Fiery Edge of Steel (A NOON ONYX NOVEL) (16 page)

Just as the boat pulled up to the dock, I saw a long line of floating chests trailing behind Rafe and my mother, much as the tiger had trailed behind Ari and Fara during their arrival. Suddenly something occurred to me.

“What’s your tiger’s name?” I called to Fara.

“Virtus,” she said, like I should already know.
Of course,
I thought, nearly smacking my head with my hand. Fara and Rafe might make for bizarre traveling companions, but they’d told the truth during
Voir Dire
. When I’d asked what each of them would bring into the field, Fara had said
Virtus
and Rafe had said
food
. Despite everyone’s sidelong glances, I howled with mirth. I’d thought Fara had meant courage. She’d meant her cat.

Virtute non armis fido
; the Book of Joshua 24:17. Loose translation:

Courage over weapons; cats over sanity.

I
calmed down, thankfully, before the docking ropes were thrown on the dock. It wouldn’t do to thrust my letter of introduction into Ferenc Delgato’s hand while giggling hysterically. Ari gave me a worried frown and went to tie off the eastern end of the boat. He motioned to Fara to do the same on the west end and the rest of us barely had time to move our toes out of the way before a large, heavy gangplank clattered to the dock in front of us. At its end was a youngish-looking boy of about fifteen or sixteen with skin darkened from the sun, hair obviously cut with a dull knife or rusty pair of scissors, and muscles probably built up from loading cargo, swabbing decks, and rowing dinghies.

“Nouiomo Onyx?” he asked.

I nodded and was just about to take a step forward when I felt someone squeeze my shoulder. I glanced to my left and saw Rafe’s hand resting there. I looked up and, for a moment, our gazes locked. In the early morning light of the oncoming storm, his taupe-colored eyes looked like liquid charcoal, at once both opaque and reflective, a darker version of the swirling clouds and murky waters all around us.

“I’ll make the introduction, if you’d like.”

For once, my mother kept her opinion to herself. She stood off to the side, holding the large white paper package full of Mederi-blessed seeds, watching us. If I allowed him to introduce me, it would be as good as allowing him on the boat. I looked from the bag to Rafe and back again. I knew what he was really asking.

Would I accept him as my Guardian?

“No. I’ll make my own introduction,” I said, shrugging his hand off of my shoulder. I turned to Aurelia.

“Mother, please give the seeds to Fara to hold.” Without a second glance at Rafe, I took my letter of introduction out of my pocket. My mother, Ari, and Fara returned to the edge of the boarding plank at the same time. On impulse, I threw my arms around my mother and hugged her. She was startled and stiff at first, but then she held me tight.

“
Ad astra
, Nouiomo,” she whispered.
To the stars.
It was a sentimental Haljan farewell. I blinked and nodded and, with a final squeeze of her hand, let go.

Fara was hugging Virtus just as fiercely, if not more so, but her tears were unrestrained. She clutched the cub tightly, sobbing. I looked over at Ari. He appeared unmoved by Fara’s unabashed display of affection for her cat. In fact, he appeared annoyed and impatient to get on board. I didn’t necessarily disagree (the tiger would be a nuisance and hadn’t I just yesterday reminded Ari of our need for haste?) but still I couldn’t help softening just the least little bit toward Fara. Anyone who loved a beast so couldn’t be all bad.

As I made my way across the gangplank, I made the mistake of looking back. The tiger sat hunched at Rafe’s feet, looking miserable. Even Rafe, whom I would have expected to have a bored or indifferent expression on his face, looked . . . uneasy.

Feeling guilty without really understanding why, I stepped on board and made room on the deck for Ari and Fara.

“I’m Nouiomo Onyx,” I said, handing over my letter of introduction. The boy opened it and glanced over it, nodding. But then he frowned and looked up.

“It says there’s supposed to be four of you.”

