Romney Balvance and the Katarin Stone

by J Jordan

  “I can do some deep research, yes,” she continued. “But let me return to my main point. The Crown of Videra belonged to the Pharaoh Videra Lucana, who was believed to be a direct descendant of the Prophet Andrea, the founder of Andar, so to speak. Videra would be buried in one of the pyramids in Andar, along with her possessions, like her crown. And these pyramids are under constant guard by the Andaran military. In fact, they have an entire branch of their military devoted to protecting these sites.”

  “Don’t worry about those guys,” said Devon. “We’ve got someone to take care of them.”

  Mila nodded and made more swipes at her tablet. She looked up briefly to smile at Cora and Romney, then returned to her plans.

  “Okay,” said Cora, “so let’s say that we pinpoint the correct pyramid—because there is no historical record of which pharaohs were buried in which pyramids—and then we manage to infiltrate this protected site and steal the crown, which we can only presume is buried with Videra. Then we would have an Andaran national treasure in our possession, which would likely alert Los Federales Centros, the Andaran OIB, the Ontaran OIB, and every other international agency in the world. We would be Ontaran criminals acting on foreign soil. We wouldn’t be able to show our faces in Lanvale, let alone anywhere near the Reymus Building.”

  “I’m sure we can work something out to deal with that.”

  “To deal with being international criminals.”

  “Sure,” said Devon, “there’re ways you can scrub that stuff. Right, Mila?”

  This time Mila’s nod was noncommittal. She was engrossed in her tablet, swiping and drawing, and analyzing, and then swiping some more. Romney wondered what he would see if he had just one look at the screen. He wasn’t sure he would even comprehend it.

  Cora was trying to find more polite words.

  “Then let’s assume we get the crown and you manage to scrub our criminal records before anyone has a chance to act, and we get it back here. You would have this Andaran national treasure in your collection. It’s not like the Andaran Council would overlook that. They would search for the crown until they found it. In your possession.”

  “Cora,” said Devon, “you’re detail-oriented, I get that. And that’s a great quality to have. Especially in your line of work. But those are details for Mila and me. You guys don’t worry about any of those things. All you have to know is we have special ways to handle whatever comes our way.”

  Romney scratched a sideburn as he thought about this. Did he mean magic? Katrese had said Devon was incapable of using magic. Perhaps he used a different kind of magic, one that didn’t need spells or enchantments, but still managed to do extraordinary things. Perhaps it worked within the rules.

  Sure, money held power. It could change the world, if you used it right, for better or worse. But could it change history? Could it erase wrongdoing? Romney knew from experience that a little money could go a long way, if you planned it out right. One could start with a dollar, end with a fortune, given enough time and discipline. But Romney always had the impression there were limitations to what money could do. You could buy things with it, sure. Cars, houses, small islands. But could you really buy power itself? Could you really pay your way out of a criminal record?

  Then came a question from before, one Katrese had left unanswered. Why would Devon need magic if he had all that money?

  Mila derailed this train of thought. She was standing in front of Devon’s desk now, rattling off details in rapid fire.

  “The bus will take you into Andrea’s Course and drop you off at the airport in Tiena. From there, you will take a private flight into Andar and land in Andarametra by six thirty local time, tomorrow evening. After that, you are free to explore your options.”

  “My passport expired six years ago,” said Romney. “It usually takes a month to get it back.”

  Devon produced three small, blue booklets and slid them across the desk. Each came to a stop before the edge. The booklets were emblazoned with the Ontaran crest, an ancient phoenix passing through a circle flanked by a sword on its left and a spear on its right.

  No one is entirely sure why the first Ontarans chose the phoenix as their symbolic bird. It did a magnificent job of symbolizing the rise of a nation from the ashes of a stagnant Camerran society, steeped in antiquated traditions. But there were other, nicer birds to choose from. The eagle, for instance. The eagle was a noble bird, and graceful, a raptor of true distinction. It didn’t look like a chubby flamingo crossed with a flamboyant turkey. It also didn’t make a sound like a crooked bugle crooning through a clogged drain with air horn accompaniment. The eagle had a guttural, ear-splitting screech, something that really stirred the spirit.

