“There’s a silver dragon over some property down here, and something is on fire,” Ahn said.
“It’s Ry—Lieutenant Ravenwood’s estate, sir,” Trip added, hoping Zirkander would understand that meant something to him. He was worried about the capital, but he couldn’t leave Rysha to battle the silver dragon—and whatever scheme this nobleman was enacting—alone.
“Must be nice to have an estate,” someone said. Pimples?
“Not if a dragon is always lighting it on fire,” Duck drawled. “Do we—awk, look out!”
Machine gun fire banged over the crystal.
“Come help us when you’re able,” Zirkander said. “We’ve got a mess up here.”
“Yes, sir.” Ahn was flying in circles above Trip, and she looked down at him. “Colonel Grady says we need to go join them, but you and Ravenwood can stay here and deal with the silver. And then come to help.”
“Good,” Trip said, relieved nobody was ordering him away. He had already landed, and the horseback riders were glancing his way. He wanted to reach them before they decided to run.
The bronze coward is skulking away, but I shall fly to the city to assist with the battle, Bhrava Saruth announced. Trip had almost forgotten about him and Telmandaroo. Since Shulina Arya has unwisely refused my magnificent help.
She seems to refuse a lot you offer her, Trip remarked, powering down his flier and unfastening his harness.
She does. It is extremely odd. I am a very handsome dragon, far superior to that crusty elder that wanted to rub her scales earlier.
Bhrava Saruth flew overhead on his way toward the capital, and Ahn’s flier also sailed off in that direction. The buzz of her propeller soon faded.
Feeling alone and outnumbered, Trip took a deep breath as he strode toward the group of men. There were six of them. Normally, he wouldn’t find that daunting, but if they were all nobles, dealing with them would be tricky. They wouldn’t likely be intimidated by a soldier.
Trip had thought they might take off down the road when he approached, especially if they were engaged in something nefarious, but they continued talking and pointing and didn’t seem concerned about him.
With a pistol on one hip and Azarwrath on the other, and in his full army uniform, Trip hoped he looked authoritative. He let a little of his scylori show as he approached the group, but then decided it might be better to let it all out, especially if he hoped to get the truth from Lockvale.
Several of the men looked down at him from atop their horses, but Lockvale did not. He made a point of yawning and looking toward the smoke.
“Do you think the fire will spread to the house?” he asked, the words for his comrades, not for Trip. “That would be unfortunate. Much trouble has befallen this family this spring, hasn’t it?”
Nobody answered him. His five comrades were looking at Trip in the fading light, their mouths parted, as if stunned.
“What do you have to do with it, Lockvale?” Trip asked bluntly, not wanting to dawdle, not with Rysha chasing a dragon and a battle going on in the capital.
Finally, Lockvale turned to look down at him. His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t seem as affected as the others by Trip’s aura. “Commoner, I insist that you call me Lord Lockvale.”
Trip hadn’t made a fuss at the Ravenwood’s family dinner, and he regretted it now. If he had been more straightforward and hadn’t worried about offending people, he might have learned enough to keep this fire—and who knew what other damage had been done?—from occurring.
“Get off your horse, Lord Lockvale,” Trip said, putting some of his power in his voice. “Let’s talk.”
Three of the men Trip wasn’t looking at scrambled off their horses. Lockvale started to shift, as if to dismount, but caught himself and sneered. He glanced toward Azarwrath.
“I don’t know what power you think that sword gives you, but if you use it on me, I’ll report you for molesting a nobleman.”
Trip willed Lockvale to float into the air, eliciting a startled cry from the man. The horse neighed with fear and ran off. Trip set Lockvale down on the road, facing him. Fury burned in the man’s eyes. Trip scraped through his surface thoughts, but the nobleman was too busy being furious with him to think about what had caused the fire.
“Are you aligned with the silver dragon bothering the Ravenwoods?” Trip asked.
“You don’t get to question me, you arrogant boy. You think because you wear an army uniform you have authority over the nobility?”
The men around him shifted backward, as if all they wanted was to avoid notice. And Trip did ignore them. He held Lockvale’s gaze and tried to find the answers he wanted.
His question had prompted the man to think of an image, of him standing in front of a silver dragon, offering a plate of apples and speaking. Speaking of plans to force Lord Ravenwood, a school rival from years back who Lockvale had never liked, to sell his land for a fraction of its worth. Since Lockvale’s father had lost most of his family’s land, he felt it his duty to acquire an estate for his children and siblings, so they needn’t join the growing legions of the noble poor who’d lost so much of their power and influence over recent generations. And if he could take Ravenwood’s excellent estate, the land so fertile and so close to the city? That would certainly be ideal.
Lockvale raised a hand to his temple, and alarm flashed through his emotions for the first time.
“What did you offer the dragon to get him to comply?” Trip asked. “Surely, not just apples.”
Lockvale’s sense of alarm tripled at this proof of mind reading.
“Get out of my head,” he shrieked, glancing at his buddies and waving at Trip, as if to order them to do something.
Trip looked coolly at them, and nobody moved. Some scurried farther back, not noticing that they stepped into thick mud beside the road.
“What did you offer the silver dragon?” Trip repeated, rummaging through Lockvale’s thoughts again.