The Dreamer's Curse (Book 2)

by Honor Raconteur

  Master must have been sitting in the main room of the inn, watching for their return, as they’d barely turned into the square when he appeared on the porch. She saw with relief that he’d cleaned the head wound he’d gotten last night and that a simple bandage sufficed to keep it wrapped. Painful as it might be, it wasn’t serious enough to keep him off his feet.

  Decker reined in to a stop in front of the inn, the stallion blowing out a grateful breath for finally coming to the end of the long night’s trip. Sevana slid ungracefully to the ground, legs unnaturally stiff and sore from the many hours of being rubbed raw.

  “Those don’t look like victorious expressions to me,” Master observed, eyes narrowed. “You didn’t find them, I take it.”

  “Yes and no,” she responded, moving in slow steps onto the porch. She could swear she heard her muscles creaking with every movement. “We found them. Or, what was left of them.” Seeing his confusion, she quirked her mouth up into a humorless smile. “Apparently they had a falling-out of some sort, or they were ambushed, because when we caught up the whole ring of thieves was dead.”

  Master closed his eyes in understanding, looking as tired as she felt. “I see. The gadgick is long gone, I take it?”

  She nodded confirmation. “Whoever did it knew how to cover their tracks well. Neither one of the wolves could pick up on it. We’ve only got one last lead to explore if we have any hope of getting it back.”

  He didn’t need her to spell it out for him. “The black market. Yes, of course you’re right. But which one? Kindin’s or Belen’s?”

  “Belen’s,” she said firmly. “If I were a thief, I’d go there. They always get higher prices there, for one thing. But it’s also faster to get to and a larger market than the one in Thirdcastle.”

  He opened a hand, palm up, that ceded the point to her. “Go ahead and rest. I’ll prepare for the trip.”

  She cocked her head. “You’re not going.”

  Master opened his mouth to protest but was interrupted by Sarsen joining them on the porch. He looked like he’d slept in his clothes—he likely had—and only the cup of hot tea in his hand gave him the energy to keep going. “Oh, you’re back. No luck?”

  “Do you see a string of bodies trailing in my wake?”

  “Didn’t expect any,” he refuted, well used to dealing with her when she was severely sleep deprived. “Knowing you, without anyone around to stop you, you’d turn them all into toads.”

  Well, granted, she had been planning to do so. “When we caught up with them, they’d been killed and the gadgick stolen by assailant or assailants unknown.”

  Sarsen winced. “Which means we get to go hunting for this thing on the black market? Oh, Aren and Bel are not going to like that. Not one bit.”

  “Do I look overjoyed to you?” Sevana crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him venomously.

  Sarsen, being a man of great wisdom, chose not to respond to that and instead offered his tea. She took it and drained it one gulp, letting the soothing and familiar taste warm her from the inside out. Ahhh, better. She no longer felt homicidal.

  “Sweetling,” Master started, clearly not liking the implications of what she’d said, “What do you mean I’m not going?”

  “To be clear, you shouldn’t go with me to Belen. I might be wrong, or jumping to conclusions, and the thief will choose to go to the Kindin market in Thirdcastle. In which case, we need to split up and search both.”

  “But why should you go to Belen?” he pressed, not following.

  Shouldn’t this be obvious? Oh wait, she’d never told him the full story about that, had she? “Because I’ve been to Belen before and I know where to go.”

  Sarsen, who had gone with her and knew the full story intimately well, snorted a laugh, which he tried to cover by faking a cough. Master darted a look between them, suspicions growing. “You’ve been to Belen before,” he repeated neutrally.

  “That’s right.” All things considered, she didn’t feel like going into the full story right this minute. In fact, she wanted to get the details on this sorted so that she could crawl into a bed for a few hours and sleep. “So it’s best I go to Harkin.”

  “Wait, sweetling, I don’t understand why it’s you that has to go!” Master protested, looking downright uneasy. “This is a black market. There are all sorts of scoundrels and rogues in that place. Even a magician would tread cautiously.”

