Page 39 of Red Dragon
Vorik shook his head. He hadn’t been paramount in much of anything except losing that shielder during the battle over thewhaling ship, and he didn’t deserve credit for the harvest his people were now enjoying.
“The general wants you, I see.” Geahi tilted her head toward Jhiton, who was holding the scrolls open but also looking at Vorik.Thoughtfullyat Vorik? Wrath of the storm god, what was he planning now? “Come to my furs later if you wish, and I’ll show you my gratitude completely. A full stomach is an aphrodisiac, you know, and Leonodor sleeps the whole night through these days.” She winked at Vorik.
“Thank you for the invitation, Geahi,” Vorik said. “I think my brother is scheming his next mission for me, but I appreciate your offer and will keep it in mind.”
Disappointment entered her eyes as she interpreted his words as a rejection. Vorik bowed apologetically toward her but walked away without looking back. Whether it was wise or not, he’d, of late, had another woman on his mind. The memory of Syla looking suspiciously at him as he suggested how she might relax her eyes—and her body—flitted through his thoughts. She’d been understandably suspicious throughout their entire chat, but he hadn’t minded. He’d enjoyed spending even that brief time with her. His only regret was that he hadn’t gotten to leave with the cylindrical boxes of sugary desserts. He imagined sharing a cobbler or other sweet with Syla, the taste of sugar on their lips as they kissed.
Jhiton looked up at his approach, his face grim.
Vorik wiped away whatever goofy—or lusty—expression had been on his face. Jhiton and Devron weren’t looking at the scrolls, though Vorik knew his brother had no trouble reading the Kingdom language. He’d always been a far better student than Vorik, who’d preferred hunting and playing outside to squinting at letters and numbers that his people never used in their lives.
“I’m telling you, sir,” Devron said, “she’s a lot more than a healer.”
Vorik’s ears perked as he realized they were discussing Syla. Since Devron had been in the chamber before he and Jhiton arrived, he may have interacted with her. Judging by the way he rubbed his throat, that interaction hadn’t been pleasurable.
Vorik raised his eyebrows. He had a hard time imagining Syla getting the best of a trained stormer in a battle. She didn’t even carry a weapon.
“Whatmore?” Jhiton asked the man, though his gaze remained on Vorik, as if he expectedhimto know.
“She almost… I mean, I’m sure my strength and stamina would have protected me from…” Devron also looked at Vorik. “She couldn’t have killedme with her magic, could she?”
Vorik shook his head. “She’s a healer, not a killer. How would you even kill someone with magic?”
The power he derived from his bond with Agrevlari enhanced his physical attributes, which made him more effective at defeating foes—sometimespermanentlydefeating foes—but it wasn’t as if he could wave his hand and end a person’s life. Of course, some riders with dragons more predatory and merciless than Agrevlari received power that might be able to let them do something like that. He’d heard stories of riders lashing out with less tangible weapons than swords and bows, but didn’t that usually require close contact?
“It was like an invisible garrote wrapping around my neck.” Again, Devron touched his throat. “It kept me from breathing. At the same time, I felt like this snake of power was winding through my body. It wrapped around my heart. For a moment, I thought she was going to… I don’t know.Killme. The way she looked into my eyes with the certainty that she could was, uhm.” Devron glanced at Jhiton and didn’t say something liketerrifyingorsoul-shriveling, instead opting to save face with, “Concerning.”
“That’s the reason you were unconscious when we entered the chamber?” Jhiton asked as Vorik shook his head, having a hard time believing Syla had used her power to knock someone out. She’d never suggested she could do that. She’d emphasized that she used her magic for healing.
“Yes, sir. I couldn’t breathe, and then I blacked out. I didn’t think… I wasn’t sure I would wake up.”
“Whatexactlycan she do with her magic?” Jhiton directed the question at Vorik.
“I don’t know. I thought only healing.”
“Over the years, our spies have reported that the moon-marks give those with them power that they can direct in different ways, depending on their natural talents and interests,” Jhiton said, “but I haven’t heard of any of them becoming assassins.”
“Syla isn’t anassassin.” Vorik couldn’t keep the exasperation out of his voice. “She’s a healer. She wears their robes. She bakescobblers.”
Devron’s brow scrunched in puzzlement. The poor man had probably never had a cobbler. Admittedly, Vorik hadn’t until Syla had given him one, but now that he knew they existed, he wanted more of them.
“Well, if she wears arobe,” Jhiton said, “she can’t possibly be an assassin. Everyone knows they have different sartorial preferences.”
“That’s right. They dress more like this.” Vorik plucked at his brother’s black sleeve and waved at the equally dark cloak.
“Funny.”
“I aim to entertain.” Vorik pointed at the scrolls, hoping to change the subject, but he sensed the approach of someone new.
“She can do more than heal,” Captain Lesva said coolly.
She came to stand at Jhiton's side while leveling a cold look at Vorik.
He sighed, deciding he should have gone to her when she’d been recovering from her injuries, but he hadn’t wanted to deal with her snark. And he couldn’t have brought himself to apologize for being responsible for her falling off that cliff. She’d brought that upon herself by disobeying Jhiton's orders and capturing—capturing andtorturing—Syla.
“What more?” Jhiton eyed her without warmth, but he didn’t step away from her either.
“When I was questioning her?—”
