Night Study (35 page)

“She would indeed.”

“What about those twenty-three others you assassinated? Does she know about them?” Zohav asked.

“Yes. In fact, she has neutralized a number of magicians, as well. Just because a person has magic doesn’t mean they’re good people. Think about what Jibben did using your magic. Can you imagine what he’d do with his own?”

Their queasy expressions said it all. Lecture over, Valek wrapped the remaining cheese, packed it away and mounted Onyx.

Before Zohav stepped up, she said in a low voice, “I’m glad you killed Jibben.”

“Me, too. Bastard got what he deserved.” Zethan slashed a finger along his neck.

Valek didn’t bother to correct them, and it was a quiet ride to—“Icefaren? You live in Icefaren?” he asked.

“I told you it was near the northern ice sheet,” Zethan said. “Not many towns up here.”

True. However, Valek never considered that they lived in his hometown. In his mind, only two people lived there—his parents, and no one else. According to the reports from his agents, his parents still resided in Icefaren.

Zethan spurred Smoke next to Valek. “I’ll take point. If that’s okay?” The teen had become comfortable riding a horse pretty quick.

“If you’re about to fall off the horse, grab his mane and not the saddle,” Valek instructed. “You won’t hurt him, and a saddle can move with your weight.”

“Mane, not saddle. Got it.” Zethan pulled ahead.

Onyx stayed right behind Smoke, and Valek kept his attention on the boy. Falling off a horse at speed could be deadly, but he was glad to see Zethan had a natural grace and good balance.

When the horses stopped at a gate, Zethan jumped off Smoke and cleared the fence in one long stride. Zohav made an
ah
sound, slid from the saddle and took off after her brother. They raced to the house.

It was only then that Valek realized where they were. He stared at the familiar house as ice replaced the blood in his veins. His stomach cramped as visions of his murdered brothers flashed in his memory. With an extreme effort, he reigned in his emotions. Of course his parents had moved. His father was sixty-three by now and must be retired, and his mother was sixty. The five-bedroom house and adjacent tannery was too big for the two of them.

A door banged. Valek grabbed the hilt of his sword and turned. Two men stepped from the tannery. The older man stopped and stared at Valek as if he’d seen a ghost. Valek’s heart pushed against his ribs and lungs as if it was a bubble about to burst. The pressure made it impossible for Valek to draw a breath.

The young man glanced between them. “Dad, what’s wrong? Who is he?”

24

JANCO

“W
hat do you mean, you
lost
her?” Ari demanded of one of Fisk’s Helper’s Guild members.

Janco put a hand on his partner’s meaty arm. “Easy, big guy. You’re scaring her.” The poor thing looked to be about eight years old and fifty pounds. He’d seen sand spiders bigger than her.

“I don’t care. We shouldn’t have let a bunch of kids keep track of Yelena.”

“I doubt we could have done any better. That relay system was genius!”

Ari glowered. “Valek charged us to keep her safe. If she—”

“Keeping her safe is almost impossible, and Valek knows it, Ari. Now, let me handle this.” Janco crouched down to the girl’s eye level. “Can you show me where you last saw her?”

She nodded and turned. They followed her through the busy streets of the Citadel and into the quieter residence quarters. She headed southwest and zigzagged through a maze of alleys and streets. No wonder she’d lost the trail. This place was a tracker’s worst nightmare. Well, an average tracker. Janco was far from average.

The girl stopped at an intersection. “I turned this corner and...poof, they were gone.”

He glanced around. From this point, there were four narrow alleys that branched off in different directions. He checked each one for any signs of Yelena—a peppermint or dart or bit of milk oat she might have dropped. No luck. Yelena probably assumed they were close behind her. Janco considered the timing and thought they should be nearing the final destination. He checked each narrow path. At the end of the third one, he found a chewed toothpick, as if someone had waited there.

“How many relays did they have?” he asked the girl.

“I counted seven before I lost her.”

This one might be the last relay. From this point there were two alleys. Unable to find anything to distinguish one from the other, Janco picked one and closed his eyes. He inhaled, drawing the air slowly through his nose. Nothing but garbage and the typical city stink. He repeated the action in the other road. Same odors, but this time he also detected a faint whiff of lavender.

