At the top of the steps she paused to listen.
All clear.
She turned right. The royal apartment was near the center of the castle so she still had a ways to go. From here her work really began. Every step brought the risk of discovery higher.
The key to blending in was to keep your eyes down and act like you belonged. That was easy enough; Jen did belong and she didn’t want anyone looking too close at her face anyway.
She stayed tense the whole way, ready to strike or hide as the situation dictated. Footsteps ahead. She risked a glance up.
Another servant, her arms laden with dirty sheets. Jen moved aside to give her room drawing a murmured, “Thank you.”
“And where do you think you’re going?” a stern voice asked.
Jen had been so focused on the servant she hadn’t noticed the second woman approaching. Stupid! “There was a spill in the royal apartment. I’m going to clean it.”
Please buy it.
“I heard nothing about an accident. Who are you? Look at me!”
Jen clenched her fist and looked up into the liquid brown eyes of Miss Lena, the staff mistress.
Her eyes went wide. “Jennifer? What in heaven’s name are you doing here?”
“Shh. I’m going to free Karrie and Queen Audra.”
“You mustn’t. Assassins are after them. They’re being held for their protection.” Miss Lena sniffed. “The king’s dead.”
Jen checked the hall in both directions. She didn’t have time for this. “Uncle Andy’s fine. He’s the one that sent me to get them. Duke Carmichael’s using them to seize control of the kingdom. Can you help me?”
As Jen talked Miss Lena’s expression went from sad to angry. “Why that no good so-and-so. I always thought he was too smooth to be real. Unfortunately, I can’t help you. Only a select few are allowed access to the queen and princess and none of the servants make the cut.”
Jen’s jaw clenched, but she wasn’t surprised. Servants gossiped and the duke wouldn’t want his prisoners knowing what was happening outside.
“Thanks anyway. I know the back halls well enough to get close. After that it all comes down to luck.”
“May all of yours be good.” Miss Lena patted her head like she was still a little girl. “Off you go.”
Jen hurried away, her mind racing. She couldn’t use her disguise to get close. That left her with a high-speed surprise attack. Easier said than done and any sorcerer nearby would sense the moment she struck.
Her odds seemed to be getting worse by the second, but unless she wanted to give up, there was nothing to do but push forward.
Jen was many things. But a quitter wasn’t one of them.
Chapter Twenty-Six
It was still the middle of the night when Sir Collin spotted the lights of a city on the horizon. That had to be Port Crimson. He had no facts to support his belief, but he didn’t question it either. You didn’t reach the top of an organization the size of the paladins’ by lacking confidence.
He snuck a quick look over his shoulder. She was still back there, keeping up like flying through the night posed no problem for her. If you’d asked him before they left, Sir Collin would have bet his considerable fortune that Marie-Bell would have given up and gone home by now. She was keeping up just to spite him, he knew it. Just like she ignored his orders not to heal those grubby rebels. Somehow she had disobeyed a direct order and made him look like the bad guy.
He hated the woman, hated her far more than a proper paladin should. He knew that yet couldn’t force himself to feel differently. Just looking at her big, stupid smile made him want to strangle her with his bare hands, not that the angels would let him get away with such a thing, damn them.
“Sir Collin?” Mallory’s voice snapped him out of his dark musings.
“What is it?”
“We’ve got company.” Mallory nodded toward the city.
Sir Collin finally sensed three approaching sorcerers. They rose like meteors in reverse, dressed in black and outlined with flames. This shouldn’t be a problem, their master was expecting them after all.
He urged his conjured mount to fly faster so he arrived a little ahead of the others. The greeting party consisted of two men flanking a woman. They hovered directly ahead and showed no intention of getting out of the way. Fire gathered around their hands and they looked ready to attack.
Sir Collin had no desire to fight the dragon’s servants. That was liable to get them in even more trouble than healing a few rebels.
He waved in greeting. “Hello. My name is Sir Collin, leader of the kingdom paladins. I believe you’re expecting us.”
The sorcerers lowered their hands a fraction. The female sorcerer said, “The Voice told us you were led by a woman. Where is she?”
Sir Collin’s stomach clenched so hard acid burned the back of his throat. “Marie-Bell does not lead this group, she is simply another member of the quest. I, and no one else, am in charge.”
The rest of the paladins had caught up. The female sorcerer spotted Marie-Bell and waved her forward. The idiot smiled and glided to a stop beside him.
“Hello,” she said.
“This one claims to be in charge,” the sorcerer said. “We were told you led this mission. Is he telling us the truth?”
Marie-Bell looked from Sir Collin to the sorcerer and back before answering. “Sir Collin is our leader, I just happened to be nearby when the Voice took her leave so she may have misunderstood.”
“Why would she have thought you were in charge if you were just nearby?” Sir Collin didn’t like the deep frown creasing the sorcerer’s face. He desperately wanted to jump in, but doubted she’d appreciate it.
“Two dear friends of mine are close to the kingdom’s ruler. I joined them and the king to observe the dragons’ war. The Voice may have seen me in proximity to the king and believed I was more important than I am.”
