The Study of Poisons, page 11
Rand handed her a meat pie. Pride swelled in Valek’s chest when she performed the five S-steps. But she didn’t eat much as she talked to the cook. When they stood to leave, Valek hurried out. Perhaps she was afraid he wasn’t guarding her like he promised. She might need confirmation that he was nearby.
Valek took a couple big gulps of his ale and spilled the rest down his tunic. Ugh. When he spotted Yelena and Rand arm in arm, he had to crush the desire to yank Rand into some dark corner.
Acting and smelling drunk, Valek bumped into Yelena, causing her to stumble.
When she glanced at him, he mumbled, “Pardon me,” and saluted her with his mug. No recognition touched her face, so he bowed, pretended to lose his balance, and landed at her feet, hoping she would help him stand and he could tell her that he had her back.
Except a loud pulsing rhythm surged through the crowd and shook the ground. Drawn by the commotion, Yelena stepped over him.
At least his disguise worked. Valek stood and brushed the dust off his uniform. He looked at the crowd in front of him but didn’t see Yelena. Not panicking, he scanned the press of people entering the entertainment tent.
Hildred appeared beside him. “Where did she go?” Her voice was tight with tension.
Then Inrick and the two other shadows were next to him.
“She must be at the entrance of the tent with Rand,” Inrick said. “I can see his head. Not hers, she’s too short.”
No. She’d disappeared too quickly. “Fan out with your teammate,” Valek ordered. “She couldn’t have gone far.”
He took the right side, searching. It was the unnatural lurching stride of the four big men that caught his attention at first. That and how close they stood to each other as if—
Ribbons flashed between shoulders. Yelena.
Valek whistled to his corps and hurried after the goons. They dragged her away from the crowd and disappeared between two medium-sized tents. He remembered there was an empty area behind the pavilions with three ways to get in.
His team caught up. Valek sent each pair to the other sides of the tents. “Don’t let them pass you.”
“What about you?” Hildred asked.
“I’m taking this one.”
“But—”
“Noooo—” the scream cut off.
Yelena. Every particle of his being cried out with one primal directive: She. Can’t. Die.
“Go! Now!” Valek ran through the narrow gap and broke through a sticky substance as if he’d just run through a spider web.
Magic. He cursed.
When he reached the area, he paused for a second to analyze the scene and let his eyes adjust to the semi-darkness. Three big men held Yelena, while another strangled her with a garrote. A woman stood nearby watching.
“Hurry up! She’s starting to project,” the woman said.
Oh no. Not tonight. Not ever. Valek stepped forward and held out his mug. “Excuse me, sirs, do you know where I can get a refill?” He slurred his words.
As expected, they turned their attention to Valek. The man with the garrote let go and pulled a knife. Thank fate. But when Yelena went limp, fury sent a surge of energy through him.
The man lunged. Valek turned his mug. The blade stabbed into the mug instead of his heart. Nice. He twisted the mug with a hard jerk. The knife flew through the air. Not wasting time, Valek slammed the pewter mug into the man’s temple. He crumbled just as his three companions rushed Valek. They didn’t waste any time. Two grabbed his upper arms and shoulders, holding him in place while the third managed to punch Valek in the face. Twice.
Pain shot through his jaw and cheek; he tasted the metallic tang of blood. Then magic surrounded him, pushing against his skin, weighing him down, slowing his movements. No way this would be a fair fight. Valek changed tactics. He needed to end this. Now.
Since the two men already supported his weight, he lifted his legs and wrapped his left one around the third guy’s neck, Using the heel of his right boot to apply pressure, he snapped the man’s neck. The two idiots holding him stared in shock. They hadn’t bothered to secure his wrists, so he swung his mug into the right man’s groin, when the goon doubled over, Valek slammed it into his face. Yelping, the man released his hold on Valek as his blood gushed.
