This was only her third time entering the great fountain- and garden-bedecked courtyard and only her second day on the job. The first had been tediously full of meetings and introductions to all her new colleagues—her new subordinates, she reminded herself—when all she’d wanted was to get to work on the case she’d already been assigned. There were thirteen agents working in the king’s information office, directing international spies and overseeing intelligence gatherers in Korvann and in greater Kor. Supposedly. She had gotten blank looks when she’d asked who had been investigating the deaths of King Abdor’s three sons. Had they been an accident or had someone arranged the strange virus that had only targeted those with Alderoth blood? If the latter, was young Targyon now in danger himself?
Nobody had admitted to knowing anything, and a young woman named Lunis had implied the former Crown Agent captain, Zyndar Garlok, hadn’t assigned anyone to research the incident. Zenia hadn’t met the man yet. He had been out of the office, apparently spending the coronation holidays at home, so she didn’t know if he was aware yet that he’d been replaced.
Lunis had shown enthusiasm when Zenia said the agents would start investigating the princes’ deaths. It boggled Zenia’s mind that nobody had been doing so earlier. Had somebody—this Zyndar Garlok, perhaps—deliberately kept the agents from the task? Or, with nobody on the throne following the princes’ deaths and prior to Targyon’s coronation, had they all failed to take the initiative? The thought galled her, and she planned to give Garlok a verbal lashing when she met him, zyndar or not.
“Lost in thought?” Jev glanced at her as they walked through the courtyard, passing vibrant birds of paradise and belladonna lilies already in bloom.
Zenia almost mentioned her suspicions about Garlok, but since Jev was also zyndar, and they all seemed to know each other, she hesitated to berate the man. Targyon hadn’t seemed impressed by him, but Zenia ought to wait until she’d at least met him to form an opinion. And voice it.
“This morning, I overheard a comment from a couple of Earth Order monks,” she said instead, something she’d meant to bring up to him as soon as they were away from the prying eyes in the city. “It has me itching to go talk to their archmage.”
“Was it related to the princes’ deaths? Or did you hear that they’re hiring over there, and you’re already ready to abandon me—and the king?” He grinned at her, but something akin to genuine concern lurked in his dark brown eyes. Did he truly think she would do that? Apparently, he hadn’t heard about her new status as outcast among the Orders. Not that she would leave the king after two days even if she were offered her old job back.
“They implied their archmage wanted something from Targyon and expected him to deliver. Since he owes the Orders for his appointment.”
“Do you think the Orders could have had something to do with the princes’ deaths? That one of the archmages might have wanted Targyon on the throne for a specific reason?”
“They’re the ones who collectively decided to put him there, and I imagine they all have their reasons, but I’m not assuming anything about the princes’ deaths yet. As a former inquisitor sworn to defend the kingdom and the tenets of the founders, I’d like to say no, it’s impossible that a representative from one of the religious Orders would think of murder. But I can’t. We would be best not to rule out anything this early in the investigation.”
“True.”
“Do you want to come with me to question the various archmages?” Zenia asked. “Or do you think our resources would be better spent if we split up? One of us should do some research on the disease and try to figure out if it truly was a virus of some kind. Are you qualified to do that?”
“I’m not qualified for much in this new job, but I can question some experts.”
“I didn’t think zyndars were ever self-effacing,” Zenia said, surprised by the comment. He’d worked in the army’s intelligence unit—led it, from what she’d heard—so he couldn’t be that unqualified for this kind of work.
They turned down a side aisle in the courtyard garden, toward doors that would lead to the intelligence office rather than straight into the great room.
“The Code of Honor doesn’t require self-effacement. I’ll see what I can find out about the illness, but it can wait a few hours if you want me to come with you to talk to the Order archmages. I’m tall enough that I can loom fairly effectively, and the scar makes me look like a brutish combat veteran.” He touched the wound on his right cheek—it looked like a sword had once come close to removing his eye.
“I don’t think so,” Zenia said.
Jev stopped at the path that led to the side entrance. “You don’t think I can loom? Or you don’t think I’m brutish?”
“I don’t think I need you to come.”
“Ah.”
Belatedly, it occurred to her that he might have wanted to come. She couldn’t imagine why, as she knew her company wasn’t witty or scintillating—unless compared to the interrogation-loving Inquisitor Marlyna. But on the chance she’d made him feel rejected, she explained further.
“I just don’t want to waste your time dragging you around the city. I’m used to having Rhi. She used to go everywhere with me for looming purposes.”
“Was it hard for her to loom when she’s three inches shorter than you?”
“No, she’s stouter. And has that big stick.” Zenia smiled briefly. “But now, she puts herself in danger even talking to me.”
“In danger? How?” Jev leaned forward, and she imagined she could see hackles bristling protectively.
“Not physically. But of losing her job. My choice has marked me… Well, I guess Archmage Sazshen has been vocal about how disappointed she is with me, and she’s made it clear that people working for the Orders, including my old friends, should avoid me.”
“I’m sorry. That must be hard.”
