“And I don’t appreciate your wasting my time.”
“You arrogant bastard!” Lumist roared.
Ian stepped in front of Lumist and shoved him back. “My warehouse was also burned to the ground. I’m afraid two of my guards were, in part, responsible. They’ve since gone missing.”
“More bloody Gyuns, I assume?”
“No,” Ian answered, ignoring the derogatory epithet. “Mason is half-Yordician.”
The tall captain straightened in his saddle and smoothed his neatly trimmed blond mustache and beard. “If he’s not a full Yordician, then he’s just another bloody Gyun.”
Ian swallowed hard. “What do you intend to do about the fires, Captain?”
“Right now, I intend to guard the dock while my mages extinguish what remains of that pathetic ship. Then, I intend to assess the damage done to the pier, so I might accurately report how much your carelessness has cost the king and his city.”
“My carelessness?” Ian sputtered. “I told you a fire mage-”
“An alleged fire mage,” Straegar cut him off. “You have no credible witnesses to support your story.”
“I saw the mage too!” Lumist pushed past Ian and stared up at the captain. “As did Captain Caleachey!”
“As I said, there are no credible witnesses. For all I know, you were shipping something illegally and it caught on fire.”
“Are you calling us liars?” Lumist’s raspy voice became more of a growl. Ian tried to pull him back again, but the knight shrugged him off.
Straegar waved his hand in the air and calmly turned his attention to the battle between the four water mages and the fire. Ian followed his gaze. Eight long tentacles constructed of water were thrust out of the bay and twined around the middle of Kylpin’s burning ship. The thick mooring lines snapped as the enormous kraken-like creature dragged the burning vessel out into the deeper waters of the bay.
Lumist grabbed the hem of Straegar’s cloak. “I asked you a question!” He jerked hard.
Straegar’s irate roar became a strangled yelp as the gold clasp around his throat tightened. He loosened the pin before he was dragged off his stallion and reached for his sword.
“Lumist!” Ian shouted a warning and drew his own sword. He cleared his blade and brought it up just in time to parry Straegar’s downward strike. The two swords tossed sparks in the air and a jarring pain shot through Ian’s arms. His fingers tingled, and he nearly dropped his blade.
Straegar raised his sword again, his blue eyes wide with rage.
“Hold your weapon!” Ian shouted up at him.
Straegar’s face pinched tight, but his sword arm remained still. “He attacked me first! I have every right to defend myself!”
“If you bring that sword down again, I will consider it an attack on me,” Ian said. “And an attack upon a noble is punishable by death. Sheath your sword now or I will demand your head!”
Straegar hesitated, apparently taking his measure of the two Gyunwarian men. Finally, a cruel lopsided smile creased his tanned face. “Very well.” Looking amused, he sheathed his weapon. “I have put my sword away. You are both safe . . .” He jerked the hem of his cloak out of Lumist’s hand. “For now.”
Before Ian could call him on the threat, Straegar spurred his horse forward and rode toward one of the other guards. Lumist followed him for a few steps. “Yordician swine!” he hollered.
Ian shoved him in the back. “Are you looking for a fight?”
Lumist rounded on him. “I don’t usually have to look far.”
“Not ALL Yordicians despise us!” Ian said again. “Despite your best attempts to change their minds!”
“You’re right, Ian! Not ALL. But be honest. Did you actually believe Straegar was going to help you?”
Ian looked down at his boots.
“He’s hated you ever since Vincent Donner’s appointment at the Academy last summer and he hates me because I crippled his father years ago. But even if none of that had happened . . .” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “. . . HE would still hate us because he IS one of those Yordicians who HATES GYUNWARIANS! You can see it-”
“NO!” Kylpin’s cry cut through Lumist’s rant.
