Steelhands (2011) (65 page)

“It would be but one memory,” Antoinette said, I suspected more gently than she was wont to be. “I would turn it into a shared dream. I would not hurt them, nor would I drive them mad. And the little Greylace now lives quite comfortably in the country, I’m told. More comfortably than
us
, at present.”

The Esarina pursed her lips. “And what of this merry band?” she asked finally, with a hint of humor so faint it nearly passed over all our heads.

“I rather enjoyed this experience,” Raphael admitted. “I would prefer it if I was allowed to keep the memory.”

“The ex-airmen have always been trustworthy,” Antoinette said. “Despite how they may behave. And the girl and the boy attached to the dragons can’t very well forget about this, now can they?”

That just left me, I thought with a gulp, glancing around as everyone’s eyes were drawn to me. Once again, it was Laure to my rescue, as both she and Gaeth stepped closer—as though they were
my
private Dragon Guard.

“I’ll see what I am able to do,” Antoinette conceded at last. “There may be something I can manage, allowing you to retain your memories yet rendering you unable to speak of this to anyone outside this room. How does that sound?”

“Just great,” Adamo replied, in a tone of voice that made it very clear he meant the opposite. It was, however, our best option. As though we were hammering out the terms of our own private treaty, we were forced to make compromises. I was merely glad not to be singled out as the only useless—and expendable—fool there. “Guess it’ll be good for my friend Troius over here,” Adamo added, after a moment’s thought. “ ’Cause even though I’m planning on watching him day and night ’til one of us dies of old age, I’m also planning on getting some shut-eye, some of the time.”

“And what of the dragons?” the Esarina asked shrewdly.

“We wouldn’t let the dragons rust,” Antoinette replied carefully.

“And you’d
likely
need someone to be Chief Sergeant,” Luvander added, glancing at Professor Adamo. “I don’t think he enjoys the kind of teaching with which he’s currently saddled. But I also don’t think.”

“Did I ask you to do me any favors?” Adamo asked.

“Not at all,” Luvander replied cheerfully.

“I’d feel better with Adamo in charge,” Laure spoke up, adding her weight to the scales. “Not that I’m sure whether or not we’re planning on becoming
soldiers
or anything that’d
need
a Chief Sergeant, but it seems to me he knows a lot about the dragons. And we’re gonna need someone like that.”

“I would like to propose a compromise,” Antoinette said, with a glance toward the Esarina. “That Adamo and I share equal responsibility in this matter. Not that this is a comment on your abilities to work alone, Adamo, and I hope you aren’t offended. But as far as I know, you are no magician. The dragonsouls themselves require someone of Talent to fully understand them—and as I plan on handling the situation with Margrave Germaine
personally
, what we do next will benefit, I believe, from someone with my expertise. It will also help,” she added pointedly, “to have someone with whom you are able to share the blame.”

“Bleak outlook,” Laure murmured, shaking her head.

“Joint Chief Sergeants, huh?” Adamo said, looking uncomfortable but dead certain at the same time. “Well, I can’t say it’d harm my ego any. Not to mention, if something goes wrong, two heads are a lot better than one.”

“What do you plan on telling the rest of the Basquiat?” the Esarina asked. It seemed that instead of allowing her husband’s condition to
distract her, she was using her worry as motivation to think—and behave—like a ruler in his stead. I wondered what I would do if Laure was injured so gravely; I would never be able to go on with such grace or dignity. “I hardly think you can trust every Margrave to keep his or her mouth shut—you know how Volstov loves gossip—and you couldn’t use the same trick with them as you plan to use on us, surely.”

“It’d take a dangerous woman to do all that,” Ghislain said appreciatively.

“No,” Antoinette said, shaking her head. “There are too many strong minds within the Basquiat—some of them
quite
stubborn, while others have trained to withstand mental attacks. I would not be able to carry out such a feat, even if I wished to—which, I assure you, I do not.”

The Esarina’s voice was wry. “I assume you have some other plan?” she asked, wringing her hands.

