A sense of renewed purpose and vision catapulted Blayre into action. She took the staircase down two steps at a time, barely feeling them beneath her feet. Instead she was absorbed in her Sense. The explosion had been set off by magic, and she had absorbed the imprint before it disappeared.
If the Roof Top Inn had been chaos, the street below was complete pandemonium. But the shouts of the crowd were distant in Blayre's ears, and she felt numb and detached as she pushed past people to get to the scene of the crime. A high pitched whine hummed in her ears, and her body trembled with adrenaline.
The City Guard had swarmed the charred remains of the dragon float, and were working to turn away curious citizens. Blayre sneezed when she approached it, and lights danced in front of her eyes as the magical sensation engulfed her. Shaken out of her trance by the sneeze, she realized that one of the guards was moving toward her, with the intent of pushing her away.
"We are Seekers, let us through." The voice behind her was Fletcher's. She hadn't realized he had followed her. She turned and saw him holding out his Crown sigil pin.
The guard squinted at the pin and nodded, "Head over there to the sergeant. He'll be wanting your help."
But Blayre didn't want to stay here in this one spot. She had the evidence she needed and she wanted to sniff out a trail. But Fletcher, and Ainslee - who had followed them over - needed other confirmation and evidence to trace.
She glanced Eastward. What if they were headed to the palace while the triad stood here dithering with the city guard? Was she compromising Rory's life by continuing to her secret like a coward?
Fletcher and Ainslee were crouched on the ground beside the charred parade float, and Fletcher motioned her over. "Come look at this."
Blayre squatted down beside them, feeling the pulse of magic as it thrummed from the float like a failing heart beat - becoming sluggishly slow as time passed. "Think we should gather some of the damage? Just some scrapings? The mages might be able to analyze them."
"Sure," Said Blayre. "But I think they should just bring this in its entirety back to the palace."
"Aye," Said the sergeant, "We'd planned on that."
"Cover it up with something first," Said Blayre. "Enough people have seen it already." The Sergeant nodded and began to bark out orders to his guard troop.
"Let's go," Said Blayre. "Lingering here won't help. We need to find this culprit."
"Or culprits," Ainslee pointed out, brushing the dirt off her hands onto her thighs as she stood. The motion left dusty streaks in the brightly colored trousers that she was wearing for the parade celebration.
Blayre led her triad through the city streets, glancing around on high alert, her skin tingling with the ghost of the magical sensation that had been set off in the float. She could still feel something faint nearby.
"Stop," hissed Ainslee. "I want to show you something. But I wanted to get away from there first." She reached into her pocket and produced a crystal.
Blayre's breath hitched, and she reached out to touch it, feeling the slight sensation of magic as it leaked out of the object. The three of them did not have to speak about it to confirm that it was the same type of cylindrical and pointed object that had shown up elsewhere.
Ainslee put it back in her pocket, "I didn't want them to take it to Holt. They have yet to do anything with that collection I brought back from Mountainvale."
Blayre was surprised at her friend's suspicion.
Fletcher piped in,"You think Holt..."
"Hsst. Shut up." Ainslee hissed, glancing around them. "Not here. Discuss later!"
"Alright," said Blayre, resuming her stride toward the palace. It had been the object - the dragon crystal - that she had been sensing. But they wouldn't find the mage who had activated it unless he or she were using their magic - unless they were as leaky and untrained as Ripley.
It seemed that word of the attack had traveled faster than they had, and there was heightened security even at the side gates of the palace wall. Once they had been ushered through, Blayre began to rush into the main building.
"Blayre! We have to check in with the Commander."
Blayre turned to Ainslee, giving off the impression of a rabid dog. "To all hells with Commander Holt." She snapped, "What is he going to do? Hide the evidence again? Send us away so we're out from underfoot?"
"Blayre." Fletcher cautioned, glancing around as though Holt himself might appear spontaneously in front of them. "We can't do anything about it now. The guards have heightened security already. And there was no direct threat made to anyone." He placed a tentative hand on her shoulder.
The physical contact only made her more frustrated. They couldn't understand. She could do something without the assistance of the commander. She didn't need anyone really, to hunt down this mage. And she was tempted to find Caval or Ripley to come find the culprit with her.
Deep breaths, Blumore, deep breaths. She thought, closing her eyes tightly. "Getting angry won't get you anywhere, if you act irrationally." Her mentor had always said. Usually after a particularly large bout of frustration on her end.
"But if you take that anger, and mold it into something useful, that my dear is a different thing entirely."
She needed to calm herself. She needed to focus. "Let's split up then," Blayre suggested. "The two of you report to Holt, and I will follow up with the Palace guard to be sure that the city guard has informed them properly."
Ainslee looked reluctant, but Fletcher grasped her by the arm. "She's right. We need to be sure that everyone has been properly alerted."
"But of course they've been alerted. The guards at the gate already knew."
"And they would be the first to know," Blayre pointed out. "If they're the first line of defense. I'll meet you guys back in the mess hall for supper." She wasn't hungry at all, at the moment and wondered when she would be. Thank god she had only had that one drink.
Stupid. Allowing Seaver and Avery to persuade them to go to the rooftop had been stupid. What if she could have stopped it from below?
Dwelling on the "what ifs" was also not going to get her anywhere. Blayre sucked air in slowly through her nose and let it out through her mouth. With a renewed sense of calm - albeit a cold and calculated one, she moved further into the palace.