I sighed and was on the verge of answering when he followed up that declaration with:

“And that there’s a . . . tiger cub we’re supposed to accommodate . . . ?” He looked up once more, his eyebrows raised in surprise. His face transformed as another emotion I instantly recognized took hold. It wasn’t fear; it was excitement. The boy stepped to the edge of the boat, spotted Virtus, and stared rapturously at him. It reminded me a bit of the way Fitz had looked when describing Holden Pierce’s offensive rating.
What exactly had this boy heard about tigers?

My sigh turned into a groan. I’d never bothered to read my own letter of introduction. I gathered my pairing with Fara had been so assured, what with her being a gap filler and me being so sorely in need of one, that both the St. Luck’s faculty and the Joshua School’s had written the letter naming her as my Guardian. Which made me wonder who they’d predicted for Ari.

“Who’s the fourth?” I asked.

The boy tore his gaze away from Virtus and peered at the letter once more. “Nouiomo Onyx,” he read. I resisted the urge to raise my hand. “Aristos Carmine.” Ari gave the boy a curt nod. “Fara Vanderlin.” Fara swiped her eyes and croaked, “Here.” I rolled my eyes.

“And Raphael Sinclair.”

There was a moment of stunned silence as the boy stared at us.

“That’s impossible,” I said. No one would have predicted Ari’s choosing Rafe. “That letter can’t possibly say that Aristos Carmine’s Guardian Angel is Raphael Sinclair.”

“It doesn’t,” the boy said, frowning in confusion. “It says he’s yours.”

Things happened fairly quickly after that. The boy looked up at me suspiciously, clearly questioning my identity. No Maegester could be as ignorant as I was about her own investigative team. Rafe crossed the gangplank, jumped on board, and walked over to me, his uneasy expression replaced by one of triumph. Fara rushed to Virtus and (apparently interpreting the letter’s contents as trumping Ari’s earlier objections to Virtus) wrapped him in her arms and carried him on board. The boy’s attention then became torn between me (a potential imposter) and the tiger cub (a four-legged nonmagical demon-fighting beast). In the span of seconds, the whole introduction splintered into potential catastrophe.

“May I?” Rafe said, addressing only me.

Ari’s signature flared with some undefined emotion that was so hot, bright, and fleeting, I only had time to marvel at its intensity before he dampened it down with a display of willpower I’d only ever seen in two Maegesters: Ari and my father. From the few interactions we’d had, I knew Ari thought little of Rafe Sinclair. But he likely felt as conflicted about the question as I did. Because we both knew what question Rafe was really asking, again:

Would I accept him as my Guardian?

I pushed the threat of failed first impressions aside and paused. (Did I really care what this crew thought of me? In the grand scheme of things, first impressions didn’t matter. Making good choices over an entire lifetime did.)

Would it be better to accept Mr. Eleventh of Eleven, Mr. Dead Last, Mr. TBD, as my Guardian or would it be better to try to navigate this trip solo? I honestly didn’t know. I’d joked with myself when I’d first received the news of my solo status that it could have been worse. That I could have been paired with Rafe Sinclair. But I don’t know if I’d meant it.

I glanced to the east, toward a sky dark with fury and waters deep with demons. A jagged fork of lightning lit up the eastern sky and a moment later a spattering of rain started falling. Rafe stood beside me, outwardly patient, hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels, as if he couldn’t care less what I decided. But then he removed one of his hands from his pocket. His silver bracelet caught the gleam of a lightning flash as he nervously swiped his hand through his hair.

He wants to come,
I thought. For all his show of nonchalance and disengagement, he wanted to be my Guardian. Who knew why. Did it matter? He might have been ranked dead last. And it was certain, based upon his CV and the completely unorthodox way he’d rebuilt Justica after I’d destroyed her, that he was rebellious. (Not necessarily a trait one wanted in a Guardian Angel.) But maybe Rafe deserved a chance to prove himself, to fill in some of those blanks in his “course of life.” It’s possible—probable—that I also felt sorry for him. The way I’d felt sorry for Virtus earlier when the cub had realized it was being left behind.

I was suddenly nervous myself.

