The World of Samar Box Set 3

by M. L. Hamilton

  Tyla narrowed her eyes in confusion. “I’m not certain I understand. You did say she attacked you.”

  “Yes, without a weapon. She took the job so that she could warn me.”

  “And then you said she saved your life.”

  “Yes, she did.”

  “And that’s why you’re letting her roam around freely?”

  Kalas leaned forward. “What would you have me do, Tyla? Send her back to the Nazarien.”

  “No, but…”

  Kalas glanced over his shoulder at the balcony. “She’s an enigma. I knew part of her story, but to hear the rest of it…it gives me chills.”

  Tyla frowned. She knew Kalas had dalliances with court women. He was handsome, young, and powerful. Of course, women threw themselves at him, had since he came of age, but he’d never shown more than a passing interest in any of them. The tenderness in his voice when he spoke concerned her. Not that she didn’t want him to find happiness, but a Nazarien woman with such a past was not Tyla’s choice for her brother.

  “She’s damaged, Kalas, in ways you can’t begin to understand.”

  He turned back and studied her a moment in silence. Then he sighed. “Who isn’t damaged?”

  “Not like that. She went to those same men and trained to become an assassin. An assassin, Kalas, a hired killer. That’s not logical. Who does that?”

  “Someone who wants to take control of her life, someone who doesn’t want to be a victim any longer.” He leaned back. “I might ask you the same thing.”

  Tyla frowned. “What does that mean?”

  “You seem awfully chummy with a man who left you with a child ten years ago.”

  “That isn’t the same thing. I know Jarrett, you don’t know this woman.”

  “You knew Jarrett Murata. You don’t know Jarrett Trauner, the Nazar. I’m not sure he knows himself.”

  “Oh, that’s very deep.” She gave him a wry look and he laughed. “Besides, Jarrett’s simply here as an escort, nothing more.” Tyla nodded at Ellette. “Why do I sense there’s something more here?”

  Kalas shrugged his one good shoulder. “I’m not sure because there isn’t. She’s just another pair of eyes assigned to protect me.”

  “Another pair of Nazarien eyes. What’s your thing with them? You collect them like toys. Where did this Cult one come from and why does he stay?”

  “Ha, that’s exactly what Ellette said. Attis came to me in Sarkisian to tell me about the plague.” He pushed himself to his feet and moved close to her chair. Tyla resisted the urge to pull away. “I’m guessing he stays because he likes the food here better.” Bending down, he kissed her on the top of the head. “Get some rest, Tiger. You look exhausted.” With that he strolled from the room.

  Tyla shifted in her chair and watched after him, then she looked out at Ellette. She suspected Kalas’ feelings were every bit as confused as hers were about Jarrett.

  * * *

  “We’ve locked down the docks. No ship comes or goes without a thorough search and a background check. We’re in the process of reviewing all of the owner documents on private vessels,” said Parish.

  Jarrett stood near the door, watching the proceedings. He wanted to interject, but he didn’t think Kalas would welcome it. Kalas occupied the head of the table, Tyla to his right. Parish stood on the other end, looking very much like the captain of the guard Kalas had made him.

  Allistar leaned close. “What are they saying?” he asked in Lodenian.

  “They’re talking about ships.”

  Allistar rocked on his heels and nodded, but he didn’t ask for clarification.

  Kalas’ collection of Nazarien occupied the other chairs at the table. For a Nazarien woman, Ellette was alert and focused. Not the shrinking flower that most Nazarien women became.

  “How many private vessels are we talking about?” asked Tyla.

  She looked so small, sitting there, her mass of black hair shadowing her features. Jarrett felt a nagging sense of anxiety whenever he looked at her and it had nothing to do with their past.

  Parish reached onto the table and leafed through a pile of papers sitting there. “Hundreds.”

  Tyla leaned back in her chair.

  Kalas shot a look at her, then focused on Parish again. “Private vessels aren’t used as often as commercial ones, so we should be able to start with the less frequently used vessels, right?”

