Balanced on the Blade's Edge (Dragon Blood, Book 1) (19 page)

That thought had Ridge grinning, but he
managed to rein it in by the time he reached the bottom. The first
question he got was whether they should try to dig Nakkithor’s body
out of the snow, and that sobered him right up. He and Sardelle
helped retrieve the dead soldier and build a travois, then Ridge
led the way out of the canyon. The snow had blurred their trail but
not swallowed it whole, though he could have found his way
regardless. He might not have all the combat assets these
infantrymen did, but he didn’t get lost, not even when he was
upside down, streaking away from an airship with cannonballs flying
by on either side.

It doubtlessly marked him as crazy, but the
memory of that battle filled him with nostalgia and a longing for
home. He wondered if Sardelle would like his little cabin on the
lake. Not that she would ever visit it… She would finish whatever
she had come here for and then disappear, sneaking out past the
guards as easily as she had the last time. And if she took
something from the mines, it would be treason if he let her go
without trying to stop her. At the least, it would be ineptitude.
He had never thought his record was in danger of being stamped with
either label. A first time for everything. Unless he locked her up
until she talked. That would be a lovely reward for last night.

The fortress came into view more quickly than
he expected, or maybe his thoughts had kept him busy and he hadn’t
noticed the trek. Men had been working to clear the east wall, so
one couldn’t simply run down the hill of snow and into the
courtyard, but it would be some time before evidence of the
avalanche was completely gone.

The gate opened before they arrived, and
Ridge found Captain Heriton waiting in the courtyard, along with a
couple of burly soldiers and a scruffy prisoner with shifty
eyes.

“Uh oh,” Sardelle murmured behind him.

Before Ridge could ask for clarification, the
prisoner thrust his arm toward her. “She’s the one.”

Captain Heriton nodded slowly, as if he had
known all along. Ridge met Sardelle’s eyes and found concern there.
Was her secret about to come out?

“What is this, Captain?” Ridge asked, his
palms suddenly damp inside his mittens. If her secret turned her
from an uncertainty to a known enemy, what would he do?

“This is the man you had us detain, the one
who supposedly killed the woman in the washroom.”

“He denies it?”

“No, he admits it since he claims she was a
witch and had put a curse on him, on his loins specifically. He’s
had a rash ever since. He assumed she had done it because he’d
tried to coerce her into a sexual relationship. She threatened him
apparently.” Heriton wriggled his fingers, as if these details were
dismissible, but his eyes sharpened as he launched into the rest of
his explanation. “In interviewing him, I discovered that your…
friend—” the captain extended a hand toward Sardelle, “—was also a
suspect, albeit one this prisoner couldn’t reach to interrogate
since she’s so often been with you. But it seems she was also
present when this man developed his rash. He had just found her
down in a mine shaft.”

“Not a shaft,” the shifty-eyed prisoner said.
“She was
in
the rocks. It was odder than a
three-legged parrot. We had to dig her out. Rescued her. She wasn’t
grateful like you’d expect though. Crazy woman ran past us while we
were bent over.”

“Because of… a rash?” Ridge asked.

The man nodded, crossed his legs, and dropped
his hands protectively over his crotch. “Most painful itchy thing
I’ve ever had.”

Ridge gave Sardelle a curious look, but her
face had gone expressionless. She didn’t even offer a
these-people-are-obviously-crazy eyebrow raise.

“It’s odd enough that a woman would have made
it down into the mines,” Heriton said, “when the trams are operated
by soldiers, and they’re the only way in and out.”

Possibly. Someone could slip down into the
mines without using one of the cages. The diagonal shafts were
steep, but not
that
steep. Sardelle was
obviously gifted at sneaking in and out of places. Ridge reminded
himself to question the gate guards later. For now, he remained
silent and nodded for the captain to continue.

“It’s even odder that she would be all the
way down at the end of a new tunnel, in the rock itself, if this
man can be believed.”

