the royal court. Rodrigo raised his eyebrows.
“A diamond! Not a very good diamond,” he remarked to himself. “Poor clarity and color. But a diamond nonetheless.”
“What’s that you’ve got?” Dag asked curiously.
“I believe I have found some sort of fiendish frippery,” said Rodrigo. “A Hellish bijou. A demonic diamond.”
He held the brass plate out to Dag, who examined it with interest.
“This appears to be some sort of grenade,” said Dag.
Rodrigo backed nervously away. “How could you possibly know that?”
“I got a good, close look at those cannonlike weapons the fiends were using.” Dag ran his hand over his singed head. “A little too close. Singed off half my hair. I saw one of the fiends load something that gleamed like brass and was about this shape and size into the back of the cannon. My guess is that the crystal-”
“It’s a diamond,” Rodrigo pointed out.
“The diamond holds some sort of magical charge that sets off the green fire like the spark that ignites the gunpowder that fires a bullet. The sigils on the brass medallion surrounding the diamond might be there to focus the fire or protect the diamond or to keep the green fire from melting the cannon or all of that together.”
Rodrigo came to take another look at the strange plate.
Dag shrugged. “You would know more about that than I do. Magic is in your line not mine.”
“True,” said Rodrigo, “except that I’ve never seen sigils like these.”
“Aren’t sigils sigils?” Dag asked.
“My dear linguistically deprived friend, is the Guundaran language the same as Rosian? Is Freyan the same as Estaran? Sigils form the language of magic and as far as I knew, there was only one language. Even Gythe’s Trundler magic uses the same sigils, just arranges them in different patterns. Apparently I and thousands of magical scholars down through the ages have been wrong. The language of these sigils is completely unknown to me.”
Rodrigo drew cautiously nearer to stare intently at what he was mentally terming the “green grenade.” He made no move to touch it, however.
Dag noted this reluctance and was disturbed. “Do you think it’s likely to go off? If so, we should get rid of the damn thing.”
“Are you mad?” Rodrigo snatched the brass plate out of the big man’s reach. “This demonic grenade of ours could be highly valuable. It might tell us more about the crafter who made it, for example.”
“More about the Fallen One?” Dag scowled and shook his head. “Who wants to know more about that? I say we throw it overboard, send it back to Hell where it came from.”
“Do you really think we were attacked by the spawn of Aertheum,” Rodrigo asked. “Fiends from Hell? I find that hard to believe.”
“That’s because you don’t believe,” said Dag sternly.
Rodrigo opened his mouth and then shut it again. Before the duel with the young Estaran, Rodrigo would have made a glib and lighthearted answer. He had been doing some soul-searching since then and, while not yet ready to embrace the idea of an omnipotent, omniscient Master of the Universe, Rodrigo had acquired new respect for those who did. He thought about his father, perhaps dead by an assassin’s bullet…
You don’t know if that is true yet, Rodrigo told himself for the hundredth time. The news could be rumor, speculation. Don’t go borrowing trouble.
“I must admit,” Rodrigo said with a shiver, “the sight of that fiend walking around with half his body blown off is difficult to explain rationally.”
Dag gave a grave nod. “I saw these demons suffer deadly wounds and get back up and keep fighting. I saw them hurt Gythe without touching her. I saw their corpses vanish in a flash of green flame. I saw their orange glowing eyes. I’m not a scholar like you and Stephano. I can’t explain what I saw. But I know I saw it.”
Rodrigo had been standing all this time holding the grenade in his hand. A startled expression suddenly crossed his face.
“What?” asked Dag, who had been eyeing the grenade uneasily.
“I can feel the magic, like a buzzing bee in my palm,” said Rodrigo. “It must be residual magic. I need to study this.” He started to go below, then stopped and turned. “Unless you need me on deck?”
“Go below and take that infernal thing with you!” said Dag, scowling. “I’ll need you when we dock, but that won’t be for awhile. I’ll call you.”
Rodrigo opened the hatch and was going down the stairs as Miri was coming up.
“How’s Gythe?” he asked.
“No change,” said Miri. “Could you stay with her? I feel so helpless. I need… I need to be doing something.”
Rodrigo entered the cabin and startled Doctor Ellington. The cat leaped up, hackles raised.
“It’s only me,” said Rodrigo.
The Doctor glared at Rodrigo in annoyance, and curled up again by Gythe’s head. She was still unconscious, but Rodrigo saw there had been a change, albeit a subtle one. She had more color in her face. Her breathing was easier. She was clearly better now that the attacks had stopped. But she remained unconscious. He called her name softly and patted her hand. All attempts to rouse her failed.
Rodrigo drew up a chair near to the bed and sat down. He was reminded of the last time he had kept watch at his friend’s bedside, eighteen years ago, when he and Benoit had rescued the badly wounded Stephano from the battlefield of the failed rebellion. Rodrigo had stayed with his friend throughout the night, listening to Stephano’s feverish ravings, fearing he was going to die.
Rodrigo looked at the object in his hand-a brass dessert plate with a diamond in the center. Dag had said this was what created the green fire. Rodrigo looked at Gythe and pondered.
Miri climbed up onto the deck and came over to stand beside Dag.
“I’ll take over,” she said.
“Are you sure?” he asked, regarding her with concern. “If you want to stay with Gythe-”
“No. I can’t do anything for her,” said Miri brokenly. “This way at least I feel like I’m doing something to help.”
She put her hands to the helm felt the Cloud Hopper respond to her touch. The walls of the abbey were in view. She and Dag both stared in dismay at the wreckage done to the cathedral, the broken windows, the rising smoke.
“The demons attacked the abbey!” Miri said. “The last I saw of Stephano, he and that dragon were flying in that direction.”
“The demons are gone,” said Dag reassuringly. “Likely Stephano and that dragon of his drove them off. We’ll find him there, safe and sound, and we’ll find help for Gythe there, too. You’ll see.”
Miri nodded, unable to speak for the choking sensation in her throat. She could not take her hands from the helm, so she rested her head against Dag’s broad shoulder. She felt his warmth, his body, solid, firm, and stalwart.
“You are a comfort to me, Dag,” she said softly.
Dag wanted to put his arms around her and hold her to him tightly forever, but he kept his arms stiffly at his sides. He loved Miri with a love that was vast as the vault of Heaven above and as deep as the fathomless depths of the Breath below. He meant to keep his love to himself, never, never to tell her.
He had her friendship, her sisterly affection, and that was enough. More than he deserved. He stood rigid, trying to keep from trembling at her touch.
He didn’t succeed. Miri felt his body quiver. She saw his jaw clench, his hands balled to fists.
Dag, you’re in charge… Stephano had told him.
No, sir, Dag had answered.
Miri did not know what had happened to him. All she knew was that she loved him. She was almost certain he loved her. She could tell him she loved him and she knew quite well what would happen. She would never see him again. She had to wait for him to heal.
The two stood at helm of the Cloud Hopper, close together and so far apart.
