Agents of the Crown- The Complete Series

by Lindsay Buroker

  “Yes. One of us should talk to those people, but one of us needs to start interviewing the castle staff too. To see if we can chance upon the person who delivered the bacteria. We also need to warn Targyon not to eat or drink anything that doesn’t come out of a common pot.”

  “And to beef up his security.” Jev touched the letter that had been delivered the night before. “If we don’t stop our investigation, he’s going to be in more danger than ever.”

  “We can’t stop. You can’t give in to criminals.”

  “In theory, I agree, but it’s not entirely our decision. It’s Targyon’s life at stake.” Jev imagined their monarch hunkered under a piano draped with a blanket. “I need to talk to him before we do anything else.”

  Disappointment flashed in Zenia’s eyes, and Jev wagered she had never in her life stopped an investigation because of a threat.

  If the threat had been made on Jev’s life, he wouldn’t have, either, but he had more than himself to think about here. A lot more.

  12

  Zenia shifted on the hard chair, her butt half numb after three hours of reading. Why, when almost everything in the castle was padded, did the tables in the library have such hard chairs? Did royalty not spend much time in here researching?

  She shook her head and turned the page in the scintillating tome she was reading, Lives and Deaths of the Royal Family During the Twenty-fourth Century After Founders. She’d already skimmed through a list of lives and deaths from the previous century, and she had books that went back further sitting in a stack on the table.

  She would check those later, if need be, but she remembered Ghara’s comment on how the illustrator of that bacterium cell must have had a dragon tear since magnifying devices had been in their infancy at the time, about a hundred years ago. Thus, the cause of Mountain Illness wouldn’t have been known much before then. It was still possible some ancestor of Targyon’s had been afflicted and died centuries back, but what were the odds that someone seeking a slow-acting way to kill the princes would have gone back that far in the history books? It was possible nobody had used the history books at all, but Ghara had said the bacterial infection was only fatal to some animals and people. That made it an iffy way to deliver death unless one knew for certain it would work on a person.

  “Hm, what’s this?” Zenia paused her finger near the end of the chapter on Dorsezrath the Destroyer, a king who’d reigned a hundred and fifty years ago. “Dorsezrath, known to enjoy hunting as a hobby, was on one of his frequent trips to the Izstara jungles for a safari when he contracted what was believed to be Mountain Illness. He died unexpectedly on the journey back to Kor, which led to his son Tiumen being crowned.”

  Zenia turned the page. The next chapter started off with Tiumen.

  “Well,” she murmured, turning back and sliding a piece of paper in to bookmark the spot. “There you are. The possible link.”

  She looked at the front of the book. The cover and spine had been hand-embossed, but the letters inside had been inked with a printing press. She suspected numerous copies of the book were in libraries around the country. And if one were to search through the entire series—she eyed the book stack—would one find that more Alderoths had succumbed to the bacteria?

  As a city-dweller, her lip curled at the idea of sucking up water from an algae-covered pond, but it was only relatively recently that humans had collectively decided hygiene and clean water were important for health. Probably with the invention of those old microscopes and the realization that all manner of tiny life forms lived in droplets of water.

  “Captain Cham?” a woman asked in a tentative voice.

  Lunis Drem stood several paces away, a thick folder clutched to her chest.

  “Yes? You have something to report?” Zenia had tasked two agents to do preliminary research on the staff and visitors of the last couple of months, and also to find out if anyone had left the castle right before the princes’ deaths. Lunis hadn’t been in the office at the time, so she shouldn’t be on the assignment, but maybe the others had sent her up with their report?

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Zenia waved to one of the chairs at the table. She made sure her bookmark was in place and closed her book.

  “Zyndar Dharrow said to add the Night Travelers to our list of criminal guilds that we’re tracking, so I went and visited all of our spies in the city to get the latest on them and also on Future Order and Fifth Dragon.”

