Agents of the Crown- The Complete Series

by Lindsay Buroker

  “We should go,” Zenia said.

  “Are you sure?” Rhi chortled and waved at the pinned men. “I was hoping we could get a painter to come in and capture this on a canvas.”

  “I’m sure.” Zenia hustled through the archway and turned toward the changing rooms, aware of the onlookers gaping after her. Her gem still glowed a bright blue, and she stuffed it back under her tunic.

  “Normally, I would feel disgruntled that you jumped in without letting me thump anyone, but that was too delightful to complain about.” Rhi peered back as they entered the shady hallway. “I didn’t think you possessed such creativity when it came to mischief.”

  Zenia almost said that she didn’t, that her dragon tear had been fully responsible, but she clamped down on her tongue. Most dragon tears didn’t have personalities; they only did what the mages linked to them told them to do. Hers was special. Zenia still didn’t know the full extent of its capabilities.

  “Captain Cham?” a quiet voice asked from a closet full of stacked towels and robes.

  Zenia halted, recognizing the young woman’s voice. “Jia?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” A slender figure wearing the starched white uniform of the gymnasium staff stepped out with a stack of towels in her arms. She wore a blue and gold scarf on her head that seemed a fashion choice but that Zenia knew covered slightly pointed ears. “I understand you wish to speak with me?”

  A door opened farther down the hall, and two women with towels wrapped around their bodies walked out blurred by a cloud of escaping steam. They chatted easily, heading for the changing rooms.

  “Yes,” Zenia said quietly. “Is there a good place?”

  “Perhaps you require my assistance and I could accompany you to the women’s baths.” Jia lifted the stack of towels.

  “I prefer to bathe myself,” Rhi said. “Or have handsome men do it, those who are suitably respectful and appealing. Not like those toads back there.”

  “Ssh,” Zenia whispered. “Go along with it.” She nodded for the half-elf woman to lead the way.

  They entered the ladies’ bathing room, passed the main pool with a few women paddling back and forth, and chose one of the heated baths in the rear corner.

  “Jia,” Zenia said, stopping at a bench to disrobe, “this is my fellow agent, Rhi Lin. Rhi, this is an informant you didn’t meet the last time we were making our rounds. I actually found her later on a special list that wasn’t with the others.”

  Jia smiled faintly. “One that included dwarves and half-elves?”

  “One that was made up of only dwarves and half-elves,” Zenia said. “As well as a half-orc living outside of town that I introduced myself to earlier in the week. He said I looked tasty. I’m still not sure if it was a sexual comment or a literal one.”

  “That was Ox, right?” Jia asked. “It could have gone either way.”

  “How does a half-orc come into existence?” Rhi asked.

  “You, being more worldly than I, shouldn’t need me to explain that,” Zenia said.

  “Uh no, I being more worldly than you definitely need an explanation. Not on how equipment works, but on, er, why it would between those two species.”

  “Another time.” Zenia waved away the conversation and nodded for Jia to share her information.

  The week before, right after the dwarven ship had blown up and Jev had been injured, Zenia had received a note from the anonymous person who had now sent her three such messages. It had warned her to “Avoid the elf.” The only elves Zenia knew were Jev’s friend, Lornysh, and the former elven ambassador and his staff. The latter had all disappeared from their embassy before the troll incident started, so that only left Lornysh. Zenia didn’t want to suspect Jev’s friend, especially on the basis of an anonymous note, but the two previous notes had been accurate with their warnings. She hoped some other elf might be about, causing trouble, and that it referred to him. Or her.

  “Your message said you wanted to know if there are any elves in the city, or if I’ve heard of half-elves involved in illegal activities, right, Captain?” Jia sat cross-legged, ostensibly holding towels for Rhi and Zenia as they slipped into the warm water.

  “Yes, please.” Zenia resisted the urge to wave for her to set the towels down and relax. She always felt uncomfortable having someone wait on her, but Jia was a secret informant, so they had to be subtle, lest someone think it odd that an agent of the crown and a gym employee were having a long chat.

