Steelhands - Jaida Jones [189]
Gaeth added this last bit with a deep sigh, and I didn’t blame him in the slightest. Arresting a full-grown man like me—or a scrapper like Antoinette, who could clearly take care of herself—was one thing. Not that we’d deserved it, but we knew the city, and to some extent we understood its pitfalls and dangers, so that even when th’Esar went off his rocker and came flying at us sideways, we weren’t too surprised. But this poor bastard was still a kid, not to mention simple as sweet cream. He had no way of knowing Thremedon’s politics—presumably that’s what he’d come to the city to study in the first place—or what it meant that th’Esar’d decided to re-create his own miniature army, violating a pretty important treaty alongside our trust. Far as I could tell, he just wanted to go home. And I didn’t blame him. Hell, I wanted that, too, and I was a seasoned veteran.
“Where’s your dragon now?” I asked.
“I told her to stay put,” Gaeth said, peering over his shoulder. He looked nervous, and I couldn’t say I blamed him for that, either. Dragon Corps had been staffed mostly by volunteers—the problem had been too many people wanting to join, not too few. I couldn’t imagine what it’d feel like to black out and wake up in a stable, with some mean weasel-faced bastard telling me that I’d been picked to ride one of th’Esar’s finest, without actually having volunteered. “She doesn’t always listen, though. Just like my old Cornflower.”
“Troius told me these dragons always listen to orders,” I said.
“Well, sometimes,” Gaeth said. “But sometimes Cornflower has a few words to say about orders. And sometimes she don’t follow them at all.”
“Interesting,” I said, wondering if the reason for the discrepancy was Troius lying to me or Gaeth having a weaker will. Chances were it was the former—and it made sense Troius’d want to believe everything with the new dragons was working out peachy, since no one wanted to be the first to tell th’Esar that things weren’t running according to plan. Used to be my job. Not anymore. I just hoped Troius would be able to have some real good fun with it.
“I thought maybe I’d try to run away,” Gaeth added. “Not that I’m a runner—my da always said, ‘Face facts, boy’—but if my mam was worrying about not hearing from me, I figured that was more important than honoring my da’s memory. But then I thought, I just don’t know what I’ll do with Cornflower at the farm. She might set fire to the barn, and then Mam’ll have to take her down to the river.”
“Don’t think they’re gonna let you pack up and take her home,” I told him before he could get too carried away.
“But I have to go home,” Gaeth said, concern giving way to plain distress. “I done what they wanted … and I miss the sunlight. Without good exercise, I can’t even sleep proper. You don’t think they mean to keep me here forever, do you?”
“That’s exactly what I think,” I said, wavering for only a moment before I told him the truth. Why sugarcoat it? Because he was poor and from the country? Because I felt sorry for him? Nah. That kind of shit never flew with me. I’d only had one way of talking to my boys, and this Gaeth had a dragon now, which made him one of my boys just by default. If I didn’t toughen him up a little, there was a chance no one would, and he’d end up in pieces somewhere, his fate weighing heavy on my conscience.
Anyway, he took it well, so I knew my instincts hadn’t been all off about him. He just stared at me, breathing in deep before he nodded.
“I guessed it,” he said.
“Wish I didn’t have to confirm your suspicions,” I said, starting to lose feeling in my shackled-up leg.
“But will you help me?” Gaeth asked.
“Don’t know how much I can do from inside here,” I reminded him, clanking the chain a bit for emphasis.
“You could pretend to do what they want, couldn’t you?” Gaeth asked. “That’s what I did—what I’m doing—not that it’s done me much good. But if there’s two of us … And my Cornflower;