Ian turned and spotted his poor friend standing near the water mages, his hands thrown up in the air in a helpless gesture of defeat. Out in the bay, the magical water-kraken broke Serenity in half, crushing the middle section of the ship, while the two ends, fore and aft, folded toward each other. The horrible rending noise of the timbers breaking apart ended when the watery creature sank below the surface of the bay and pulled the remainder of the ship down with it. A debris-strewn whirlpool marked the sight of the disaster. After a few moments, the bay quieted, and the flotsam left behind bobbed gently on the incoming waves.
Ian and Lumist joined Kylpin at the edge of the fire-scarred pier and together the three men watched in silence for survivors to surface.
None did.
Chapter 20
Far overhead, a pair of dark, unblinking eyes watched as Captain Straegar appraised the fire-damaged pier, summoned his men, and galloped back toward the heart of the city. But it wasn’t the captain, his wardens or the four water mages that interested him. His dark eyes focused on the three men left standing at the end of the pier, the two Gyunwarians and the bronze-skinned Seneician. A shadow of a smile passed over his thin, pale lips revealing twin rows of sharp, pointed teeth. He had watched, hidden, as the fire mage burned the warehouse and the transport ship.
Unfortunately, the ship’s captain had survived. Meticulous plans would need to be quickly changed. Their employer would not be happy with that!
His wicked smile grew wider. No, their employer would not be happy with that new development at all!
chapter 21
“M’lord . . .”
The voice from the communication device sounded more distorted than usual. He glanced down at the disc in his palm and spied the Chondaltian priest staring back at him from inside the prisoner’s cell.
“Perhaps you should step out of there before you speak,” he muttered, amazed by the level of ignorance displayed by a man of supposed intelligence and wisdom.
“Joseph Hewes will know what I am saying regardless of where I am,” the priest said. “The vocal portion of the information passed via these discs appears to flow through him.”
“Explain yourself.”
“I’d much rather tell you in person.” The priest glanced at the prisoner. “Privately.”
“I’m out and unavailable.” The carriage struck a rut in the road and the wine in his glass splattered onto the thick, plush cushion beside him. Dammit! “Tell me what you have learned. Now!”
“His magic is confusing. It’s unlike any I’ve seen before,” the priest began. “I believe he is capable of making the discs permanent, but he would need the use of his magic.”
“I had already assumed as much.”
The priest swallowed hard. “Yes, but, if he had the use of his magic, he could just as easily destroy the discs, and we . . . you, would be left without their use.”
“Then leave him where he is.” The carriage slowed. “When he wants to rejoin his family again, he will do as I want. In the meantime, let Pervis attend to him.” He covered the mirror and placed it within his vest pocket. Pervis would eagerly demonstrate his various methods of torture, both physical and magical. By this time tomorrow, perhaps sooner, the mysterious and willful Joseph Hewes would beg to do his bidding.
And if not, perhaps watching his wife and daughters suffer Pervis’s attention would persuade him to change his mind.
The carriage stopped, and he pulled the cowl of his cloak up to hide his face. Once the discs were permanent, he could dispose of the Hewes family entirely, blame it on some misfortunate Gyunwarian and solve two problems at once.
The carriage door snapped open.
“I’ve come to see the lady of the manor,” he spoke softly, adding a musical lilt to his voice. “I belie
ve she is expecting me.”
Chapter 22
Ian stepped down from the city carriage and stared at the dilapidated building in front of him. He had joined Kylpin at several taverns in the past, but this one was by far the shabbiest. Most of the weather-beaten boards looked as if they had never been painted, and the ones that had, looked to have been scavenged from other buildings and used to patch holes or cover broken windows. The cockeyed sign, or rather what remained of it, was barely legible and if Kylpin hadn’t told him the tavern’s name, The Prancing Piper, he would have never guessed it. The sign read, Da PranSin Peyepr
“If all you want is a drink,” Ian said to Kylpin, “we could go somewhere else. Somewhere a little further up the hill and away from the docks. Or better yet, we could explore my wine cellar. I know I have something down there you’ll like.”
“My shipmates and I used to come here all the time, my friend,” Kylpin said, joining him in the street, “and now that they’re gone, I think it is only fitting I raise a toast here to honor their memory.”