“Yes,” I said, almost too loudly. Luck knew, I didn’t want to repeat myself, or this decision.
No second guesses,
I admonished myself. I cleared my throat and spoke to the boy. “You’re correct about the four.” I motioned to Rafe. “Raphael Sinclair will make our introduction to Captain Delgato.”

Rafe grinned then, the brightness and ferocity of his smile almost matching the increasing lightning strikes around us. Suddenly, I knew why I was nervous.

Tiger cubs grow into tigers.

*   *   *

R
afe huddled up briefly with the young boy, while the rest of us stood around getting pelted by rain. After a few seconds, during which Virtus started squalling and we all put up our hoods, Rafe yelled, “We’ll do formal introductions inside. Let’s get all the food and supplies on board first.”

Fair enough, because the storm was picking up. We spent the next two hours loading cargo, making sure crates of food were properly sealed and stored, and finding places to stash all the books, weapons, and cannon fodder. The rain continued at a steady pace that seemed designed to erode rain jackets, body temperature, and good moods. At one point, I made the mistake of trying to carry too many things on board at once (two duffel bags and a box of books). The box fell, crashed onto the dock, and broke apart, scattering all of the books I’d spent yesterday searching for onto the pier. One of them even went over the side and into the water. I cried out in frustration and mild alarm.

Like Guardian Angels have been doing for millennia, Rafe appeared at my shoulder, ready to assist, I thought. He stood on the pier, water dripping off the edge of his hood, his face partially shadowed and smiling, peering down at me crouched in the rain, gathering the now soaked books into a pile. But he made no move to help. Instead he just shook his head and clucked his tongue at the unfortunate scene. He then knelt beside me.

“Whistling in the Rain might be a good one right about now, hmm? Want me to cast it? When you asked me earlier this week whether I knew any useful spells, I forgot to mention that one. One of my old housekeepers taught it to me.” His voice had a singsongy quality to it that made it impossible to tell if he was kidding or not. Until he said
sotto voce
, “But every now and then it gives the target a near permanent pucker.” His eyes locked on my lips. I was too stunned to move. Despite the rain, the air around us nearly crackled with dry, static electricity. But it was just a feeling, nothing visual, atmospheric, or even magical. He held out his hands and I placed the pile of books I’d been holding into them. He shifted them to one arm and held his other hand out to me to help me up.

Heavy footsteps pounded on the pier, coming closer. Before I could accept Rafe’s hand, Ari stepped up to us. Rafe withdrew his hand and stepped away.

“Noon,” Ari said in a weary voice. “What are you doing?”

I looked up at him and a big fat raindrop hit my cheek and slid down my face.
How long had I been crouched there?
I stood up, my legs aching. All of a sudden, I was so tired. A bone-dead, exhausted type of tired. The kind where you just want to go crawl into bed and never get up again. I think it was all the stress. The pressure of the assignment, the trip, preparing, packing up. I’d been too keyed up to sleep much this past week, and this morning I’d gotten up before the sun to come down here. Now we’d just spent the last hour or so loading up heavy gear in the rain. I was wiped and Ari, bless his heart, knew it.

He reached toward my face and gently cupped it with his hand. It was warm and dry. I laughed to myself. Of course. Ari had so much control over his fire, he wouldn’t think twice of putting himself on low burn just to get through this. He rolled his thumb down my cheek, wiping the rain away, at least temporarily.

“Get on board and go inside,” he said softly. “I’ll finish up out here.” His gaze found Rafe farther down the dock pushing one of the war chests. I couldn’t help thinking that Rafe looked like . . . Well, he looked like he was whistling. Ari’s voice hardened. “I’ll bet
I
can get your new Angel to cast some practical spells.” I felt the barest crack in Ari’s signature. It was like the eruptions Rochester intentionally threw off in class from time to time just to make sure we were all paying attention. But I didn’t think Ari’s eruption had been intentional. It had felt like a slip. I looked up at him in surprise but he turned me around, pointed me to the boat, and gave me a gentle shove.