  The Crown Agents also had spies in the city? Zenia needed to find that handbook—and a roster, it sounded like—and learn more about her duties and how everything was done. As soon as they got to the bottom of this case…

  “There are so many reasons they might have wanted a younger, more naive king on the throne. Do you want to see my findings? How’s your investigation going? Do you think we’re getting close?” Lunis slid into the chair beside her and laid her folder on the table. She looked curiously at the stack of history books but didn’t ask about them.

  “Yes, please tell me what you’ve found.” Zenia smiled encouragingly.

  Lunis reminded Zenia of herself, and she looked forward to getting to know the woman better.

  “I knew you’d be interested.” Lunis smiled with relief and opened her folder. “Zyndar Garlok told me not to waste his time with the guilds. He hasn’t even been in the office for days, but he’s certain one of the Orders is behind the deaths. Or that the founders themselves wished it or that the princes simply died of natural causes. How ridiculous is that?” Lunis glanced at the door, then lowered her voice and her head. “Sorry, ma’am. I shouldn’t say that about a zyndar or one of our colleagues. I’ve just been so frustrated.”

  “I understand what it’s like to be frustrated. Zyndar can be difficult.”

  “I know. But Garlok isn’t as bad as that odious Brokko. He always…” Lunis glanced at her chest.

  “Yes, I understand that too,” Zenia said dryly. “Jev has offered to punch him if he ogles my breasts again. I can bring you in to watch, if you like.”

  “I’d rather punch him myself.”

  “Is that allowed among agents? I haven’t seen the handbook yet.”

  Lunis snorted. “I don’t think so, ma’am.”

  Zenia pointed at Lunis’s folder. “Tell me what you’ve found, please.”

  Zenia wanted to find Jev and tell him what she’d found—he’d planned to talk to Targyon before heading off to question the doctors Ghara had listed—but she would be foolish not to listen to the other agents in the office.

  “It’s clear Fifth Dragon is particularly active right now, though it’s actually Future Order that’s perpetrated more crimes. And you may find this interesting. Archmage Sazshen of the Water Order has put out a bounty and ordered the watch to issue a warrant for the arrests of Iridium and Brick, the Future Order leader. She’s saying they’ve grown too powerful and become a threat to the king and kingdom.”

  “Huh. That’s the equivalent of declaring war.” Zenia, remembering how Sazshen had once told her to choose her battles carefully, was surprised she would pick a fight with the guilds. She promptly worried about Rhi and the other monks and mages she knew in the temple. They could be targets for assassins making preemptive strikes for their guilds. “You mentioned the Night Travelers. How do they tie in?”

  A throat cleared behind them before Lunis could answer.

  “Captain Zenia?” a page asked. It was the same boy who’d warned them about Iridium the day before.

  “Yes?”

  “Zyndar Dharrow is in a meeting with the king, and they wish you to attend.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Oh, drat,” Lunis said as Zenia stood up, grabbing the book so she could show them both the link to the past. “I’d hoped to share everything with you and get your opinion.”

  “Can you sum it all up in a report?” Zenia smiled, pleased someone in the office wanted her opinion. So far, the men had been… if not dismissive then far more likely to cur
ry favor with Jev.

  “Yes, of course, ma’am. I won’t go home until I have it on your desk.”

  “Good.” Zenia patted Lunis on the back. “Thank you.”

  She left Lunis pulling out a pencil and writing furiously on a blank sheet of paper.

  The page led her through the halls of the castle and to the king’s office where the secretary outside knocked on the inner door for her.

  “Come in,” came Targyon’s young voice.

  The bodyguards standing to either side of the door looked at the thick book in her hands but must not have deemed it a dangerous weapon they had to take from her. Surprising, given its heft. She wagered she could knock someone unconscious with it, if not with the weight then with the boring content.

  Inside, Jev leaned against the king’s desk with his arms folded. Targyon had his back to the door as he poked at a bookcase along the far wall. Zenia was prepared to curtsy and greet him appropriately, but he didn’t look in her direction. He crouched and pulled on a yellow-spined tome.

  A click sounded, and a small portion of the bookcase swung outward.

