Flamecaster (32 page)

When Ash arrived at the tower room that night, the posted guard had been doubled. Whether because of Jenna's demonstrated market value or mistrust of the pirates, it was getting more and more difficult to get in to see her. Just another sign that time was running out.

When he finally gained entry, she was sitting, looking out the window, a book lying forgotten in her lap. She'd changed out of the dress she'd worn to the interview with Strangward and into the one she'd worn the day before. She'd pulled her hair free, too, and it hung softly around her shoulders.

When she turned and saw him, she launched out of
the chair, the book thunking onto the floor. They came together like two magnets slamming home. Ash could feel Jenna's wildly beating heart through his velvet and her silk. It was like kisses were oxygen and they'd been drowning.

Or they were about to drown.

Finally, she broke away and held him out at arm's length so she could look him over. “What's that?” she asked, pointing to the bottle he carried.

“It's wine,” he said. “To celebrate some good news.” He set the wine jar and two cups down on the table next to her chair.

“So,” she said, “what's the news? Wait, don't tell me—the king is dead.”

There was something in her voice that caught his attention—some private knowledge or intuition. He hadn't told her about his attempts to poison Montaigne. He didn't want to get her hopes up, and she'd told him not to make promises, after all.

He studied her a moment, then said, “Not yet. We're celebrating for two reasons—first, Arden and Carthis were unable to come to terms. Montaigne is demanding his army before he hands you over. That buys us a little time.”

“I'll drink to that,” Jenna said, pouring them each some wine.

“It might just be a temporary setback,” Ash warned.

“Remember my rule? Savor the moment.” She raised her glass and they toasted.

“Secondly, have you heard that Delphi has fallen?”

Jenna was swallowing down some wine, and she all but choked on it. “F-fallen? To who?”

“The Patriots have retaken the city. They've booted the mudbacks out.”

Jenna set down her wine, gripped his elbows, and danced him around the room in a kind of impromptu upland reel, her bare feet thumping on the stone floor. “Come on, Wolf,” she said, when his feet didn't move fast enough, “put the wine down and dance with me!”

Ash did his best, and, finally, they collapsed into the chair, gasping and laughing.

“Say it again,” she said fiercely. “I want to hear it again.”

“The Patriots have retaken Delphi,” Ash said. “They've dealt the Ardenine army a crushing defeat.”

“Oh,” she said, smiling. “I'll bet the bonfires are still burning on the hills. I wish I could be there to see it. Fletcher must be in a world of joy.” Gradually, her smile faded and the melancholy crept back into her eyes. “There are so many people who didn't live to see it. Maggi, and Riley, and my da . . .”

He cupped her face with his hands. “Remember what you said—that worrying about the bad times can ruin what should be the good times. So celebrate. Celebrate without regret.” He kissed her, then poured them each another cup of wine.

“To the Patriots of Delphi, both the living and the
dead,” Jenna said, raising her cup in a toast. She drank deeply, then stared into space, turning the cup in her hands. “There it is again,” she murmured.

“There's what?”

“
Flamecaster
. I keep hearing that name in my head.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ever since that emissary arrived, I've been hearing voices. It sounds like someone crying for help, saying ‘Flamecaster! Help me!'”

“Flamecaster.” Ash frowned. “Wasn't that your street name in Delphi?”

Jenna nodded. “I . . . picked it because I was always setting fire to things and blowing things up.”

“Is that new? The voices?”

She nodded. “It's always been images before.”

“Could it have something to do with the fighting in Delphi? Maybe your gift is letting you know about somebody in trouble.”

She shrugged. “Or I'm losing my mind. Anyway. Tell me about the emissary's weapon.”

Ash took a fortifying gulp of wine. “I didn't actually see it myself, but I'm told that it's a dragon.”

“A dragon?” Jenna's voice rose. “But . . . there's no such thing?” She said this in the form of a question, as if she were no longer sure what was real and what was fantasy.

