Page 8 of Of Scale and Blood

Release?came Kaia’s thought.

Yes. Go grab something to eat, but be careful, and remember to find somewhere to roost before the night truly sets in.

Need no more help?

If Sam can get us past the heads, we can signal for help from the port if necessary.

Call if need.

I sent an affirmative, and she released the harpoon and spun away from the boat, flying toward the ominous foothills and the drakkons who flew there. It almost felt like a vital part of myself was leaving with her.

I shook the thought away and turned. The captain was ordering the sails to be raised, a hard task when the deck was so crowded. Unlike many of Esan’s fleet, these smaller fishing boats didn’t have the option of oarsmen for the few times the air mage’s strength gave out. I watched as the thick canvas was slowly hauled up the mast; if Sam’s energy held, then he could release the overall bubble and simply push the wind into the sails and guide us forward. If it failed, there was enough of the storm left to catch them. Either way, we wouldn’t end up on the rocks, which might have been a possibility had the saker given out earlier. Neither Kaia’s nor Sam’s strength would have held out had we been forced to battle the storm’s full force earlier.

Once the sails were set, Sam did release the bubble protecting the boat and pushed the wind into the sails instead. As they bloomed, the helmsman spun the boat away from the shore, and we tacked with speed around the remains of Sinopa’s toes and into the wider, calmer waters of the bay.

The minute we docked, Sam collapsed.

What followed was several long and tedious hours of officialdom—ensuring all those on the boat were taken to either appropriate accommodation or for medical attention, then meeting with Hopetown’s council of six, not only reporting to them but getting updates on their preparations for the eventual attack. The latter had not progressed as far as they’d claimed in their missives to us, but I think the captain’s story and the horror of seeing so many refugees in such a bad state finally made them understand the true gravity of their situation.

“Are you staying in Hopetown until your escort arrives from Esan, Princess Silva, or do you wish a mount?” Veretti Ghan asked. She was one of two women on the council and had obviously spent many a year at sea. Her skin had that weatherbeaten, heavily tanned look of an old sea salt.

“I’m here as a Captain of the Guard, not a princess, so there will be no one coming to fetch me.” Though there was definitely a part of me wishing Damon was, if only because I missed his touch. Missedhim. And who’d have thought I’d even be thinking such a thing only a few days ago. “If you could arrange for a mount to be ready at five in the morn, that would be appreciated. And a bed for the night, of course, and perhaps the loan of a scribe pen so I can contact my father.”

Mine remained lashed onto Kaia, along with all my weapons and spare clothing. The pack also held my tracking stone, which no doubt was sending some confusing signals home while Kaia hunted.

“Of course.” She made a flicking motion with her fingers, and the man stationed at the door nodded and slipped away, no doubt to make all the necessary arrangements. “And your drakkon?”

“Hunting in the hills far away from here.”

She nodded but I could see the curiosity in her—and indeed, all of their—expression. A drakkon helping humankind was not something any of us had thought we’d see. But they didn’t ask any more questions about her or my relationship with her. Perhaps they were afraid to. Or perhaps they simply thought both I and the captain were caught in some sort of joint delusion and were merely humoring us until a healer was free to examine our mental facilities.

I rose. “And my room is where?”

“Regus?” she said. “Please escort our royal captain to her room.”

A stout bald man stepped forward and, with a brisk, “This way, please,” opened the door and walked out.

I started to follow, then paused and half turned. “Councilor Ghan, could you also arrange a light breakfast to be brought in for four-thirty?”

She nodded. I thanked her and continued after Regus. The hubbub of raised voices that immediately started once the door closed behind us suggested there was some serious debate happening about me, and perhaps more importantly, Kaia, in that room now that I was no longer present.

Which was good. The more people saw drakkons as a help rather than a hindrance, the more likely it was that people would stop trying to kill them.

We moved at a good clip through the myriad of corridors lined with windows that faced the harbor. Lights danced across the water below us, the reflections coming from the multiple buildings lining the port as well as the hazard lights flickering at the ends of the five docks. I’d suggested a blackout starting immediately, but obviously the word was taking time to get out. Perhaps said order needed to come from my father before they’d put any haste into it. Or perhaps the slow reaction was simply a result of my insistence I be treated as a regular captain rather than the only child of Esan’s king.

Still, I couldn’t help but wonder what sort of fire needed to be set under their butts to get them moving. If this port came under attack and suffered the same disaster as the islands, then those same councilors would be held responsible. I knew my father well enough to be sure of that.

Ifsaid councilors survived, that was. Hopetown did not have the option of volcanic caves to retreat to. None that were close, anyway.

My insistence that I be treated as a captain wasn’t reflected in the nature of my accommodations, and I really couldn’t be sad about that. The room was housed within a curving wing of the main administration building rather than the military section, and it was generously sized, with a sleeping platform covered with an extra-thick mattress and several warm blankets, and a large bath—the latter of which I desperately needed.

I could smell me, and it wasn’t pleasant.

There was also a seating area near the tall windows that faced the harbor, consisting of two well-padded sofas and a small table, the latter holding a generous tray of meats, cheeses, and breads. My stomach rumbled a loud reminder that it hadn’t eaten since breakfast, but it was the steaming pot of shamoke—a bitter brown bean that was mixed with cane crystals to make a pleasant hot beverage—that caught my interest. I not only loved the stuff, I was addicted to it—as anyone who’d seen me in a shamoke-deprived state would readily testify.

Beside it was a scribe pen and its tablet. The council obviously could work with some speed when they wanted to.

I hurried over and poured myself a cup of shamoke, inhaling its strong and earthy scent for several seconds before taking a drink. And sighed in sheer and utter pleasure. After a few more sips, I picked up the quill and began to write. While I had no doubt the council would make a report to my father, he’d be wanting a direct report from me; he’d also want an explanation as to why the tracking stone still showed me aloft when I clearly wasn’t.

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