“The locals? Nothing, really.”
Dorson intervened, clearly trying to regain some kind of command over the situation. “The original scouting flight saw houses. They aren’t Tser-zhag, are they? All our reports say this is beyond the edge of the territory controlled by Tser-nga.”
“It is well beyond their control,” I said firmly. “In fact, the people here have been cut off from outside contact for a very long time. They—”
Andrew crowed in delight, throwing his arm around my shoulder. “You found a hidden mountain kingdom! Is it like the ones in the legends? Is there a palace of gold around here somewhere?”
He turned as if to look for a palace of gold, which made me very worried that he might see Ruzt instead. Fortunately for me, Dorson snapped out a sharp reprimand: “Captain Hendemore!”
My brother whipped back to face his commanding officer, startled almost to the point of saluting. “Sorry, sir. It’s just—my God. She’s alive!”
“I can see that,” Dorson said.
A sudden thought came to me, strong enough that it diverted me from my own course. I clutched at Andrew’s hand. “Tom. Where is he?”
Andrew looked about as if expecting Tom to materialize at his elbow. “That’s odd. Why hasn’t he—”
Dorson coughed. “I’m afraid Sir Thomas is still asleep.”
“Asleep?” I echoed, staring. Then I remembered our own flight from Vidwatha. “Dear God. The laudanum.”
“We had to dose him pretty strongly,” Andrew said, looking embarrassed. “But he insisted. Said your husband and that Yelangese fellow were out here looking for your body, and that on his own he’d have a better chance of scaling the pass from this side. He was awake for the flight yesterday, but two days in a row seems to have done him in.”
Sure enough, Tom was curled up beneath several blankets in one end of the gondola. He was not, as Dorson had claimed, asleep; he was merely thoroughly fuddled. “Tom,” I said, crouching in front of him. “Tom, wake up.”
Andrew leaned over the edge of the gondola. “Look who we found, Wilker! No need to search for her body; she’s been kind enough to bring it to you, alive and well.”
I knew my brother’s lighthearted tone was a mask for his feelings. Tom’s response was to shake his head. His words more than a little slurred, he said, “I may need opium to ride in this infernal thing, but I refuse to become the sort of opium-eater who converses with his delusions.”
“I am not a delusion,” I said. It did not come out quite as tartly as I wished, for the rejoinder stuck a little in my throat. I could see a gleam at the corner of Tom’s eye, threatening to fall. “A delusion would not tell you that she has solved the puzzle of that plaster cast—you know the one I mean. And if you get up, you will soon have a chance to see the solution with your own eyes.”
This roused Tom enough for him to lift his head. “Actually, she might say that. But—” His mouth wavered. “But she would not look like ragged hell when she said it. Isabella—”
“It is me,” I assured him. Then he came surging up out of his blankets to throw his arms around me; and I did not care how many soldiers were looking on, or whether this might renew any rumours about the two of us. I was coming to realize that after a winter isolated among Draconeans, it would take a very long time before I was tired of being embraced by those I loved.
Before we separated, though, I whispered quietly in his ear. “Gather your wits as fast as you can. Suhail and Thu are here, but their safety depends on our keeping the peace.”
He stared at me as I drew back, but I dared not say any more. Colonel Dorson was waiting with thinly concealed impatience as I climbed out of the gondola once more, leaving Tom to pull himself together. “I imagine you have a hell of a story to tell, Lady Trent.”
“I do indeed, Colonel. But before I do, I must ask: what are your intentions here?”
Clearly this was not the direction Dorson had expected our conversation to take. “That is a military matter, Lady Trent. I am very glad to see you alive, but I must remind you that your status as a scientist, or even as a peer of the realm, does not give you the authority to inquire after such things.”
My mouth was very dry. “Ah, but I am not asking as a peer of Scirland, nor even as a scientist. I am asking as the appointed emissary of—of a foreign nation.”
Andrew’s arm dropped from my shoulder. He and Dorson were not the only ones staring at me; by now the caeliger was fully secured, and the men from it were watching this exchange with interest. To my surprise, a number of them were Yelangese. Khiam Siu? They must be; only our rebel allies would be here, walking free in the midst of a military expedition.
Their presence only furthered my suspicions. “Let me guess: you are looking for an aerial route by which to invade Yelang. No—something more than that. Our caeligers cannot traverse these mountains so easily that overleaping the whole mass in one step would be feasible, not by anything other than the most lightly manned craft.” The Sanctuary stretched out before us, the peak of Anshakkar shining in its center. My mouth kept working, taking input but no caution from my brain. “You want to use this as a base. It lies beyond Tser-zhag authority, and is unknown to the outside world; if you could establish yourselves here, then you could mount patrols or military excursions at will. It would allow you to control this entire region.”
“Well, yes,” Andrew said, as if he saw no point in denial.
“Captain Hendemore.” This time Andrew did salute, but Dorson was no longer paying attention to him. “I see the keenness of your intellect is not exaggerated, Lady Trent. But what in God’s name do you mean, calling yourself the emissary of a foreign nation? Are you talking about whatever yak-herders live here? I hardly think they can call themselves a nation, and I fail to see why they would need to appoint anybody to speak on their behalf. Or are you working for the Tser-zhag king?”