  But they chose the phoenix.

  And now they stamp it on everything. Banners, emblems, official documents like Ontaran passports. They do a wonderful job of representing its grace and splendor, but there’s only so much you can do with a tur-mingo hybrid.

  Romney took one of the small booklets and thumbed through it. The paper inside was glossy, shimmering with a rainbow of symbols as it caught the light. This one was for Cora, judging by the grumpy portrait in the bottom right of the first page. She already had stamps for Andar, but he didn’t bother to see when they were made. He passed it to her, then snatched his from Tykeso. The portrait was taken from his driver’s license, along with the rest of his personal information. They even had all of his stamps.

  “How did you do this?”

  “Leave those details to us,” said Mila, returning to the plan on her tablet. “Your bus leaves from the Cresdale station at five thirty tomorrow morning.”

  She looked up from the tablet and looked to the three.

  “Start preparing for your trip. You may be there for a long time. And you really don’t want to be late for the bus.”

  “It's open seating on the first bus out,” added Devon. “You’ll want to be in your seats a half hour beforehand, at least.”

  “If there are no further questions,” said Mila, but didn’t finish. Romney raised his hand.

  “Real quick,” said Romney. “We’re expecting an extended stay in Andar. And I’m assuming we use our own funds while we’re there, and then we expense them back to you when we get back. But can we setup a temporary expense account, in case we need additional funding?”

  Devon cut Mila off before she could respond. It was probably for the best, judging by her glare.

  “Those are details for us to worry about,” he said. “You three are only worried about the crown right now.”

  He paused to share a glance with Mila, who had returned to her tablet. His grin deepened as he looked back at Romney.

  “I like you guys. I know you’re gonna do great. But you gotta get out of my office now. Tomorrow is going to be a long day for everybody.”

  The three rose from their chairs and made their way out of the office.

  “Enjoy Andar,” Devon called after them. “It’s beautiful this time of year.”

  Arindale Kinsey and Public Enemy 503

  Arindale Kinsey was five minutes late to work. It wasn’t unheard of, even for agents of the Ontaran Investigations Bureau. In fact, Agent Mark Redaxe held the record for tardiness—eight times alone in May 2007. It should be clarified that Agent Redaxe was still getting used to the alarm on his new cell phone, the VoPhone 3 with satellite calibrated clocks and a battery life of six hours. Agent Arindale Kinsey had no such excuse.

  But, really, who isn’t five minutes late every now and then?

  Arindale Kinsey, that’s who.

  Kinsey rushed by the usual rows of cubicles, head ducked into a pile of folders in her arms, and made a sharp turn into her personal closet. The OIB would never admit that Kinsey’s office was a repurposed supply closet, although they never removed the bulk packages of toilet paper from her shelves. And no manner of scented device could ever mask the powerful scent of spilled bleach, forever infused into the concrete floor. Kinsey looked up from her f
olders to see her partner, Agent Durk Salinger, sitting in the only chair that could fit in front of her desk. Her office chair.

  “Good morning,” he said, in his cool Camerran accent.

  Kinsey grimaced. There was no possible way to describe the morning as good. She maneuvered past him and placed her burden of folders on the only clean part of her desk. She stood at the desk across from him, since he had her only chair, and waited for him to say whatever it was he had to say.

  “Beautiful too, isn’t it?”

  “What is it, Salinger?”

  He frowned at this. Kinsey noticed the sheet of paper he held in his hand.

  “I have something for you,” he said. “Blackbourne said you would hit the ceiling if you saw this. But I, being your trusting and dutiful partner, decided you should know.”

  “What is it?”

  Salinger handed her the piece of paper. He had more to say, as he always did, but she wasn’t in the mood. Kinsey was running on three hours of sleep and cold coffee from the night before. Even on a good day, she would have trouble reading the crude photocopy in front of her face.

  “Still don’t know what it is.”

  “Read the title.”

  “Just tell me."

