"Well done, Blumore." Nuala patted Blayre firmly on the back.
A group of them sat around a long table in the second story study. The glossy wood caught the warm glow of the dimmed mage-lights. Barely an inch of the wine-colored walls was visible under maps, and lined with book shelves in a room often used for discussions of trade.
"She did spectacularly. Even though things did not go according to plan." Ainslee winked.
"Yes, I quite enjoyed being able to just spend the evening gambling, while Blu over here did the leg work. I won quite a few silvers." Fletcher put in.
"And then lost them all and then some." Ainslee pointed out relentlessly. "And when do you ever do the leg work?"
"At any rate." Nuala tapped her foot impatiently. She was the only one standing, her arms folded across her chest. Fletcher was rubbing his thumb into the table, working out smudges - or creating more, Blayre couldn't tell. Ainslee sat primly in her own chair across from Blayre, and Caval gave off his usual air of casual grace, tilted slightly to the side in his chair, one leg crossed over the other and his hands grasped around a knee.
Blayre thought she would fall asleep on the table if they didn't wrap this up quickly.
She produced the pouch they had obtained from the diviner - in the end they had paid Mortimer Letecha for a scale and a crystal to bring back and research. When she had poured them out onto the table, Nuala leaned over to get a better look. "Caval, could you...?"
The lights in the room intensified. Blayre resisted the urge to groan. It was much too late for this.
Nuala leaned closely over the iridescent scales which gave off fiery flickers of red, blue and purple. "Hmm, smaller than I expected. Weren't dragons supposed to be large? Shouldn't their scales have been bigger?"
"Well, these could have been smaller scales from any of the extremities. Or, it's possible it was a younger dragon. However, it is thought that just prior towards the end of their existence as a species, they were greatly reduced in size, since just prior to their complete extinction, they were only found in captivity." Caval explained.
"What are you, a history book?" Fletcher complained. Ainslee reached out and flicked him in the head.
Caval only smiled. "The study of magical creatures is required of any mage. Mine just happens to be quite more extensive than the usual I would imagine."
Nuala rolled her eyes at Fletcher's remark, but did nothing to rebuke him. Despite Fletcher's earlier misgivings about the mentor, Nuala did very little micromanaging of the triad, and her scolding was usually minimal. "Thank you Sorcerer Caval, your knowledge is quite useful, despite Seeker Fletcher's remarks. "Now, why turn these to crystals? Why not leave them in scale form?" She hooked her fingers into her belt loops.
"Well, the scale can retain magic on it's own. But I would imagine that powdering it increases the surface area. The magic can then be attached to the powder, and turned into a crystal which will retain a higher concentration of magic than a scale alone." Caval rubbed his fingers together, as if there were a powder there.
"And a scale isn't exactly the prime shape for inserting it into one of those magic-flingers - if that's what they're being used for." Blayre murmured softly.
The silence in the room was palpable. They felt all too acutely the danger that this these objects could pose. The crystal that now lay on the table was not the same shape as the ones in Blayre's pocket. She pulled one out, the sunset crystal. It was slim and tapered at one end, while the crystal on the table beside the scale was wider and less cylindrical. It seemed that not everyone knew about the flingers. The ones from Mountainvale were certainly far more aerodynamic.
"Well at least they're a finite resource. Once they use up all these scales - however many there are - that's it. They're gone for good." Caval shrugged.
"Perhaps we need to return to Mountainvale for more investigating." Ainslee suggested.
Blayre's heart sank. She wasn't ready to go back. She hoped that if they did decide to send any of the Seeker's back there, that it was anyone but her Triad. Visiting her home twice in one year was more than she had bargained for when there was an entire country for her to explore.
"Well, boys and girls. I think you've done enough for the night. Sleep in tomorrow if you can." Nuala pushed in the chair that she had been standing in front of.
Despite her prior desperation to get to bed, Blayre suddenly didn't even have the energy to get out of her chair. So she remained where she was, staring at the crystals on the table.
Caval was preparing to file out with the others, but he hesitated in the doorway, hands in his pockets. The lights had dimmed to almost nothing and he began to illuminate them again.
"Don't." Blayre lifted her hand. She'd rather sit in the dark and the silence.
Caval, dimmed the lights again and said nothing, though she felt him move closer. She wanted him to leave. She wanted to be alone.
"Whatever is bothering you. I'm here to talk if need be."
"Thanks," Blayre said. "Maybe sometime. But not right now." She forced a smile. "I should really get to bed."
"I'll walk with you."
She snorted. "Afraid the beasties will snag me whilst I'm walking alone through the dark hallway?"
"No, it's just the kind thing to do." Caval smiled, and it was the kind of smile that didn't ask for anything in return. "Besides, it's on the way to my room."
He stopped at her doorway. "Blayre, I know you're not in the talking mood. But I want you to know, that I admire you. The way you handled yourself back in the mage's den was something completely admirable."
Blayre laughed as she opened the door to her room, brass knob cool on her hand. "And here I thought I had been doing horribly. Ainslee is the one who's good at the acting bit. I usually just observe and retain important details."
"Well, I think in this situation, your no-nonsense tactic got us what we were looking for." His teeth gleamed in the faint light of the hall lamps.
"I suppose it did," Blayre returned the smile. "Goodnight, Cav."
She let herself into her room, feeling more accomplished than she had in a while, since she hadn't had to use her Sense to accomplish the task that evening.
****
Lord Durrighan, Ambassador to the Southern Isles and Lady Alessa's father was a smaller man than Blayre had imagined. Plain and personable, he did not give off the same air of prestige that his daughter did. The sense of entitlement must come from her mother. Blayre thought wryly.