****
For her, tracking down Rory tended to be one and the same task as tracking down Ripley. Once she could feel the unmarked mage's magic, the Duke was almost certain to be nearby. And if he wasn't, Ripley could recite exactly where he was.
The guards, familiar as they were with Blayre, barely acknowledged her as she burst her way into the duke's study. Idiots. She seethed. They were far too trusting. Either they were still completely uninformed, or they were just not as thorough as necessary when guarding the heir to the Crown. Nevermind that Rory was laid back as they came - these guards still had a duty to protect him.
At least he had Ripley. Though Rory's guard dog could be moody and irksome, at least he took his post seriously. She often wondered - did he do it merely out of friendship, or was there more to the unmarked mage's protection of Rory?
"Your guards need to do a better job of not letting just anyone stride in here." She announced unceremoniously, the sound of her booted footfalls changing from a loud "clop clop" to a muffled padding on the carpeted runner that led to the Duke's desk.
The room was well lit with large windows, the curtains thrown open to let in the afternoon sun, and a candle burned on one small table, giving off an aroma of pine and musk.
Rory was looking at her up and down with appreciation. A slight smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. "My dear Blayre, they know you well. There is no reason for them to give you a pat down every time you approach me."
She rolled her eyes toward Ripley. This was one of the rare occasions where she felt the unmarked mage was more of an ally than a nuisance to her when it came to Rory. The mage gave a small snort.
Blayre planted her palms on the edge of the redwood desk and leaned forward. "Your Grace, I do not mean to startle you, but there has been an - attack of sorts down at the parade."
Rory's fountain pen stilled on the page he was writing on, his turquoise eyes met hers. Blayre realized he had been scribbling out figures. Ripley smoothly removed the pen from the Duke's grasp before the ink could pool on the parchment.
"When?"
Days ago? Hours? Mere seconds? It felt like all of those things at once. "Just now, your Grace. I came as soon as I left the scene."
"The scene? You were there?" Rorrick stood abruptly, flinging his chair back and moving around the desk to grab Blayre by the upper arms, his eyes searching as though making sure she was completely whole and undamaged in front of him.
"I witnessed it. There were no injuries, but," She glanced at Ripley, suddenly uncomfortable to have to say this in front of him. "It was more a of a threat."
"A threat to whom?" Rory's eyes locked onto hers.
"I-I'm not entirely sure." She glanced at Ripley again.
Rory, finally getting the hint, motioned for Ripley to leave the room. "Close the door when you exit." He told him.
Alone, Rory looked at her and suddenly leaned in, wrapping his arms around her so his hands entwined in her long hair and pressing his lips against hers. She allowed it for a moment, reveling in the distraction and security his embrace afforded her. She forced herself to pull away, wriggling free. This was serious, and she needed to focus. She needed him to focus.
"I'm sorry," He said, pushing a piece of Blayre's hair away from her face. "I know, I'm the one who is trying to keep from leading you in this direction, but you scared me."
"I'm not hurt, Rory." She smiled lightly in spite of herself. She pulled away and moved a few paces toward the window. It overlooked the stableyard, she realized. Two stories up, it gave an excellent vantage point. And beyond the stables, the pastures of green grass speckled with blue and yellow wildflowers.
He followed her to the window, and she could feel the bulk of his presence behind her, a warm looming shadow in her peripheral. She explained the situation to him, painstakingly describing every detail. When she'd finished, Rory had a strange and distant look in his eye.
"I'm not sure who the threat was toward," Blayre confessed when he didn't speak. "I would assume the Royal family though. Or perhaps the kingdom in general. And I'm not sure who carried it out."
Rory's hand was resting on the frame of the window, "I might know, but I'm not inclined to share the information with you just yet."
It felt like a stab to the chest. Does he not realize he can trust me? She needed to know, so that she could protect him from it. If he knew, and he was withholding it...
You're not privy to everything that the Crown knows. You're just in service to them. They can tell you what they deem is appropriate, Blumore. She chided herself. The lines were blurred when it came to Rory - the lines that had always guided her in what was proper, and what was not in her line of work. Having always been the curious type, Blayre had never particularly enjoyed the fact that her superiors chose to keep details from her, but she had let it go as part of her job, and duty.
But her relationship to Duke Rorrick de Vihrea, next in line to the Emarian throne, was more than just duty, and had been for some time now.
"Thank you for telling me, Blayre. I promise - you'll know soon. I will tell you soon."
She nodded to him, he must have seen the look of hurt on her face, so she schooled her visage into something more smooth and professional.
"If you think any of the information is pertinent to your well being, be sure to tell me." She appealed to him.
"Of course." He touched her on the cheek. "Thank you for coming straight to me." He began to walk her to the door.
"Rory?" She began turning to him before the door was opened and it was no longer just the two of them.
"Hm?"
"Take care where you place your trust, your Grace." She said, and strode between the line of guards into the hallway.
__________________________________________________________
What to read while you wait for next week's update:
Two Thousand Years by druidrose. This is a little bit contemporary, but mostly an adult Narnia-like fantasy, where a twenty-something Bostonian, Alex, finds herself transported to a different and much more magical realm that she is the supposed Empress of. There are some dark forces at work and she must work to stop them. REALLY great completed book. I binge read this one. AND it has sequels. You're welcome ;).