The only thing less fun than poking the tip of her blades into crash-addled mercs and threatening the confused men with iced lungs if they did not pick up the pace to the mine, was facing her brother’s fuzzy image on a Cloister’s console screen. He fought to hide his concern, but could not—at least, Lapis noticed the underlying terror that tightened his eyes and strained his voice. To those who did not know him, he might well seem nonchalant.
He mimicked their father, when bad news arrived. She wanted to throw her arms wide and remind him that she survived yet another trial, then point to the slate board behind her and exclaim over Gedaavik’s research into power sources, but she doubted that would salve his anxiety. When she discovered who told him she had taken a dive in a flying vessel, she would have words with them for worrying him so.
She glanced out the unblocked doorway to the room Dreamer had guarded. Vision urged everyone to meet at the temple Luveth presided over, and Chiddle and Tuft’s suspicion about the want pricked at her unease. What would happen if Luveth woke up, returned, and took exception to her unwelcome guests? She had no reason not to attack a gaggle of humans and terrons in her private space, especially since they kept company with Velensaans and his aides.
Patch held up the round device Chiddle had pried from the sparking console before they tumbled from the smoking craft. It was silver with a black division down the center, and a rectangular button that looked clickable on one side. The tech on a long, bendy cable that captured their image for the conversation made a whirring sound and pulled back, as if it wanted nothing to do with the thing. “It’s still functioning and should lead us right to whoever owned that MAV. While we don’t know for certain, I’m betting the mercs who snagged the khentauree went to the same place.”
“And Jhor believes Moorlight’s involved?” Faelan asked.
“Yep.”
Her brother nodded. “Jetta’s contacting the Minq. We can use one of their ships to follow the signal—and if Moorlight’s involved, Shara won’t hesitate.”
Lapis frowned. “Why not?”
“You think Midir has issues with Requet?” He raised both eyebrows and rolled his eyes to the side. “His and Moorlight’s are ten times worse, and stems from his support of a rival syndicate.”
“Which one?” she asked.
“Drakeways. They’re a younger syndicate out of Dentheria who thinks the Minq are too wedded to old ideals. They assume violence will bring them more money and help them attract underbosses to their cause by dangling wealth in front of their noses. They’re taking advantage of Dentheria’s distraction to make a power play, but they aren’t getting the reception they expected from the older organizations disenchanted with the syndicate influences.”
“Do you think that’s who the red tridents are? Drakeways shanks?”
“Yes. It would explain the fight over gold you witnessed, and the vast difference in professionalism between the group at Ambercaast and the one you’re facing. They have people who’ve been with the syndicate for years, and new hires who are less sophisticated, more violent, and exceedingly greedy.” He set his elbows on the table, folded his fingers and set his chin on the backs. “And there are hints that they’ve been in talks with the Beryl since the new synboss took over.”
Ah. They really should not have let that Beryl agent go.
“Is Tearlach with you?”
“No,” Patch said. “We’ve word through the khentauree that his group drove Caardinva’s from the room they broke into, but they grabbed boxes as they left. We’re not sure what they stole. It could be Gedaavik’s scribbles, could be something about a power source. It’s probably not something about everlasting death hooked up to a machine because that was Ree-god’s thing, but who knows.
“There’s a lot of confusion about where they went, because they don’t seem to be in the Shivers any longer. The ships that attacked the red tridents have disappeared, too, so it’s a good bet they arrived to evacuate Caardinva and immediately vacated. He left behind mercs and scientists, and you’ll need to work with Lorcan to get them interrogated, then sent back home. Velensaans and Reyanne are lead researchers, so you should get some informative shit from them.” He grinned. “We caught one of Hoyt’s premiere shanks here. Tirem. He’ll give us what we want to save his own skin.”
Faelan’s smile did not reach his glinting eyes. “Good.”
Lapis leaned closer to the screen. “Faelan, we found a formula for a khentauree power source created by Gedaavik, and Chiddle says the ingredients are locally sourced. He says Ambercaast has a recipe, but only Ghost and Sanna use it.”
“Finding an easily made, alternative power source to aquatheerdaal would be more lucrative, but I suppose I shouldn’t underestimate a rich person’s lust for eternal life if given the chance.”
