Soulblade (6 page)

So long as he gets pointed in the right direction
, Jaxi said.

We know Kasandral’s command words now. That should be doable.

Uh huh. We knew them up on that rooftop, too, but Morishtomaric also knew them, and his voice seemed to carry more weight.

I know. I was there.

Just reminding you. I don’t want you to be blindsided.

I know.
Sardelle closed her eyes, drained by the idea of a battle with a powerful sorceress.
I just want to find Ridge.

Jaxi didn’t say anything, because Jaxi thought he was dead. Sardelle understood that even if she couldn’t accept it herself.

“I can stop by,” Sardelle said, “and see if he’s willing.”

Angulus grunted. “You’ll take my royal orders with you, and I assure you he
will
be willing.”

“Thank you, Sire.”

“As to a pilot—”

“I actually found a solution for that while you were gone.”

Angulus looked around, then into the fountain. “Oh?”

“I had a chat with a dragon, and he offered to take me.” She waved toward the east and the edge of the city, so he wouldn’t worry that Bhrava Saruth was nearby, harassing anyone.

I wouldn’t harass anyone, high priestess
, entered a mournful comment into her mind.
You must get to know me better.

And get used to having him monitoring her and speaking into her mind as often as Jaxi did. She held back a grimace.
You’re right. I will. I apologize for my words. For my
thoughts
.
She gave that last word extra emphasis, hoping he would get the hint that she didn’t feel she should have to apologize for thoughts.

I accept your apology
, he proclaimed.

“A dragon?” Angulus asked. “Phelistoth? I was hoping he might be coerced into going on the mission with Tolemek and the others.”

“This is one of the new dragons, the one who stayed at the outpost and kept Cas from falling to her death along with Morishtomaric. I’m—ah. He believes he’s a god and thinks I’m going to become his high priestess.”

From what Sardelle had seen, Angulus was generally an unflappable man, one who kept his expression closed and hard to read, but his eyebrows launched upward, almost disappearing into his curly hair.

“I see,” he said, recovering his equanimity. “Does that mean you won’t consider moving into the castle to be a healer here when your teaching and other work doesn’t call to you? I had thought to make you that offer again.”

“I haven’t committed to any job offers yet,” she said with a smile. She wasn’t ready to figure out what she wanted to do next in her life, and she still had to teach Tylie, but she did appreciate that he was offering. Both he and General Ort had been kind. She had worried that she might not be welcome here by anyone if not for Ridge’s influence.

“I hope you’ll consider my offer then. I’m not sure I can give you as much as a
god
, but I assure you the pay would be more than fair.”

She stood, thinking of the bag she wanted to pack and that she should take Tylie to stay with Fern if she and Tolemek were both going to be out of town. It looked like she would be joining General Ort for the trip to visit Ridge’s mother, after all.

Angulus cleared his throat. “Before you go, a question?”

“Of course, Sire.”

“My motivations for asking you to be the healer in residence are not selfless.”

“One of your people has a problem?” Sardelle had a lot to do but could work in an appointment with someone in the castle if necessary.

“Ah.” Angulus stood, glanced toward the walls where the guards stood silently, then turned his back toward them. He faced the fountain and leaned close. “
I
have a problem. A question, rather.” Were his cheeks flushed red?

Maybe Bhrava Saruth has been sharing images of his adoring worshippers with him too
, Jaxi suggested.

Let’s hope not.

A king would be a very high-ranking worshipper.

“What’s your question, Sire?” Sardelle asked when he did not continue. “I assure you, I’ll keep anything you tell me confidential.”

Jaxi sniggered. Since Sardelle did not think she had said anything amusing, she assumed Jaxi was surfing in the top layer of Angulus’s thoughts. She did not want to intrude upon her king’s privacy, so she did not ask what Jaxi had found.

You’re so noble.

“I know you will.” Angulus nodded, took a deep breath, and went on. “It’s about having children.”

She sublimated the thoughts of Ridge and the conversation they had shared on the topic. “Something you’re interested in?”

