justinian, at least, will know that the emperor is aboard the
Luminous
.”

“He has his own problems with the Court of Directors,” Lirien said, clearly still shaken from the encounter. “There's no certainty they'll even believe him.”

“Begging your pardon, sirs,” Malloray said, face flushed red with embarrassment and anger. “But what shall I do with this slime?”

“Take him above,” Vidarian said, and Malloray nodded, hauling the man out of the chamber. Vidarian followed, and they made their way laboriously up the ladders.

The wind whipped, and only sky was visible for miles around when they came atopships. Around the ship was arrayed a small contingent of Sky Knights; when he emerged, one of the riders to starboard lifted his lance—Caladan. Amidst the ever-advancing threat of their situation, Vidarian experienced a moment of deep gratitude for whomever had brought him—probably Thalnarra. At Vidarian's indication, Malloray hustled the relay officer toward the stern.

The gryphons were reclining in their freshly made nests. Before them, Tepeki and Brannon were sparring with wooden swords.

“I apologize for interrupting,” Vidarian said, and the boys lowered their weapons. “But I may need some assistance. We've discovered one of Justinian's men among the relay officers.”

//
I can return him to the ground,
// Altair said.

Vidarian turned to Altair, searching his tone for any sign of irony or suggestion. There was none, only the cool breeze of a problem solved. “Please do. Gently,” he glanced at the man, whose eyes were widening as he realized how he was going to leave the ship, “but not too gently.”

Altair chuffed, a dry, amused note in the back of his throat, then tipped his beak in a nod, climbing to his feet and giving a luxurious and illustrative head-to-toe stretch of his muscles and wings.

Malloray's grip loosened on the man's arm, and at first Vidarian assumed it was out of shock at Altair's formidable height.

“Captain!” Malloray shouted. “I've made contact with another ship! Another relay chamber received the distress call that went out with the interrupted contact with Val Harlon.” The man turned, and the blue lenses slipped away from his eyes in his urgency. “It's Marielle, sir!”

“G
ood afternoon, Captain Rulorat.” Through the blue lenses of his relay glasses, Marielle stood, well turned-out, in a stateroom Vidarian almost recognized. His former first mate looked superb; whatever she'd been up to in the months since the burning of the
Empress Quest
had suited her. The burr in her voice was confidence, a kind of lightning contentment, the kind that came from action and strength.

“It's been a long time, Captain Solandt,” Vidarian replied. Beside Marielle, a massive and excessively armed man frowned and opened his mouth. Marielle stilled him with a lift of her fingers.

Back on the
Luminous
, the relay chamber onto which the blue glasses projected Marielle's images was growing crowded. Iridan and Khalesh had joined Malloray and his remaining two officers. Khalesh had some kind of elemental device in his hands, a narrow metal tube set with three differently colored glass spheres evenly spaced along it.

Squinting at the double vision provided by the glasses, Vidarian caught Malloray's attention and lifted his chin in Iridan's direction.

The voice in his head was quiet, pitched for him alone, and unmistakably Malloray's.
Iridan asked about the configuration of the ship's relay sphere. He seemed to think he could stop an outside presence from interfering again.

Not completely convinced, but neither desiring an argument, Vidarian nodded. “We heard that the
Ardent
has been lost for months.”

“Is something lost what doesn't want to be found?” Marielle smiled again, and this time her silent burly companion joined her.

Vidarian looked at Marielle as closely as the spectacles would allow. What she was suggesting—that she and the entire crew of the
Ardent
had abandoned their commissions—was close to treason on its face. He was glad suddenly that Lirien had not come to the relay chamber with them.

Marielle took pity on his clumsily calculating mind and said, “I'd like to explain in full, but not at such distance.” Even her manner of speaking had changed; was she emulating him, he wondered? Or had her adventures been so transformative?

“We are on route to Val Harlon,” Vidarian began. Marielle's face darkened ever so slightly.

“Fire priestesses?” Marielle asked. Val Harlon was not the mountain stronghold that was the fire temple at Kara'zul, but it was their nearest port, and certainly, among other things, would be what Marielle most associated the city with for some time.

“They are our allies,” Vidarian said, choosing his words carefully. He wanted—badly—to know what had become of Marielle and the
Ardent
, which should be accountable as loyal defenders of the emperor against the Company, but could not afford to abandon his initial plan of seeking out elemental supporters. “We have need of robust friends.”