  “I have to go,” she maintained, tone firm.

  “Sweetling—”

  Her free hand slashed to cut off the rest of his protest. “Listen to me. I have to go. Not just because it’s still my job to deal with the gadgick, not just because I’m afraid of what will happen if that thing ends up in the wrong hands. I’m the only person who has actually handled it and gotten a good look. Can you promise me that you could tell the real article from a well forged fake after only getting a brief look at it?”

  Master opened his mouth, paused, and grimaced.

  She nodded her head in grim confirmation. “I thought not. I need to go. Since Belen is the best place to unload this thing, I’ll go there. On the off chance that I’m wrong, you go to Kindin as you’re the only other person who had a look at the gadgick. Besides, I have a…contact at the Belen black market.”

  Sarsen’s chest jerked as he struggled not to laugh. “Oh, yes. She does at that.”

  Master looked between the two of them, brows quirked in confusion. “Did I miss something?”

  She rubbed at her forehead, feeling a headache coming on. Oh had he ever. “Do you remember that first year I was in Big? Before I taught him how to handle intruders properly and I had a group of thieves come through and steal a lot of things from me?”

  He gave a cautious nod as the memory came back to him. “Yes…” he said slowly, tone tilting it up into a question. “You never did tell me the full story on that. Just that Sarsen helped you track the thieves down.”

  “Well, and we did, but they’d already unloaded everything at the black market in Belen. I had to contact the owner of the place to negotiate getting everything back.” The twinges blew out into a full headache and she grimaced. “He’s, well, um…”

  “An ardent admirer of Sev’s,” Sarsen offered, finally losing the battle and chuckling.

  She groaned and shook her head. “That’s far too tame of a description. Anyway, if I show up on his doorstep looking for something, he’ll bend over backward to help me. So this isn’t as dangerous as you think it will be, Master.” Just very inconvenient. The culture of Belen said that unless a woman was of a very low station, she should not run around unescorted. She either had to be in a party of women or in the company of a man. Sevana, to preserve her working reputation in that country, had to go with either Sarsen or some other male. She’d call Kip up here if she needed to—although it would be an unnecessary delay in a situation where time counted—but regardless, someone had to go with her.

  Master didn’t look the least bit reassured with her words. “Just who is this man?”

  This would start a whole other round, but…. With a sigh she capitulated and said, “Count Romano Rizzo Conti de Luca.”

  His jaw nearly came unhinged. “de Luca?! He’s famous for running one of the largest black markets on the eastern border of Mander!”

  “I know,” Sevana responded, taking a strangle hold on her patience.

  “He’s also a famous womanizer!”

  “I know.”

  “You can’t trust him at all!”

  “I know,” she snapped, patience evaporating. “Why do you think I’m taking Sarsen with me? It’s not just because of Belen’s backward cultural quirks. He can help me deal with that lecherous twit.”

  Master’s eyebrows clearly expressed he did not like this situation, not one bit. Sevana hardly felt thrilled about it either. But what did he expect her to do, stay here while someone else went? It would be a mission doomed to failure. She had to go. There was no other option. Standing around arguin
g about it didn’t change that. In fact, the more she thought about the situation, the more plausible it seemed to take Bounce on Clouds and let Sarsen steer while she slept. Changing her plans on the spot, she ordered, “Sarsen, we leave in ten minutes.”

  “What about Sky?” Master asked pointedly.

  Oh. Right. She had an eight year old to think of. Sevana was so accustomed to just going when she wanted to go that she had a hard time remembering that someone else needed her. She pondered the question for a full second before turning to look at Decker.

  He didn’t need her to ask the question aloud before he raised a hand in surrender. “I’ll look after him while you’re gone. How long do you think this will take?”

  “If the gods have any mercy on me, not more than five or six days.” Glad to have that situated, she turned back to Sarsen and repeated, “We’re leaving in ten minutes.”

