Wise headed for the doorway but halted. Fel stepped into view, his face slick with blood and his clothes torn. He held his crossbow, a quarrel loaded, and aimed it at Wise, who stopped and lifted his hands.
Vorik, who looked like he’d expected Fel at any moment, barely reacted, only flicking a finger for his lieutenant to go another way. There wasn’t another doorway out of the room, but Wise climbed up the rock pile far more easily than Syla had, then disappeared onto the roof, a few shards of stone falling in the aftermath of his passing.
Fel shifted his crossbow to point at Vorik’s chest.
Vorik snorted softly but didn’t object. Unlike the rest of them—Teyla was just visible leaning against a wall behind Fel’s shoulder—hewasn’t injured, at least not that Syla could detect. And, unlike his lieutenant, he had the magic of his dragon bond, enhancing him far beyond normal human capabilities. He could likely have darted across the room and disarmed Fel without much trouble.
For several minutes, they stood in that position, nobody moving. Even though Fel had his crossbow pointed at Vorik, Syla was the one who felt like a prisoner.
Sooner than she expected, rocks shifted overhead, and Wise climbed back down. He carried a ceramic amphora so coated in cobwebs and dust that one couldn’t have discerned if any designs or decorations marked the side except that the front had been wiped clean. Wise must have used his shirt. The clean spot revealed a painting of a tree with a cylindrical-shaped bulbgrowing out of a patch of moss. Further, Syla’s hand warmed in its presence, and her moon-mark glowed again. Cheerfully.
“I think this is what we need, sir. I broke the seal to look inside.” Wise shook his hand, as if some magic might have zapped him when he’d done so. “There’s a gray-green powder, and it glows like…” Wise looked at Syla’s moon-mark, then set down the amphora. He wiped dust off the lid and opened it. Silver moonlight flowed out, shining on all of their faces.
“Oh, brilliant,” Teyla said, eyes alight as she leaned around Fel.
It would have been morebrilliantif a stormer hadn’t been holding it.
“Were there any more urns back there, Wise?” Vorik watched Syla’s face as he asked.
She glared at him. “They’re amphoras. Two handles, a narrow neck, and a tapered bottom.”
“Yes.” Teyla sounded enthusiastic at the correction. “People designed them for transport of goods around the settled world in the era before the Gods War. They’re usually for liquids but holding powder isn’t unheard of. That one might be a thousand years old.”
“There was a whole bunch of stuff back there.” Wise tilted his head toward some part of the ruins behind the rock fall. “I think the room was actually sealed until we set off the explosives. As for amphoras, this was the only one with a mossy tree on the front and glowing powder inside.”
Syla could hardly believe that ruins so old still held the contents of what sounded like an ancient apothecary. Had some power preserved it over the centuries? Before the storm god’s mad tinkerings, magic had been scarce in the world and nothing that humans had known how to summon and manipulate. Only the gods themselves and that which they’d touched had possessed it.
“We’ll take it and go,” Vorik said.
“Yes, sir.” Wise hesitated, looking at Syla’s hand. “What about, uhm?” He pointed a finger in Teyla’s direction.
To suggest kidnappingherif Vorik wouldn’t take Syla?
Syla folded her arms over her chest. “Don’t even think about it. Our dragon allies are waiting just above the canopy and will stop you if you try to kidnap either of us.”
“They’re hunting off in the distance, but I do believe Wreylith would come to your rescue.” Vorik’s smile was a touch bemused.
“Ofcourseshe would. I’ve proven myself to her.” Syla was less confident that Wreylith would do anything more than she’d promised—carrying Syla around the world on her quest in exchange for livestock—but she doubted Vorik had any details on their arrangement.
His gaze shifted thoughtfully toward Teyla. She must have caught the gist of the stormers’ contemplation because she frowned and lifted her sword. Fel growled and slapped his hand against the side of his crossbow stock to remind them of where it pointed, still straight at Vorik.
“We may have to wait for a more opportune moment,” Vorik told Wise without taking his gaze from them.
Maybe he didn’t trulywantto kidnap Syla—or vex her by kidnapping her cousin. As she’d been thinking, he was so fast and agile that he could probably evade being shot and disarm Fel and Teyla without trouble.
“I do have another…” Wise’s free hand strayed to a pouch on his belt.
What? Explosive?
“We’ll get another opportunity,” Vorik told him. “Or find another moon-marked person that we can borrow. One who isn’t protected by a dragon that neither of our males would attack.”
Wise’s eyebrows rose, and he tilted his head in what might have been realization or agreement. “Yes, sir.”
Vorik pointed his chin toward the sky, and Wise, the amphora again sealed and tucked under his arm, climbed up the rock pile.
“Your Highness.” Vorik bowed. “As always, it was a delight to see you.”
He walked toward the rock pile to follow his lieutenant.