“That's what I thought, too,” Ash said. “But Lord Botetort saw it—he was all excited about it, in fact, and he has
the imagination of a slug.”

“How big was it?”

“They said that it was the size of a horse, but, you know, built differently. Strangward said it was young, and not fully grown—that a fully grown dragon would be too big to transport by ship.” He paused. “It's being kept in the hold, and Lila said that it looked like it was sick.”

“It was sick?” Planting her feet on the floor, she leaned forward, her hands on her knees. “What do you mean? What was wrong with it?”

“I'm just going by what Lila said. She said it was listless. Strangward said that it was fine, that it always sleeps a lot when it's had a large meal.”

Jenna pressed the heels of her hands against her temples, as if her head was in danger of splitting apart. She seemed to be getting more and more agitated as the conversation went on.

“Are you all right?” Ash said. “What's the matter?”

“I don't know,” Jenna whispered, fingering the magemark on the back of her neck. “It just seems like there's something about dragons, something I should remember. Something that's burned into my bones.” Her eyes were glazed, her breathing quick and shallow, and Ash guessed that images were flying through her mind.

He waited until her eyes refocused a bit, then said, “Could you have foreseen that the empress meant to trade a dragon for you? Is that why it's familiar?”

She shook her head. “I don't know. Anyway. What does the king want with a dragon?”

“What he really wants is an army of mages,” Ash said. “That's what the empress promised. Strangward is trying to persuade the king to accept a dragon as a kind of down payment or deposit so he can take you back with him. He claims that dragons could be useful in the war, to carry soldiers, and incinerate cities, that sort of thing.” It was an effort to keep his voice matter-of-fact. “Botetort was convinced, anyway. He was practically salivating, asking if he could have more than one.”

“What did Lieutenant Karn have to say about the dragon? Did he see it?”

Ash nodded. “He saw it. He didn't say much, either way.” He paused. “What did you think of Strangward?”

“He's such a mingle and a mix, he's hard to read. My gut tells me he's dangerous, he's scared, and he's telling a big, big lie.”

“I don't believe him, either,” Ash said, “but he brought a big sackful of diamonds to prove he was in earnest.”

She rubbed her chin. “I wish I could get my hands on him.”

“What?” Ash's stomach clenched.

She grinned at him. “Easy there, Wolf. Sometimes I have to touch a person to get a reading.” She paused. “So—what do you think? Is this going to happen?”

Ash shrugged unhappily. “He's gone to a lot of time and
trouble to get to this point. The empress must really want this deal.”

“There's a solution,” Jenna said. “What if I died before the exchange is made?”

“What? No!” Ash felt a twinge of guilt, recalling his conversation with Lila. “That is not a solution.”

“Think about it,” Jenna said. “The only thing worse than the king we have now is a king with a dragon and a whole new army.”

“No one is asking you to—”

“You don't need to ask. I'm volunteering,” Jenna said. “Thousands of Patriots have died, fighting for freedom. It's a chance to do my part.” Her voice trembled a bit.

Ash cast about for options. “What if the dragon dies instead? Then Strangward has nothing to trade.”

“No,” Jenna said, lifting her chin.

“I don't like it either, but when it comes to a choice between—”

“Look,” Jenna said. “If the dragon dies, it just delays things. The empress can always ship over another one. Besides, from what you said, Montaigne is really looking for an army. What we need to do is prevent Montaigne from forming an alliance with this empress, whoever she is.”

“A delay would help,” Ash said. “With a little time, the king could die. Or you might escape.”

“That's a prayer or a wish,” she said. “It's not a plan.”

“Give me another suggestion,” Ash said. “Something a
little more creative than self-sacrifice.”

She studied on it a while, and then her eyes lit up. “You said that the emissary's ship is here, in the harbor?”

Ash nodded.

“What if we blow it up, and put the blame on Arden?”

“We?” Ash raised an eyebrow. He reached up and tapped his collar. “And this would happen how? I'm out of commission when it comes to attack magic, remember.”

