Page 33 of Red Dragon
Syla tried to exhale some of her tension. At least Fel was still on her side. She didn’t entirely knowwhyhe was, as the bond he’d felt after she’d healed him should have faded by now, and, as much as she hated to admit it, Dolok was right. She’d invited the stormers here. This disaster had been of her making. More than ever, she felt the need to see the other shielder repaired and returned to Harvest Island. She had to fix the damage she’d done.
9
Syla satwith Fel and Teyla in the dining hall, keenly aware of how few allies she had and also wishing she’d chosen a place to eat that hadn’t hosted so many family gatherings. The empty chairs, along with the stress of the day, threatened to bring tears. Syla thought of Vorik, wishing for the dozenth time that he could somehow be an ally. She had Fel, at least. And Aunt Tibby. And maybe Teyla. None of them would be a match for the entire military if General Dolok followed through on his threat to stage a coup, but… Syla had to be grateful for the help she had.
“This is delicious,” Teyla said, carving off tender pieces of the meat that the kitchen staff had prepared. “What did you say it is?”
Apparently, some of the gift had been reserved, along with the bone, for a stew for the next day, but there’d been enough to fry for a late dinner. The chaos of the stormer incursion had delayed meal preparations, and it was creeping toward midnight.
“Eliok, I’m told,” Syla said.
“I had no idea they’re so tasty. They’re elusive though, aren’t they? And found in only a few spots in the world?”
“Only on Harvest Island, I’m told. In the rest of the world, they were hunted to extinction, no doubt because of their great deliciousness.”
“Who’s been doing all this telling?” Fel, who’d deigned to join them around the table instead of looming by the door, gave her a squint eye.
“It wasn’t Vorik, if that’s who your eye-skewer of disapproval is for.”
“My…” He touched the side of his left eye.
“Wreylith was the one who shared the information. A couple of weeks ago. Today, she just brought that.” Syla pointed to the slices of meat resting on a tray in a wine-based gravy.
“Wreylith?” Teyla asked.
“A red dragon who’s linked to a little magical figurine that my father left me. I haven’t quite figured out how that came to be, as in why he had it and who linked it to the dragon or why she bothered to come, but she helped us get the Harvest Island shielder.”
Teyla stared at her. “I thought the kitchen boy was joking when he said a dragon dropped the meat from the sky.”
Fel forked a piece of eliok and chewed it thoughtfully. “The information given by a wild dragon may or may not be more reliable than that offered by a stormer.”
“I think when the topic is hunting, it’s probably reliable.” Syla looked out a window toward the night sky, wishing she could call the dragon down to flambé General Dolok. And Relvin while she was in the neighborhood. As a healer, it wasn’t appropriate to wish all her enemies to be horribly killed in dragon-crafted infernos, but only the gods could condemn her for her fantasies. “Maybe I should have waited a few more days before activating the borrowed shielder,” she murmured.
“What?” Teyla asked.
“I hope Aunt Tibby gets here soon. I regret that she’s barely gotten any rest, but… I need her.”
“I’ll brace myself for her incendiary wit,” Fel said.
“I’ll give her some eliok meat,” Syla said. “That’ll make her happy.”
“Unlikely.”
As the meal neared its end, Syla started to worry that Aunt Tibby had not returned to the farm but gone off somewhere else in the city and couldn’t be found. It was also possible the military was keeping her from entering the castle. But even if Dolok had decided to fight Syla, he would want the shielder repaired as much as she did. And Tibby, agricultural engineer or not, had been the one studying it and the scrolls.
Finally, Tibby walked in, rumpled and looking like she’d been woken from a deep sleep. The exasperated frown she slanted toward Syla also suggested it.
“What is this about stormers getting into the tunnels and threatening the shielders again?” Tibby asked her without preamble, though she lifted a hand toward Teyla and gave her a warmer I-need-to-consult-you look.
“We got a chance to use both the medical antique—” Syla touched the summoner still looped over her ear, “—and the explosives.”
“I’d hoped that neither would be necessary. What happened? Did the explosives blow without damaging the shielder?”
“Yes.” Syla described the evening’s events, resisting the urge to leave out all mention of Vorik. He’d been too integral at too many points not to bring up, but she did gloss over his contribution—and hindrance. The scrolls were the important part. “Please tell me you made copies of them,” she said after admitting they’d been taken.
“OfcourseI made copies. In triplicate. I’ve got a set at the farm and put the other set in the basement library here.”
“Eyes of the moon, bless you,” Syla said.