“This way,” he said, hurrying down the tight throughway. It ended in a round courtyard with five different exits.

An uneasy, crawly sensation tickled his skin. Magic. Faint magic. Janco concentrated, seeking that unsettling...substance. Once again he closed his eyes and moved toward the nebulousness that repelled him. The creepy crawlies increased when he faced south.

He led Ari and the girl down an uneven sidewalk. Weeds grew between the cracks and glass crunched under his boots. The broken windows had been boarded over and the houses appeared to have been abandoned and left to squatters.

“I don’t think you’ll find this area listed in the guide book,” Ari said.

“It’s a little-known spot that should remain little-known,” Janco agreed. Plus it hurt his scar. The pain increased, then lessened after he walked past a run-down shack. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What’s wrong?” Ari asked.

“The complete and utter lack of creativity. That shack is an illusion.”

“Okay, let’s go.” Ari yanked his scimitar and charged toward it.

Janco stepped in front of him. “Hold on. We don’t know what’s on the other side. And it might trigger an alarm.” He paused as he realized
he
was being the sensible one. How about that? There was a first time for everything. Janco herded them back to the courtyard and out of sight. “Spider Girl, go fetch Fisk and as many of his minions as you can. Pronto!”

She flipped him the finger, but scurried away.

“Now what?” Ari asked.

“The illusion is hiding another building, so we case the joint. See if there are any other entrances. These houses are all jumbled together. They have to be connected.”

“All right. I’ll loop around back and you take the roof.”

Janco eyed the sagging rooftops—some peaked, others flat. “If you hear a tremendous crash, that would be me falling through the shingles.”

Ari didn’t bother to reply. He slipped around the row of houses without making a sound. Janco sighed and studied the closest dwelling. The drainpipe looked sketchy, and the wooden siding bowed outward as if the house had been stuffed full. The corner of the building might be okay to climb up, as long as the nails hadn’t rusted through.

A skittery feeling brushed his back. Janco spun around, searching for the cause. The courtyard was empty. He scanned the windows, but no one watched him. However, he couldn’t shake the certainty that someone or something had a keen interest in him. Ignoring the strangeness, he scaled the two-story structure and reached the roof.

Keeping low and testing each step before he put his full weight on it, he headed toward the shack. A number of squeals, squeaks and groans followed his progress. He wondered if any of the residents would investigate the noises or if they’d think it’d be safer to remain indoors. In this neighborhood, he guessed they’d stay inside.

As he drew closer, the quality of the roofs changed. The timber beneath his boots no longer dipped with his weight. The outer layer still resembled a patchwork, but the foundation was strong. His scar tweaked with pain just as he reached a smooth, flat roof with two skylights—quite a surprise.

Janco tiptoed closer, then laid flat on his stomach to peek inside. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the darker interior. He clamped down on a shout. Yelena lay on a couch below. She appeared to be sleeping, or maybe paralyzed by Curare. Janco fervently hoped it was one of those two, and that she wasn’t dead. Before he could move, four men arrived. They carried a wooden crate with them, and then they lifted Yelena and packed her inside it, as if she were a piece of furniture!

He stared in shock as they wheeled the box from the room.

Must. Follow. Box.

* * *

Janco had no memory of his trip back to the courtyard.

“Slow down, you’re not making any sense,” Ari said. “What’s this about a box?”

Fisk and his minions arrived.

Janco explained what had happened. “We need to find that box. Spread out and search.”

“Won’t work,” Fisk said. “This place is a labyrinth, and if you know the layout, you can get from one end to the other without being seen. If she’s in a box, then they’re not planning on keeping her here.”

“Which means they’re probably putting her on a wagon along with other goods to smuggle her from the Citadel,” Ari said.

“The west gate,” Janco said. “It’s the closest.”

“And the most obvious,” Fisk said.

“But they don’t know I know.” Janco thumped his chest.

“Good point. Fisk, can you show us the shortest way to the gate?”

“Of course.” He gave orders to a couple of his minions and then took off at a jog.

“What if we’re too late?” Janco asked, keeping pace with Ari. “Or we don’t spot it? There was nothing remarkable about that particular box.”

