Page 75 of Sky Shielder
“Everyone with the power to use the sky shielders is what is being speculated.”
“Yeah.”
“Anyone who would target ahealer, moon-marks regardless, is lower than a snake’s belly.” Flaron stopped in front of a stout teak door with an anatomical picture of the human body carved into the wood, but he curled his fingers into fists and flexed his shoulders instead of knocking. Anger gleamed in his hooded eyes, and he took a breath to get control of himself. “I hope the dragons turn on the stormers and kill them all, the heinous bastards.”
Unfortunately, the dragons had all seemed to be on board with the riders’ plans. They’d wanted to recruit Wreylith too.
“When the kingdom enforcers get here,” Flaron continued, “they can question your prisoner, maybe figure out where the tribes are headquartered right now. Wehaveto find a way to retaliate.”
“Uhm, prisoner?”
Dread trickled into her anew. He could only mean Vorik.
“The rider that you brought with you. Sergeant Fel said the rider has been trying to—uhm, no offense meant, Your Highness—trick you into believing he’s turned sides, but that’sCaptainVorik. He’s a hero among his people and the left hand of General Jhiton, one of the highest-ranking officers in their Sixteen Talons and Storm Guard. Vorik wouldn’t turn. He’s got to be working for them. Everyone agrees.”
Syla rubbed her face. Who waseveryone? How many discussions among how many people had gone on while she’d been sleeping? And why hadn’tFelbeen sleeping too instead of yapping about Vorik? He must have been as tired as she, damn it.
“Where is he now?” Syla asked. “He needs healing.”
“To survive long enough to be interrogated?” Flaron nodded.
Syla barely kept from baring her teeth at him.
“He needs healing because it’s the humane thing to do,” she said firmly.
Flaron opened his mouth but must have read some of the irritation on her face because he paused to consider his answer. “He’s being guarded in a cell in the east tower. He’s got water and smoked fish. We don’t torment our prisoners, not liketheysurely would if they got one of us.” Flaron gave her an aggrieved look. “If they’d gottenyou.”
“I need to see him.” Syla needed tohealhim. Especially if… “Did you say enforcers are coming?”
“A messenger went to town to request their assistance. We’ve a few guards, but holding a rider—especially one with the mark of the dragon—might be beyond us. Besides, the island lord will know best how to use any information we can get out of him.”
Syla debated how long it would take a messenger to ride the twenty miles to town, find and talk to the right people, and return with troops. A while, especially given all the other chaos going on, but probably not as long as she needed.
She was tempted to sprint to the east tower and start healing Vorik right away, but the teak door opened. Inside, Jemla and a white-haired man Syla didn’t know waited at a stout wood table. A platter in the center held smoked salmon, crackers, cheese, fresh sliced apples, and was that a ramekin of hazelnut butter?
Her empty stomach growled vociferously.
“Come in, please, Your Highness.” Jemla bowed her to a chair in front of the food. “This is our temple leader, Huzloron. We’ll help you in any way we can, but we’re also wondering…” She spread her hand.
Huzloron finished for her. “Why are you here, Your Highness? Were you chased off Castle Island by assassins? Or captured bydragons? We saw the battle at sea yesterday and wondered what it was about.”
“I… yes. I was in that battle.” Hadn’t Fel told them about that? Maybe they wanted her version of the story. “Stormers have been trying to kill me. Regularly.”
They exchanged looks.
“We should warn you,” Jemla said, “that it’s not safe here. Oh, our island hasn’t been breached by dragons, but rider assassins are striking at…” Her gaze strayed to Syla’s hand.
“I heard.” Syla nodded toward Flaron, though he’d remained in the hallway outside.
“We were preparing a funeral pyre and time of mourning for Lyvenia when you arrived.”
“I’d like to attend that if possible, but I need to see…” Syla hesitated to identify Vorik, since everyone seemed to know of his reputation, but Flaron had spoken his name, so someone had already recognized his face.
“Your prisoner?” Jemla watched her intently.
Wondering if Syla believed him a prisoner? Or was being successfullytricked, as Fel had apparently implied?
“Captain Vorik, yes. He needs the attention of a healer.” Syla waved her hand to indicate her birthmark and power. She didn’t want to imply the healers here weren’t talented, but if Lyvenia had been killed, they might not have anyone else with magic as well as suture skill and knowledge of herbs and potions.