  Salinger snatched it back from her, cleared his throat, and began a dramatic reading.

  “Form 3419-R, a Review of Form 1136-I, Application for Renewing Passport. Submitted 9:39 p.m. last night.”

  “How can you read that?”

  “Memorized it, actually. This copy is bloody awful.”

  “What’s the point, Salinger? Where are you going with this?”

  “Can you make out this part here?”

  He pointed to a muddy portion of block lettering, possibly underlined. Kinsey made out the letters R and N. And maybe there was an A somewhere in there.

  “No.”

  Kinsey scoured the printed mess. She could make out the O now clearly, and an L in the second collection of mired lettering. And now, clear as day, the letter B. She read the document carefully now, trying to make sense of the blurry mess. Kinsey remembered the Form 3419-R. It usually had a field for—

  “Proposed Location of Travel,” she said aloud. “Andarametra.”

  At some point, Kinsey had traveled to her supervisor’s office, an actual office with carpet and room for a desk and three chairs. She arrived with the form balled in her fist. She shook it at her superior. From the grim look on his face, Special Agent Blackbourne had been expecting this.

  “We approved it this morning. Romney Balvance is not a valid threat.”

  “Don’t give me that. He’s on our list of most wanted criminals. I have an ongoing investigation that uncovered two accounts with substantial sums of money. This man is dangerous. He is preparing to do something big.”

  “Romney Balvance is on a list of one thousand known criminals in Lanvale City,” said Blackbourne, “and he’s number 503. He doesn’t even rank on the provincial list.”

  “He has Vandesko and Queldin with him.”

  “Who are they?”

  Blackbourne looked to Salinger, who cleared his throat.

  “Accomplices,” he said. “It was in our report.”

  “I get a lot of reports,” said Blackbourne, “and I’m sorry to say I don’t read all of them.”

  “You don’t look sorry,” murmured Salinger.

  “You did a fine job with Smoak. We are dismantling the largest criminal enterprise because of your work. But now you’re chasing mice. Romney Balvance is tiny. Small-time. He has no criminal history and no ties to any substantial criminal syndicate. There are bigger targets out there.”

  “He is not a mouse! Romney Balvance is a snake,” said Kinsey. “And he’s on to something big. Balvance is going to bring this city to its knees. We have to stop him now.”

  Blackbourne sat upright in his chair, his grim expression turning dour. Perhaps it was the way she said this last part, shouting mere inches from his face and pounding her fist on the corner of his desk. She had crossed the line again. He turned to his computer, opened a file, and scanned it.

  “You have three months of vacation, Kinsey. Take a week off, starting today. Go somewhere nice, maybe quiet, and unwind. When you come back, we’ll have a spot for you in the Tanaka case. Salinger will brief you when you get back.”

  “The tire thief,” said Kinsey. “You’re too kind.”

  “It’s better than what you’re killing yourself over right now,” said Blackbourne. “Tanaka has known ties to the Azerran mafia. That’s more than you can say about Balvance.”

  Kinsey turned and left the office. She made a point not to storm out, because there was a small audience huddled around the entrance. They coughed nervously as one person, then pretended to have other important matters to attend to. This was how they were going to play it.

  She ducked back into her closet office, scooped up her pile of folders and shoved past Salinger on her way out.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Balvance is headed to Andar. I hear it’s nice this time of year.”

  And with that said, Arindale Kinsey started her first vacation.

  Romney Balvance and the Way to Andarametra

  The first Camerran expedition to Andar began in the fifth year of King Aldon, year 1439 of the Classical era. It started when an explorer, Lord Barnibus Smoak, approached King Aldon of Orren with a proposition. He would lead an armada of ships westward, to explore the track of land that divided the Marnan and Kieran Seas, the thin tract of land linking continental Ontar and Andar. In the Modern era, this land is known as the Andrea’s Course Province. Barnibus and his crew would be the first Camerrans to set foot on Andrea’s Course. And this would have been a first for the Unified Kingdom of Camerra, had he actually landed there.