With one arm free, he turned to the last goon and smashed the mug into his nose before striking him on the temple. The man collapsed. It took mere seconds, but because of the magic around him Valek gasped for breath as if he’d run for miles. The magic intensified and he met the magician’s gaze. By the incredible force of her power, he suspected she was a master magician.
He wondered what she was trying to do with her power. Kill him? Knock him unconscious? She wore a hawk mistress’ uniform, and her hair was pulled back into a severe bun. Her bronze skin tone was similar to those who lived in southern Sitia. Probably a member of the Bloodgood or Jewelrose Clans.
Yelena stood and wobbled. He almost cheered out loud until the movement drew the southern magician’s attention. Valek swayed as the magic around him disappeared. But then Yelena sank back to the ground with a tired smile.
Oh no.
Panic soon gripped Yelena’s face and she thrashed, clawing at her face. He might be immune to magic, but Yelena wasn’t. The magician was going to kill her.
CHAPTER 9
Valek was next to Yelena in a heartbeat. He tried to block the magician’s power with his body while he shook Yelena’s shoulders. The magician must have control of her mind, and there was only one way to break the spell.
“Recite poisons in your mind!” he shouted in her ear.
She calmed and went limp, giving up. Not a good sign.
“Recite! Now! That’s an order!”
Come on, come on, he silently chanted.
Scrunching her face, her gaze sought his. Then she gasped for air and Valek wanted to jump for joy. He’d analyze the strength of that emotion later. Much later.
“Keep reciting,” he urged, glancing around.
The southern magician had disappeared and so had most of Valek’s energy. He stood and helped Yelena to her feet. She swayed and he steadied her, placing his hand on her shoulder. Yelena covered his hand with hers. A warm buzz emanated from the touch. For a second, he thought she’d rush into his arms. And he longed for the contact, would welcome it, but she straightened and stepped away.
He returned to the four men. Turning one man over, he cursed. “Southerners.” Then he checked their pulses. “Two alive. I’ll have them taken to the castle for questioning.” And just where were his back-ups?
“What about the woman?” she asked with a rasp.
She’d have a sore throat for a couple days. “Gone.”
“Will you search for her?”
The magician knew the risks of being caught in Ixia. She was probably halfway to Sitia by now and, if not, she had enough power to disappear in Ixia. Frankly, Valek didn’t have the energy. “Yelena, she’s a southern magician. I took my eyes off her, so there’s no way I can find her now.”
Trembling, Yelena stared at the men on the ground. Not wanting to upset her further, he took her by the arm and led her back toward the festival.
“Magician?” she asked. “I thought they were banished from Ixia.”
“Although very unwelcome, some visit Ixia anyway.” And were killed when captured.
“But I thought—”
“Not now. I’ll explain later. Right now, I want you to catch up with Rand and his friends. Pretend nothing has happened. I doubt she’ll try again tonight.” He escorted her through the shadows and kept an eye out for his corps, the magician, and Rand.
Rand was easy to find. The tall cook had returned to the acrobatics tent and was yelling Yelena’s name. By the way he staggered, the man was probably drunk. Or feeling guilty? Hmmm, he’d have to investigate the possibility Rand had set her up.
She moved toward her friend. The torchlight illuminated the black strap around her throat.
“Yelena, wait,” Valek said, gesturing her closer. He reached for the garrote, but she stepped back. Ah. Even after he’d saved her life, she still didn’t trust him. Yet, she braced and waited. Progress. Valek tried again and pulled the strap from her neck and handed it to her, showing her what had almost killed her.
She shivered and flung it to the ground before joining Rand. Valek picked it up. Lavender scented the leather. The weapon might come in handy someday. Perhaps he’d wrap it around the southern magician’s neck. One could hope.
Hildred and Inrick appeared next to him.
“Where have you been?” he demanded.
“We couldn’t get to you,” Hildred said.
“Did you get lost?”
“No. We encountered some type of invisible barrier.”
The magic spiderweb he’d broken through. Valek should have known.
“I know it sounds crazy,” Inrick said. “But eventually the barrier disappeared, and we rushed in to find the bodies and no sign of you or Yelena. What happened?”
