Balanced on the Blades Edge #2 Deathmaker (26 page)

Then again, maybe it wasn’t the time to ask for favors.

“They went this way,” came a call from Griffon Street. The soldier raised his voice, “You men on the wall see anything?”

“No,” someone responded from above, “but we’re looking at...”

Tree branches stood in the way, and Tolemek couldn’t see where the soldier might be pointed, but guessed the harbor. With the snow, he doubted any ships would be visible yet, but they had to know something was out there.

“Looks like the investigative team is approaching,” Tolemek said, glad they had finished tying the unconscious men. “I’m presuming we don’t want to be found here?”

“No.” Sardelle pulled a rope out from under her cloak—there was definitely no way she had come out of the house with that. “Loop this around that dragon head up there, please. Climb up, then help me up. I’ll keep the men on the wall distracted.”

“As you wish.”

Wondering when he had gone from thinking to interrogate the sorceress to taking orders from her, Tolemek made a loop of the end of the rope and tried for the indicated target, one of several dragon-head downspouts. It took him a few tosses, but he eventually lassoed one of the protrusions. He shimmied the fifteen feet up to the top, his vials clinking softly in his bag, then turned to help Sardelle.

“Catch,” she whispered, and tossed the wooden box to him.

It wasn’t heavy, and he caught it easily. His hands, wanting for mittens in the cold, were strangely warmed by the wood’s touch. Something else magical? He was tempted to peek within, but Sardelle was nearly to the top. He helped her onto the walkway.

“Down the other side?” he asked, pointing to the street below.

She shook her head mutely, looking toward the harbor, not the street. “You know anything about that?”

When Tolemek turned, following her gaze, it was all he could do to keep from cursing. The snow had let up momentarily, and he could make out a layer of fog rising up from the harbor and curling through the streets of the city.

“No,” he whispered. “I disabled the machine. Anyway, it was inside the freighter. The freighter that blew up.” This couldn’t be his doing. It couldn’t.

Sardelle gave him a long, penetrating stare.

Tolemek dropped his face into his palm. Goroth might be dead or imprisoned, but his vision was going to come to pass. The fog and the snow were going to bury the city, and the armada was going to do its best to devastate it.

He peered through his fingers toward the butte, where the number of lights had doubled. Was Cas already there? Preparing her flier to go out in that mess? He groaned, wishing he could tell her to come back to him instead.

“Come on,” Sardelle said, pointing to the street. “We need to get up there before they take off. I have something that will help them.” Her voice lowered, and the wind almost kept him from hearing her next words. “If they’ll accept it.”

Chapter 14

C
as bounced from foot to foot, almost wishing she had run up the path to the top of the butte instead of taking the aerial tram. She knew from previous experience with bets and stopwatches that the tram was faster, but it didn’t
feel
faster. The weather was getting worse by the minute, and she feared the squadron, wanting to deal with the threat before the storm began in earnest, would take off without her. It was only at General Ort’s insistence that she had taken the time to sprint to the barracks and change into her flight uniform and grab her goggles, scarf, and cap. Granted the sturdy boots and fur-lined jacket were more appropriate to the winter weather, but if she missed catching up with the colonel and the others, and if they found trouble out there—trouble she might have advised them on—she would pummel the nearest target with bullets, whether it was something living or not.

“You’re lucky you’re heading up at here at all, ma’am,” the sergeant operating the tram said, the wind nearly stealing his words. It was gusting hard from the north, and the cabin, supported only by the cables above, rocked under the weather’s influence. Taking off would be extremely challenging. He waved at her shifting feet. “I’m about to close the tram down for the night. Inclement conditions.”

“Better keep it running. Pirates are coming to attack the city.” Even as she spoke the bong-bong-bong alarm bell escalated to an undulating siren call.

The sergeant asked something, but Cas burst out of the tram cabin as soon as they reached the butte. She sprinted for the hangar, scarcely paying attention to the icy ground beneath her feet. She threw open the door and nearly crashed into someone’s back. Two men were standing there, discussing something while controlled chaos—pilots and the ground crew racing to and fro, preparing the fliers—went on in the hangar in front of them. The man on the right was the only person who could wrinkle a leather jacket and scarf—and the rest of his uniform—on a consistent basis, so she knew him from behind: Captain Crash Haksor. The man on the left had his cap tilted at a familiar rakish angle.