Lumist poked his head out the carriage window. “Regretfully, I cannot join you both. I must repay Bolodenko and I’d prefer to visit his mausoleum haunt before dark.”
“Then I will see you at midday tomorrow for lunch,” Ian said, glancing back at the old knight. “Gertrude has promised to make her fruit pastries.”
Lumist’s lined face broke into a smile. “Say no more. I’ll be there.” He patted his coat’s breast pocket and dipped his head. “And Ian . . . thank you for the loan.”
The driver cracked his whip and the carriage rolled away.
“I can’t believe his vault was emptied.” Kylpin said, once the knight was gone. “With all those mechanical traps on the door, I wouldn’t think it possible.”
“I wouldn’t have believed it either had I not seen it myself. The burglar, this so-called, Thief of Belyne, defeated them all, and didn’t leave a single coin behind.”
“And it was the same with Glavinas’s and Cuci’s vaults too?”
Ian nodded. “Cuci’s husband had even placed a spell on the vault door.”
“How’s she coping with his death? Any better?” Kylpin pushed through the tavern’s swinging door and held it open for him.
“She was.” A wall of smoky air struck Ian as he followed his friend inside. He swallowed hard and tried breathing through his mouth. “But this burglary has set her back again.”
“Poor girl.”
Ian waited for his eyes to adjust to the dim haziness. A lone streak of sun wafted through the filthy window beside him and cast the room in a sickly shade of pale yellow.
“I know it doesn’t look like much, my friend,” Kylpin whispered, “but Philson is a good man and he serves a good drink.” He headed toward a table. “Usually.”
Ian glanced around the room. It was empty except for a couple of scrawny men hunched over the bar nursing drinks and chatting with the pair-shaped barmaid.
“It’s early.” Kylpin sat and stretched his legs out under the table.
Ian took a seat opposite him and nearly fell over backwards.
“The chairs are a little wobbly, I’m afraid.”
Ian found that to be a bit of an understatement. One of his chair’s rear legs was noticeably shorter than the others, but when he tried to switch it with a chair from another table he found the new chair to be just as wobbly. With great care, he sat and made sure to keep his weight forward.
The bottom-heavy barmaid shuffled over and plopped two full tankards down in front of them. Ale sloshed out and across the knife-scarred table.
“I didn’t order anything yet,” Ian said.
The barmaid put a ham fist on her hip and glared down at him. “Thar ain’t no ord’rin. It’s this, or nothin’.” She shook her head and glanced over at Kylpin. “Evie ain’t ‘ere. I ‘aven’t seen ‘er all day.”
“Thanks, Audra.”
The barmaid grunted and shuffled back to her bar-side perch.
Ian eyed the spill next to his tankard. It looked like watery blood and as he watched, it slowly drained across the lopsided table and dripped onto the floor. The chairs weren’t the only things not level in here. “She was . . . friendly.”
“I’ve seen her drench people for saying less.” Kylpin grabbed his drink and raised it in the air. “To the fallen men of the Serenity. May they sail the Great Sea across to the heavens safely and always have a strong wind at their backs.”
Ian raised his tankard. It had a leak on the bottom.
A pair of unshaved Yordician men stumbled into the tavern and sat at a table by the door. The men were dressed in little more than rags and Ian felt a bit conspicuous even though his clothes were scorched and covered in soot. He took a healthy sip and then another. The thick red ale swirled around the back of his throat and burned going down. His eyes watered. He’d probably regret drinking it in the morning, but in no time at all the pain from the day dulled and he began to relax. He took another swallow and lowered his tankard. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed one of the filthy Yordicians fiddling around with a small silver disc. The man placed the object on the table and stared at it long and hard. It was too large to be a coin and too flat to be a medallion . . .
“I’m surprised the city patrol hasn’t found this ‘Thief of Belyne’ yet,” Kylpin said, drawing Ian’s attention away from the Yordician and his odd little mirror. “There can’t be that many thieves which such a wide range of talents in the city. I mean, he defeated Lumist’s traps, Cuci’s spells, and Glavinas’ . . . ummm . . .”
