The Boon of Alon

CHAPTER FORTY THREE

"No sign Gred has...said anything?" I ask, mindful of Erno next to me.

"Not yet, but this has got to be the betrayal we were waiting for, isn't it?" Chama sighs out a puff of steam and pulls off her hat to run a hand over her staticky hair. "What kind, I don't know yet."

"Betrayal?" Erno asks. "From Gred?"

I look pointedly at Chama, and she raises an eyebrow right back.

"You didn't tell him?"she asks.

"I didn't even tell Suthi," I say. "Speaking of—have you heard anything?"

"Not a peep." Chama stops messing with her hair and rubs her face instead. "I don't see how Gred could know that you're still alive, but just in case, I'm on my way to check on her."

"Because if they find out she lied..." She'll be in grave danger. Chama nods.

"You might as well fill him in," she says, gesturing at Erno. "I only didn't because we had to keep him out of it as much as you. I'll let you know what I find out, kid." She takes a step back.

I take a step forward. "Is there anything I can do?"

At least her mouth twists ruefully when she says, "Sit tight and don't get killed." And she heads back to Arnet.

I'm getting pretty sick of sitting tight, and waiting around has never exactly stopped anyone from trying to kill me—the rebels always found me sooner or later.

But for the moment, I tell Erno everything over lunch. He already knows most of it, anyway, but there are a few holes I can fill. And then it's...back to waiting.

And I feel even more restless.

"It'd ruin everything if we flew to Pangessa right now, wouldn't it?" I ask Iamon.

"Yes," he says, flat out. Dammit.

The next couple days go the same as the previous, except I feel even worse than I did before. Flying is better with gear, and Erno and I are still sparring, but it's harder and harder to distract myself from worrying about Suthi, and Chama and Tack and Rev and Lemi and Jeddin. And everyone else. I know that any sort of talks with the rebels will take time, but the stakes are high and I have no way of knowing what's happening. Erno offers to fly up to the monastery to find out, but we don't want to blow our cover, and there's no guarantee anyone up there knows either.

Erno sees the dragon coming towards us first, in the morning that marks a whole week down here. Arnet, I hope, but once it's close enough to look like a dragon and not a speck in the sky, we can see that it's blue, not red.

"Ventur?" Erno suggests as we squint up into the cold blue sky.

"How would Gred know we were down here?" I ask. "Besides—would he be coming from the monastery? He left."

"He might've come back." Erno shrugs. "Maybe it's Odal. Tack's in on everything, right?"

That guess, fortunately, turns out to be correct. But Tack is in even more of a hurry than Chama was, when she visited a few days ago—they wave us over before Odal has fully landed and don't dismount at all.

"The rebels assassinated the king!" they shout down at us, and a chill runs up my spine and over my scalp. "Suthi's okay." That's a relief. "I have to tell the rest and get back—stay put." And Odal wheels away to take off again.

Then it's not a stalemate anymore; the rebellion has succeeded. At least partially. The capital must be in chaos, and the riders, too—was this the big thing the rebels were planning? Was Suthi involved, as a Knight or as a rebel? She's okay now, but will she stay that way?