Zenia shrugged, for some reason uncomfortable with the sympathy in his eyes. “I just have to make sure Rhi doesn’t have a reason to seek me out. She’s known to flout the rules.”
“I gathered that when she stalked down those bare-chested men playing ball on the beach. Monks are supposed to be celibate, aren’t they?”
“She interprets that word loosely.”
“Well, if she can’t go with you, then you’ll definitely want my company.” They reached the side door, a single guard posted next to it, and Jev held it open while smiling at her.
Despite her focus on the case, Zenia found herself pausing to admire the gesture. Scar or no scar, he definitely wasn’t brutish. His neatly trimmed beard highlighted his strong jaw, his straight white teeth gleamed during his frequent smiles, and his dark eyes were always eager to give off an alluring twinkle. Few men had ever twinkled at her.
“I’ll accept your company, thank you. Will tomorrow morning work? I want to go over whatever reports on the archmages I can find in the office before going to speak with them.” Zenia wondered what the Crown Agents’ report on Archmage Sazshen might look like. Would they have it all wrong? Or would she be amazed by how much the agents knew about all the religious leaders in the capital?
“Tomorrow is fine. In the meantime, I’ll see if anyone took any samples of the princes’ blood before they were interred. It’s a long shot, I’m sure, and even if they did, I don’t know how helpful it would be to study under a microscope weeks later, but you never know. A medical expert might find it useful.”
“That’s a good idea.” Zenia had occasionally talked to experts in medicine and science when she’d been on cases, and she’d often found it illuminating.
“Thank you.” Jev beamed another smile at her as they walked down a windowless hallway, a few guttering lanterns slightly brightening the way, and she resolved to compliment his ideas more often. He smiled often, surprising given how soul-stealing the last ten years must have been for him, but these private just-for-her smiles were a new thing. And she couldn’t deny their appeal.
“I’ve been meaning
to ask you something for a while,” Jev said, slowing before they reached the closed door that marked their new office.
“A while? It’s only been a week since we met.”
“True, but it was an eventful week. I barely slept at all while we got to know each other intimately. And nakedly. For some people, those would be the same thing.”
Zenia remembered being stripped in front of the Fifth Dragon crime lady, Iridium. There had, indeed, been nothing intimate about that, except that she could say she’d seen Jev naked and that he had an attractive body to match the smile.
“Go ahead,” Zenia said, realizing he was waiting. For her permission to ask his question? It seemed strange to think someone from the zyndar class would bother.
“Would you like to get dinner one night after work?”
Her first thought was to respond that she got dinner every night after work, but awareness trickled into her. “On a date?”
“Yes. I—”
The door opened, and one of the older and more portly agents ambled out, already reaching for his buckle as he headed for the closest latrine. He saw them and lowered his hand from his belt.
“Zyndar Dharrow,” he greeted respectfully as Jev and Zenia stepped apart so he could pass. He looked at Zenia. “And Zenia.” He smiled, his gaze dipping toward her chest briefly. Not briefly enough.
“Miss Cham, if you please, Mr. Brokko.” She didn’t bother to disguise her irritation at the casual address. As newly appointed leaders of the intelligence office, she expected to struggle to get the two zyndar men working there to address her with any respect, but the others were commoners, the same as she, and as their boss, she deserved a respectful address. Granted, she hadn’t had a chance to prove herself yet, but she would. They could show some politeness until she did.
The man snorted and looked at Jev. “Uppity, isn’t she?”
Jev’s eyes widened in indignation, and she once again imagined him like a guard dog with hackles rising. “Miss Cham is your boss, Brokko. I’ve seen her punch people for irritating her.”
“I’m not worried about a girl’s punch.”
“I’ve punched people for irritating her,” Jev said, his voice low, his eyes hard.
Even though Zenia preferred to take care of herself and didn’t like relying on anyone else, she couldn’t help but feel warmth at having Jev come to her defense. He was always so quick to smile and joke, but she’d seen his serious side a few times before and found it intriguing.
“Huh,” Brokko said, stepping back and glancing at her. “Must be nice to have a zyndar leashed up and ready to fling into battle.” His second nod toward Jev wasn’t as respectful, but he hurried past without delivering further insults.
Jev watched him leave, his eyes slitted. He had once suggested that he could be her zyndar if she wished it, but she was fairly certain he had been joking, trying to make her feel better after she’d been caught in that rockfall.
“Is it too soon to start formulating lists of suspects from within the office?” Zenia asked when the man had disappeared into the latrine.
The thirteen agents that worked inside were all people they had inherited from King Abdor and that they didn’t know well. That Zenia didn’t know well. Any one of them could be an informant for the underworld crime guilds or someone else.
Jev arched his eyebrows. “Is that a joke or do you have a reason to suspect our colleagues?” he asked, keeping his voice low. “A reason such as someone might have warned Dr. Bandigor that we were coming? Which might have prompted him to take his life before being blamed for something? Or did someone want to keep him from revealing what he knew?”
She nodded, glad he’d also found the man’s death—and its timing—suspicious, even if they hadn’t been able to determine if it had been suicide or murder. “Not many people outside of the office know we’re on this assignment.”