“Paranoia?” Ian finished for him.
“Is it still bad?”
“He hasn’t been the same since Leorna died and I can’t remember the last time I saw him sober.”
“I must say, a bout of ill luck has surely struck us, my friend, and I do not like the look of the black clouds looming on our horizon.”
A trio of slovenly dressed wardens pushed through the door and settled around a table in the corner. Ian was appalled by the disgraceful condition of their uniforms, but he decided to ignore it for now. “We’ve weathered worse storms than this.”
“Aye, but we’ve always had the profits from the jungle excursions to see us through. Now, the outpost is in Ragget’s control.”
Ian recognized Kylpin’s small talk as the preamble to a more serious discussion. “I think it’s best to wait a day or so before we-”
“You need not dance around the issue with me,” Kylpin said bluntly. “We have both suffered losses today.”
“But you lost-”
“I lost many good men, plus one hell of a fine ship.” Kylpin paused and Ian wondered if he would continue. When he did, his voice was grim. “There is nothing we can do about that now. What is done is done and it cannot be undone, no matter how much we may wish otherwise.” Kylpin bowed his head and studied his tankard silently for another long moment. “But that does not mean we are without options.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I think you do, my friend,” Kylpin looked up. “Retaliate against Lord Ragget.”
Ian sighed through his teeth.
Kylpin leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I know there is no proof to link him to today’s fires, but he took your outpost by force. That much we do know to be true.”
“And if I send you back to Scylthia with an army of men, what then?” Ian asked in a low voice. “I am not so eager to jeopardize peace without speaking to the king first.”
“Ragget does not seem to share your concerns.” Kylpin pointed out. “And that makes him a very dangerous man. We all know he is no friend to foreigners.”
Ian took a long pull on his tankard and a sphere of warmth settled in the pit of his stomach. “You are starting to sound a lot like Lumist.”
“Seneicians have suffered the hatred of many races throughout history, my friend, even Gyunwarians, once upon a time.”
Ian nodded and drained the rest of his ale. He turned to
summon the barmaid and found her still flirting shamelessly with the scrawny men. Next to her now, squeezed behind the bar and mindlessly drying a chipped mug, was one of the fattest men Ian had ever seen. He assumed it was the owner. “Philson?”
The fat man’s tiny eyes, like two plump raisins pushed deep into uncooked dough, swiveled up from his drying and he scanned the room. Ian raised his empty tankard. “Another here, please.”
Philson muttered something to Audra. She glared at Ian. He cringed. It was the same penetrating stare Cecily so often gave him.
“Tell me, my friend, what are you going to do now?”
Ian placed his empty tankard on the table. “I suppose I’ll just wait for her to come over.”
“Don’t play coy with me. What are you going to do about the outpost? The fires? The missing cargo?” Kylpin leaned in close. “What are you going to do about Ragget?”
Ian took a deep breath and stared at the empty tankard. Perhaps the answer would be at the bottom. He looked. It wasn’t there. “I don’t know.”
That wasn’t good enough. He knew it the moment the words left his mouth. A large part of him wished Lord Orrington had attacked the outpost. It would not have made retaliation any easier to justify, but it would have been more gratifying and less difficult. But Lord Ragget? Ian shook his head. Ragget was a tremendously rich and powerful Yordician lord with many influential friends, including Cecily’s father, Prince Edmund. Retaliation against Lord Ragget would be a costly affair, for him and his homeland.
Ian fiddled with his tankard, spinning it around and around in his hands. He could feel the weight of Kylpin’s stare as the Seneician waited for him to offer a more detailed reply, but the answers were not simple ones, and not for the first time in his life did he regret being named Ambassador to Belyne.
“I don’t know . . . yet. So much has happened today and I’m afraid any rash action on my part would only make matters worse.” He met Kylpin’s penetrating glare and held it. “But I promise when we find the mage responsible for the fires, justice will be served.”
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