Alessa greeted her father with a fervor akin to a dog assaulting it's favorite human, and Blayre felt yet another pang of jealousy with the raven-haired Alessa as its root cause. Blayre had never had such a relationship with her father, who was ever the reserved gentleman, even in private. She often wondered if the Lord of Blumore would have been any different without being under Lady Marianna's constant disapproving watch.
Duke Rorrick had invited Durrighan to dine with them in the royal town house that evening. Blayre had hoped to get out of the formal dinner, but Alessa had insisted that everyone in their party remain - she didn't want to disappoint her father with a small dinner party. So instead, she sat wedged between Caval and Ripley, wishing she was forking mouthfuls of tavern food into her mouth, rather than delicately picking at the perfectly plated seafood in front of her.
Blayre bit back an amused grin as Fletcher transformed abruptly from his usual slouch, to a well-postured position in the chair across from her. Ainslee had an overly innocent look on her face, her chin resting in her hands.
The food was good, Blayre had to admit. Even if it wasn't the casual and comforting fare she usually preferred. Caval carried on easy conversation to her right, while Ripley remained stoically silent to her left. Blayre did her best to pay attention to Caval's discussion, but her eyes continually strayed to Rorrick at the head of the table. She clenched her teeth between bites as Lady Alessa on his left, placed a hand delicately on his arm, the jewels on the young woman's fingers and wrist twinkling under the golden mage-lit chandelier. She laughed in conversation with her father.
Rory's ocean eyes met Blayre's and she feigned a sudden interest in the damask tablecloth, tracing the swirling pattern with the tip of a finger. That moment up in her room the other night - the spark had been undeniable, but she knew that she had to smother it, for it could never become the churning flame that she wanted it to be. Rorrick was not hers to have. No matter what he said he truly wanted in life.
"I'm sorry, what were you saying?" She had missed a good chunk of Caval's anecdote about sailing in the south.
Caval smirked, "Perhaps you and Ripley should be taking shifts through the dinner hour instead of watching him like a pair of hawks." He motioned to the head of the table. "You might be able to enjoy your meal."
Ripley cast an icy glare in Caval's direction. Caval merely took a sip of his cocktail, raising his perfectly groomed eyebrows. "It's the truth. His grace will certainly live to a ripe old age with the two of you to guard over him."
"I'd like to go sailing sometime." Blayre said, attempting to turn the subject. "I've never been. It sounds exhilarating." She forced her attention to remain on Caval.
"Sailing on the ocean sounds slightly terrifying." Ainslee shuddered. "At least out on the lakes, there's always land in sight."
Despite coming from a family of fishermen, Ainslee was not a strong proponent of water activities.
"Well, we can perhaps rent a boat while we're here, if we have the time," Caval said, "Ainslee, I assume you will be remaining behind where you can see and touch the land."
The redhead nodded vehemently. "I can name about a hundred things I'd rather be doing." She laughed.
"If I have the time to slip away at all." The sense of duty was always in the back of her mind, like a persistent cat, pawing to be pet. She was on an assignment - she couldn't exactly just hop on a boat and sail away for the afternoon - and she couldn't think of any way that it would help her with her cause.
A room on the back of the house featured a private patio. A humid breeze lifted the curled strands of Blayre's hair that weren't quite long enough to stay in her kempt braid. She stood stiffly as one of the servants poured yet another glass of drink. This one glittered like liquid gold, and bubbled pleasantly against her tongue. Was Alessa intentionally trying to inebriate them?
"Ugh this stuff is amazing." Ainslee cooed beside her.
"It is, but I think I'll just about float away if they give us any more."
"Oh, it's okay have a little fun, Blayre." Ainslee pulled on her arm, her golden drink sloshing slightly from its glass flute. "We're in Port Roubeles."
"Yes, the illegal magic capital of Emares." Blayre said, under her breath.
"But also the trade capital of Emares," Fletcher piped in.
"Yes, but you only care because trade is how your family makes all their money." Blayre laughed. "On the way here you were complaining that the markets smell like piss."
"So they do, but I had forgotten how good the drink was." He waggled his eyebrows.
Blayre rolled her eyes, and made her way slowly to the outer edge of the patio where most of the others were spread out. Caval and Nuala were deep in conversation. She glanced toward Rorrick, the setting sun turning his curls molten as he conversed with Lord Durrighan and Alessa. She touched one of the crystals in her pocket - the one that resembled a sunset. Between them Ripley stood alone, staring into his drink like it held the answer to everything
He glanced up when she approached, his look icily dark.
"You don't want to be here anymore than I do, eh?" Blayre set her drink on the railing and leaned her forearms onto it.
This earned a small, rare smirk from him. "No." He straightened and glanced back toward Rorrick. When his gaze returned to Blayre, his face had regained its former composure.
They stood in silence for some time, with the murmur of voices around them. Blayre took another sip of her drink.
"In the Southern Isles," She could hear Lord Durrigan saying, "The rich are beginning to obtain these weapons..." Blayre perked up, elbowing Ripley, who glanced at her, confused. She jutted her jaw in the ambassador's direction.
"They can propel objects, but not very far." Durrighan continued, "Doesn't seem very useful compared to a bow or an arrow."
Blayre caught Rory's eye, and this time she did not shy away from his glance. How close had the assassin who had embedded him gotten? He - or she had been under tree cover - so they couldn't have been too distanced. But even an archer would have had to get close in that type of environment.
And what was the connection between the crystals found in Mountainvale and those all the way in Port Roubeles on the other side of the Kingdom? She glanced toward Caval. She had a feeling the magical creature adept would know the answer.