Page 19 of Magick and Lead (Dragons and Aces #2)

OLLIE

O llie sat in the meager village square, on the porch of the town’s only inn, smoking a pipe, scrying in a cup of tea, and watching.

He watched as the refugees from the other village were fed, treated for their injuries, cleaned up, and taken in by host families.

He watched as Pocha and her crew of five Skrathan departed for Quorn, taking off with a majestic rustle of dragon wings, and he watched them return several hours later, bristling with irritation that their quarry had eluded them.

He watched and listened as Pocha told Lure and Dagar what they’d seen in the village.

The place was destroyed. Any survivors, gone. No sign of the witch and her horde.

And he watched as the conversation turned where he knew it would.

“Where’s Essa?” Pocha asked.

“Haven’t seen her,” Dagar shrugged. “I was with the little dragon all day. He only bit me once, so that’s progress.”

“Essa!” Pocha called.

Lure turned a circle, looking for her, and at last spied Ollie where he sat on his stool.

“Have you seen Essa?” Lure asked.

It was funny. Ollie had been here all day, and this was the first anyone had noticed him.

It was a skill taught among Torouman, to be still and quiet and listen.

But Ollie had perfected his ability as a child growing up in a palace where he was to be the loyal servant to a girl who was last in line for a throne she most likely would never sit upon.

He was always forgotten. Always an afterthought.

But he’d used his irrelevance as a superpower, a cloak of invisibility.

He’d learned to listen. And watch. And he’d grown wise.

But he wasn’t irrelevant anymore.

He took one more slow draw on his pipe and then rose from his stool, stretching.

“Essa is gone,” he said. “She left this morning.”

“Left?” Pocha frowned. “For where?”

“For Admar,” he said.

“What?” Dagar exclaimed.

“She didn’t tell me,” Pocha said.

“Nor did she tell me,” Ollie said. “But she is gone, all the same.”

“But to Admar?” Dagar said in amazement. “Why?”

“To kill the foreigner,” Lure, the sharpest of the bunch, said. “To unbond the little dragon and get her revenge.”

“Precisely,” Ollie said.

“But Essa wouldn’t really kill Kit,” Pocha said.

“Charlie,” Lure corrected. “And yeah, she would.”

Dagar glared at Ollie. “And you let her go? Alone?”

“Not alone,” he said. “Othura is with her. And she didn’t exactly ask my permission.”

“Then how did you know?” Dagar demanded, the anger which had become part of his personality since the loss of his dragon flaring.

“I deduced it,” Ollie said.

“And you did some scrying, I’ll warrant,” Lure said with a nod to the teacup sitting on the table.

Ollie and Lure exchanged a knowing look. Lure was clever. Perhaps a bit too clever for their own good…

“I don’t understand why you’d let her go to such a dangerous place alone if you knew,” Pocha demanded.

“I am but a servant,” Ollie said. “It is not my place to command a queen.”

“She’s not a queen! She’s our friend!” Dagar shouted.

“She’s both,” Pocha said with a sigh, conceding the point. “If Rohree were here, she might have been able to talk her out of it. Or Clua.”

“Yes, I’ve been meaning to ask. Where are those two?” Ollie said. “Not killed when Issastar fell, I hope?”

“Rohree never turned up after she went into the catacombs to investigate those crates from the oracle’s vision,” Pocha said. “Clua volunteered to go and search for her. We haven’t seen her in over a month.”

Ollie nodded, attempting to convey the sorrow his friends would expect him to feel.

In fact, he knew exactly where Rohree was, and Clua would never find her there.

Most likely, the dwarf would die on her quest, consumed by roving golenae.

And that would probably be for the best. Clua was ever a rebellious spirit.

Having her chirping in Essa’s ear would only make the new queen harder to control—and that would endanger them all.

Lure’s dark eyes narrowed. “Ollie. You haven’t told us much about what you’ve been doing these last months. In the ruins of Charcain. Breaking bread with the ones who brought our kingdom to its knees.”

Lure was one of the most powerful Skrathan, a person who exuded danger. But Ollie forced himself to meet their glare.

“What would you like to know, Lure?” he said.

“Oh, stop,” Pocha snapped. “There’s no time for this. We must pack provisions. If we leave now, I’m sure there’s still time to catch her.”

“No,” Ollie said. At the command in his voice, everyone turned to him. “She left this morning. She’ll already be there. In Ironberg, a city of over a million souls.”

“We can use the simnal to contact her and find her,” Pocha said.

“Yes,” Ollie said. “And then? That will be three more dragon riders in the clutches of the enemy. If the Admites capture or kill you all, what then?”

Pocha crossed her arms. “Then what do you propose?”

“I propose nothing,” Ollie said. “In the absence of a monarch, their Torouman acts as regent. And our queen is absent. Therefore, I do not propose, I command.”

All three Skrathan’s eyes went wide—they’d never heard their friend speak this way before. But they knew his words to be true. With Essa gone, Ollie was in charge.

“Alright,” Pocha said through gritted teeth. “Then what do you command?”

Ollie took another pull from his pipe and let out a languid stream of smoke. “First, we will have dinner. Then, we will do nothing.”

“Nothing?” Lure demanded.

“Nothing,” Ollie said, “but wait for our queen to return. For I’ve looked in the scrying waters already. If we leave her to her own devices, everything will turn out for the good.”

“For whose good?” Lure asked, their shrewd eyes narrowed.

Clever, clever Skrathan, Ollie thought. I must challenge Lure to a game of Torzame one day.

“Why, for the good of Maethalia,” Ollie said. “Of course.”