Dragon and Judge

"Except your parents," Draycos said quietly. "And you."

Jack stared past the K'da at the colorful streamers rustling in the breeze. His whole body felt like it was on fire, his mind churning back and forth between the urge to scream and the urge to hammer his fists on the stone walls.

And the urge to kill.

"Jack?"

With an effort, Jack pulled his eyes and mind back to his companion. "Tell me, Draycos," he said. "What's the official K'da poet-warrior ethic on the subject of hatred?"

For a moment Draycos didn't answer. "Hatred is an emotion," he said at last. "An honest expression of your feelings of the moment, and therefore nothing to be ashamed of."

"But if I actually did what I want to do right now? I suppose you'd say that was wrong?"

"You cannot find satisfaction in revenge, Jack," Draycos said. "Revenge is a trap which promises something it cannot deliver."

Jack hissed a sigh. "Only justice works, huh?"

"That has been my experience." Draycos's tail twitched. "However, the end result of justice is often the same as the end desired by revenge."

Jack frowned. "Meaning?"

The K'da's tail arched slightly. "If you can prove Cornelius Braxton ordered your parents murdered, and if you wish me to do so, I will kill him."

A shiver ran up Jack's spine. To think it in the dark corners of his mind was one thing. To hear it stated aloud was somehow something else entirely. "I'll keep that in mind," he managed.

For a long moment they gazed at each other in silence. Then, with another twitch of his tail, Draycos turned toward the galley. "In the meantime, we can probably both use some extra healing time. Are you hungry?"

"No, thanks," Jack said. "But go ahead."

"Thank you," Draycos said, popping open the refrigerator and pulling out a plate of meat and fruit. "You said earlier you were convinced of Langston's innocence?"

"Well, his story fits the facts, anyway," Jack said, getting up and sitting down at the table. "We know now why those four Golvins he creamed with his Djinn-90 were poking around topside in the first place. Bolo had warned them not to go into the mine. But like an idiot, he'd also told them the lower parts were flooded."

Draycos's neck arched in sudden understanding. "They were attempting to dig a new tunnel to the water?"

"You got it," Jack said, vaguely pleased that he'd figured it out before the K'da. "I'll give you four to one odds that their families' land is all the way on that side of the canyon, probably as far away from the river as you can get without running into the trees. If they could tap into this supposed new water supply, they could pipe it over to the edge and voila—instant rainfall."

"They were near the mine," Draycos murmured, his tail lashing restlessly. "The One was afraid that if he let Langston leave, Bolo would find out."

"Exactly," Jack said, nodding. "He couldn't take the chance that they'd been close enough to the mine to make Bolo mad."

Draycos's tail tip was making the slow circles of deep thought. "Only it didn't," he said. "We know that because Bolo's informant Foeinatw would surely have sent a message to him about the incident."

"Which Bolo apparently ignored," Jack said grimly. "Which means that Langston's been rotting away out here for five years for nothing."

Draycos flicked his tongue out. "He will not be happy when he finds that out."

"I'm pretty sure I'm not planning to be the one to tell him," Jack said candidly. "Let's at least get him back to civilization before we mention that part."

"Agreed," Draycos said. "Now all we have to do is decide how best to do that."

Jack looked back at the doorway. "Like you said, we've got some time. We'll think of something."

CHAPTER 23

"Three days," Frost growled as he led Alison up the wide stairway. "Three days."

Alison didn't answer. Frost and Neverlin had been getting more and more this way over the past two days, annoyed and impatient and positively twitchy.

But then, Alison was starting to feel a little annoyed herself.

Because despite their veiled accusations, she hadn't been idle all this time. In fact, she'd probably worked harder, and thought and sweated harder, than she ever had in her entire life.

None of it had done any good. She was stuck. Had been stuck, in fact, for the past day and a half.

"Well?" Frost prodded as they reached the heavily guarded corridor leading to the Patri's private suite. "Say something."

"Like what?" Alison retorted. "It's tricky. You all knew it was tricky. That's why you hired me."

"Which so far doesn't seem to be doing much good," Frost countered. Apparently, he was in the mood for an argument this morning.

"Relax, will you?" Alison said as soothingly as she could manage through her irritation. "When I blow the thing up, then you can complain about it."

Without warning, Frost came to a halt, his hand snaking out to grab Alison's upper arm and yank her around to face him. "Who told you about that?" he demanded.