“This self-confessed murderer?” Ridge
couldn’t keep from asking. How reliable a witness should they
consider him?

“I got no reason to lie about this,” the
shifty man said. “I know what I seen.”

“It’s hardly the only unusual thing that’s
happened revolving around this woman,” Heriton said. “I’ve been
wondering if it’s a coincidence that the Cofah showed up on the
same day she did.”

“They showed up on the same day
I
did as well,” Ridge said.

“
You’re
a national
hero. She’s… ” Heriton groped in the air, as if he couldn’t get a
grasp on Sardelle. At least Ridge wasn’t the only one. “I’ll be
blunt, sir,” the captain went on. “It makes me uneasy having her
walk around here at your side, like she’s your trusted aide. I… I’d
like to discuss this further with you in private.”

“Yup, I figured you would.” Ridge sighed.
Inviting Sardelle up for coffee was going to be every bit as
unlikely as he had feared. “I have a funeral service to arrange and
five thousand other things to do, but I’ll talk to you this
afternoon.”

“Very good, sir.”

“Now, go find work. All of you.” He shooed
the captain and the rest of the soldiers away, until only Sardelle
remained, her hands clasped behind her back as she gazed up at the
mountains. Ridge would have paid a lot to know her thoughts. “You’d
better go back to work and stay out of trouble for a few days, at
least until something else distracts Heriton.” He smiled at her,
though he felt guilty for sending her back to the laundry and those
crowded barracks rather than finding her a nice room. His room,
perhaps? The problem was, he shared all of the captain’s concerns.
Whatever she had been looking for down in the mines when she had
been discovered, Ridge doubted very much that his superiors would
want him to give it to her.

“Work?” Sardelle asked. “I thought I had the
day off. Eight days off, wasn’t it?”

The book reports. Right. He almost told her
that the days off wouldn’t start right away, but curiosity changed
the lay of his tongue. “What would you do if those days off started
today?”

“Research in the prison library. I… thought
I’d try to find your flier for you.”

“My what?”

“The flier you were talking about yesterday,
the one that crashed ten years ago.” Sardelle spread a hand. “Maybe
you could drag it back here and fix it up so you would have a way
to defend against further incursions from the airship.”

He frowned. He had caught her hesitation and
suspected she’d had something else in mind for research until this
inspiration struck. Yet, this was exactly the right thing to say to
win him over. If he could find that flier and fix it somehow… he
wouldn’t have to stalk uselessly back and forth on the ramparts
when enemy airships flew circles around the fort.

“Three days,” he grumbled. Ridge hadn’t even
known her for three days, and she already had intimate knowledge of
the controls on his dashboard.

“Pardon?” Sardelle asked.

“Nothing. Go. Research.” Ridge waved. “The
library is on the second floor over there. I’m skeptical you’ll
find it particularly extensive or useful though. I doubt records of
crashes are kept in there.”

“I won’t know until I look.” Sardelle bowed
her head toward him. “Thank you.”

Such a formal parting of ways. It seemed a
crime after their intimacies in the cave. Yet this was how it had
to be. He shambled off in the other direction, heading for his
office, his heart feeling like a crashed flier.

* * *

Colonel Zirkander hadn’t been exaggerating
about the library. Ridge, Sardelle reminded herself with a smile.
He had invited her to use his first name. It wouldn’t be
appropriate in public, with half of his men giving her hard,
suspicious looks, but she would think about him that way. Nobody
here had access to her thoughts, fortunately.

She ran a finger along the backs of the dusty
tomes lining the library’s single bookcase. She recognized many of
the titles from his list. A few gaps on the shelves suggested that
at least some of the prisoners had taken him up on his offer and
were going to try to read the classics. Sardelle had been lucky so
many of them were old enough that they had been classics even when
she had gone to school. Albeit that book on flight hadn’t been
anything she had read. Jaxi had coached her through summarizing
it.

You’re welcome.

Sardelle smiled.
Do you
have any idea where the crashed flying machine might be?