“Well,” Marielle smiled, all business. “When you have need of stronger ones, come to this location.” She began to rattle off a set of coordinates and further instructions on the safest routes toward them. Malloray swatted at one of the relay officers, who scrambled after parchment and pencil.

“We look forward to seeing you there, and hearing more of your journey, old friend,” Vidarian said. He spoke slowly, without quite meaning to, though well aware of how much he missed Marielle's steady wisdom. It was enough of a lift in his spirits merely to know she lived.

“Who are you calling ‘old’?” Marielle asked, folding her arms. She winked, and then vanished.

Around the table the relay officers all gasped, then fell into a cacophony of discussion, remarkable considering that there were only three of them, including Malloray.

“She's gone again, sir,” Malloray said at last, and rather unnecessarily, owing to his state of fluster. “I can't make contact with the ship. It's as if she's vanished entirely.”

“
They have a masking device
,” Iridan said. Vidarian started, then turned toward the automaton, having forgotten he was there. “
It's an effect I can duplicate, if you'd like.
”

“You can make us invisible to other relay spheres? And telepaths?” Vidarian asked.

Iridan nodded, an eerie expression from a metal head. “
Such a device is built into my body. A diplomatic tool.
”

“Of course,” Vidarian sighed. “It seems quite wise, if it's not an undue tax on your resources.”

“
It is not
,” Iridan said. He was silent a moment, then his gears rotated for a few more. “
It is done.
”

One of the relay officers, the youngest of them, put his hands around his temples. “It's like a blanket,” he said. “A big, fluffy quilt—or a blanket of snow.”

“It's excellently done,” Malloray said, and seemed to have recovered somewhat from his mortification at having missed the spy in their midst. “Thank you kindly for it. We'll sleep easier a-night.”

“
I am of course pleased to be of any assistance.
”

Since the awakening of the skyships, Val Harlon's tallest towers, long abandoned, now saw new life. Strange bridges that seemed to lead nowhere proved to be skyway piers; most had not survived, but Endera had taken over a tower near one of the few that did, flying from it the three-flames banner of Sharli. Slender balconies that wrapped the towers in long spirals punctuated by broad open courtyards also disclosed their original purpose: landing platforms and open-air roads where gryphons could spare delicate interior carpets and marbles their sharp talons. A passing rumor in the city held that some enterprising soul had developed woolen knit “gryphon mittens” that allowed safer indoor walking, but rather mysteriously they weren't catching on.

They docked at the pier, which had been marked with small golden elemental lanterns, and Vidarian disembarked with Thalnarra.

As they descended the spiral walkway toward the large, arched door, Thalnarra walked proudly beside Vidarian. It was a somewhat subtle attitude to catch in a gryphon, since they always looked somewhere between angry and proud by dint of sharp-beaked predator faces, but in Thalnarra it was recognizable in the shift of her wings, the length of her stride.

“You've painted your feathers,” Vidarian noticed obediently. It wasn't hard to feign admiration—the golden patterns weren't as tightly executed as they'd been when he first met her, but they were beautiful nonetheless, gilding the tips of the blue-black feathers on the tops of her wings.

Thalnarra's cheek-feathers puffed, pleased. //
Brannon's work. He's coming along.
//

“Are you sure it was wise to bring him away from his family?”

She turned a narrowed red eye on him without tilting her head. //
He's chosen to become a gryphon-ward. It is his life, not theirs.
// Vidarian wanted to ask what it meant to be “a gryphon-ward,” exactly, but the pinning of Thalnarra's pupil said that asking would only get him a riddle, and he couldn't muster the will.

An acolyte greeted them at the door, summoned by the sound of claws on the walkway. Slim and spectacled, she bowed deeply to Thalnarra, who dipped her beak in return. //
We are here to see Priestess Endera
, // Thalnarra said.

“The High Priestess takes luncheon in the solar,” the acolyte said cautiously. “Whom may I say is calling?”

