The storm would be a fierce one.
Off to the side, a cheer arose from those who fought the fires. The flames had finally been vanquished. All was secure again.
Kathryn retreated, lost in smoke and shadows.
Tylar turned in her direction-but she was already gone.
A SWORD OF STEEL
The blare of a trumpet, muffled and faint, reached Dart’s hiding place. Something had stirred the tower. She heard distant shouts, too.
But she dared not move.
Not yet.
She hid in an alcove down the hall from the central stairs and chewed one of her knuckles. She shared her hiding space with a gray marble statue. It depicted some famous knight, one who bore a raven on his shoulder, though its beak had been broken off some time in the distant past.
She shouldn’t be here. She knew better, but she could not help herself. She was supposed to be down in the library, learning the history of Tashijan, with her fellow pages. But she had begged off, claiming some urgent business with the castellan. With a disinterested wave, the owl-eyed archivist had dismissed her-though her subterfuge earned a rash of sneers from her peers. All would have liked an excuse to escape the tedious study of dates and endless lists of battles. Especially with all the excitement of late. For the past day, the entire Citadel had practically thrummed like a plucked bowstring. It was hard for any of them to sit still.
But worst of all for Dart.
She knew when the retinue from Oldenbrook was due. She had learned which rooms they were to occupy and had gone and found a vantage from which to spy on the outer hall. She had waited through two bells, but she was eventually rewarded by their arrival, led by a tall woman in a snowy fur who seemed as fresh as if she had just returned from a garden stroll. Dart recognized her as the mistress of tears. At her shoulder strode a man, a guardsman from the look of him, resplendent in finery that matched the mistress’s. His eyes remained on the fur- cloaked Hand, while she seemed oblivious to him, deep in conversation with Castellan Vail, talking animatedly.
Dart had pushed deeper into her alcove, fearing being spotted by the castellan. What excuse could she offer for hiding here? Pupp had no such worry. He had been curled at her feet, but the commotion of the arriving party revived him. He trotted out into the hallway.
Though none could see him, she hissed under her breath and waved him back to the alcove. He reluctantly obeyed. Still, his stubbed tail wagged with excitement.
Dart understood. Despite the risk, she could not help peeking out. Another two Hands followed the one in the snowy-furred cloak. A man and a woman. One thin, one wide. Then Dart’s attention shifted to a pair of massive guards-loam-giants from the size of them-who shouldered out of the stairwell. She gaped at them. They carried a crate slung between them.
As they stepped aside, a more familiar figure appeared behind them.
The bronze boy.
Dart’s heart trembled somewhere between relief and terror.
So he had come.
He was a year ahead of her at school, so she had never known him well, but after encountering him in Oldenbrook, she had sought to learn more. Including his name. Brant. She tested the name now, mouthing it. It somehow fit him.
Her former schoolmate stopped with the giants near the stairs, shrugged aside a heavy winter cloak, and pointed an arm. “The houndskeep lies past the bailey. Take them down, get them settled, but keep them under watch. None are to see them until the morning.”
The giants nodded and headed away.
Brant watched them for a breath. He looked somehow thinner, paler than when last she’d seen him-though as he turned back to the hall, a fire burnt in his manner. He tromped after his party. His eyes narrowed upon the mistress of tears and her tall escort. Plainly there was some trouble here.
Dart kept one eye peeked as Castellan Vail assigned rooms. The boy vanished into his own with barely a word to any of the others.
She maintained her post until the hall was empty. Even the escorts had vanished with their captain, gone to break bread. And test the Citadel’s ale, she imagined.
She dared tarry no longer. The regent’s flippercraft would be mooring soon. Still, as Dart stepped out, she had to bite back a desire to knock on Brant’s door. If she could swear him to her secret…then she’d have nothing to fear. Maybe they could even share a-
A latch scraped ahead of her.
Dart crabbed backward with a wheel of her arms, ducking back into her alcove. Brant’s door opened. He glanced up and down the hall as if someone had rapped on his door. Or maybe it was the trumpets that had blared for the past half bell, echoing down from the top of Stormwatch.
Dart studied him.
He was dressed the same, still in his heavy winter cloak and boots. Seemingly satisfied that he was alone, he headed for the stairs. Where was he going? To investigate the trumpets? To sample the ale here, like the guards?
He reached the far stairs. Dart craned her neck to see, curious where he was going. Without a glance back, he headed down.
She drew after him, her feet moving on their own. Pupp trotted ahead of her down the hall.
Upon reaching the landing, she searched below. He had already vanished around a curve in the stairs. She hesitated on the steps. Her spying had already revealed what she had wanted to know. He had come. It was best now that she return to the castellan’s hermitage. The first evening bell would be ringing any moment. The regent’s flippercraft was due to arrive. Castellan Vail would expect her to attend the welcoming.
Still, she stood on the landing, burning with curiosity, tempered by a trace of fear. What to do?
Then her decision was taken from her.
Pupp bounded down the stairs after the boy, perhaps responding to some unspoken desire in her own heart. She hissed at him, but only faintly. A moment later, she pursued her ghostly companion.
Brant proceeded slowly, new to Tashijan, but he seemed to know where he was going, moving with a dogged determination. Perhaps he had been given a map to the towers.
As they progressed, Dart kept easily hidden. As usual, the stairs were crowded. She had no difficulty keeping him in sight while staying back herself. As she trailed her quarry, she heard snatches of conversation. With each level she passed, she slowly pieced together some mishap that had befallen a flippercraft landing atop Stormwatch. Word had traveled faster than the trumpet’s blare: of a fire, burning mekanicals, but order had been restored. No deaths.
Then she heard Tylar’s name.
Her feet slowed to listen to the rest of a knight’s conversation with a comely older maid. He leaned an elbow on the wall. Dart noted the Fiery Cross embroidered on his shoulder. “The regent arrives with as much turmoil as he’s beset our fair land. Is it any wonder Warden Fields disapproves of his position at Chrismferry?”
Dart continued past, lest she draw the knight’s eye. But it seemed the maid’s ample bosom had captured his attention full enough.
She hurried down a few more steps, dread clutching her throat. So it had been Tylar’s airship that had landed so roughly! He must have come early. She stopped at the next landing.
Enough with this foolishness. She needed to get back to the castellan’s hermitage. Kathryn might need her.
“You!”
The shout startled her-as did the hand that grabbed her roughly and pulled her around. She expected it to be Brant, wise to her spying.
