“That is somewhat true. I had to defend the farm. And my machines.”
Syla nodded toward the mark on the post, her own hand on the adjacent one. Tibby stepped closer and lifted her fingers but continued to hesitate. Fel took her hand and pressed it against the post. She bared her teeth at him like a vexed guard dog.
“You do like abuse, don’t you, Fel?” Syla murmured.
“I, too, have the heart of a warrior.” He managed to smile slightly while glaring defiantly at Tibby and holding her hand in place.
She didn’t try to yank it back, instead sighing, then looking at Syla.
With the passage from the book in mind, Syla reached out to clasp Tibby’s free hand, then closed her eyes. The mark hummed under her hand, and she sensed the power of the platform. Also, a hint of awareness. The same awareness that had swept her mind across the sea to visit Vorik in his cave?
As Syla was debating how to convince the platform to allow Tibby to use it, she sensed something for the first time. Almost like a vision, an image of the inside of the thick platform between the four posts came to her. The mattress, Syla had thought of it when they’d first discovered the device and she’d likened it to a bed with a canopy.
Magical energy occupied a hollow space within the marble, as if it were a liquid in a tank. It appeared about two-thirds of the way full. The image lingered in Syla’s mind, as if the gods-crafted device wanted her to grasp something. If that was a tank—or maybe a reservoir?—could the energy be what the weapons platform drew upon to create the silver balls that it hurled? If so, did this indicate that Syla had depleted it one-third of the way? Would it cease working if she depleted itallthe way?
She grimaced at the thought that it had only limited magic with which to drive the dragons and their riders out of the Kingdom.
“Better to know than not to know,” Syla murmured.
“Yes,” Tibby said. Was she also seeing the reservoir? “It’s possible the energy within might recharge with time, but… it’s also possible that what magic was given to it upon creation is all we have.”
“We’ll have to use it carefully.”
Syla attempted to convey understanding to the platform before directing the awareness embedded in it toward her aunt.Tibby needs to be able to use you in case I’m needed elsewhere.
A hint of acknowledgment came from the weapons platform, but then Vorik’s face floated into Syla’s mind. It floated there and stayed there. At first, she thought the platform intended to send her to spy on him again, but, unless he was in the midst of escaping, she knew where he was. She would happily send her mind across the sea to visit his new camp, to learn where the components were, but the device didn’t offer that, only holding Vorik’s face in her mind.
What did it want? He was a warrior, but certainly not the right kind of warrior for this.
“We’re not going to lethimuse the weapons platform,” Tibby said. “He’s not on our side.”
Through the moon-link, Syla sensed her aunt’s disapproval that she continued to have a relationship with Vorik and her belief that Syla hadn’t interrogatedhim the night before. Syla didn’t have a defense for that and pretended she hadn’t caught the thought.
“Not him,” Syla said in agreement, willing the platform to accept Tibby.
Vorik’s face lingered, as if it was still trying to convey something, but it eventually faded. Tibby’s face replaced his in Syla’s mind. Silver light emanated from the weapons platform, and nearby crewmen murmured and pointed. The light flowed out of the device, and energy crackled all around Syla and Tibby.
Fel removed his hand from Tibby’s and stepped back. The silver light faded, and Syla looked at her aunt to see if she felt anything had changed.
She nodded. “I think I can use it now.”
“Do you want to test it?” Syla asked.
They were sailing past the volcano on the far end of Harvest Island, about to head across the sea toward Bogberry Island, and Syla wondered if any stormer dragons lurked among the rocks, close enough to target.
“We’d better not waste any of its reserves,” Tibby said quietly, then looked to the southwest, the direction of Bogberry Island. “We’ll get an opportunity to find out soon enough if I can operate it.”
“All right.”
A Royal Protector jogged out on deck, blood from a split lip trickling down his chin, and his eyes locked immediately on Syla. Before he spoke, she knew something was wrong, and she could guess what.
“The prisoner has escaped, Your Majesty.” He pointed at the deck. “He escaped your cabin, overpowered us, and is on the ship somewhere.”
“He didn’t go overboard?” Syla glanced toward the wheelhouse, but Wreylith hadn’t yet returned from her hunt. If Vorik wanted to swim to land where Agrevlari could pick him up, this would have been an opportunity for him to do so.
“We don’t know for sure, Your Majesty, but we think someone would have seen him swimming away.” The man waved around to the open space and all the crewmen at work or stationed near the weapons. There was also someone in the crow’s nest. “We’re afraid he’s sticking around to sabotage something.” His gaze went to the weapons platform.
Syla sighed. She thought Vorik had stuck around to try to kidnap her at an inopportune time, but if his brother ordered him to destroy the weapons platform or sink the ship, Vorik would try.