Vidarian looked at Thalnarra, surprised at Endera's new title, but her eyes were fixed intently on the acolyte. Thalnarra's tufted ears lowered just a fraction. The girl had enough experience with gryphons to be intimidated. //
Tell her that Thalnarra is here, and the Tesseract, Captain Vidarian Rulorat.
//

By now Vidarian was used to priestesses and their ilk ignoring him if there was either a woman or a gryphon around, but the way that they scrambled when they learned who he was still had a bit of sparkle. The girl began apologizing, and Thalnarra gestured with her beak, sending her vanishing back inside the tower with a squeak.

In moments, a different acolyte, this one with gold stripes on the grey sleeves of her robes, came out and immediately ushered them into the tower. In the hall, they were plied with luxuries: a steaming hot towel for Vidarian's face and hands, an oil-rubbed cloth for Thalnarra's feathers, glasses of chilled melon water and a peppery dried venison that gryphons favored. More still they offered: bathing chambers, clothing, meals—but Thalnarra gently insisted that they be taken straight to Endera.

They wound down through the tower to the fifth floor, and then out onto a round rooftop garden enclosed in glass. Endera was there dressed in rich golden robes, sitting at a small, wrought-iron table set with tea, pears, and delicate cress sandwiches. Her carnelian circlet had been replaced by one of silver set with garnets and rubies. She smiled sardonically at Vidarian's theatrically raised eyebrows and waved him to a seat. As they approached, another acolyte entered the solarium bearing a tea service for Vidarian with more cress sandwiches and a plate of seared fish for Thalnarra.

“We're honored to merit the audience of a High Priestess,” Vidarian said, by way of complimenting her promotion with just the right dash of impudence.

Endera stirred fragrant coconut sugar into her tea. “I have you to thank for that.” She lifted her cup to him.

Vidarian took one of the chairs and Thalnarra sat to his left, delicately lifting one of the fish by its tail and swallowing it whole. Endera lifted her own teapot and poured him a cup of tea. “Me?” he asked.

She picked up her own cup again, sipped, and nodded. “The Fire Council believes now that it was Sharli's intention that we should be part of your journey, that our…friction…was part of that path, and that I acted in accordance with the will of the goddess in shaping it. They are here in Val Harlon for my ascension ceremony.”

“Congratulations,” he managed. He looked at Thalnarra, searching for the protocol for a newly promoted priestess, but she was no help at all. She continued eating the fish and actually seemed to be pretending that Endera wasn't there. It seemed she hadn't quite forgiven her for the betrayal that had caused Thalnarra to win a separation from the priestesshood with her pride—by ritual combat.

She waved a hand. “Temple politics. Had I been a High Priestess when we first met, who knows what might have happened?” Delicately she picked up a sandwich—a tiny thing with pressed cream-colored bread and bright greens—and pushed the plate at Vidarian. He took one out of politeness and ate it. The cress was pleasantly peppery. “But come. You said you were in need of friends.” At this, Thalnarra snapped through the body of one of the fish, crunching bones.

As he explained all that had happened—the sky skirmishes with the Qui, the collapse of the Sky Knights, the arrival of Ariadel, the revelation of the imperial finances—a quiet fire visibly ignited in Endera's eyes. She watched Vidarian like a cat stalking prey. He gave as much detail as he dared without disclosing exact statements, or the fact that the emperor had left the city with them. When at last he trailed off, she folded her hands and stared at the table for several long moments. He half expected the plate of sandwiches to burst into flames.

At last Endera gave the slightest shake of her head, waking from a tense meditation. “We've known pieces of this,” she admitted. “Ariadel—sought my help…”

“Where is she?” The words escaped him before conscious thought.

Endera blinked, and her eyes slid over to Thalnarra for only a moment. “She's with Thalnarra's flight—”

Vidarian started to stand, but Endera's hand on his arm, startlingly hot, kept him in his seat.

“You can't go there now,” she said, her circlet sliding lower on her forehead as she frowned. “If half of what you say is true, your ship could only draw attention to their location.”

His free hand came down on the table, rattling the dishes. He looked up in an apology he couldn't bring himself to voice, then rubbed his eyes. “What exactly am I to do, then?”

“We can give you the assistance the imperial court could not afford,” Endera said. In her eyes now was something he never thought he would see: an age, a tiredness, even—regret? Even as he watched, it hardened. “I will personally guarantee it.” When his head jerked with surprise, she smiled sadly. “The priestesshood, despite some miscalculations, has not been so foolish as to chain itself to a mercantile master. And we owe you.”