“Think positive.”

They reached the gate after two lifetimes. Fisk told them to wait while he bribed the guards to let him look at the logbook. Janco fidgeted, unable to endure even a few seconds of delay.

When Fisk returned, he said, “No wagons have left this afternoon. I sent my people to watch the north and south gates while we keep an eye on this one.”

The three of them split up so they covered all possible angles. Fisk took the high ground to look down into the wagons. Ari was stationed outside the gate. And Janco waited in the shadow of the guardhouse. If a covered wagon arrived, Janco would peek under the tarp before it left.

In the end, it wasn’t a box that tipped Janco off. It was the driver of the wagon. He just about fainted when he spotted Leif chatting with the gate guards. Stunned for a moment, Janco only had time to slip under the tarp before the wagon pulled away.

25

YELENA

I
woke with a horrible headache and my mouth as dry as sawdust. Confused, I peered at my surroundings. The simple room had a night table, a single bed, one door and unadorned white walls. Not Fisk’s colorful guest room. Something wasn’t quite right. I couldn’t move. Curare!

Panicked, I thrashed and stopped when I realized my movements were only limited, not paralyzed. Just my hands and feet had been secured. What did it say about my life when I took comfort in that?

Taking a few deep breaths, I calmed my racing heart. I concentrated on the facts. My symptoms matched being drugged with sleeping potion. Concern for the baby burned, and it triggered other worries. And then I remembered. Leif! He’d been captured. Yet that wasn’t completely true. He was okay, but not okay. My thoughts spun and I closed my eyes. Perhaps I’d wake a second time and everything would be clear.

The doorknob rattled, and I opened my eyes in time to see Leif enter. He carried a tray of food. My relief at seeing him fizzled when Bruns Jewelrose and a couple goons followed him into my room. My memory jerked to life, and my arm burned where my rat bastard of a brother had pricked me with sleeping potion. I glared at Leif.

“I had to do it,” Leif said. “You wouldn’t listen to reason, and Bruns was worried Ari and Janco would find us.”

“That’s because nothing Bruns said was reasonable,” I said.

“I thought the same thing at first. But you really need to see what he’s done here. It’s wonderful.” Leif used the same tone he used to describe a delicious stew.

“Do I have a choice?”

“Of course,” Bruns said. “Just finish hearing me out, and then decide.”

“And if I still think you’re a raving lunatic?”

Bruns pressed his lips together and smoothed an invisible wrinkle on his sleeve. “Then we’ll discuss your options.”

“Options, eh?” My imagination produced a number of horrific scenarios. I quelled my emotions. In this situation, I suspected logic and cold calculation would be required. “All right. I’ll listen.”

Leif smiled. One of the goons placed a chair near the bottom of my bed while the other freed my wrists. I sat up and resisted the urge to check my clothing for my lock picks and switchblade. Bruns sat in the chair.

Leif placed the tray on my lap. “You’ll feel better once you’ve eaten. The chef is an artist. Everything he makes is divine.”

I started with the water, draining half in one gulp. Bruns explained his theory about the Commander’s imminent invasion. I half listened as I tried the stew. Leif hadn’t been exaggerating. The broth had a nice balance of sweet and spicy. After I swallowed, I picked up on a subtle aftertaste. It tasted familiar. It took me another three bites to identify the substance. Theobroma.

Putting the spoon down, I reached for the water.

“Something wrong with the food?” Bruns asked.

“No. My stomach is still unsettled,” I lied. “You were talking about Sitia’s assets...” I prompted.

Bruns continued with his logical yet warped reasoning for protecting Sitia. I glanced at my brother. His expression was one of rapt devotion. No surprise, considering he’d probably consumed mass quantities of the Theobroma-laced food. The substance lowered a magician’s resistance to magical influence and rendered a person without magic very susceptible to suggestion.

I listened to Bruns’s well-rehearsed speech and agreed to take a tour of his facilities. They freed my ankles.

“Before we go, I’d like to talk with my brother. In private,” I said.

“Of course.” Bruns stood and flicked invisible dust from his pants. “We’ll be right outside waiting for you.” He left with his goons.