  “I’m already packed,” he told her, laugh lines crinkling around his eyes. “But you’re going to need to make a quick trip back to Big, aren’t you? After all, you can’t wear pants in Belen.”

  Aish. Another little quirk of the culture she’d momentarily forgotten. Growling out curses, she stomped off the porch, heading for her clock portal.

  It took two days to reach Harkin, Belen by her skimmer, and Sevana shamelessly slept most of the distance. Sarsen woke her up at one point, making her navigate for about eight hours so he could sleep, but other than that, she rested as much as she could.

  Where they were going, she’d need all the energy she could get.

  They reached the outskirts of Harkin at sunset, which made the city rather pretty in bold strokes of oranges, golds, and dark browns. From the air, it almost looked picturesque. Harkin was one of the largest cities of Belen, second only to the capital, Windtower. Situated on the coast like this, it spread out in every direction so that its entire eastern section curled around the coastline. In some parts, even over the ocean as people expanded using houseboats and the like. She’d been in many a city that had grown faster than was wise, where the streets became a rat maze, but Harkin put most of them to shame. Then again, most of the trade of Mander went through Harkin at some point or another, legal or illegal, so it was no wonder the city grew every year.

  Sevana leaned over the side railing and looked down, watching as the people scurried about in the streets, some of them taking notice of the flying skimmer above their heads and pointing at it. Turning her head slightly, she said casually to Sarsen, “You realize that we’ll have to land on de Luca’s roof. Otherwise we’ll have waves of thieves try to steal the skimmer.”

  “Yes, I’m heading to his roof,” Sarsen assured her. “Hopefully he’ll recognize it’s you before someone tries to attack us.”

  Oh. Right. He wouldn’t know the skimmer. He’d never seen it before. Sevana had made it three years ago and de Luca hadn’t seen her in well over four, mayhap five years. Hmm. Resigned, she pulled the Caller out of her back pouch and laid it on top of a flat palm, held at eye level. “de Luca.”

  The Count of the Black Market did not have an ounce of magical ability in him, but a man of his position and power could well afford a magical lackey. She knew that someone near him would have a Caller that would respond. It took a few moments before the Caller perked up, although it remained faceless because the speaker did not have a magical connection to it.

  “My dear Sevana! This is so rare, but delightful! You never contact me.”

  That was his smooth, cultured baritone though. He always sounded as if he were attempting to seduce her when he spoke. “This is more rare than you think. I’m coming toward your house.”

  A thud sounded, as if he had just dropped out of his chair. But then, the last time he had contacted her, she’d threatened to turn him into a mouse and give him to Baby to play with. He’d never in his wildest imaginations think she would come to him after that. “You’re HERE?” he demanded incredulously, with all the excitement of a child with five birthdays’ worth of presents in front of him.

  “Almost,” she responded. Right then and there, she promised herself that if she could get through this visit without killing the man or losing her temper, she’d indulge in a secret vice to her heart’s content when she got back home. Bribing herself might be the only way to insure that they would all survive this surprise visit intact. “I’m coming to you via my flying skimmer. I need to land on your roof, so I’d take it as a kindness if you didn’t have any of your magicians try to shoot me out of the sky.”

  “Of course, of course,” he assured her hastily. “You! Pass the word that she’s coming and to bring her to me with all due courtesy. Sevana, my love, I am thrilled beyond words at your visit. Dare I hope that you have finally decided to accept my proposal?”

  “The day that I decide to be one of your lovers, de Luca, is the day that I have lost all sanity,” she informed him dryly. “No, I’m here for your help.”

  He audibly switched from potential lover to business man. “In what respect?”

  It felt like chewing on moldy lemons saying this, but it had to be said. “Something was stolen from me, something very important, and I need your help to get it back. I am not sure, however, if you can even help me.”

  “My love, for you, I will move mountains.”

