Inherit the Flame

Chapter Twelve

Enard caught Ripka by the arm in the hall on her way to Dame Honding’s sitting room, causing her to nearly jump clear out of her skin.

“Enard!” she gasped, then stifled a laugh when she saw the embarrassed shock in his eyes.

“I apologize, Captain, I thought you had seen me.”

“Ah, no, that’s my fault.” She ran a hand through her hair and offered him a small smile. “Between the bright berry tea, and my adventures with Honey this morning, I’m wound up tighter than a harpoon spring.”

He frowned. “Tell me.”

She did. It was so very easy to spill her thoughts to Enard. He listened attentively, asking pertinent questions, and as she expressed her suspicion regarding Thratia’s influence in the city via the cafes, his growing alarm reassured her she had not been mistaken, there was a real threat lurking within Hond Steading’s walls.

“That is troubling news. Are you going to report to the Dame?”

“I had thought as much, I have a few marks yet before that performance Latia wants us to join her for.”

“May I go with you? An extra set of eyes and ears couldn’t hurt.”

She grinned, just a touch. “Are you worried about me?”

“I – ah – well. You’re perfectly capable, of course, and Honey–”

She squeezed his shoulder. “It’s all right, Enard. It’s even a little sweet.”

He clamped his mouth closed so hard she watched his lips disappear.

“Come on, let’s see what the Dame thinks.”

They found the Dame surrounded by her attendants, head bowed as she listened to a portly young woman explain something that, by the way she was gesticulating, was of grave importance. Ripka pinched Enard’s sleeve and they found an out of the way spot toward the back of the room to wait, just within sight but not intruding. When the five people who had come to beg the Dame’s ear had said their piece and been sent away, the Dame fixed her gaze – Detan’s gaze – upon Ripka and curled her fingers to gesture her forward.

“Ripka Leshe, Enard Harwit. How are you two finding my city?”

“It is in danger, Dame.”

She pursed her lips in a tight smile. “I am aware of such matters.”

“Not from Thratia’s advance, though that is an obvious threat. No, you have an insurgency brewing from within.”

She stiffened, fingers coiling tight around the ends of her chair’s armrests. “It is only due to my great respect for you as Aransa’s watch-captain that I ask, so tread carefully: explain, quickly.”

Ripka began with her time in Aransa, and her too-late discovery of the honey liqueur crates in which Thratia had hidden her weapons, then moved onto her brief interview with Captain Lakon, and her trip to the bright eye berry cafe. She left out the names of Dranik and Latia, but the implications were strong enough. A taste for revolution was brewing in Hond Steading, and Thratia had lit that spark.

The Dame leaned back in her chair, regarding Ripka and Enard in a silence so stretched Ripka had to resist an urge to fidget. At last, the Dame said, “Do you know how I spent my morning?”

“I do not, Dame.”

She gestured vaguely toward a door to the right of her meeting room. “Negotiating. Treating. Hammering out plans with my empress. Or a representative of her, at any rate.” She sighed. “Her highness is unfortunately unable to travel, and her surrogate leaves much to be desired, in my opinion. Do you know her? Ranalae Lasson?”

Ripka shook her head.

“Ah. Then you don’t quite understand.” Her expression twisted, but she was quick to school it into indifference. “Ranalae. I knew her father, a kind man, but she is no child of his. She has joined the Bone Tower, and spearheads the whitecoats. Yes, I see your horror. I would not treat with them, were there any other option. Rumor has reached me from Valathea in regard to their methods, and I know Detan was in their vicious care, tricked away from me. I should have never let him go, but… They said they could cure him. I should have known better.”

She pulled herself up, rolled her shoulders as if shaking off a great weight. “Regardless, Ranalae is who my empress sent, and while she inquired about Detan’s health she otherwise left the subject alone, she knows it is thin ground on which to tread. She comes offering me troops, fortifications. And if Thratia’s insurgency has taken root in my city, as you claim, then I need Valathea’s aid more than ever.”

Ripka swallowed around a dry throat. “At what cost?”

“Ah.” The Dame smiled. “I knew you were no fool. They ask I rescind Hond Steading’s independent status. That we become a vassal of Valathea in whole, turned over to their rule and their law.” She waved a hand. “No more forums. No more watchers hired by my choosing. It’d mean Fleetmen taking over the streets, while the power transitioned. And, upon my death, they’d appoint a warden of their choosing. Certainly they would allow the illusion of a vote, but the matter would be settled long ahead of time. The Hondings would no longer own this land, we would lease it. And Detan would never be able to return to his home without fear of capture by those–” She cleared her throat. “By his enemies.”

Ripka’s stomach soured. “You would do this?”

“Valathea’s hand on Hond Steading’s tiller, or Thratia’s. I am honestly not convinced that either is the better option. Now I lean toward Valathea, as they at least I know well. The Honding family was once ruled by that governance, and I trust my empress, if not her envoys. We would only go back to how things were in the early days of the city’s settlement. I do not think the upheaval would be so great.”

“How long until the Valathean troops arrive?”

“Two weeks, perhaps. The monsoons may hold them back, but they were already prepared to fly.”

“And when must you give your answer?”

“My dear, I have already given it.”

Ripka clasped her hands behind her back so that the Dame could not see her tighten her fists. “They would have to pass the message. Even with signal flags and the finest runners it would be a while before the troops received orders to move. Thratia is already on her way, or so I surmise. She may be here before them.”

“And if she is, Valathea will be the hammer that smashes them against the anvil of our city. But I have faith that Thratia is not completely mad. She will see reason, I hope, and realize her defeat has already been made.”

“And in the meantime, do I have your permission to root out Thratia’s network here in the city?”

She flicked her fingers, as if brushing the idea away. “If it entertains you, yes. I know you are a woman of action. And the information will be very useful to Valathea, once they arrive.”

Ripka tucked her head in acknowledgement. “Thank you, Dame.”

The Dame dismissed them by turning to a nearby attendant. Back in the hall, heart pounding in her throat, Ripka made a sharp right and angled for the stairs that led up to the smaller airship docks. Enard jogged at her heels, and though her breath came hot and her legs burned from the speed at which she took the stairs, she did not slow down. Not even for a moment.

“Where are we going?” Enard asked, a little breathless.

“To find Tibal. I find myself in sudden need of an airship.”

“What for?”

“I’m going to stop that messenger.”