“Don’t worry,” he said. “Blood magic’s really not my thing. When I bound these two ships together, trying to get blood out of these veins was near impossible. Had a little trouble even breaking my skin, and that was with a witch-sanctioned sacrificial dagger. Apparently, there are some good side effects to all this self-alchemy.”
I laughed. “All kidding aside,” I said, composing myself. “I can’t do this alone.”
“You’re not alone,” Caleb reminded me, stepping closer. “You’ve got your big, bad, bat man there, Marshall, Rory . . .”
“And you,” I said, finding it hard not to smile, unable to stop myself from stepping closer to him. This was more than just the comfort of having a fellow alchemist to talk to.
The deck shook as Stanis came down hard next to us, and I stumbled forward . . . into Caleb’s arms, naturally. I went to push myself back to standing, but Caleb’s arms held me in place for a few seconds longer before releasing me.
Stanis couldn’t have landed more than a few inches from us, and given his posture—wings spread out behind him—it had been no accident. Was the gargoyle actually peacocking?
I wasn’t entirely sure, but now was not the time to call him out on it. Of course, it also wasn’t the time for me to be locking eyes with my fellow alchemist, either, but I decided to let that one slide.
I looked up into Stanis’s stoic face.
“Those were the last of the supplies,” he said, his voice plain, betraying no hint of any emotions he might be feeling.
I looked back at the mostly empty deck of our small craft.
“Good,” I said, turning away with only the slightest twinge of guilt. I instead looked up the long expanse of the side of the ship. “Now for us.”
“As you wish,” Stanis said.
One by one, Stanis flew each of us up to the edge of the deck, dropping us behind the empty shipping containers where our piled-up supplies lay before finally landing there himself.
Something didn’t feel quite right. I looked around and did a quick head count, coming up one short.
“Where’s Caleb?” I asked.
Stanis stood still and silent. I walked up to him. He didn’t answer, so I brushed past him to look back over the railing. Caleb stood on the tiny deck of the transport boat staring up at me, confused but waving.
“Stanis!” I whispered. “Get . . . him.”
“We do not need him,” he said, stoic as ever. “He has done his part in bringing us here.”
“And he has more to do for us,” I said. “Just get him.”
Stanis said nothing more but simply turned and leapt over the railing, swirling down to the small craft below in ever-growing circles. The gargoyle was not gentle scooping up Caleb, and an audible oof escaped Caleb’s lips as Stanis grabbed ahold of him. Their return flight was a fast, straight shot inches away from the side of the ship. Stanis shot past, dropping Caleb in front of me from high enough that the alchemist’s legs buckled under him as he absorbed the shock of the landing. He stumbled, then righted himself as he smoothed his coat down.
“What’s up with the attitude?” Caleb asked me, as Stanis came down on the deck next to him.
I had an idea, but I wasn’t sure that it was the time to get into it. Still, I needed both of them at my side in this. “What’s the deal, Stan?” I asked.
The gargoyle cocked his head at me. “Deal?”
Although Stanis was ignoring him, Caleb got up in front of him. “What’s up with all the flight turbulence?”
Stanis didn’t engage him, stepping to me instead. “He says he is a new man, Alexandra, but he has worked for my father. How do we not know this is not some part of Kejetan’s mad plan? How do we not know that Caleb here will not just hand us over to him?”
I stood there, silent. I didn’t have a good answer for him. Truth was, I wasn’t entirely sure. I wanted Caleb to be on Team Belarus now, but as I knew, wanting something didn’t necessarily make it so.
“Way to have my back,” Caleb said, shaking his head at me, then turned to Stanis. “I can answer for myself. Frankly, it looks like I’ll have to. First of all, I need you to think—if you’re capable of it in that big chunk of rock of yours. Do you know your father to be a forgiving man, Stanis? You really think he’d even let me on his team now after I freed you and took away his chances of learning the Spellmason secrets?”
Stanis stared as him for a moment in thought, but Caleb didn’t look away.
“You perhaps have a point,” Stanis said, his voice softer now.
“Great,” Caleb said, testy. “I’ve been paid well by the Servants, and a good part of it in advance before they froze the rest. Kejetan is a determined pile of rocks, and he doesn’t take kindly to being slighted. But . . . he’s also mad with pride. He’ll never expect us to bring the fight right to him, which, of course, is why we have. So you wonder where my loyalties lie? Yes, I’m selfish. And yes, I hope this puts an end to a series of fanatical flying madmen coming after me. I’d like a little less of that in my life. I’ve already got enough regular enemies out there, thanks.”
Marshall ahemed loudly and we all turned to look at him. “Are we done determining who’s going to be on our side tonight?” He threw one of his hands up over his shoulder to slap the tank strapped to his back. “This thing isn’t getting any lighter.”
Rory sighed. “You want me to carry you?” she asked, patting her own tank. “On top of my rig?”
“Let’s get focused,” I said, going over my spell notes. “Everyone clear on what they’re doing?”
Rory, Caleb, and Marshall nodded, but Stanis did not. I met his eyes.
“You’re with me and Caleb,” I said to him. “We’re going to go in all stealthy-like.”
Caleb leaned over to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Think small and quiet thoughts.”
“Will that help?” Stanis asked with sincerity, missing the point.
“Just try to keep quiet,” I said, then turned to Marshall and Rory. “Head for Kejetan’s throne room when you’re done. And try not to get seen.”
Marshall smiled. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ve got a little something for that.”
I paused. “Like what?”
“You’ll see,” he said, pressing a single finger to his lips. “Shh! It’s a surprise.”
“You know,” Caleb said, “historically speaking, the words surprise and plan aren’t considered great bedfellows.”
“Trust me,” Marshall said. “You’ll like this. I promise.”
“All right,” I said, smiling. “Let’s do it.”
I did trust Marshall, and if he had a surprise in store, not knowing what it was might be helpful, especially given the distinct possibility that we might be failing miserably at any second.
Marshall and Rory disappeared around the side of the shipping container, each carrying two sealed buckets in addition to the tanks on their backs. We waited several minutes, then made sure the deck was clear before setting off in a run across it, headed for the interior depths of the freighter itself.
Stanis and Caleb took the lead since they knew the way. I was happy to follow along, readying the spells in my head as my own memories of the path to the throne room below had faded somewhat. Stanis’s preternatural hearing always caught the approach of any of the gargoyles or human Servants of Ruthenia in time for us to hide ourselves as we went.
The way to Kejetan’s throne room was far more crowded than last I had seen it, what with all the additional gargoyles on board. It was easy to differentiate which were true Servants of Ruthenia by how they carried themselves, while the outsiders moved with more modern mannerisms or exhibited signs of meek confusion.