Jenna rolled her eyes. “It's not all about you, healer. I'm no wizard, and I've been blowing things up for years. I can tell you what you'll need, and how to do it. You probably wouldn't want to use magery anyway, if we want to blame it on Arden.”

Yes, Ash thought. I am in love with this girl.

He heard Taliesin's voice in his head.

It's the worst thing in the world, to risk yourself by loving someone. At the same time, it's the best thing in the world—and worth the risk.

Jenna's mind was elsewhere. “Do you know someone who can get black powder, fuses, and the like?”

Ash nodded, thinking of Lila. “I do.”

“I'll make a list then. But you have to promise me something.”

“Promise you what?”

“You'll free the dragon if you can.”

Ash pressed his lips together to prevent words from spilling out, but Jenna saw.

“You're wondering why I have this fixation on a dragon I've never met?”

“The thought . . . did occur to me,” Ash said carefully.

“The dragon didn't volunteer,” Jenna said. “Anyway, I just—I can't help feeling that I—that it's going to be important, going forward.” She looked up at him. “Can you trust me on that? I'm not asking for a contract. All I'm asking is that you try.”

Ash swallowed hard. “I'll do what I can.” He paused. “Have you thought about what might happen to you if the deal falls through? It's not like the king is going to set you free.”

Jenna shrugged. “I'm from Delphi. I should have been dead a long time ago.”

“Some things are worse than death,” Ash said.

“Then give me an out.” She held out her hand and wiggled her fingers.

“That again?”

“No, healer. This is different. I don't want to die. I want to live. I want to hear the bells in the temple church in Delphi, ringing out the victory. I want to hike into the Spirit Mountains and speak to witches and faeries. I want to sail over the ocean, all the way to the horizon and beyond. I want to go all those places I've never seen, except in books. I want to fly—”

He raised both hands. “All right,” he said, “but, remember, I—”

“I want more of this.” She pulled his head down and
kissed him soundly on the lips. “And this.” Sliding her hands under his doublet, under his shirt, finding the bare skin, she lay back in the chair and pulled him down on top of her, wrapping her legs around him.

“I have plans for you, Wolf,” she growled, biting at his ear. “I don't intend to die any time soon.”

“I believe you,” he said hoarsely.

An hour later, by the temple bells, they still lay tangled together in the chair, their clothing in definite disarray.

There is a lot can be done in a chair, Ash thought. Maybe we can just live in this chair from now on.

“I'd better go,” he mumbled against her shoulder.

Jenna yawned and snuggled in closer. “This is scandalous, you know, that we've spent so much unchaperoned time together.”

“Are you complaining?”

“No!” she exclaimed, with such fervor that he laughed. “It's just—in Bruinswallow, I think we'd be considered married, and I still don't know your real name.”

Ash searched her eyes, brushing her lips with his fingertips. “Do you really want to know? Because I'll tell you.”

She returned his gaze for a long moment, then shook her head. “It can keep. I rather like Adam Wolf. When this is all over, you can take me to meet your mother.”

“I'll do that,” he said, realizing that he wanted them to meet.

She grimaced. “She'll probably hate me.”

“You're wrong,” Ash said. “She'll probably like you
more than me.” He took her face between his hands and kissed her nose and her eyelids. Then gently freed himself, straightened his clothing, and buttoned up.

She wrapped up in a quilt, found paper and a quill, and wrote him a list. Then told him exactly what to do with the items on it.

Ash slid his finger under his silver collar and brought out a tiny packet made of cloth. He held it up for her inspection. “This contains two berries, known as baneberry. A single berry will kill you within minutes.”

She stared at it. “You've had this all along?”

“You never know when you might face the sudden need to die,” he said. “Or for someone else to die.”

Jenna eyed the packet. “Is it—is it painful?”

“Would I choose something painful?” Ash snorted. “I'm told it's quite pleasant.” He showed her the cords attached to the packet. “This ties in place, inside your clothing. Any questions?”