  “There we are,” Targyon said, sticking his hand into the hole. He unclipped a keyring from his belt and inserted a key in a lock to open a vault door.

  “Is it a sign of your trust in us that you’re doing that while we’re in the room?” Jev asked. “Or do the cook, butler, and cleaning staff all know that’s there?”

  “I wouldn’t want the inside of my vault to get dusty.”

  Zenia watched curiously as Targyon drew out a black, velvet-covered box. Jev didn’t appear surprised by either the existence of the vault or by their king pulling something out of it. But he was much closer to Targyon. He likely expected to be included in secrets and intrigues.

  Targyon grabbed a kerchief and dusted off the box.

  “Did you find something interesting?” Jev pointed at the book in Zenia’s hands.

  “Not exactly interesting, but pertinent to our investigation. Are we still, ah, investigating?”

  If Targyon had decided he didn’t want to risk continuing while there were death threats aimed at him, Zenia didn’t want to admit that she’d been investigating in the library all afternoon.

  “Oh yes. His Royal Highness assured me he wouldn’t hide under the piano and that he wants us to find the guilty parties. Promptly.”

  “The piano?” Zenia asked.

  Targyon smiled lopsidedly at Jev. “Is it necessary for you to share all my confidences with her?”

  “You just opened your secret vault in front of her. I assumed she’d been welcomed into the fold.”

  Zenia wanted the piano story, but Jev didn’t explain further.

  Targyon opened a drawer and pulled out another key, which he inserted into the lock on the box.

  Jev caught Zenia’s gaze and pointed to the book, raising his brows. “Want to share what you found while we’re waiting for the unveiling?”

  Targyon snorted. “I’m not that slow. It’s just triple protected. I’m fortunate Dazron made a will and thought to explain the various vaults around the castle in it.”

  “I found an Alderoth that died of the Mountain Illness.” Zenia glanced at Targyon, assuming Jev had briefed him already. “Dorsezrath the Destroyer about a hundred and fifty years ago. It happened while he was on safari on another continent and sounds like he was infected naturally rather than as the result of someone’s assassination attempt, but it does suggest an Alderoth would be susceptible to the bacteria.”

  “Dorsezrath was my uncle’s great grandfather. Uncle Abdor and his sons are—were—direct descendants.” Targyon grimaced as he fitted a third key into a lock inside the box. “I guess I am too.”

  “So, if someone was doing their research,” Jev said, “they would know the family is susceptible.”

  Zenia nodded, staying silent as she noticed a soft silver glow now emanating from the box. Dragon tears? When she’d had one of her own, she would have been able to recognize the magic of others nearby, but now, she could only guess.

  “I have decided,” Targyon said as he laid out dragon tears on his desk, “that I’m done being afraid and worrying day and night that someone is out to get me. I’m here now, and I’m going to do my best to remain here. Even if I believe I was chosen for the wrong reasons—the right reasons for some but the wrong reasons for the kingdom—I’m going to do my best. And I’m prepared to confront people and try to get the truth straight from their mouths.” After Targyon had laid out eight dragon tears, he lifted his gaze and looked at both of them. “I’m going to host a reception tomorrow night, and I shall require attendance from invited guests. From all the leaders in the city and also from everyone on our suspect lists.” He smiled at them.

  “That’s… bold, Sire,” Zenia said.

  “Targyon the Bold. I like the sound of that even if it lacks alliterative flair.” Targyon picked up one of the dragon tears. “I’ve never tried to use one, and even if I have the aptitude, I doubt I could master it in two days. Zenia Cham, you have experience using a dragon tear, and I would be honored if you carried one as captain of the Crown Agents and used it to help protect my interests.” His lips twisted. “And me. I want you at my side at this gathering, using your instincts and an appropriate dragon tear to tell me who’s lying when I bluntly ask if they had anything to do with my cousins’ deaths.”

  Zenia forgot to breathe as she stared at the dragon tears so casually laid out on the desk. Hundreds of thousands of krons in value, and he cared nothing if she knew where they were located. More than that, he would give her one to use. For as long as, it sounded like, she worked for him as a Crown Agent.

