Cayce despaired at the sight of the tree line. She silently cursed her own pessimism, wishing she could do as Master Rus often bade her and see advantages and opportunities instead of dangers and consequences. Cayce did not voice this thought to her master because doing so in the past had only caused Rus to lecture her, and if there was one thing Rus loved, it was lecturing.
“Great poisoners see only opportunity,” he’d say. “If you want to limit your vision to avoiding threats and consequences instead of delivering them… if you want to defend instead of taking the initiative, at least do it properly. There’s always a market for royal food-tasters, though their careers don’t usually last long enough for them to distinguish themselves. Especially when Master Rus is on the job.”
As the rest of the party gathered around Kula to hear the plan reviewed once more, Rus made a show of being bored. He wandered off a few paces, still within earshot but not part of the semicircle around Kula. Cayce watched Vaan hovering moodily behind the forest woman.
Something about the two of them together jarred Cayce from her private thoughts. The pixie seemed impatient and hesitant at the same time, both anxious to proceed and fearful of what they had yet to encounter. Kula, for her part, seemed eager to begin their mission, but there was something grudging about the way she spoke to the others—as if she were unwilling to share this rare opportunity. Cayce watched Vaan brood as Kula quietly but fiercely outlined their plan of attack. The guides’ demeanor and Cayce’s general dislike of the entire situation nagged at her until an important truth became painfully clear to her.
All one had to do was look at their faces. The guides had assembled the party and they were leading the party into action. The pixie was full of hope and dread, and the anchorite was full of anticipation and selfish longing. In contrast, the soldiers were all grim and focused, perhaps bent on avenging some attack or another the beast had visited upon their nation. To a man they showed nothing more than determination. Master Rus’s expression showed only a preoccupation with his appearance. To him it was just another job, another chance to improve his reputation and his standing among the kingdoms’ aristocrats.
Only the guides seemed to have concrete expectations about the party’s date with the dragon. What did they know that gave them such feelings? What did they know that they hadn’t shared? Whatever it was, it was something Cayce, Rus, and the rest of them did not know, and it would be unprofessional to let them keep it that way.
“Master,” Cayce whispered as she walked.
Rus slowed ahead of her, pretending to struggle as he extracted the tip of his cane from a crack in the rocks. “What is it?”
“I have been observing, as you have taught me. I think I have identified an opportunity.”
Master Rus stopped twisting his cane and cocked an eyebrow at Cayce. “Spreading our wings, Apprentice? Expanding our horizons?” Rus chuckled softly, but he was interested. “Is this an opportunity for knowledge, profit, or advancement?”
“For survival,” Cayce said. She cast her eyes toward the guides then back to her master. “Remember how you once told me never to work with pixies? They always talk too much, you said. They always give away the game and tip off the target because they can’t keep secrets to themselves.”
Rus scowled. “That was sprites,” he said. “Or faeries. I never said anything about pixies.” He quickly glanced at Vaan, then added, “Besides, I need to make that little blue turd eat what he said. Asking me if age has ‘softened my resolve as it has my belly.’ We’ll see how clever he is when Rus the dragon-slayer is a hero among his own people.”
Rus’s jaw clenched and he yanked the tip of his cane free. “Sprites. Yes, it was definitely sprites. I remember it clearly now. Never work with sprites. They give the whole game away.”
“Yes, Master Rus.”
“Sprites are smaller than pixies. And even flightier. They burst into song at inappropriate times.” Master Rus nodded knowingly, his gaze turned inward. “Pixies are fine as long as they’re in front of you. As long as you remember they’re steeped in glamour.”
“Yes, Master Rus.”
Rus worked his jaw. Cayce forced herself to blink.
“Fine,” he said. “You have Master Rus’s attention. What have you seen?”
Cayce leaned in close to Rus’s ear. “Vaan said hardly anything beyond his needling insults. And he hasn’t talked to anyone much at all since we met him. Is that typical pixie behavior?”
Rus planted the tip of his cane and swirled his cape dramatically around his arm. “It is not. You believe he knows more than he’s saying?”
“He must.”
“And so we ought to know more of what he knows.”
“That or we should walk away. You’ve taught me that much,” Cayce said.
Rus nodded. “I’m not walking away, and neither are you.”
“No, Master.”
“But I do think you’re on to something. I’ve never seen a more downtrodden pixie, even if he does bear a slavery-fueled tale of woe.”
“Shall we brace him, Master? Confront him and draw out what he’s hiding? I have an idea—”
“Not we,” Rus said. “You. Pursue your idea, Apprentice. Without my help. Brace the pixie on your own, and Master Rus will stand back and observe.” Rus cocked another eyebrow at her. “Think of this as an impromptu examination. A field test of your practical skills.”
Cayce hesitated, seeking a hidden snare in Rus’s offer. Her master gathered his cape around his shoulders and leaned on his cane.
“Well?” He tipped his hat toward the rest of the party, segments of golden yarn waving before his eyes. “Begin.”
Cayce took a deep breath and went forward. She sidled up alongside one of the soldiers and waited for Kula to pause for breath.
“Captain Hask’s golem being the last line of frontal attack. Which brings us to…” Kula looked up from the map she was scrawling on the ground and nodded to Cayce. “Nice of you to join us. If the golem proves necessary, you and your master must be standing by, ready to—”
“How do we know it’s the right dragon?” Cayce said.
Kula blinked. “What?” The anchorite’s face and voice were edged with annoyance.
“The dragon you’re leading us to. How do we know it’s the one you hired us to kill?”
“Little girl,” the forest woman said as she rose to her full height and planted her fists on her massive hips. “How many marauding dragons have you seen tonight?”
The soldiers laughed, but Cayce remained stoic. “Just one,” she said. “The one that attacked the farmers on the bridge. Is that the one?”
“Of course it is, you silly child.” Kula called out to Rus, “Master poisoner, would you rein in your student? We’re trying to—”
“What color is the dragon Vaan gathered us to hunt?”
Kula paused mid-reply. Instead of answering right away, the anchorite cleared her throat and glanced at Vaan. Then Kula said, “Blue-white, almost silver, like winter lightning. Like moonlight on the edge of a sword. What are you getting at? You saw it yourself, as did we all.”
Cayce turned to Vaan. “What color is the dragon we’re hunting?”
Vaan could only smile helplessly. After a long pause, he shrugged like a gambler who has just seen his horse come up lame.
“Well?” Cayce said. “You’re our patron and our guide, but you don’t know the answer? We’re trusting you, and you can’t even describe the monster that enslaved you and all your people?” Sensing victory, Cayce pressed on. “Let’s try something easier. What color is the dragon that wrecked the bridge?”