The fire around the female sorcerer’s hands flared once then guttered to nothing. “Either way, you are expected. I will escort you to your ship.”
She dismissed the men with a wave and flew off toward the docks. Sir Collin gave Marie-Bell one last look and turned his mount to follow.
Two minutes later they landed beside the boarding ramp of a three-masted sailing ship named Sea Wing. Their guide said, “You may depend on Captain Morrow to get you safely to your destination.”
Without so much as a word of goodbye the woman flew off, leaving the paladins staring at the gently bobbing ship. Sir Collin wasn’t sure if he should just board or wait until someone invited him.
His indecision was soon relieved by the arrival of a dusky-skinned woman in shiny black boots, a broad-brimmed hat, and silk shirt. A curved sword hung at her waist.
She grinned. “I’m Captain Anastasia Morrow, welcome aboard the Sea Wing.”
Taking that as an invitation, Sir Collin climbed the swaying ramp, trying to be careful where he set his feet without looking like he was being careful. When he reached the top he moved aside to let the others board.
“I want to set sail as soon as my people are settled,” Sir Collin said.
Captain Morrow shook her head. “No can do.”
Sir Collin bristled, but he didn’t command the ship. For the moment his quest was at her mercy.
“Tide doesn’t go out for another four fours,” she continued. “Can’t leave port until then.”
He was grateful for the darkness. Hopefully she didn’t notice how red his cheeks got. “I see. What are the sleeping arrangements?”
“Pretty tight. I set aside our spare cabin for your leader. Didn’t want her having to bunk with the sailors. The rest of you will just have to grab a hammock with the guys.”
Sir Collin badly wanted to flatten her already broad nose. “I am in charge of this mission and I will be taking that cabin.
She gave him a quizzical look then shrugged. “Makes no difference to me either way. Looks like the last of your people are aboard. Let’
s get you bedded down.”
Half an hour later Sir Collin was uncomfortably ensconced in what passed for a cabin on this tub. The tiny room had barely enough space for him to lie down on the hard cot. The sole article of furniture was an iron-banded chest that served as an extra chair should he decide to have a guest. Perhaps he would’ve been better off letting Marie-Bell have the cabin.
He barely hit the mattress when a distant force tugged on him. The next thing he knew he was flying through darkness. Despite the strangeness of the journey, Sir Collin didn’t panic. He’d been summoned to speak with his partner enough times to recognize what was happening.
Sometime later he settled on a squishy cloud. Standing before him, in her glorious perfection, was his partner. Dressed all in white, her dove wings folded against her back. A golden glow surrounded her and the scent of lilacs perfumed the air. He didn’t know her name; no paladin knew the name of their partner. He had no idea why that should be, but it had always been and no one questioned it.
Today, her full, red lips were turned down in a slight frown. He’d never seen such a display of emotion from her before.
He offered a fractional bow. “Yes?”
“You are walking a dangerous path with your attitude lately,” she said. “Your pride must not get in the way of completing the quest. Purifying Binder is more important than anything.”
“I’m aware of the importance of my mission,” Sir Collin said. “But I’m surrounded by fools and weaklings. They’re the ones that endanger our important work. If only the archangels had heeded my suggestion not to send the girl. Mark my words, if this mission fails, it will be on her head.”
His partner shook her head. “Sometimes I think you forget that the other paladins are your brothers and sisters, not your servants. Treat them as such and they will serve Heaven far better. Mind my words lest doom fall on your head.”
He took a breath to argue some more, but the next thing he knew he was hurtling through darkness again. When he reached his body he found the room swaying. Something creaked above him.
The ship was setting sail. He’d been gone longer than he thought.
Sir Collin shivered. How dare his partner lecture him like some new recruit? He was the leader of the Order, not some rank-and-file paladin.
He’d show her. He’d show them all. No matter the cost, this quest would succeed. And when he returned with the gold dragon’s power everyone would have to acknowledge his greatness.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Damien powered through the night sky. He was eager to put some distance between him and the sanctuary. He loved Uncle Andy like a second father, but the constant pacing and muttering was almost more than he could take. He understood, of course he did. Damien was also worried about Karrie, less so about Audra. He and the queen had never especially gotten along. The only reason she tolerated him was Uncle Andy.
If anybody could get them out, Jen could. Speaking of people he was worried about, his sister, alone in the capital, surrounded by fanatics that wouldn’t think twice about killing her, topped the list. Not that he’d ever tell her. Jen hated anyone making a fuss.
He glanced at Imogen and smiled. It was good to be working with her again. “What news from the archmage’s spies?”
“It’s mixed.” Imogen gave him a brief rundown on the reports. “Sounds like Port Valcane’s in the worst shape. Hopefully, Mariela will know the leaders and we can decapitate the movement quickly.”
Damien nodded though he doubted it would be so simple. “Why’d Mariela go to Nordric? This time of year it’s freezing up there.”
“According to King’s College she’s researching an ice demon cult. Heaven only knows why. She seems obsessed with these groups. I don’t get it, but then again the only thing that interests me about demons is killing them.”