“Lieutenant Ahn reporting for duty, sir,” she said around a lump in her throat.

Cas had barely gotten her hand up for a salute before the two men spun toward her and she found herself engulfed in a hug. She wasn’t even sure who it was, as she found her feet lifted from the ground and her face buried in the shoulder of a jacket, inhaling the scent of worn leather. Someone thumped her on the back, which was followed by the sound of boots pounding the cement floor, and a lot more thumps. And more hugs. And more time spent with her feet in the air. It was overwhelming, and as much as she appreciated the enthusiasm, she had to fight the urge not to wriggle free and escape for a gasp of fresh air. She reminded herself that they had all thought she was dead. The other women, Captain Blazer and Lieutenant Solk, were the only ones who didn’t try to pick her up, though they did clap her on the shoulder. Blazer’s usually-irritating head pat was a welcome expression of affection this time, due to its sedateness.

Cas was about to say something to the officers—her friends—gathered around when a straggler ran up, grease smearing his hair and snow dusting his shoulders. Lieutenant Pimples Averstash had been the youngest member of Wolf Squadron until she signed on, and he surprised her by pushing everyone aside to give her a fierce hug and a big kiss on the cheek. It actually might not have been on the cheek if she hadn’t turned her head in time. That was surprising—they’d always been friends, but she hadn’t known he had cared
that
much—and she couldn’t find words for a moment.

“Cas, I lo—missed you,” he blurted.

She tried not to look like the proverbial antelope in the hunter’s sights as she stared at him, but doubted she managed.

“Lieutenant Averstash,” came the colonel’s drawl from the side. “I know you’re happy to see Ahn, but do you really think it’s appropriate to kiss your fellow officers?”

Averstash released Cas’s arms and skittered back, amidst stares, smirks, and chortles from the rest of the onlookers. Cas might have thanked Zirkander, but his brown eyes were glittering with amusement, and he wasn’t bothering to hide his grin. She glowered at him. His grin broadened.

“Of course it’s appropriate, sir,” Averstash said, rubbing the back of his neck—it was flushed almost as red as his cheeks. “I’d kiss you, too, if not for the beard shadow. It looks itchy.”

“I’ll be sure not to shave anytime soon then.”

“Donkey ass,” Lieutenant Solk muttered to Averstash and elbowed him in the ribs.

“Sir?” one of the ground crew asked, jogging up to Zirkander’s side. “Your flier is ready. Shall we get one ready for the L.T. too?” He nodded at Cas.

“Hells, yes,” she said, relieved there was something in the hangar for her to fly. With poor W-48 at the bottom of the ocean, she had no right to a craft, but she had been praying Zirkander would deem her valuable enough to give her another without a long wait. “I didn’t run across the city just to see these toad-kissers off.”

“You heard the lieutenant, Grashon. Wipe the dust off W-5.”

“Yes, sir.”

“The rest of you cloud-hoppers, mount up,” Zirkander called, his voice ringing in the hangar. “It’s time to get these fliers in the air before the mosquitoes get here.”

Cries of, “Yes, sir!” answered him, and men and women charged for their cockpits.

The colonel drew Cas aside, gave her a quick one-armed hug, and said, “It’s fantastic to see you here alive. I didn’t know if Crash had been delusional when he said he saw you on that pirate outpost. I want the whole story when there’s more time, but I need as much intel as you can cram into two minutes now. This is a retaliatory attack from the pirates, we’re guessing?”

“Yes, sir. They’re bringing their whole armada.”

“
Armada?
”

“All of the ships that were there for your attack and their big station too. You know that fog?” Cas searched his eyes, wondering how he had found the outpost in the first place, when the pirates’ mobile location and their shroud of fog had kept the authorities from finding it for so long.

Zirkander nodded once, an odd hint of tension, or maybe wariness, entering his eyes at the question.

“The advance party, the ship they had me on, brought the machine for making it, and was planning to blanket the harbor so we’d have a hard time seeing them to fight and protect the city.”