  “That’s not necessarily correct, Your Majesty. Some of the private vessels are fishing boats used daily as income.”

  Jarrett couldn’t stay quiet any longer. “Are you certain every vessel’s registered?”

  Parish met his look, then shifted weight. All eyes turned to him.

  “Baron?” asked Kalas.

  “No, many of the smaller vessels are not registered.”

  “Then how are we going to find this Brodie Daegan? How do you even begin to know what size vessel he operated? Maybe he was on a commercial line?” continued Jarrett.

  “No,” answered Tyla. “He had a small boat. Jax borrowed it. It would have to be something small enough for one man to operate alone.”

  Parish tapped a hand on the papers. “I hadn’t thought of that. We can search by vessel size. That will lower the numbers considerably.”

  “How much?” asked Kalas.

  Parish’s expression fell. “By a few hundred.”

  Jarrett’s gaze shifted to Tyla. She bowed her head, but Jarrett recognized her look. You couldn’t share so much with a person and not pick up something in body language. Tyla’s feelings might be shut off from him, but he knew how she thought. Eldon protect him, he knew.

  * * *

  Three days passed and the painfully slow review of the shipping records continued. Tyla spent most of her time in her private suite, only emerging to take dinners with everyone in the dining room. She ate little, questioning Kalas daily about the new numbers of plague victims in the hospitals, grilling Parish about the search for Brodie Daegan.

  Thankfully, plague numbers were increasing slowly, one or two new cases per day, but they were increasing. Tyla wanted to go to the hospital and check on them herself, but Kalas discouraged any of them leaving the compound. Cult members had been questioned about the presence of rogue Nazarien, but that had proven less than helpful.

  The very nature of the Nazarien made the threat all the more significant. Their training allowed them to blend with their surrounds and most could move with absolute silence. It wasn’t going to be easy to capture them unless they made another attempt on someone’s life, and that wasn’t something any of them wanted to risk.

  And yet, Jarrett knew. He knew that these three days were merely a reprieve. He haunted the hallways of Kalas’ manor each night until nearly dawn. Such inaction could not, would not last. Soon something would have to be done. Tyla was not a woman to sit idly…ever.

  As he was passing through the entrance hall on his patrol, he caught motion from the corner of his eyes. He halted and faced the stairs. Tyla glided into view, moving as swiftly and silently as she could. She paused when she sensed him, then descended to the bottom step and stood glaring at him.

  Jarrett marked the pack slung over her shoulder, in addition to the jacket and travel boots. He lifted a brow. “Going somewhere?”

  “Honestly, Jarrett, I’m certain Kalas has enough men to guard the entrance hall.” She cocked her head, a heavy braid sliding over her shoulder. “Unless you’re looking for a chair to sleep in. Really, don’t you think that you ought to start taking care of your back at your age?”

  “We’re the same age, Tyla.”

  She gave a careless shrug. “Who am I to tell you when you’re being foolish? Good night.” She moved to cross around him, but he stepped in front of her.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I certainly don’t have to check with you, but I’m going to the kitchen for a snack.”

  “A snack? And you need a pack to carry it in?”

  She narrowed her ey
es. “Yes, I want to keep a supply in my room.”

  Jarrett crossed his arms over his chest. “Do we really have to play at this? I know where you’re going. You’re going out to find Brodie Daegan. Admit it and let’s move on.”

  She leaned against the rail, her shoulders slumping. “I can’t sit here and wait for them to go through all those papers. People are dying. I need to get to that island.”

  “Kalas is doing everything he can, Tyla. What more do you want him to do? No ship leaves or enters the docks without being searched and recorded. They’re going through the ownership papers. Eventually, they’ll find something.”

  “We don’t have eventually,” she answered.

  He exhaled. “I know, but I just don’t know what more we can do.”

  She leaned away from the rail. “I do. I’ve thought about it and thought about it. If they can’t find him by the shipping records and he hasn’t tried to board his boat, he must be worried about his connection to Jax Paden. He’ll have heard that Kalas is in Kazden and he’ll be wondering if it’s connected to the plague. He probably doesn’t want to be questioned or maybe he even fears he’d be held responsible.”

