Free Balanced on the Blade's Edge (Dragon Blood, Book 1) by Lindsay Buroker Page A

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change of command or him, but he came across even more who knew who
he was and seemed to think something special of it. He would use
any advantage he could to win over the prisoners. He also found the
“pilot” the first miner had mentioned. Ridge had never met him and
through a few private questions learned the kid had been kicked out
of the flight academy for fighting after three months. Not that
surprising. These were all rough men. Ridge didn’t doubt for a
moment that their deeds had rightfully earned them places here.
Fortunately, none of them asked him for parole—he doubted he had
the power to grant that even if he wanted to. When he asked what
they did want, most of the requests were ridiculously simple, and
he promised to look into them. If a rockslide table, a dartboard,
and some pictures of near-naked women would improve morale, he had
no problem acquiring them.
    A private caught up with Ridge and his
entourage somewhere toward the end of the tour. “Sir? Someone was
killed up top. You may want to look in on it.”
    “Show me,” Ridge said.
    How many deaths was that for the day? They
were far too common here.
    Though nobody had made a threatening move
toward Ridge, his escort followed him to the tram.
    “What sort of killing was this?” he asked the
private as the cage creaked and groaned, heading for the fading
light at the end of the passage. Twilight had either come, or the
sky had darkened further with clouds.
    “A woman was hung for being a witch.”
    Ridge’s stomach lurched. The prisoner he had
been talking with? Sardelle? She was out of place here, but he
didn’t think it had anything to do with witchcraft. He had her
pegged as a spy—if a poor one—or, more likely, someone who had
sneaked in to try and get a crystal. One could be sold on the black
market for a great deal. Or she might even be an academic who
wanted a sample for research—the gods knew the military had a
stranglehold on the crystals. He knew that university professors
had come to the airbase before, with bags full of microscopes and
tools, wanting to study them. Few had ever had a close up view, for
neither the king nor the commandant wanted information getting out
where the country’s enemies might pick it up. Perhaps Sardelle was
one of those curious professors who wouldn’t take no for an
answer.
    Or was it that he simply didn’t
want
her to be some hardened criminal who truly
deserved to be here? It wasn’t as if a spy or a thief was much
better. A thief… might be turned away with a moderate level of
punishment, especially if she didn’t succeed in stealing anything.
A spy though… Ridge closed his eyes. He would be forced to shoot a
spy.
    A moot point if she had already been hung, he
reminded himself with another lurch to his stomach. “Do you know
the name—number—of the woman who was hung?”
    “No, sir,” the private said.
    Ridge resisted the urge to describe her for
the private. The cage was nearing the top of its ride, the
darkening sky visible in earnest now. All around the fortress, the
pathway and rampart lanterns had been lit, though they did little
to drive back the encroaching night. It was definitely snowing,
thick swirling flakes that would make visibility difficult for
anyone flying. Good. He hoped the airship would be forced out of
the mountains and into skies where it would be spotted and shot
down.
    “This way, sir.” The private opened the cage
and walked into the snow. “It’s in the women’s barracks.”
    Ridge strode after the private and found
himself outpacing the man, then turning to crunch through the old
snow in the courtyard rather than following the walkways—with fresh
powder on the ground, they weren’t that cleared anymore anyway. He
had found maps of the fortress and the mines before his tour and
memorized them as well as he could. This was either a shortcut to
the barracks or… he was heading for the munitions building. Either
way, the private noticed he had lost