Rin popped over her shoulder; she noted his reflection in the screen. “I’s goin’,” he announced.
“No, you aren’t,” Lapis snapped, annoyed he had not stayed in the temple with Scand, as she requested.
“I’s goin’,” he insisted. “’N if you block me? Where there’s a will, there’s a way, ‘n I gots plenty a’ will.”
“Which is why you’re there in the first place?” Faelan asked in the mild tone he used when someone pissed him off, but he saved the tongue-lashing for later. Now that Rin had staked his claim as wayward little brother, he could share in her dread when their older sibling spoke in that manner.
“Aye,” the rat said, in no way contrite. “I’s the Lady’s man, n’ I can’t be that, iffen she’s all off somewheres without me.” He leaned over her, his stomach pressing into the back of her head. “I’ve plenty experience takin’ care o’ m’self, ‘n I’ve more than the Lady in dispatchin’ foes.”
“Rin, that is so—” A blush spread across her face.
“N’ I’s not as heat-headed, neither.”
“I am not heat-headed!” She squirmed around to glare up at him. “Didn’t this trouble smack some sense into that brain of yours about danger and chances?”
“My thinker’s tickin’ jest fine,” he told her with haughty aplomb, staring down at her with half-lidded eyes. He knew she hated that, and it made her snarly that he pricked her that way. “Which’ll be good, considerin’ where we’re goin’ and the troubles that follow you.”
“If you go—”
“FAELAN!” she protested, whipping back to face him.
“—you’re going to be a courier, a helper. NOT a front lines chaser. That’s for Lanth, Patch and Brander. If you can’t agree to that, you’ll stay with Scand and help translate for Mint and Tia.”
Rin raised an eyebrow in thought, then shrugged. “OK.” He meant it—but he could change his mind at any point. She glared at her older brother, but his eyes traveled up and over, to regard Tuft. He did not show fear or curiosity, just the typical cool demeanor he used when meeting others he did not know.
“You are sending a ship,” the khentauree said.
Faelan straightened. “I will do everything in my power to make that happen, and I’ll set up contacts for you once you reach Trave.”
“Sils,” Patch said.
“Yes, Sils. And hopefully a couple more. If our assumptions about Aben Moorlight are correct and we can give certain entities access to his whereabouts, that will be worth more than the return of the khentauree to them. And if Fraze is still with his captors like Caitria thinks, and they have taken him to the same facility, all the better for us.”
Caitria? Had Caitria been the one who told him about her adventures? Her eyes narrowed. Could she guilt her into feeling bad about tattling?
Faelan grew serious. “But you need to be cautious. Unrest is spreading in Dentheria. Puppet kings from half the vassal states have sent ambassadors to the Councils, demanding the empire reinstate the shipments of tech because that’s what keeps them on their thrones. Protests are growing in Trave and Allesha concerning these shipments. Some think supporting the kings paramount, and some question the subjugation of Theyndora countries. High Counselor Makethryn isn’t pleased with the discontent because she sees it as a direct criticism of her rule. It will be a dangerous infiltration, with law enforcement and the military on alert.”
“But you will have your people take the risk,” Tuft said. He did not have the force behind his words Lapis normally heard, and she wondered how badly he drained his resources to divide the attacking ship in half. Of course, he had been icing things all day long; no khentauree had unlimited power reserves.
“Yes.”
“That simple?”
“Yes.”
The khentauree cocked his head. “You are not like the humans of before.”
Faelan smiled. “Thank you. We strive to be better than that.” He glanced to the side. “Shara just arrived. I need to speak with her, and I’ll contact you back on this channel.” The screen turned to grey fuzz.
Lapis slapped her thighs, and Patch kissed the side of her head. She smiled at him and rose; he would wait with Heven for further orders, giving her a chance to lie down and nap. Dawn had blazed pink across the sky before they reached the Abastions outside the mines, and then they slogged through another long, secretive trek to the hidden room, on high alert for wayward mercs. She was worn to thin threads and needed a bit of sleep. How Patch and Rin kept going was beyond her.
She brushed past her beaming brother and a pensive Tuft, then hustled through the body-strewn room with only a brief glance at the enormous tunnel. She had no want to check on the transfer progress. Enough sludgy emotions churned through her; why add further hate of Dreamer to them?