No good morning first?
You simply want to send me straight into researching for
you?

I apologize. Good
morning, Jaxi. I’d like to thank you for your discretion last
night.

Discretion? You mean the
fact that I kept my mental lips shut so you could make the rocks
shake with your colonel?

Sardelle blushed, though it wasn’t as if she
had any secrets from her soul-linked sword of nearly twenty
years.

Three hundred and twenty
years. And don’t I always stay out of your head when you’re being
intimate with someone?

Yes, though it’s been so
long that I thought you might have forgotten my
preferences.

As I recall, scrawny
sorcerers with ink smudges on their fingertips are your usual
preferences. I must say the colonel was a welcome change.

Sardelle’s heart quickened at the memory of
how
much
of a change Ridge had been, how
enticing it had been to run her hands over his lean, muscular body…
That’s why I want to find his flying machine
for him.

She made herself focus on the task at hand,
pulling a journal from the shelf, one hand-written by a general
from two decades past. It was too old to have anything to do with
the crash, but maybe it would contain information on common flight
routes or something of that nature
.

So he’ll feel so grateful
that he will send his minions digging in my direction?

Something like
that.

Just don’t forget your
mission here. I doubt you’re going to have much time left to act
freely.

As long as Ridge is
commanding, I don’t think I’m likely to end up in
shackles.

If swords could shrug, Jaxi did.
If I were you, I wouldn’t presume too much. He’s loyal to
his military, and you’re a problem as far as that military is
concerned. Don’t get cocky because he slept with you. It’s not like
there are many options here.

Thank you for your
bluntness. When you’re not busy sounding like a teenager, you sound
like my grandmother.

Just so long as you know
I know what’s best.

You’re just grumpy
because you don’t think I’m working to free you, but that was my
original intent in coming to the library.
Sardelle sat at the
room’s only table and opened the journal she had selected.
If I can figure out what they’re looking for in
these mines, and there’s a way I can help them find it… I’m sure I
could get a tunnel dug in your direction.

You haven’t figured that
out yet?
Jaxi sounded genuinely surprised.

No…

Laughter echoed in Sardelle’s head. A lot of
laughter. She imagined Jaxi wiping tears before asking her next
question.
Why didn’t you ask?

Sardelle scratched her head.
I thought I had.

Hm. I don’t remember
that. Anyway, the magical mystical energy sources these soldiers
would die defending are… lamps.

Lamps?

Yeah, those illumination
prisms that hung on the ceilings in rooms and tunnels throughout
our complex.

Sardelle leaned back in the chair, picturing
the glowing white light sources.
And they call
those crystals?

The rock does take on
sort of a crystalline texture when it’s melted and fused, then
imbued with power.

Well, I was right to be
befuddled that they were mining in the backside of the mountain
then. That must be where they first chanced across them. I guess we
had tunnels—and lamps illuminating them—back there, though there
would be a lot more in the main living areas.

Yes, and I’m quite sure
there are a couple in the room you left me in too.

Sardelle nodded slowly.
Yes, I can lead them right to you. Or close anyway. I’ll
have to sneak back down there and pull you out myself. If they find
you first, and I take you, they’ll call it theft and chase me
halfway across the world.

Nah, I can make sure they
have no interest in me. Rashes are the least of the things I can do
to any grubby miner who puts his hands on me.

Sardelle choked at the imagery that flashed
through her mind, courtesy of Jaxi.
I think
your three-hundred-year imprisonment has made you punchy.

If by punchy you mean
filled with bitterness, loneliness, and barely contained vitriol,
you are correct. I’m aching to return to work. And I’m quite
curious to see how the world has changed. A ride in an airship
would be fabulous.

I’ll see what I can
arrange once we’re the masters of our own fate again. Now, if I can
just find that wreck, I’ll have a reason to report to Ridge’s
office.

Get a map. I’ll show you
where it is. I don’t know how serviceable that flier will be after
ten years in the sun, wind, and snow, but if it’ll make your man
happy…