“What I propose is this,” Antoinette continued, as though she’d been expecting that lead-in. “No one has seen these dragons save for us and the Margrave Germaine. Thus, we will tell the Basquiat in strictest confidence that the Esar, with Germaine’s assistance, was
planning
on rebuilding the Dragon Corps. That was why he had the students, that was why he made the arrests—and Margrave Ginette is our proof that he was asking other magicians to help him. But none of our fellow arrested magicians ever saw the dragons for themselves; thus, they have no way of knowing how far the plan progressed. As such, no one outside this room ever needs to know that particular detail. And no one
will
, for that matter.”

Since it was a solution that didn’t involve any further minds being wiped clean—which was a sentiment about which I ultimately found myself unexpectedly calm; certainly, there were aspects of the night I might have been more comfortable forgetting—no one seemed to have any objections.

“Ah,” Balfour said suddenly. He looked somewhat startled by the sound of his own voice, but he didn’t let that stop him. “We’ll have to come up with something to tell the envoy from Arlemagne as well. Both Troius and I were dealing with them … before.”

“You’ll never keep it under wraps,” Troius added, reminding us all he was still in the room. “These glorious creations were made to be seen by everyone. They are Volstov’s pride and joy.”

“No one outside the Basquiat hears even a
whisper
of the word ‘dragon,’ ” Antoinette warned after hushing him. “I imagine that I’ve been very clear on this point already, but if the Ke-Han were to receive word that there were now
four
new dragons in Volstov, then it will matter very little that none of us
knew
about them in time to halt proceedings. We’ll tell the Arlemagnians—not to mention everyone else—that Nico sustained his injuries in an earthquake. Our mutual friend Margrave Royston set the precedent for that to seem plausible, I believe.”

“Good old Royston,” Adamo said, shaking his head in disbelief. “Never thought I’d be the one getting
him
mixed up in politics.”

“You’re a terrible influence on us all,” Luvander agreed, crossing his arms. “All I wanted was to run my haberdashery in peace.”

“Horseshit,” Ghislain said, eloquently.

“Where does that leave us?” the Esarina said, gently cutting in before the conversation could become too lively.

“Where does that leave us?” Laure added, echoing the Esarina’s words with a more personal touch. Unlike me, she didn’t seem embarrassed when everyone turned to look at her. “What I mean is, since the Esar’s scholarship program was all just some big ruse to get young bodies who didn’t know any better out of the country and test ’em for the dragons, it’s not like that program’s gonna last now that he’s not … 
You
know what I’m saying. So what do the rest of us do? I don’t know about Gaeth, but my da’s certain to notice a great dragon following me about, and it’s not like I could keep her in the barn. She’d frighten the horses. Maybe burn the whole thing down. And she wouldn’t even be happy.”

“Obviously, the dragons will have to be kept underground, as they were before,” Antoinette replied. “As for the children, I see no reason why they cannot be allowed to continue their education—if that meets with your requirements, Anastasia.”

“It does,” the Esarina confirmed. “I intend to continue that precedent, in the spirit in which it
should have been
intended.”

“Can I say something?” Gaeth asked. Antoinette nodded curtly at him to go on. “I don’t mean to interrupt anyone while they’re talking and all, but I’ve spent a long time with Cornflower now. I know you all were talking before about Adamo and his experience, and that seemed to me that something was gonna be done different. And, well, I figure no one else has really had the experience I had, because I was there with ’em while they were kept locked up as a secret, and I know how it made
’em feel. It makes ’em real unhappy. Cornflower was always miserable, with no room to stretch her tail or anything. I know everyone’s real concerned about keeping them under wraps and not starting any wars and that it’s the most important thing and all, but … Well, I just
don’t
think it’s right to lock ’em back up again.”

“The dragon I had dealings with—my dragon—did exhibit a certain jubilation at having enough room to move around at last,” Balfour admitted, causing Gaeth to look gratified that someone was agreeing with him. I felt curiously pleased. “Perhaps if we merely moved them somewhere outside the city, where they might be able to stretch their wings? Some of us could even stay with them—though that’s easy for me to say, isn’t it? It’s not as though I have any particular ties to my apartment. Especially considering the noise …”

“They’d like that,” Gaeth said. “A little fresh air.
I’d
like that, too. Gets musty belowground. It ain’t decent.”