  “There are very few elves currently living in the city or anywhere in the kingdom. I only know of Zyndar Dharrow’s comrade, Lornysh, here in Korvann.” Jia raised her eyebrows. “Is it true they are friends? And treat each other as equals?”

  “From what I’ve seen, yes.”

  “Amazing.”

  Zenia didn’t know if Jia meant it was amazing a zyndar would consider an elf an equal or if it was amazing an elf would consider a human of any social status an equal. Maybe both?

  “There used to be many half-elves in the city,” Jia went on, “but most left when the war started and it became dangerous for them to live here. Some have created tiny enclaves of their own deep within the kingdom’s forests, and some simply live nomadic lifestyles with few kin. As I’m sure you know, it’s difficult to be a half-blood. Elves do not allow anyone with human blood into their cities, and humans… aren’t as open-minded about the offspring of such unions as they once were. Once, Korvann was a great trade city and all races were welcome here, but that was decades ago.” Jia shook her head sadly as she gazed down at the fluffy towels.

  “I think King Targyon hopes to make it such a place again,” Zenia said, hoping she was right. From what she’d heard from Targyon so far, she believed she was. She just wasn’t certain he would be effective at changing people’s prejudices, prejudices that the war had done nothing to alleviate.

  “Perhaps.” Jia’s sad smile did not suggest she was convinced. “For now, even those who were born in the kingdom and consider themselves loyal subjects must hide any evidence of their elven heritage.” She waved toward the scarf covering her ears. “I do not believe any of them are looking to cause trouble, but there is something you may be interested in, something I didn’t see myself but heard from others.”

  “Oh?” Zenia leaned against the tile edge of the pool and glanced at Rhi, who seemed content to let Zenia take the lead in the conversation.

  “Apparently, a group of people was snooping in the elven embassy tower last night. Someone thought they saw at least one person with pointed ears among them.”

  “Snooping? Is it possible the ambassador and his entourage simply returned?”

  “I don’t believe so, ma’am. They didn’t light any lanterns, and my acquaintance who observed the trespassing has a dragon tear. He sensed magic being used. He almost went to investigate, but he experienced a vision sent by the Fire Dragon, one of himself being engulfed in a magical ball of flame if he crossed paths with those inside.”

  Rhi snorted. “You mean he was afraid.”

  “Because of the vision,” Jia said earnestly. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Zenia poked Rhi in the ribs, hoping she wouldn’t dismiss Jia’s belief in such things. After all the years they had worked in the Water Order Temple, Rhi ought to be used to people with genuine faith in the founders. Many monks and mages claimed to receive visions from them.

  “Thank you for the information, Jia,” Zenia said. “We’ll look into it.”

  “Be careful if you do, Captain. A group of elves in one of the human cities is a very unusual thing these days. If they’re here, you can be certain it’s for a reason.”

  “Jia!” a woman in a white gymnasium uniform barked from the entrance to the baths. “We need the tiles scrubbed in the steam room.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Jia bowed her head, then set the stack of towels on the bench and headed off without another word to Zenia and Rhi.

  As it should be. The value of the informants stationed around the city depended on others
not realizing they were affiliated with the Crown Agents.

  “Isn’t Lornysh still staying in the tower?” Rhi asked when they were alone, save for the lap swimmers in the other pool.

  “The last I heard, yes. I haven’t spoken to Jev in several days, so I haven’t received any updates about Lornysh’s whereabouts. He could have moved on.”

  “Several days? I knew he hadn’t been back to the office yet—that gift from his former lady is still on his desk—but I assumed you’d spoken to him since he’s been released from the healers at the Air Temple.”

  “It’s only been a day since they released him. His injuries were extensive, and even though the healers used the magic of their dragon tears, they kept him a bit longer to work him through various stretches and exercises to help him regain his mobility. I haven’t visited him personally since that first day. Because…” Zenia had checked in with the Air Order healers several times to get updates on his progress, but she hadn’t visited Jev personally since hearing about the engagement his father had arranged for him. She hadn’t wanted to be seen lurking around him. And definitely not kissing him.