Valek would explain later. “Where are the others?”
“Back with the bodies just in case you returned.”
“Go tell them you found us,” he said to Inrick. “Then fetch a clean-up crew. Take the two still breathing to the infirmary. As soon as they’re conscious, interrogate them.”
“Yes, sir.” Inrick dashed off.
“And me?” Hildred asked.
“You’re with me. We’re staying with Yelena until she’s safe inside my suite.”
“Yes, sir.”
The bruises on Valek’s jaw ached and all he desired was a long hot soak followed by collapsing into his bed. Instead, he took a quick bath, changed into a clean uniform, and reported to the Commander for their nightly meeting—a tradition that had started soon after the takeover. The only time they didn’t meet was when either of them was out of town, or when Valek was working undercover.
Resisting the temptation to check on Yelena, Valek knocked on the Commander’s door. It was well after midnight and Ambrose may have gone to bed. In which case, he wouldn’t answer. But the door swung open. The Commander eyed Valek’s face and then stepped back, allowing him in.
His suite was a mirror image of Valek’s with the same L-shaped living area, same number of rooms on two floors. Except Ambrose’s place was pristine. Not a book out of place. No clutter. And no personality. Not that Valek was brave enough to point that out.
“Sit,” the Commander gestured to the couches. Two of them faced each other with a low table between them.
A tumbler, half full of an amber liquid, and a report rested on the table. Valek sank into the cushions while Ambrose poured him a drink. He handed the glass to Valek before settling opposite him. The strong scent of peach brandy stung his nose. Valek refrained from downing the alcohol in one gulp.
“The fire festival is already causing trouble,” Ambrose said, jabbing a finger at the report. “Merchants fighting over their tent locations, entertainers demanding more money, and crime rates doubling, why do I fund this…this…unnecessary and expensive frivolity every year?”
This argument was as old as the festival. And Valek knew this was just the opening salvo and not a legitimate question. He sipped his drink.
“And if those bruises are any indication, I’m sure you’re about to report more trouble. Who came after our food taster this time? Brazell? Star?”
“Neither fish took our bait.”
“No?”
“No. Instead, we lured a big, dangerous shark.” He drained his drink. The Commander did the same. Valek took both glasses, refilled them, and returned to his seat before recounting the evening’s events.
Ambrose listened without interruption. At the end, he asked, “Why does a southern magician wish my food taster dead?”
“No idea.” Although Valek was happy to note Ambrose’s use of my.
“I’d say this qualifies as Yelena being too troublesome, but it goes well beyond that.”
“It does. And if she dies, then any chance to solve this mystery will die with her.”
“Then I trust you to find out exactly what is going on and stop it.”
“Yes, sir.”
After his meeting with the Commander, Valek headed to the infirmary. Inrick guarded the two unconscious goons. Medic Channa guessed it would be a couple more hours before they woke.
“Did you have to hit them so hard?” she asked, annoyed. “One has a cracked skull and may have brain damage.”
“Four against one, Channa. I’m lucky it wasn’t me who had to be carried in here.”
Her expression softened. “How’s the jaw?” She fingered the bruises. “Do you need any pain medicine? Or have you already self-medicated?” She sniffed. “Peach?”
“Yes, to both questions. The Commander always has the good stuff.” The brandy had dulled the throb.
Channa handed him some smelling salts. “For your…guests. Wave these under their noses every thirty minutes or so. You might be able to wake one of them up sooner.”
“Thanks.”
Valek joined Inrick. They discussed the evening’s events as they waited, comparing notes.
“Did you see these guys at the festival?” Valek asked.
“Not together. And I only noticed the blacksmith earlier in the crowd because half his beard was singed off. You’d think he would have shaved the rest.”
“Unless that’s part of his disguise.”
“Could be.” He shrugged. “Truthfully, I wasn’t looking for the obvious goons. I thought General Brazell would send an assassin, or his soldiers would be wearing civilian clothes.”