“No. I mean, yes, but not right now. Not, uhm, illegitimately. I’m not sure if that’s a problem or not based on my history. Or lack of history, as it were.” He wiped his hand down his face. “Neither my first wife nor my second conceived, and we weren’t taking any measures to ensure that wouldn’t happen. After a while, I assumed the, ah, issue might be me. Of course, my second wife and I weren’t that frequent of, uhm.” He eyed her uncertainly. “I’m just wondering if as a healer, you can tell if I’m safe insofar as causing women to become pregnant. I don’t mind using contraceptives, but I didn’t once recently due to, er, irresponsibility, I suppose. And I’ve been concerned.”

Well, this isn’t at all an awkward conversation
, Jaxi observed.

I’ve had it numerous times. Not with royalty, necessarily.
“I would have to examine Captain Kaika to know if anything happened, but—”

Angulus grimaced. “Zirkander said he couldn’t keep any secrets from you.”

“Oh. I’m not sure he knew that was a secret. As to the rest, I suggest using the lambskins. I can’t tell just by looking at you—” she touched her temple to imply she could
look
with more than her eyes, “—or your swimmers.”

He snorted and glanced at the goldfish.

“If at some point in the future, you decide you
do
want children, I know someone who claims to have healing powers even greater than mine who might be able to help.”

Someone?
Jaxi asked.
Are you talking about Phelistoth or Bhrava Saruth?

It’s true that I’ve witnessed Phelistoth’s healing powers firsthand, but I would find it easier to ask Bhrava Saruth for assistance with the king’s fertility.

Even if it meant signing the king up as a new worshipper?

He might consider it a fair tradeoff if he wants children.

Children with whom?
Jaxi asked.
I can’t imagine Kaika as a queen.

We don’t know if that will last or what their understanding with each other is. He’s young enough to find another wife if he chooses.

“I see,” Angulus said, his brow crinkling faintly. “Well, good. I’ll keep that in mind. If you want to follow me to my office, I’ll write up orders for Therrik.”

“Yes, Sire.”

As they headed out of the atrium, Jaxi made a diffident throat-clearing noise.
Just so you know, you’re young enough too. To find someone else. When you’re ready.

I don’t want to find anyone else.
She wanted Ridge.

• • • • •

Ridge Zirkander woke up with a headache so intense that it felt like he had a bullet lodged in his brain. He squinted up at the brown and gray rocks of a cave ceiling, trying to remember where he was and how he had come to be here. He also tried to remember whether it was possible that a bullet
was
lodged in his brain. Despite concentrating so hard that it made his head throb even more, he couldn’t recall either detail. Panic burgeoned in his chest as nothing came from swatting at the cobwebs in his mind.

He sat up, a heavy fur falling about his waist. Cold air that smelled of rain and lichen chilled his bare torso. His headache intensified, making him want to collapse back onto the packed earth he had lain upon, but he refused to succumb. He touched bandages that circled his chest. He could breathe without pain from his ribs, but his muscles ached almost as much as his head, reminding him of the time he had crashed his flier in Cofah territory and been captured.

Why could he remember
that
and not how he had come to be lying in a cave? Lying
naked
in a cave? Coarse fur pricked at the bare skin of his legs.

He found a few more bandages—one wrapped around his upper thigh and another around the crown of his head—but he only grew more confused as he continued his examination of himself. Had he crashed again? It had been some time since the Cofah incident, but given his occupation and the occasionally reckless way he pursued it, that was all that made sense to him.

Another cold breeze teased the bare skin of his back, and he turned toward the draft. About ten feet away, the jagged entrance of the cave lay open to the elements. He glimpsed boulders and scree poised on a steep slope in the distance. Was he in some mountain valley?
Whose
mountain valley? Had he crashed in the empire? Or at home in Iskandia? He couldn’t imagine why he would have been flying over the mountains of his homeland—his squadron always met threats out along the coast, intercepting enemy airships and naval vessels before troops could make it inland.

“You’re awake,” came a woman’s voice from the shadows in the back of the cave.

Ridge jerked his head around to locate her, wincing at the pain that came with the abrupt movement. He didn’t recognize the voice, but he hoped whoever this was had answers.

