Up in Smoke - Katie MacAlister [56]
“He is steadfast in all things,” Fiat agreed, wandering over to stand just barely in view, in front of a marble fireplace. Over the mantelpiece a pair of authentic-looking swords hung, crossed in the traditional manner of weapon enthusiasts. Fiat touched one of the swords, adding in a thoughtful tone, “But much of that comes from experience, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned over time, it’s to never underestimate experience.”
“It is not advice that will regain your position in the weyr,” she responded with acid frankness.
“Perhaps not, but I have found a nugget of gold in that advice.”
“Power flows to the wyvern, not away,” she said in a mocking voice. “How . . . mundane.”
“Oh, it’s not what he said that I find valuable,” Fiat answered, his lips curled in a friendly smile as he tidied a small vase on the mantelpiece. “It’s the memory of when I first heard it that has provided me with a resolution to the current problem.”
“Enough talk,” Bao said, boredom evident in her voice. “I grow weary of this.”
“Then let me tell you a little story, something that will relieve the tedium of your mind,” Fiat said, turning to face her. “Once upon a time, as the mortals so dearly love to say, there lived a wyvern by the name of Baltic. He was a peaceful man, but forced into war by the stupidity and greed of others, dragons who wanted to see his sept disbanded. One day he found his friends departed, his sept all but eliminated, and his very own heir determined to see him dead.”
“I have no time for this,” Bao said, but was interrupted before she could continue.
“With death and the destruction of everything he worked so hard for staring him in the face, Baltic did the only thing he could do.”
“Die,” Bao said. “At the hands of his heir. Baltic was not a brilliant wyvern any more than this is a brilliant anecdote, although perhaps, given your situation, it is apropos.”
“More so than you can possibly imagine,” Fiat said with a smile that chilled my blood.
Bao snorted again and started to say something, but her words were cut short when Fiat, moving so fast he was just a blur, snatched the sword from behind him and leaped out of view, toward Bao.
There was a horrible sucking noise, followed by a wet gurgle, and a thump as something heavy hit the floor.
Fiat backed into view again, wiping a now bloodied blade on a piece of cloth. “As my good friend says, power flows to the wyvern, not away from him.”
He smiled contentedly as he replaced the sword on the wall.
Chapter Seventeen
I clapped a hand over Cyrene’s mouth even before she could draw breath to scream.
“Don’t make a sound,” I whispered, my mouth close to her ear.
Her eyes widened, and she struggled as if she was going to pull away from me and scream her lungs out.
“There is a madman with a very lethal sword just a few feet away,” I pointed out.
She stopped struggling and nodded. I released her and reapplied my eye to the narrow space in the doorway.
Fiat stood at the opened door opposite, calling to someone. A couple of his bodyguards and two others trooped into the room.
“Remove that,” he said nonchalantly, waving toward the area where Bao had stood.
The stark expressions of disbelief on his men’s faces had to match the one I wore; they certainly mirrored Cyrene’s.
“What are you waiting for?” Fiat demanded, raising his voice as his dragons just stood there, clearly too astounded to do anything. “I want that removed, and this place cleaned up. There is much I must attend to, and little time in which to ensure there will be no trouble from the red dragons.”
One of the bodyguards grabbed a blanket that was draped over a chair and moved out of view. He returned hauling what I could only assume was Bao’s body, thankfully covered with the blanket. Another man followed with another object, also wrapped.
“Clean up the blood,” Fiat barked, waving an authoritative hand. “And remove all signs that she was here. Stephano, go upstairs and take care