  “Probably.”

  “So he’s lying low. Where do working men go when they can’t work?”

  Jarrett shrugged.

  “They go to a tavern.”

  He had to admit she had something.

  “I’ll bet it’s a tavern that’s close to the docks. Think about it. They come off their boats after a long day and the first thing they want is a pint. We’ve just got to search those taverns closest to the docks and see if anyone knows of him or better yet, Jax.”

  “Jax?”

  “They may not remember one sailor over another, but someone’s bound to remember a Stravad asking for lessons on sailing. If we find out what tavern Jax frequented, we might find Brodie Daegan.”

  “There are an awful lot of taverns in a city like Kazden, Tyla.”

  “Yes, but we start at the docks. Brodie had to have a one man boat, otherwise Jax wouldn’t have been able to handle it by himself. We can ignore the larger, commercial ships and focus only on the docks where single man vessels are.”

  Jarrett considered her idea for a moment. It was sound, well-reasoned, and about the best plan they had right now. “What about the rogue Nazarien? They still want to hurt you because of me.”

  “I think you and I can handle ourselves.” Then she paused and a strange look crossed her face. “If you want out, I can understand. I’m not asking you to go.”

  Jarrett felt a flush of hurt. When was she going to trust him again? “I’m going.” He didn’t allow himself to say more. He knew her too well. No matter what he said, she had made up her mind and there was no way to talk her out of it. “How do you plan on getting beyond the guards at the front gate?”

  “I’m going to tell them that I’m headed to the hospital to check on the plague victims. I’m not Kalas’ prisoner, so he can’t keep me here. They have no reason to stop me. Kalas has gone to bed, so they won’t disturb him until morning. By then, we’ll either be back or have found Brodie Daegan.”

  “You’re going to control the guards with telepathy, aren’t you?”

  She gave him a careless shrug. “I might plant an idea or two.”

  * * *

  The night was still, summer settling warm and heavy over Kazden. The streets opened around the manor, wide and well maintained. As they walked, Tyla noted the neatly painted fences and gardens resplendent with color. The houses were large and immaculate, despite the ocean air. However, as they walked, the houses began to shrink and the crisp whitewash of earlier deteriorated into peeling paint and broken fence posts. Precisely tended gardens became weeds and straggly roses, bristling with thorns.

  As Jarrett had predicted, the guards at Kalas’ gate had questioned them, but since Kalas had given no strict orders, they couldn’t deny Tyla and Jarrett passage. A planted suggestion would most likely assure their departure wasn’t reported until they returned.

  The urgency that propelled her earlier diminished as they walked toward the center of the city. Her legs ached and her head felt heavy. She wanted to crawl into the soft comfort of her bed and sleep, but she knew that time was getting away from her.

  As they entered the business district, the streets grew narrow. She sensed Jarrett’s heightened awareness and felt apprehension snake up her spine. If the Nazarien were going to attack, these tight quarter would be the best place. At least the moon was full overhead and gave them some visibility, but the crates and barrels piled around them provided a little too much cover for would-be stalkers.

  Despite all of Kalas’ efforts, the business district was dirty. Refuse crowded the gutters and suspicious looking liquids oozed over the cobblestones. The smell of fish and musty wood mingled with smoke and unwashed Human bodies. Instinctively she moved closer to Jarrett. She marked that his fingers had tightened around the hilt of his sword.

  She knew where the docks were. It was hard not to find them. All roads eventually led in that direction, sloping toward the ocean. The skeletal rise of the masts littered the night sky and she could hear the slosh of the waves as they broke against the piles. Keeping the docks on her left side, she guided Jarrett toward the squat huddle of run-down buildings fronting the pier. As they walked, they encountered a number of local guards. Tyla was surprised there were so many, but she figured Kalas had employed them, making sure the docks and ships were secure. They paid little attention to her and Jarrett, more interested in the occasional man traveling by himself, or a larger group that seemed intent on avoiding their detection.