“True.” He gestured to the office door. “But we may want to spend more than a day on the job before accusing our colleagues of crimes.”
“How political.”
“You’ve discovered my true worth. As a diplomat.” Jev smirked, but it was perhaps not as much of a joke as he thought.
She’d seen him trade a few words with Master Grindmor and win the dwarf to their side, and dwarves were not known for being easily winnable. She suspected the army had chosen him for linguistics training only partially due to an aptitude for words. They’d likely thought he would do a good job speaking—and swaying people—on their behalf.
Maybe taking him along to interview the archmages would be a good idea. Less for looming and more for smiling and charming people.
“An odd claim given that you just threatened to punch someone,” was all she said aloud.
“I merely informed him that I had punched people, though now that I think about it, I don’t know if I’ve brutalized anyone on your behalf. I remember trying to step in with those Fifth Dragon thugs that kidnapped us, but you punched them first.”
“Do you want me to hold back next time?”
“Would you? So I’m not proven to be a liar?”
“I’ll do my best.”
He bumped his shoulder against hers, smiling again, and they strode into their new office.
4
“I’m not going back down to see her.” Jev sipped calmly from his wineglass, though he was ready to get steely if Cutter pushed it.
“But you said she liked you. She flirted with you and wanted to have sex with you.”
“She wanted to add another zyndar notch to her bedpost.” Jev looked out the double doors of the tasting room, open to the setting sun, warm rays bathing the lush rows of green vines outside. From their vantage point at a booth in the back, they couldn’t see the city, though the winery wasn’t far outside of it. Jev had agreed to the meeting place because it was easier for Lornysh not to have to travel through the city.
He hadn’t arrived yet, but they expected him soon. Cutter had been the one to request the meeting, but Jev didn’t mind. He didn’t want to ignore his comrades because he was busy with his new job, especially since they were still relative strangers to Korvann. And since Korvann didn’t have any love for strangers right now.
“Isn’t it desirable for humans to have sex with many women? I’ve observed your kind aren’t as monogamous as dwarves.”
“I prefer monogamy myself. Leads to fewer hard feelings. Weren’t you just this morning arguing for me to make something for Zenia?”
“Yes.”
“She might not like my spice rack as much if she learns I’ve been having sex with many women.” Jev shuddered at the idea of going back into the warren of tunnels underneath the city to seek out Iridium for sex or anything else.
“Have you started constructing it?”
“No, it was a busy day.”
“Don’t forget a slot for tarragon. Some people leave that one out. Here’s what I wanted you to look at.” Cutter pulled a folded paper from his pack. He’d been carrying all his belongings around since arriving in the kingdom despite having the use of a room in Dharrow Castle.
Maybe he didn’t trust Jev’s father not to throw him out. Or burn all his belongings. The old man’s venom was directed more at elves than dwarves, but he had taken on a xenophobic streak in his old age. Or since his wife had left him for an elf. Only to be killed by her own mother who had wanted to stop it…
Jev rubbed his temple. His head still throbbed whenever he thought of the insanity he’d unearthed in his own household. He wished his brother Vastiun had never gotten caught up with that elf princess and her quest. If he hadn’t, he never would have sailed off and joined the army only to die in the war. Of course, Mother would still be dead, by Grandmother’s hand.
“This map,” Cutter said. “It’s of the sewers and aqueducts for your city. I paid some kid who said he’d worked for the Fifth Dragon to fill in some of the extra tunnels that none of the maps in the library mention.” He scowled at Jev as if this was his fault. �
�But I know it’s far from complete. A dozen dwarves mining a lifetime couldn’t have made all the tunnels under your city.”
Glad for the excuse not to think of his family—and that he’d agreed to go to dinner at the castle later that night—he leaned forward to examine the paper. “You hope mapping the underworld lairs will help you find Master Grindmor's missing tools?”
“I do. If they’re underground in that guild’s lair somewhere, and I’ve got a map, I could tunnel in from the side, avoid dealing with criminals. Not that I’m afraid of them, mind you.”
“Has anyone delivered any threats to Arkura? Or suggested she trade her services for information again?” Even though Jev’s mind was on his case, he would do his best to offer helpful comments on Cutter’s problem.
“Not since Iridium tricked Master Grindmor—” Cutter frowned at Jev’s audacity at calling her by her first name, “—into carving a dragon tear for her. And raising golems. And lots of other things.”
Jev nodded. “I was there for their meeting.”
“The master is positive now that Iridium had the tools all along and has hidden them someplace new. I wouldn’t have a chance at convincing a human to tell me anything.” He tapped his hook on his chest. “But maybe you could convince her. You’re good at talking people into things.”
“Thanks, I think.”
“Remember when you convinced that elf warden to surrender?”
“He had eight rifles pointed at him from all sides. I didn’t have to do much convincing.”
“Yes, you did. He was going to cut his own throat so he couldn’t be interrogated by us.”
“True.” Jev sipped his wine.
“And then instead of interrogating him, you played chips with him while chatting with him in Elvish and getting him drunk. I seem to remember he told us quite a bit.” Cutter grinned as if he missed those good old days.
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