  She was banking on that, too. Sevana kept an eye out and saw that Sarsen had found the right roofline and was mere minutes from reaching it. “I hope that in this case, it’ll be enough. I will explain the particulars when I see you. For now, we’re a bare minute from reaching your house.” Although ‘house’ seemed such a wrong word to use. The man had a compound with a manor house in the middle, one which would put most palaces to shame, surrounded on all sides by normal sized homes meant to house his staff, guards, and guests. She’d always assumed that one of the red brick homes kept all of his mistresses as well, but she had never had that confirmed. Actually, she didn’t care to confirm it.

  “Land in the center courtyard,” he directed. “I shall come out to greet you.”

  She caught Sarsen’s eye and he nodded confirmation that he’d heard the direction. “We shall.”

  “You keep saying ‘we,’ my dear. Who is with you?”

  “Sarsen.”

  He let out a long sigh. “Surely you know that there’s no need for a chaperone or another man between us?”

  “There’s a need,” she said firmly, shaking her head in reluctant amusement. The man just couldn’t give up the idea that she might one day be his, could he. “Come out. We’re almost there.” So saying, she put the Caller back in her pouch.

  Sarsen had a wry smile on his face as he carefully maneuvered the skimmer through the rooftops, avoiding crashing into any houses. “You have to give him this—he’s devoted.”

  “Ha!” Sevana didn’t believe this for a second. “He’s only interested because I’m the only woman he’s never been able to catch.”

  “Well, and there’s that,” Sarsen admitted.

  Speaking of…. Sevana gave herself a good look from shoulders to toes. She’d brought her plainest dresses and skirts, not wanting to attract any male attention, but would this plan work? She wore an ink blue suede skirt, her normal white shirt and a dark gold vest. It was nice enough to keep her reputation as a respectable business-woman intact, but should hopefully be plain enough to not fire up any man’s ardor. Her blonde hair had been tightly braided and wrapped around her head, also severely curtailed.

  “You look fine,” Sarsen assured her without any prompting.

  “I’m not worried about looking fine, I want to look plain,” she objected. “I don’t want to encourage his attentions any.”

  Sarsen gave her quite the sardonic look for that. “Sevana, you could be dressed in a meal sack and it wouldn’t deter him any.”

  Her shoulders slumped. Sarsen might very well be right on that.

  The skimmer touched down in the courtyard with a slight thump and scrape as the wood settled against the stone tiles. She unlatch
ed the side gate and stepped out, lifting one part of her skirt up a little to avoid tripping herself as she got down. Hmm, well, the place hadn’t changed much since she’d last seen it. Belen’s idea of fashionable architecture revolved around stone gargoyles, dramatic buttresses, sweeping rooflines, and an overall gloomy theme that made a house seemed haunted. The count, having no sense of taste whatsoever, simply went along with the current fashion, so his home looked perfectly suited to entertain a vampire or three. She shuddered just looking at it, half-disgusted and half-cold at the obvious signs of wealth.

  Sarsen alighted to the ground with a soft grunt before coming to stand at her side.

  Count Romano Rizzo Conti de Luca came out of the main doors of the mansion like a king greeting a foreign dignitary. Aside from the fact that he wore his curly hair short, so that it no longer touched his shoulders, he hadn’t changed. He stood barely taller than she did, body slim except where the multiple layers of shirt, vest, and brocaded black jacket made him look bulkier. Really, he had a handsome face and a blindingly white smile that would make any woman turn her head. It was his rotten personality that ruined the whole package.

  With arms spread wide in welcome, he came straight to her. “Sevana, my love! I am overjoyed to see you again!”

  He really did look pleased to see her. If his smile got any wider, it would split his face in two. Seeing that expression, Sevana had a sudden bout of misgivings. From the side of her mouth, she muttered, “Can I change my mind?”

  “No,” Sarsen murmured back.

  “Please? That expression scares me.”

  “I don’t blame you.” His tone added, I would be, too, in your shoes. “Just remember, you can turn him into a mouse if you need to.”