  She closed her eyes, an ache in her chest. She and Jev had no more than confessed that they cared for each other—loved each other—when that news had come in, that Jev was to marry some zyndari woman. Soon.

  “Ah,” Rhi said with more understanding in her tone than usual. “Maybe you can have your dragon tear wrap up that other woman in a mat and toss her in the harbor.”

  Zenia smiled wistfully. “Don’t give it ideas.”

  Rhi frowned at Zenia’s stack of clothing, the dragon tear resting atop it. Zenia wished she hadn’t implied the gem had a mind of its own, even if it seemed to have exactly that.

  “Jev is supposed to be back at the office tomorrow,” Zenia said. “We’ll tell him about the elves and see what he thinks.” She still needed to share the anonymous notes with him, too, and get his opinion on them.

  “That we should show up at the tower and thump them, I hope,” Rhi said.

  “Thump them? I believe Targyon would prefer we foster peace and understanding among the races of the world.”

  Zenia was tempted to walk past the tower on the way back to the castle, and maybe she would, but she would be hesitant to wander inside without permission from the king. Even if the old ambassador and his staff were gone, it was still elven territory.

  “Uh huh,” Rhi said. “If they’re trespassing and snooping, they get thumped. That’s what I’m here to foster.”

  Zenia thought of Jia’s warning that the elves had been using magic, and she had a feeling that going to face them with nothing but a staff wouldn’t be a good idea.

  2

  Sweat dribbled from Jev’s hairline, ran down his jaw, and dripped onto the anvil where he was painstakingly braiding thin gold and silver strands into a pattern that Cutter assured him was aesthetically pleasing. Or would be if he could stop screwing up. His grandmother weaved tapestries that were so beautiful, people paid handsomely to hang them in their castles—or they had before she had been exiled. Shouldn’t crafting ability flow naturally through his veins?

  “Dragon’s udders,” he swore, realizing he’d made a mistake three rows back.

  So much for natural crafting ability.

  Maybe he could blame his color-blindness, though he didn’t truly have trouble telling which strands were silver and which gold. It was just that when he’d chosen a pattern for the chain, he hadn’t realized it was so complicated and had so many strands.

  “They don’t have ‘em,” Cutter said from the anvil next to his.

  The smithy, with sweltering heat rolling off the nearby forge, wasn’t the ideal place for jewelry making, but Cutter had rejected Jev’s suggestion that they ask Master Grindmor to use her shop. Probably because he was tinkering with something that was meant to be a gift for her, or so Jev assumed. Cutter had been vague about it, but he was frowning, muttering, and tapping his hook against his jaw a lot as he worked. It was definitely something that mattered to him.

  “Dragons don’t have udders?” Jev had meant it as a curse—his nanny had used it when he and his brother had been boys and she hadn’t wanted to sully their impressionable young minds. “Are you sure? Have you seen a dragon recently?”

  “Seen plenty of paintings of them. All udder-less.”

  “Yes, but in all the paintings, they’re lying belly down on a mound of treasure.” Jev worked his way backward on the chain so he could fix the error.

  “Proof that they don’t have udders. Udders would get unpleasantly cold pressed against all those gold and silver coins.”

  “Wouldn’t body heat warm them up?”

  Cutter gave Jev an exasperated look. “Is this the kind of nonsense you and Zenia talk about when you work together?”

  Jev knew his friend meant it as a joke, but he couldn’t keep from frowning at the mention of Zenia. She had no sooner professed her love for him than they’d learned he had been engaged to another woman. True, he hadn’t had anything to do with that, but it must have stung Zenia. She hadn’t been by to see him after that day in the Air Order Temple when his cousin had brought the news. Jev hoped Wyleria hadn’t forbidden her to visit. He didn’t think she would, but it was possible someone else in his family might have. It was also possible Zenia had simply found it too uncomfortable to come see him.