“Huh. That’ll be as much of a hindrance for them as it is for us.”

“I think their original plan was to have the fog going before the ships got here, so the soldiers in the watchtowers wouldn’t see them coming, and we’d be caught completely unaware. But a pirate helped me escape and knock out the captain who thought everything up. He said he disabled the fog machine too.”

The colonel’s eyes narrowed. He couldn’t possibly know who this pirate was who had helped her escape simply on that information, could he? Others could disable a machine... even if only by hurling it against a bulkhead a few times. She wanted to blurt out everything and try to explain how Tolemek had helped her and how he should be... if not exonerated at least not shot on sight. But there was no time. And if Tolemek stayed out of trouble, he might be able to finish his quest and escape before the army learned he was here anyway. So long as she didn’t blab about it.

A rumble and a clank sounded as the big hangar doors were pushed open. Snow gusted inside, skidding past the wheels of the first flier, already in the queue, ready to roll out. Wind railed at the metal hangar roof, too, making it sound as if some giant were grabbing the corners and shaking and kicking at it. Outside, the night sky was utterly white. Cas swallowed. She liked to think of herself as fearless, or at least too focused to pay much attention to fear when she was out there, but this was going to be ghastly to fly in.

“Did they bring a snow-making machine too?” Zirkander asked dryly.

“No, sir.”

“All right.” He patted her on the shoulder. It was probably a gesture of dismissal, but he was looking toward the side door and chewing on his lip. “Hurry,” he murmured, “we could use those devices more than ever for this one.”

The words weren’t for her, Cas knew, but she couldn’t help but wonder at them. “Devices, sir?”

“My archaeologist friend is working on some communications devices from a recent Referatu excavation. I know the thought of magic will make everyone itch, but we’ve been waiting for the techs to figure out their wireless telegraph for ages, and it sounds like this could be a far better option for flier-to-flier communication anyway.”

His
archaeologist
friend? Was that Sardelle? Magical communications? Cas couldn’t imagine the general approving that for military use. Or any use. The colonel would be lucky if he didn’t get shot for suggesting it. Well, no, maybe not. He was one of the few people in the army who could get away with... a lot.

Cas must have been gaping at him, for he added, “I’ve already spoken to the others about it. We’re a superstitious lot, but the general consensus was that it would make us three times as effective to be able to speak to each other in the air.” He grimaced. “For example, Crash could have told me he saw
you
on that outpost before we were all the way home. We could have gone back for you right away.”

And gotten everyone mauled by pirates who had solidified their defenses by that point.

“Yes, sir. I was just shocked. I wouldn’t think—”

“Colonel, you leading the way?” someone called from the hangar door. Wolf Squadron and Tiger Squadron were lined up, ready to leap into the white sky. Pilots secured in their cockpits stared down at Zirkander. They wanted him leading the way, Cas guessed from the concerned looks on those faces. Their goggles couldn’t hide the fact that they were nervous about going out there in this weather.

Speaking of communications, Cas wished there had been a way to warn the city ahead of time. Would two squadrons be enough to defend the capital from that many pirates? If the general had been given advance notice, he could have called in the northern and southern continental air defenses for assistance.

Zirkander lifted a hand in acknowledgment and took a step toward his craft, but the side door banged open, snow swirling inside, along with a figure in a cloak and dress. Cas gaped. Given what Tolemek believed about Sardelle, and her own itchy instincts upon meeting her, Cas hadn’t expected her to be wandering around the base. The sergeant from the tram was escorting her in, but he didn’t have a hand on his pistol and wasn’t restraining her in any way. Did that mean only Tolemek knew who she was?
What
she was? How could Zirkander have kept that hidden if she had been openly fighting with magic at that fortress battle? If a Cofah soldier had seen that, some of the Iskandians must have too. Of course, they were probably still stuck back at that mountain duty station. And Cas doubted there were any telegraphs, wireless or otherwise, snaking up into the Ice Blades range.

The colonel jogged over to the woman. She carried a wooden box under one arm. Something that might have been a sword poked outward under her cloak, but the garment covered it.