During those days, the newly designated Governor-General Abrena continued to consolidate the knights' hold over the city. A few more bands of surviving knights arrived in Neraka and were quickly assimilated into the new army. Recruits arrived, too, singly or in groups, and they were assigned to talons-in-training out in the tent quarters. Sara studied every new face she saw, and thus far her luck held. No one recognized her.
The general ordered her to attend as squire at several more dinners, but while Sara listened avidly, she learned little more about the general's future plans for the knighthood or how Mirielle intended to accomplish her goals. All she found out was the prices of goods on the black market, plans for the renovation of an interesting place called the Arena of Death, and how to charm city officials without actually saying anything meaningful.
Sara was going back to the Red Quarter one night after one of Mirielle's dinners when she saw Knight Officer Massard at the gate to the Queen's Way. There was nothing in his demeanor that caused her alarm, nothing that warned her of his intentions. He looked as if he had been drinking, but that was nothing new. She saw him leaning against a tavern wall just outside the gate, and for a moment she thought she could walk past him in the dim light without his noticing her.
He had no intention of letting her pass. She was just two paces away when his head snapped up. He lunged at her and his hand grabbed her arm. His fingers dug painfully into her muscle. "Come with me," he snarled, and he dragged her into the shadows of the deep alley beside the noisy tavern.
Sara had no choice. She could not break free of his powerful grip, and because she had been attending the general, she had no weapons with her. Her mouth went dry and her heart pounded painfully in her chest.
"I know you," he hissed in her ear. "It took me a few days to work it out. You're Ariakan's whore. The one who escaped from Storm's Keep." He shook her fiercely, his hands on both her arms. "What are you doing back? Why are you in Neraka? Who sent you here?"
"Nothing! No one!" Sara managed to gasp through the violent shaking.
He shook her again and slammed her against the wall of the building that loomed over them. "Don't lie to me. I know better than that. I'll take you before the General and let you tell her. I'm sure she'll be glad to pay a reward for a spy."
Something in what he said leaked through the pain, and a spark of hope lit in Sara's thoughts. "If it's only a reward you're interested in," she gasped, "perhaps I could find something you would like."
He chuckled and pressed her tightly against the wall. His foul breath fanned her face, and his rough beard rasped against her cheek as he whispered, "I'm sure you could." He rubbed a rough finger against her cheek. "I always wanted to see why Ariakan kept you around. Give yourself to me… and bring me fifty pieces of steel. With that, I can be quiet for a long time."
Sara shuddered from head to toe. Fury and repulsion surged through her. She knew, however, that without a weapon or help, she could not escape. She had to buy herself some time. "That's impossible. Where am I going to find fifty pieces of steel?"
He laughed again, the fumes of ale and spirits thick on his clothes and breath. His hand caressed her neck, then he circled his fingers tightly around her throat. "I don' care where you get them. If you want to live, you'll find a way. The knights don't look favorably on renegade spies. Think about that. Bring the coins and yourself to my tent before the end of three days and I'll forget that I ever saw you at Storm's Keep." He kissed her hard before he shoved her away and went laughing out of the alley.
Sara wiped her lips with her sleeve, spat on the ground to rid her mouth of his foul taste, and wiped her lips again. Abruptly her knees gave way and she sank down on a barrel.
Oh, gods, she cried silently, now what do I do? There was no possibility she would meet his demands. She could not beg, borrow, or steel fifty pieces of steel in this city, and there was no chance she would ever give herself to that brute of a man. She would prefer take her chances with the knights' adjudicator rather than submit to Massard even once. And she realized once would not be enough for him. Like most blackmailers, he was greedy. He had a powerful hold on her he could use time and again to twist her to his will.
No, she had to find another way to silence him. At least she had three days to devise something. Whatever she decided to do would have be handled carefully and discreetly. She did not want to jeopardize her position in Neraka if she could help it. There was too much at stake.
Cold and angry, Sara pushed away from the barrel and made her way back to the street. As she stepped out into the light radiating from the busy tavern next door, she glanced both ways to make sure Massard was gone. Warily she left the streets and alleys of the inner city and exited the main gates to return to the tent quarter.
On second thought, she angled out beyond the tents to where the practice fields lay wrapped in darkness. Cobalt, she knew, had dug himself a cave out in the highlands beyond the valley. When he was not hunting or spending time with her, he returned to his cave to rest. He seemed to prefer the solitude to the company of other dragons.
Around her neck hung a leather cord she kept beneath her tunic. On the cord, she had strung three of Cobalt's sapphire scales, each about the size of a small child's palm. Satiny smooth and iridescent in the sun, they took the place of the lily brooch she gave to Mirielle as a focus for her ability to summon dragons.
When she conceived the idea, she didn't know if it would work without the magic inherent in the black lily. Fortunately dragons had their own kind of magic, and the scales bore enough vestigial power to be effective enough. She used that power now, coupled with her own mental energy, to send a call to Cobalt.
He came winging silently, like an inky shadow against the black sky, and landed beside her. "What's wrong?" he asked immediately.
Quietly she told him everything, and when she finished, she leaned against his leg and let his closeness sustain her.
The night lay cold and silent around them. Clouds still obscured the sky and blocked the light from the stars, so the only light came from the distant torches in the tent camps across the field.
"I could dispose of him for you," the dragon offered.
Sara smiled in the darkness. "I thought of that. But let's wait. His disappearance could be awkward, and if anyone pinned the blame on you, the other dragons would kill you."
"You could hire an assassin. There are probably dozens of people who would like to get rid of him."
Sara said glumly, "Doubtless. But first I'd have to find one in time, then I'd have to pay him-which I can't-and hope he'd keep quiet."
"Do you want to leave?"
"Not yet. But stay close." She rubbed a hand down his smooth scales and said thoughtfully, "I'd like to find something to hold over him, some way we could reach a standoff so he would leave me alone and I could leave him alone."
Cobalt dropped his head so his golden eyes glimmered close to Sara's face. "Massard does not seem to be a 'standoff' kind of human. Watch your back."
They did not talk anymore but curled up together in the night, Sara wrapped in the protective circle of Cobalt's neck.
In the morning, Massard was back in the tent quarter, looking no worse than usual. He said nothing to Sara beyond a barked order for breakfast and generally ignored her while he took the talon on another cross-country run.
Sara was slowly getting stronger from the frequent endurance runs, and she could now keep up with the younger men and women without as much difficulty. Her new strength gave her more time to think as they jogged over the barren and frost-cracked ground, but try as she might, she couldn't think of a good solution to her problem with Massard. If only he would have the courtesy to fall into a bottomless fissure somewhere out on the valley floor.