  By the founders, that pained him. The healers had finally declared him fit enough to leave the temple and return to work, so he would see Zenia in the morning. And he would have a beautiful gift to give her.

  He looked down at his dubious progress. If he had to stay up all night to finish it, he would have a beautiful gift to give her.

  “We’re usually too busy talking about work to discuss udders,” Jev said, realizing Cutter was waiting for an answer. Either that, or he was taking a break from his own project, which looked like a combination between a tool rack and storage box.

  “That must be a relief for the other agents in your office.”

  Jev stretched before bending back over his chain, wincing at a twinge that came from his ribs. His bones were supposedly all repaired, but his body kept sending him reminders that he had foolishly allowed himself to be caught in an explosion.

  At least he had survived. That hadn’t been a certainty by any means. That night when he’d thought he would die, his biggest regret had been that he hadn’t told Zenia how he felt about her. Now he had, but it hadn’t fixed anything.

  “I’m thinking about going to go see Zenia’s father,” Jev said.

  “What?” Cutter asked over the banging of a hammer on an anvil.

  The two blacksmiths whose shop they were using weren’t the quietest co-workers.

  “Now that my ribs have healed enough to take a punch or two,” Jev said, speaking more loudly, “I want to see Zenia’s father.”

  He didn’t truly think old Veran Morningfar would punch him, but when Jev made his request, it was possible the man would order some servants to punch him.

  Cutter grunted. “Didn’t know she had one.”

  “Zyndar Morningfar. He had an affair with her mother but didn’t acknowledge her. That’s why she’s considered a commoner. But technically, she’s only half common. Most people wouldn’t consider that desirable, regardless—most zyndar, I mean—but it might help me sway my father into allowing me to marry her.”

  Allowing him. He grimaced, hating the way that sounded. Hating that he couldn’t choose his own fate, not without his father’s permission.

  But that was what being the heir of a zyndar prime meant. He wouldn’t be able to choose his own fate until his father passed away, and presently, the old man was as healthy as a race horse.

  “Thought you were marrying some other woman now,” Cutter said.

  “I’m not. I’m going out to the castle to tell my father there’s no way I’m agreeing to that betrothal. Tomorrow, after I check in at the office.”

  Jev had been tempted to ride
home that morning, but his back was as sore as his ribs, and the notion of doing fifteen miles in a saddle had made him wince. He’d kept hoping the old man would come see him at the temple, as his aunt and several cousins had, but Father hadn’t shown up. He’d sent his condolences and well-wishes for swift healing, according to Aunt Vivione, but that wasn’t the same as coming to visit. It was possible something was keeping him busy, but Jev had a feeling his father didn’t want to argue about the marriage, as he must surely know Jev would do.

  “Humans overly complicate their lives.” Cutter lifted his project, frowned at it, then thunked it down and grabbed a pair of pliers.

  “Maybe only zyndar humans. I have this notion that being a commoner might be simpler. It’s possible it’s a naive notion. What are you making?”

  “A portable folding rack and storage system for Master Grindmor’s small jewelry tools. I thought she might find it useful when she travels for work, but…” He scowled at the project.

  “What?”

  “She’s not only the best gem cutter in the kingdom; she’s a talented metalsmith and crafter too. She could make this with one hand tied in her beard, so I’m not sure why… Well, she probably won’t like it. It won’t be good enough.”

  Jev pushed aside the urge to ask why a dwarf would tie a hand in his—or her—beard and said, “You’re good too. She’ll like whatever you make for her.”

  Cutter gave him a look that suggested he had the mind of a child. A simple child.

  “Over there,” one of the smiths said with an indifferent grunt.

  Jev looked up in time to see a cloaked figure gliding toward him, the flames of the forge at his back and hiding his cowled face in shadow. An uneasy feeling swept through him, and he knew with certainty that this person was deadly. Menace rolled off him like a foul odor.

  Jev tapped Cutter on the chest and pointed his chin toward the newcomer.

  The two smiths said something to each other, set down their tools, and went outside. Had the cloaked figure said he wanted to speak with Jev and Cutter alone?