Damien grinned. That was one thing they always had in common.
Hey!
“Risen demons excepted.”
That’s better.
“Did you say something?” Imogen asked.
“Lizzy took exception to the killing demons thing. By the way, did the college give you any hints about where we might find Mariela?”
“No, just the city name, though calling Nordric a city might be a little generous.”
Damien had never visited the northernmost city in the kingdom and he was curious to see what it was like.
An hour later he got his answer. Nordric was cold, wet and miserable. Three inches of slush filled deep ruts running down the main street, smoke from hundreds of fires choked the air, and all the shutters were closed so you couldn’t use the spillover light to navigate. It looked like the sort of place ogres wouldn’t bother to raid for fear the humans would insist they keep it.
Damien shivered and increased the heat trapped under his shield.
“Where do you want to start looking?” he asked.
“I suppose she’ll need a place to stay.” Imogen pointed to a two-story building with a sign that read beds for rent. “I say we check the inns.”
“Works for me.”
The first inn was a typical example: big common room with a blazing, open-pit fire, long bar, and maybe twenty tables, half of them occupied. The heavy-set woman standing behind the bar looked like a good place to start.
As they crossed the common room every gaze in the place tracked them. When you were with Imogen you had to expect that kind of thing. When they reached the bar, the woman gave them a flat, disinterested look.
“We’re looking for a scholar named Mariela,” Damien said. “Is she staying here?”
The bartender spit a line of tobacco juice into a spittoon behind the bar. “What business is it of yours?”
Damien restrained a sigh. Why was nothing ever easy? “We have some questions for her. It’s Crown business.”
The bartender barked a laugh. “You expect me to believe a pup like you works for the government as anything but a stable boy?”
Damien let his aura flare, sending little bolts of golden lightning shooting off into the air. “I do. Now, is she here or not?”
Most of the insolence had been wiped off her face by his little display. “What’s she look like?”
Damien frowned. He’d never actually met Mariela. All he had were Jen’s stories to go by. “Not too tall, early forties, dark hair, obsessed with the occult.”
The bartender shook her head, little flecks of tobacco juice flying from her lips. “No, I’d remember someone like that.”
She wasn’t lying, that was good, it also meant they’d have to continue their search. “How many inns are there in Nordric?”
“Four, though mine is the finest.” She puffed her ample chest out.
Damien glanced at the rough-hewn floors, soot-covered ceiling, and rough patrons. If this was the finest inn Nordric had to offer he wasn’t looking forward to visiting the rest.
“Thanks for your time.” He stalked back out into the frigid night.
“I think she liked you,” Imogen said.
“Thanks. Next time you can do the talking. Lizzy, would you do a surface scan of everyone’s thoughts? Maybe one of the patrons has seen her.”
No problem. If I find something do you want me to dig deeper?
“If you can do it without them noticing, absolutely.”
He felt her amusement at the idea that anyone would notice her if she didn’t want them to. Damien had learned a lot over the last few weeks about just how open the average person was to psychic abilities. Not that he’d thought up anything to do about it. It was just something they had to accept as humans. He hated having to accept a weakness.
The next inn was a bust, though Imogen did get an offer of a free room from the owner, assuming she was willing to share it with him. She wasn’t and the handprint she left on his face made that clear.
“Why are so many men pigs?” Imogen demanded as she stormed out of the inn.
“I don’t think that many of us are,” Damien said. “It’s just
you’re more likely to notice the loud obnoxious ones than the quiet polite ones.”
“I think you’re too optimistic about your gender.”
Imogen went on with her rant, but Damien stopped dead in the street. Something was coming. It felt like one of his master’s message spheres, but stronger and faster than any he’d ever received.
Imogen finally noticed he wasn’t keeping up and turned back. “What is it? We’ve got two more inns to check.”
Damien pointed at the tiny golden dot streaking toward them.
“Is that from the archmage?” Concern had replaced anger in her tone.
“Yeah .” His master never used that much power in a simple message sphere. “I’ve got a bad feeling.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Lidia sipped her tea and kept her expression neutral as the king digested her report. He sat directly across from her in the sanctuary meeting room. A single glow sphere lit the space, casting deep shadows everywhere.
Stress and exhaustion had taken their toll on the king. Dark ridges had formed under Andrew’s eyes and his face looked drawn and pale. He needed to sleep, but she couldn’t exactly order him to bed. And even if she did, until his family was safe, true rest would be impossible.
She understood his frustration, but they needed to give Jennifer time to complete her mission. Until she returned, either in success or failure, they couldn’t make proper plans.
“You’re certain of this information?” Andrew asked at last.
“As certain as I can be without visiting the area personally.” She set her cup down. “What do you want to do?”
He scratched the stubble covering his chin. “First we need to free the armies. Once we have them back under our control we’ll divide and conquer. There can’t be so many Binder worshipers that they can stand up to the army in a proper fight.”
“No, but they’ll have strong defensive positions as well as hostages. A conventional siege will hurt loyal citizens as badly as the cultists.”
On Blackened Wings Page 11