  Tyla felt somewhat comforted by their presence. She wasn’t sure the Nazarien would attack with so many guards in the vicinity, but she couldn’t be sure. That was the problem with Nazarien. One never could predict what they would do. Involuntarily, her hand crept to the emerald and closed around it. It pulsed with the beat of her heart, responding to her agitation.

  They came to the first tavern. It sported no name over the entrance, but Tyla guessed its purpose when the door opened and a large man staggered out. She and Jarrett stood on the opposite side of the street and watched him weave his way toward the business district. He didn’t notice them at all.

  “You sure about this?” asked Jarrett, breaking the tense silence between them.

  She drew a deep breath. “Yes, there’s no other way.”

  He didn’t respond. That was new. The old Jarrett would have argued and cajoled and eventually shouted in fury. It was so hard getting used to his new, stoic personality. She thought of Kerrin and his bursts of pique. So many times she looked at him and saw his father in his face. Although she’d never admit it, she longed to find some of the old Jarrett in the new.

  She stepped into the street and crossed. He was right on her heels. They climbed the warped stairs before the tavern and Tyla reached for the knob. As she pushed the door open, a trail of smoke leaked out, followed by a stale, earthy smell. A few men sat in groups of two or three, some played cards, but others simply huddled together, drinking and talking in hushed whispers. Along one wall was a stone fireplace, but no fire burned in the grate. It was too hot for that.

  Tyla approached the bar, her feet sticking to the floor. She could see Jarrett searching the corners of the room and feel the tension in his posture. “Hello,” she said to the bartender.

  He was an average sized man with blunt features. He beamed a smile at her, his front tooth broken off halfway. “What can I do for you, pretty lady?” His voice was friendly enough and his expression said welcome, until Jarrett shifted toward him, then his face twisted into a mask of rage and apprehension. “Oh hell no, I’m not serving his kind.”

  The room fell silent. Tyla glanced at Jarrett, then around the tavern. Every eye on the room was fixed on them. She knew Jarrett was as surprised as she was.

  “I’m sorry, his kind?”

  He motioned with a glass toward Jarrett’s face. �
�Not again. Not again, damn it. You just take yourself on out of here.”

  Tyla took a step closer. “Calm down, please.”

  “Calm down? Look here, lady, I don’t know what you want, but I know I want him out of here.”

  “You want him out of here because he’s Nazarien?”

  “Yeah, Nazarien. Get him out.”

  “Why?”

  The bartender’s eyes swung back to her face. “Why? Look, I don’t want no trouble, but I ain’t serving him. Both of you just leave.”

  “I need some information.”

  “Well, you ain’t getting it. Now go.”

  Tyla tilted her head. “Have Nazarien been in here?”

  His expression was incredulous. “Have they been in here? Tore the place apart last night. Broke tables, chairs, and smashed some of my best booze. Have they been here! Now, get him out.”

  “What did they want?” she pressed.

  The bartender shook his head. “I don’t remember. Something about an old man, Brady Something or other?”

  “Brodie? Brodie Daegan?”

  The bartender pointed the glass at her. “That’s him.” He shrugged. “Told them I never heard of the chap, but that wasn’t enough. They started smashing things. By the time the guard arrived, it was over and they got away.”

  Tyla eased forward and laid a few gold coins on the bar. “Can you tell me if you’ve ever seen Brodie Daegan?”

  “Why the hell would I have seen him?”

  “What about a Stravad? Not Nazarien, just Stravad. Did you ever see one of them?”

  “This city is crawling with Nazarien.”

  “I know, but he’d be asking about sailing lessons and maybe he’d be in the company of an old man.”

  The bartender considered this for a moment, scratching at the straggly beard on his chin. “Naw, first Stravad I seen were them Nazarien last night. And I can tell you, I ain’t wanting to see more.”

  Tyla looked away. She really thought someone would remember Jax. In Kazden, all Stravad were associated with the Nazarien. Surely someone would remember a Stravad that wasn’t.