Antoinette was looking at Gaeth sharply, in a way that I could tell made him somewhat nervous. Despite feeling filthy and exhausted, I stood up straight beside him, so that Antoinette would know that this was a team effort. Laure and I were there for him, even if one of us proved far more useful in such situations than the other. I was simply there to raise the appearance of greater numbers.

“There is an estate to the west of Thremedon,” Antoinette said finally, looking somewhat reluctant. It was clear to me how quickly her mind must have been at work, faster than any machine. “It passed into my possession from the Greylaces, and since I conduct my business within the city itself, I’ve never had cause to use it. The property is extremely isolated—something the Greylaces no doubt found highly amusing, but I’ve never been one for all that. Needless to say, the house and its grounds are
more
than large enough for a few dragons, not to mention any dragon handlers who might have trouble letting the animals out of their sight. Does this suit your needs? I imagine at least one person would have to stay there at all times in order to keep an eye on our friend Troius.”

“Truly, I don’t deserve such kindness,” Troius said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“House arrest, huh?” Adamo said, brightening perceptibly. “What do you say, Ghislain?”

“Big house filled with dragons? Sounds familiar,” Ghislain replied,
cracking his knuckles while eyeing Troius meaningfully. “Guess my boat
does
need some time to air out. Raphael’d have to come along, too. Needs the rest. Country air’s good for a man; it’s what I was raised on.”

“Wonderful,” Antoinette said, smoothing her hair back from her face, neatly tucking behind one ear a curl of hair that had been bothering me for at least fifteen minutes.
At last
, I thought, and breathed a sigh of relief. “If no one else has any other concerns to raise, I’d like to suggest we retire for the morning. I, for one, have a great deal of work to do.”

“I would like to be able to see my husband,” the Esarina added.

The meeting was over at last, I realized, which meant a hot bath was only moments away. Though much had changed, for the time being at least, Laure, Gaeth, and I would not be forced to return to our homes—to the way things were—which, for me, would have been the worst possible ending.

Despite all that had transpired, I was still able to say I preferred this life to the one I had been living before the fateful day I arrived in the city. I had nearly been robbed; I had been assaulted by living conditions far below even the dirtiest urchin’s standards; I had been involved in a royal plot against the Basquiat magicians, not to mention the effective usurpation of the throne of Volstov; and, though I felt as though I would never be clean again, I had survived every indignity with only some indignation of my own.

Besides, without me, who would make sure Gaeth did not get himself lost again?

As Laure moved to follow Adamo out of the room, I had a premonition that explaining the dragons to my father would have been the
least
of my worries if I was ever to return to my old home. But I had a good feeling I simply wasn’t going to allow that to happen.

After our little secret meeting broke up, everyone’d gone their separate ways to prepare for another long day ahead. Some of us had more work to do than others, and I knew we were gonna be meeting again soon so Antoinette could do what she needed to do to make sure we all kept our
mouths shut. Even those of us she could trust to hold our tongues were suspect, and there were some of us she couldn’t trust at all.

As much as I wished I could’ve gone back with my boys, I’d decided to take care of a few things at the ’Versity first, and so I’d ended up walking the kids back to their dorms.

The screwy cricket’d almost passed out on his feet, but Gaeth had claimed he could take care of him and I wasn’t one to argue when one of my boys told me he could do something.

Guessed that was how I was going to have to start thinking about him, too—Gaeth
and
Laure, since I’d somehow signed myself up for a second round of Chief Sergeanting faster than you could blink an eye. That was what I got for having secret meetings in the first place, on no sleep, in the middle of the Basquiat. Some things were said without you realizing, and the next thing you knew, you were signing yourself up for the same job that’d given you so much damn grief in the past. I could look forward to singed gloves and the stench of dragonmetal hanging over my clothing; the complaints from Royston that I smelled like a burned-out pot someone’d left on the oven too long. I could also look forward to the same headaches I used to go to sleep with—the same headaches I still had when I woke in the morning, wrangling personalities more stubborn and difficult than dragons themselves.