“Apparently,” he croaked, his voice rusty from disuse. How long had he been unconscious? “Who are you?” He could barely see the figure in the cave’s depths.

“A friend. Do you know who
you
are?”

Ridge licked his lips and considered whether he should answer. How had she known? Why would she guess that his memories eluded him? He still didn’t recognize the voice, and she had a faint accent. A faint
Cofah
accent.

“I’m not sure,” he said.

You have nothing to fear from her
, came a soothing voice from the back of his mind.

Ridge touched his temple, his puzzlement growing. Was that his own inner voice talking to him? What else could it be? But how would his inner voice know more than
he
knew?

What about from the stiff, crusty bear fur poking my cannonballs?

Your what?

Never mind.
If that was his inner voice, it seemed a little dull.

“Maybe this is what going mad feels like,” he mumbled, pulling the fur over his waist as the figure moved out of the shadows and into the sunlight slanting through the cave entrance.

Blonde hair tumbled about her shoulders in rich waves, and deep brown eyes regarded him from a beautiful face with arched cheekbones and full lips. She wore riding leathers with a wool button-down shirt and a fur cloak that seemed appropriate to a mountain climate. She appeared young, maybe twenty-five, but something about the way she knelt confidently beside him and touched her hand to his chest gave him the sense that she was older than she appeared.

“Does General Ridgewalker Zirkander sound familiar?” she asked, her hand drifting from the bandages on his chest up his throat to his jaw. She ran her fingers along his jaw as she gazed into his eyes, scrutinizing him. Her touch wasn’t unpleasant, but he wasn’t about to let himself enjoy some strange woman’s ministrations when he didn’t know if he was in enemy hands or not.

“Uh,
general
? No.”

“No?”

“It’s colonel,” he said, then wondered if he should have even said that much. “Where are we?”

He drew his legs up under the fur, tempted to stand up and walk to the cave entrance so he could see if he recognized the peaks. He was, however, reluctant to leave the covering and stride around naked in front of the woman. Logically, it shouldn’t matter, since she had probably been the one to strip off his clothes, wash him, and tend his wounds, but logic wasn’t always easy to heed when women were concerned.

“Hm.” She rose and walked back into the shadows.

Ridge took the moment to stagger to his feet, his body protesting the movement. He wrapped the fur around his waist like an oversized towel and shuffled to the entrance, rocks prodding his bare feet. He squinted into the sun. Rocky mountains fenced him in, the peaks covered with glaciers. Judging by the stunted foliage, he was at a high elevation. Was it spring? Summer? He had grown up by the coast, and he doubted his ability to identify the seasons based on rocks and lichens. He couldn’t see anything blooming from his perch. A stream meandered through the middle of the valley, winding past the cave, with low green plants carpeting the ground to either side.

“We’re in the Ice Blades,” the woman said, coming to stand beside him. “About a hundred miles east of Hedgewood.”

She lifted her brows at the way he clutched the fur about his waist, but he barely noticed. His gaze was riveted to the dirty, rumpled clothing in her hand. She held up a dark blue army officer’s jacket with gold bars and braids on the collars, a general’s rank. Several rips and stains rendered it unacceptable for duty wear, but did not keep him from reading his name sewn onto the breast pocket tag.

“I don’t remember...” Ridge touched his temple, the bandages snug above his eyebrows as they wrapped his head. “The last thing I remember...” It had been summer, General Ort’s birthday celebration. He’d invited everyone in Wolf and Tiger Squadrons to his house, where they had grilled sausages and played brisk-ball while trying to get Ort drunk enough to ask the neighbor’s grandmother for a date. Had there been a mission assigned after that? He couldn’t remember. He
definitely
couldn’t remember getting promoted. He had been offered that promotion before, but he had always weaseled his way out of it, not wanting to give up commanding Wolf Squadron or flying. If he was a general now, what had he been doing out where he could crash? He should have been chained to a desk somewhere, pushing papers around. He grimaced, almost as disturbed by that notion as by his faulty memory.