She spotted two dinghies full of men, women, and children being rowed toward one of the warships. Refugees. Another dinghy headed toward theStormslicer, and she frowned when she recognized a stern-faced white-haired man standing while crewmen rowed and other refugees sat. Lord Ravoran. He would have cross words for her when he arrived. And she would deserve them.
“He’s on theSpry Shark, Your Majesty. Major Hixun is in charge at the moment.” The officer pointed her toward the wheelhouse.
“Thank you.” Syla strode toward the door, wanting to get underway as soon as possible. Maybe she could put off dealing with Ravoran if he knew other fires burned in the Kingdom and needed to be dealt with first.
“Syla.” Aunt Tibby had spotted her and beckoned.
“Just a moment.”
“It’s important.” Book in hand, finger marking a page, Tibby scooted off the platform.
Syla held up a finger of her own, opened the wheelhouse door, and leaned in. “Our Freeborn Faction dragon allies have been relaying information,” she told the major and the helmsmen when they faced her. “Bogberry Island is under attack.”
Hixun’s eyebrows flew up. “Did the shield drop?”
“No. At least not yet.” Syla winced, suspecting the stormers had a plan for finding the shielder and sabotaging it. “Men sneaked in via ships and attacked the capital city.”
Hixun cursed. “You’re sure? How reliable are the allies that reported to you?”
“They helped us yesterday against greater numbers.”
“It was hard to tell what exactly was going on yesterday with all those dragons and riders.” Hixun waved toward the weapons platform, probably indicating the confusion of Lesva and Vorik fighting in the middle of the deck.
Seeing the spot reminded Syla that Vorik had risked his life and probably the hatred of his people to help her. It wasn’t his fault that she had been too polite to drug and question him. But if Jhiton was still talking to him, Vorik couldn’t betoohated.
“Dragon!” someone called from the crow’s nest, the alarm in his voice suggesting it wasn’t their familiar red dragon ally.
Syla spotted Tibby walking toward her with the book but also a green dragon flying toward the ship. “I think that one is from the Freeborn Faction.”
She peered at the rider, wishing her eyesight were better. Was that Chieftess Atilya’s gray hair?
“You can ask the faction leader herself how dependable the intelligence is,” Syla said when Hixun joined her in the doorway.
His grunt suggested he didn’t find the notion appealing.
“I need you for a moment, Syla.” Tibby lay a hand on her arm and tilted her head toward the weapons platform.
“Get some of the ships underway for Bogberry Island, Major,” Syla said. “As soon as possible.”
“I’ll have to speak with the fleet commander first,” he said, “but I’ll urge him to follow that direction.”
“Thank you.”
The dragon landed on the deck, Chieftess Atilya lifting her hand toward Syla before sliding off.
Tibbyharrumphedas her news was delayed a moment more.
“Thank you for your help yesterday, Chieftess,” Syla said. “I appreciated it immeasurably.”
“I’m glad. There was some debate about whether we should approach while you were casting magical cannonballs with that… device.” The side-eye Atilya leveled at the weapons platform suggested she hadn’t valued its contributions as much as Syla had. Maybe because she and her people were also allied to dragons, Atilya didn’t like seeing them slain. “Some were concerned that it—didyoucontrol it?—wouldn’t differentiate faction dragons from those who’ve declared themselves your enemies.”
“I was controlling it, yes.”
“Ah. That is somewhat reassuring, though that is a lot of power for a human to wield.”
“Especially one trained to be a healer.” Syla smiled sadly.
Atilya considered her answer for a moment. “Perhaps, a healer, as long as she has the wherewithal to use deadly force, is a better person to wield such a weapon than one who longs for the power to slay others.”