  “I would be pleased to take on the role of inquisitor again for you, Sire.” Zenia approached the desk, hoping one of the carvings in the gems would be identical or similar to her old one. The eyetooth of justice was a common carving for law enforcers, and she already knew it would amplify her words and allow her to read the minds of those she questioned.

  “Is there one that will work for you?” Targyon asked. “If not, we can get Master Grindmor to re-carve one. I understand that takes a week or two though.”

  There weren’t any eyetooths of justice. Damn. She needed something for tomorrow night.

  Zenia lifted a hand and passed over several that were for warriors, one with a coin for a business owner, and reached for one with a book on it, thinking that would help her with research. But Targyon specifically wanted her to question people and read minds. Perhaps that one with a crown would work, granting her access to magic that would assist her in numerous ways related to serving the king.

  As she reached for it, her gaze snagged on the last one in the row, a beautiful blue-green oval with tiny red veins. She’d never seen a gem like it, nor had she seen a carving as… arrogant—that was the word that sprang to mind—as this one held. It featured a dragon, its wings spread and its tail curling around to the back of the gem. Was it meant to portray one of the founder dragons? Or simply one of the wild lesser ones remaining in the world today? Who would have believed themselves worthy of wearing such a gem? What master would have carved it? And what would it do?

  “That one’s intriguing, isn’t it?” Targyon must have noticed her gaze. “There were a few notes in the box. Apparently, that one is more than a thousand years old and was worn by several kings over the centuries. It grants mind powers such as dragons have, so you’d likely be able to do all the mental magic you had in your repertoire as an inquisitor. Along with some additional things, I imagine. There’s a mention of a king using it to hurl his enemies about on the battlefield. With his mind.”

  Zenia blinked. She’d never wanted that kind of power, and the idea of having it scared her. No, she admitted. She’d wanted it once. When she’d gone to her zyndar father, begging for enough money to pay for her mother’s treatment, and the man had ordered her carried off his property like a sack of potatoes. If she’d had such power then…

  She shook her h
ead. “I couldn’t take a family heirloom, Sire. I think the crown would do what you need me to do.”

  “You wouldn’t be taking it far. I know where your office is. And I was thinking that you should have a room at the castle so you don’t have to travel so far every day to get here. You, too, Jev.” Targyon waved to include him.

  “I accept,” Jev said. “Sleeping on the floor in your library wasn’t that comfortable.”

  “You could have stayed awake all night like I did.”

  “Yes, that would have been much more comfortable.”

  Targyon smiled faintly. He did look tired. Was he sleeping at all, or was he too worried about potential assassins lurking?

  Zenia reached for the crown. “Let me see if it accepts me and does what you need, Sire. Then—”

  Targyon lifted his hand to block her, then pointed at the dragon. “Try this one first, will you? I’m quite curious myself, I must admit. And I feel like…” He looked toward an empty corner of his desk. “I know you sacrificed much for the kingdom, to do what was right. I appreciate that. As I said before, I don’t yet have many people I know I can trust. I’d like those that I can to be powerful, so they can protect themselves as well as me and the interests of the kingdom.”

  Powerful? A little chill went down Zenia’s spine. Did he know more about the dragon tear than he was saying?

  “I can try it,” she said, eyeing the gem with wariness. “A mage newly linked to a dragon tear usually partakes in a ceremony where she spends three days fasting and acquainting herself with its unique magical signature.”

  “You have until tomorrow night.” Targyon’s tone was dry, but he did spread his hand in apology. “The invitations were already sent out. I didn’t want to give myself time to chicken out.”

  “We have a lot of people to talk to before then,” Jev said. “Zenia, can you do your ceremony in a steam carriage in between meetings?”

  “Uh.” She didn’t know how to explain the attuning process to them, but she remembered it well and didn’t think it should be dismissed. Her druthers would be to wait until after things settled down and she could take three days off, but if Targyon wanted her to be able to use the dragon tear at his reception, what choice did she have? “I’ll do my best.”