“Yes.” Sam was unapologetic. “I’m sorry for the losses, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t get what’s ours.”
Scorio shook his head in disgust and stalked away. Not far. He wanted to be close enough to learn of new developments. He saw Druanna’s head lolling, her braid dragging in the dust.
What could have done that to her?
The Flame Vaults arrived in batches, but they were none the wiser. They’d waited in readiness but never been called. Simeon and Evelyn were stable but safe within the treasure vault.
The camp failed to settle. Everyone stood about, unsure. The day cycle passed agonizingly slowly. Scorio stood with his friends. Nobody had anything to say.
Finally, Ydrielle emerged.
Everybody oriented on her.
“The Pyre Lady is awake,” she called out. “But still weak. She wishes to depart for the Fiery Shoals at first light. House Kraken is about to take control of the Consortium, and she wishes to report the losses as well as ensure the Font is aboard The Celestial Coffer as a gift to the Iron Tyrant. Scorio, Dameon wants to speak with you.”
Everybody stared at him in surprise. For a second he just stood there, blinking, but Ydrielle’s impatient stare prompted him to stride through the crowd.
“Everyone is to rest,” Ydrielle called out, “and resume normal duties after their sleep. I’m heading back down with medical supplies and elixirs, but will return in time to pilot Druanna out. Disperse, everyone.”
The crowd reluctantly did so. Scorio stopped before Ydrielle who looked him up and down. “You’re to be done an honor,” was all she said, then stepped past him.
The hall was dark, the windows shuttered, and Druanna lay asleep before the fireplace on a cot. Davelos sat at the foot of one long table, nursing an ale. Dameon nodded for Scorio to walk with him, and moved to the far end of the hall.
“That was far worse than we expected.” His voice was hushed. “But not as bad as it could have been. If Druanna had died…” He shook his head. “Manticore would have been blamed. As it is, there’s still a chance to salvage this.”
“How can I help?”
Dameon grimaced and passed his hand over his brow. He looked exhausted, face drawn, his blond mop of hair covered in dust and a streak of dried blood. “We need to send people with Druanna to ensure her safe return, and also to honor her rank. She’ll recover some while flying, then heal completely at the Shoals. I want you to go with Ydrielle.”
Scorio went to protest but Dameon raised his hand.
“This isn’t going to look good when Ydrielle arrives. But you’ve a good reputation at the Shoals, and Davelos remembers your speaking with Captain Thorne in Bastion. Are you friendly with him?”
“Not really. He was trying to recruit me for the Iron Tyrant.”
Dameon looked impressed. “Was he now? Well, did you part on bad terms for turning him down?”
“No. He told me to look him up when next I was… ah.”
“Precisely. We’ll send some Flame Vaults with Ydrielle, but your presence will do more than anyone else’s. This is where you can really prove your value to us.”
“But what is it you want me to do?”
“Not much. Make sure nothing goes wrong, really. Make sure Thorne knows that this artifact came from us. I’m not saying Druanna won’t mention that fact, but I don’t want to take the risk. We need to start building our reputation beyond the Plains. This should be—must be—a vital first step.”
“All right.” Scorio fought down the upswell of panic. “I’d wanted to take advantage of the last few days of meditating in the Chasm…”
Dameon laughed softly. “Don’t worry. After this, you’ll get all the mana you need. We’ll be rich. Just make sure Thorne knows Manticore pulled off this project successfully. In fact…”
Dameon paused and stared off pensively into the middle distance.
Scorio raised both brows.
“In fact, let’s force Druanna’s hand. She may be upset with us for what happened below, though… never mind. I’ll show you how to use the artifact. You can provide the demonstration for Thorne. That way Druanna won’t be able to cut us out of the process no matter how bitter she feels about losing her Dread Blazes.”
Scorio hesitated. “Should we withhold that information from a Pyre Lady?”
Dameon seesawed his head from side to side. “If she commands you to reveal the process, obviously do so. We only have so much leverage here. But if you can convince her to let you present the gift, it’ll reflect well on us as well as cement our role in its rediscovery.” Dameon nodded decisively. “Yes. We’ll play it that way. Much as I wish it were otherwise. We have to be pragmatic.”
“Fair enough.” Scorio took a shaky breath. “It’s a four-day trip?”
“Shortest way is to head north, pass Bastion by, then descend again to the Fiery Shoals. Far longer to go laterally, yes.” Dameon blinked and stumbled back. “No, I’m fine. Just… haven’t pushed myself this hard in some time.” He managed a smile. “Guess that teaches me to not neglect my own training as well.” He sat against the edge of the table. “Thank you, Scorio. This is an important task. The future is wide open for us if we can seize the moment. We’ve done the labor. Now we need to get the recognition.”
“If you think they’ll listen to me.”
“Are you joking?” Dameon chuckled. “The man who convinced the White Queen to add civic reform to the Queen’s Accord? Who—well. You know your own successes. By the time you return, we’ll have broken camp and be ready to head back to the Plains. We’ll load everything of value on The Sloop, then cut our way out to the Farmlands. Manticore’s sun has just begun to dawn. But go. Get some sleep. Ydrielle will leave after the fourth night cycle. You’ll want to be as refreshed as possible.”
“Sure.” Scorio hesitated then gave a polite bow. “Glad to be of service.”
Dameon reached behind him and lifted a small case. He popped the lid and revealed a roughly cast golden cup with sapphires mounted around its rim. It looked heavy, precious, and truly a relic from another time.
“Here it is.” Dameon considered the cup, turning it around. “To think it should fit in my hand like any drinking vessel. Anybody can activate it, which is part of its power. They need merely know how. I suppose they were a more suspicious lot back then. Regardless. The process is simple. There are six sapphires, see? Only one had a dot beneath it, this… here. A tiny dimple. That indicates the first stone that you must infuse with mana. You then infuse the third stone along this side, then the fifth—then the sixth, then the fourth, then the second. A simple order, but if you’re ignorant of it the cup remains inert. Even Coal mana should do the trick. Upon activating it the cup fills with Gold mana. Now, repeat the order to me.”
“Dimple, third, fifth, sixth, fourth, second.”
“Precisely so. Don’t write it down. It’s our only leverage.” He returned the cup to its case. “Druanna will carry it, but I doubt she’ll want you to leave her side. Now come, I’ll walk you out. It’s time I spoke with the Flame Vaults.”
Scorio studied Druanna as he left the hall. The flickering flames cast a dancing orange glow over her stern features. A thin vertical line marred her brow as if even now she felt some pain or regret, but her chest rose slowly, steadily, and Scorio left with a certainty that she’d recover.
* * *
Scorio didn’t sleep. His regrets and frustrations kept him awake. Twice he almost arose to ask Valt to lower him into the depths so he could sneak in a final few hours of meditation.
But that was madness. Given how stirred up the Chasm now was, nobody was allowed to descend unless they were part of the Simeon and Evelyn extraction team.
The door had closed.
His opportunity here was over.
And what did he have to show for it?
For one, he was in best shape of his admittedly brief life. But more than that, he didn’t feel like he’d ever been this strong, this tough, this leaned out and compact with heavy muscle. His hands were sufficiently callused that he could probably pluck a lump of coal from a live fire and toss it aside before he burned himself, and his whole body felt alive with potential. Even now, lying in his bunk, he felt ready to leap up and act, strike, work, impose his will upon the world.