Inrick made an interesting point. Had Star or Brazell hired the southern magician to kill Yelena? Would a master-level magician be working for hire? Unlikely. No. There had to be something else going on.
After multiple attempts, they finally roused one of the goons. Unfortunately, he had been a grunt for hire and his job was to aid in the kidnapping. All he knew was that the man with the knife had hired him and the woman acted like his boss.
Discouraged, Valek left the infirmary and returned to his apartment. He blinked at the sudden brightness. All the lanterns blazed and, sitting on the couch wide awake and obviously waiting for him, was Yelena. He glanced longingly at the stairs up to his bedroom, bit back a sigh, and studied her.
“Haven’t you slept?” he asked.
“No. But neither have you,” she said, sounding like a little kid.
“I can sleep all day. You need to taste the Commander’s breakfast in an hour.”
“What I need are answers.”
“To what questions?” Valek started extinguishing the lanterns.
“Why is a southern magician trying to kill me?”
“A good question. The very same one I was going to ask you.”
“How should I know?” She threw her hands up in frustration. “Brazell’s guards I could understand. But magicians! It’s not like I’ve been going around making southern magicians angry.”
“Ahhh…that’s a shame. Since you have a real talent for angering people.” Valek sunk into the chair by his desk and rested his throbbing head in his hands. “A southern magician, Yelena, a master-level southern magician. Do you know that there are only four master magicians in Sitia? Four. And since the takeover, they’ve stayed in Sitia. On occasion they send a minion or two with minor magical abilities into the Territory to see what we’re up to. So far, each spy has been intercepted and dealt with. Commander Ambrose will not tolerate magic in Ixia.”
And it was damned inconvenient for Valek. Needing to move, he stood up and snatched a gray rock from his desk. Carving helped focus his thoughts, perhaps just holding a stone would help as well. He paced around the living room. Yelena pulled her legs underneath her.
“For the southerners to risk one of their master magicians, the reason has to be…” Valek squeezed the stone in his hand as he searched for the right descriptor. She needed to know the danger. “Momentous. So why are they after you?” He sighed and sank down on the couch next to her. “Well, let’s try to reason this out. You obviously have some southern blood in your heritage.”
“What?”
Why was she surprised? Had she not noticed her skin tone? Or were the other children in Brazell’s orphanage similar in coloring?
“Your coloring is a bit darker than the typical northerner,” he explained. “Your features have a southern quality. Green eyes are very rare in the Territory but are more common in Sitia.”
She stared at him in shock. Did she believe these qualities were bad? In his opinion, they enhanced her beauty.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he reassured her. “When the King was in power, the border to Sitia was open to commerce and trade. People moved freely between the regions, and marriages were inevitable. I would guess you were left behind right after the takeover, when people panicked and fled south before we closed the border. It was complete mayhem. I don’t know what they were expecting when the Commander came to power. Mass killings? All we did was give everyone a uniform and a job.”
Her frozen expression remained, and he regretted having implied her parents had left her behind. What a terrible comment. He didn’t mean to imply that. She was probably an orphan before the takeover and the people in charge of her care left her behind. No, that didn’t sound nice either. The silence lengthened.
“Well, anyway, I digress.” Valek stood and resumed his pacing. “I doubt it was missing family members. They wouldn’t want to kill you. Is there anything else, besides murdering Reyad, that you did in the past? Witnessed a crime? Overheard plans for a rebellion? Anything at all?”
“No. Nothing.”
Valek tapped the rock against his forehead. Why had he said, ‘other than murdering Reyad?’ He really needed to stop talking and go to sleep before he wrecked their tenuous relationship. “Then let’s assume this has to do with Reyad. Perhaps he was in league with some southerners and your killing him ruined their plans. Maybe they’re scheming to retake Ixia. Or they think you know something about this plot. But I’ve heard nothing about Sitia attacking us. And why would they? Sitia knows the Commander is content to stay in the north and vice versa.” Valek rubbed a hand over his face. The bruises ached.