  Barnibus promised King Aldon a wealth of treasures in return for an armada of ships. These included rare spices, beautiful precious stones, valuable metals, strange artifacts from new and alien cultures, and other nondescript exotic goods. King Aldon was not immediately persuaded by this pitch. For starters, Barnibus could not provide a value for said valuable metals. Secondly, he could not approximate the size or quantity of the precious stones, nor could he make comparisons to other known gems for a proper estimation. King Aldon had a kingdom to think about, after all. And the final nail in Barnibus’s pitch was nearly the voyage’s undoing. He had no idea how spicy the spices would be.

  After intense negotiating, King Aldon granted Barnibus a small fleet: a corvette, a frigate, two schooners, and a statue of Katrese for prayer. It was hardly the armada Barnibus had in mind, but the seasoned explorer would make the best of it.

  Barnibus began his voyage for the Sea Split from the Camerran port of Noringard. He navigated through the Isles of Desridan and looped around the northernmost edge of the Katarin Sea. Then his fleet crossed the Marnan Sea, where he continued southwesterly until he reached his destination.

  This isn’t entirely true.

  Barnibus reached an exotic new territory across the seas to the west, but it wasn’t Andrea's Course. As it turns out, his heading was more south than west. By quite a large margin. Barnibus landed on the eastern coast of Andar, roughly ten miles from its largest coastal city, Marina. Andrea’s Course was roughly 300 miles to the north. When Barnibus planted the Camerran banner on the beach, he had done so not on the wild new lands of Andrea's Course, but right in the middle of Pharaoh Videra’s kingdom.

  At this point, the history of the expedition becomes vague. The entries written by Barnibus’s scribe begin as long, flowing paragraphs about the sea as a beautiful blue maiden, and become terse summaries of a given day’s events the moment they arrive. The more exciting days are recounted as a long series of sentence fragments like, “landed on beach def. not Sea Split,” “locals arrived, talking to Barni now,” “locals pissed,” and “Goddess, Goddess, hit by throwing spear, more incoming,” and “they boarded.” Then the entries become a makeshift inventory with entri
es like “traded more linen,” “spices, knickknacks, whatnot” and “exchanged gems for schooner, good trade.”

  One entry sheds light on the subject: “They love the statue!”

  When Barnibus returned to Camerra, he was down the two schooners and the statue of Katrese. He came away with seven chests: one loaded with gems, one with linens, one with very spicy spices, one with moderately spicy spices for the weak of stomach, two loaded with assortments of Andaran religious idols, and a small one with a beautiful necklace of turquoise and fine copper. And after a profit and loss assessment performed by three different clerics, King Aldon deemed the Barnibus expedition a success.

  Romney’s journey to Andar had only a few things in common with the Barnibus expedition. And even those are a stretch. . First, Romney and Barnibus took a roundabout way to reach the country. Barnibus had to navigate the Isles of Desridan, which are surrounded by treacherous waters and perilous crags hidden beneath the waves.

  Romney had to travel to the bus station in rural Cresdale, a bloody nightmare of single-lane traffic and unmarked roads. On a good day. When they finally pulled into the bus station, the morning sun had begun to warm the evening sky in the east. Romney stretched as he stepped out of the car, and tried his best to stifle a yawn. As he arrived at the bus station, he slowly found the second similarity to the Barnibus expedition.

  The bus was not what he had imagined. It had to be their bus, as it was the only one parked in the driveway. And yet, it couldn’t possibly be theirs. Romney had imagined a coach line, big and spacious, with ample headroom and comfortable seating. A place where he could sleep in peace. Maybe it would have those mini-televisions too. He wasn’t asking for much. Come on, he reasoned, it was Reymus Industries.

  Theirs was a school bus. There was no getting around it. No amount of paint or detailing could hide the shape. As Romney approached it, he could still make out the shadow of lettering for “Cresdale Sch” still lurking under the new coat of paint. He saw nothing on the roof that looked like an air conditioner. And as he looked in, on his tiptoes, he saw the bench seating he had dreaded since elementary school. Cora approached the bus, her head shaking from side to side.