Page 70 of Kingdom of Dance

“I’m not here for treatment, actually. I just wanted to ask you some questions.”

“Oh?” The physician raised an eyebrow, seating himself on the edge of a table and inviting Obsidian to take a seat with a gesture. “Questions about what?”

“The injury to Princess Zinnia’s arm,” Obsidian said.

The physician’s other eyebrow shot up to join the first. “The princess’s injury? Is something amiss? Has it worsened? It didn’t look in danger of infection, but perhaps I missed something.”

Again, Obsidian shook his head. “As far as I know, it’s the same. But I’m curious about the nature of it. You seemed surprised when she said it was from an arrow.”

“I was surprised,” the physician acknowledged. He shot Obsidian a look. “I assume that, as a soldier, you’re trained in archery?”

“Just basic training,” Obsidian said.

The physician nodded. “Well, arrows aren’t like swords. I don’t see a lot of superficial arrow injuries. Normally if someone has a misadventure in archery training, it’s because they’ve been accidentally shot by another archer, and it’s a serious wound. To tell the truth, I was surprised because it seems to me that you’d have to be incredibly uncoordinated to scrape your own arm with an arrow. Especially on the outside of your arm like that.”

“I agree,” said Obsidian dryly.

He didn’t really need to know the man’s reasons for reaching what was a fairly obvious conclusion. Obsidian’s magic had told him instantly that Zinnia was lying about the cause of the injury. But he needed to be cautious in digging for more information, lest he start a panic. Or be considered an imbecile.

He cleared his throat, already knowing that his attempt to speak casually would fail. He didn’t do casual well. According to Zinnia, his style was more along the lines of—what was it?—grimly mysterious. To the admiration of the maids, apparently, although clearly not the princess.

Pulling his mind from these irrelevant thoughts, he met the physician’s eyes. “So you suspect it might have been caused by a different kind of weapon, then? A sword, or something like that?”

The physician looked startled. “No, I wasn’t making any accusation. It’s hard to believe anyone could have dealt the princess an injury without being prevented, or at the very least seen, by her guards. And that’s putting aside the question of why she would hide such an event.”

Obsidian frowned. “But if it was someone else, you would think that injury wasn’t self-inflicted?”

The physician shrugged helplessly. “There really isn’t enough information to know. It was a clean wound, more likely to be caused by a blade than by, say, an animal.”

Obsidian’s head shot up at that last word, grateful for a better opening than he’d expected to receive. But the physician wasn’t finished.

“If it was a blade, though, it must have just been the very tip of it. Which brings us back to the possibility of an arrow, like the princess said in the first place.”

“An animal?” Obsidian mused, as if the thought was occurring to him for the first time. “Do you think…I know this is a foolish question,” he added, trying to seem more clueless than he was, “but do you think it could have been caused by a dragon?”

The physician’s eyes went wide, and Obsidian couldn’t tell if he was scandalized or simply astonished.

“A dragon?” he repeated. “Of course not!”

“I just thought,” Obsidian said, “if it was like a wound from the tip of a blade, wouldn’t that be like a talon?”

The physician actually chuckled. “My dear lieutenant, have you seen a dragon? Even without the magic, they’re the most deadly beasts in existence. Their talons wouldn’t cause a single shallow scratch. If we weren’t so fortunate as to enjoy unbroken peaceful relations with them, they would have no difficulty in killing all of us. If a dragon ever decided to attack a human—which we can be thankful has never happened—the unfortunate soul would be ripped to shreds, not complaining of a superficial cut to the arm.”

Obsidian said nothing, not entirely satisfied. The physician was clearly unable to consider the question from an objectively medical point of view, too guided by his unshakable belief that dragons wouldn’t attack humans.

A belief which Obsidian had always shared, of course. But the unnerving idea that had come to him in the night couldn’t be dispelled even by the light of day. On the contrary, with no other leads to pursue, it was only growing larger in his mind.

Obsidian had barely left the physician’s room when a servant hurried up to him, carrying a summons to King Basil’s study. He entered the sparse room reluctantly, wishing his theories were more developed for the inevitable questioning.

King Basil waved Obsidian into a chair, looking like he’d gotten little if any sleep since last they’d spoken.

“Are your thoughts more in order, Lieutenant?” he asked without preamble.

“Not as much as I’d like,” Obsidian admitted. “I only have one real theory, and it’s a little wild, I’m afraid.”

“I’ll hear anything,” the king said fervently.

Half embarrassed by his own foolishness, Obsidian explained the direction his thoughts had been wandering, trying not to wince as he said the worddragon.

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