Steelhands - Jaida Jones [64]
“That’s brave of you,” Luvander said, looking scandalized. “Where’d you get that edge? Is it Arlemagne? You’re going to have to tell me all about them at some point; the best gossip is always Arlemagne.”
“I’m not really sure …” Balfour began, back to his old self.
The banter just served to remind me of how few of us there were; only three where there’d once been fourteen. When I thought of a meeting like this, not too chaotic, everybody present getting his turn to shove a word in edgewise, it felt like somebody walking over my future grave. Sure, there were two more out there—one of them terrifying foreign countries and one of them terrifying foreign seas—but the one terrifying foreign countries, and what he’d found while terrifying ’em, was the reason I’d called this haphazard little meeting together in the first place. Like as not, it was time to bring this meeting of Volstov’s ex-airmen to order.
I cleared my throat.
“Something go down the wrong way?” Luvander asked, looking up at me slyly. “Do you need a pat on the back? I’d feel awful if you choked because of my tea.”
“That’s enough outta you, Luvander,” I said. It sounded just like old times, and boy, did it feel good. Luvander bowed his head and cleared his throat and listened to me, and I stood up from the chair that was too small for me anyway, just so I could be sure I had their full attention front and center. “Got a letter from Rook and Thom a week ago,” I continued. No use beating around the bush and letting them get unfocused again. I almost waited for Compagnon to giggle, then corrected myself, moving on after that a sight more quickly. “Would’ve come to you both sooner, except I needed to look into things myself—exercising my rights as ex–Chief Sergeant. Hope there’s no complaints, or subsequent mutinies.”
“Neither of us is made for leadership,” Balfour assured me. He sounded almost devious when he added, “No offense meant, Luvander.”
“And none taken, Balfour,” Luvander replied blithely.
“Enough chatting,” I said, and set my teacup down. “What I learned from Thom was that, somewhere out in the desert to the south of here, a Ke-Han magician found some way to make Havemercy fly again.” I let that sink in—Balfour in particular looked like he was going to be sick all over the table—then pushed on gamely. “They had enough of the right parts to build her up like a puzzle, and they pulled some trick to get her up and running. But she wasn’t the same as she once was, because whatever magic horseshit they did to her fucked her up. So in answer to your question of whether or not, right now, there’s a dragon flying—there isn’t. Now, the rest doesn’t make much sense to me, since it’s not my area of specialty. All I know is, according to this letter, an agent for th’Esar was involved, which means we have to assume th’Esar knows about all this. He just … doesn’t know I know about it. We know about it. But what we don’t know is more important—what he intends to do about all this. Could be nothing; could be something. My thoughts on the matter are, seeing as who we are, we deserve to know, one way or another. We should be in on his current proceedings.”
“I wish I’d made a more soothing tea,” Luvander said at last over a very difficult silence. Balfour’s fingers were precise enough that he could pinch and twist at the fabric of his gloves, which he was doing, and Luvander, who was usually in constant motion, was sitting as still as the statue of him just outside. “I wish Ghislain was here. And Rook.”
“And all the others,” Balfour added pointedly, “but they aren’t. And maybe it’s for the best. But, Adamo … May I speak?”
I grunted. “No one’s stopping you. Believe me, if I just wanted to hear myself talk, I’d get a mirror instead of bothering you both.”
Balfour looked away, gripping his cup very tightly. With hands like that, I wondered how he didn’t break it. “There isn’t any way for him to rebuild the corps,” he explained slowly. “The magicians wouldn’t allow it. It was a special allowance for Volstov during wartime, but we aren’t at war anymore.