Reflection- Dragon's Bane

by Rachel R. Smith

  Nerissa snickered softly. “I was already awake anyway,” she assured him.

  “Really?” His brows furrowed.

  She tilted her head to the side and wrinkled her nose. “Considering that we’ve had to wake at the first glimmer of dawn every day for as long as I can remember, it’s not really all that shocking that I’ve acclimated to such a disgusting habit, is it?”

  “That’s not exactly the word I would use to describe waking before midmorning.”

  “Good point. There are more colorful descriptors I could have chosen—including a handful I’ve learned quite recently—but I think that one conveyed my sentiments sufficiently enough,” she said with a wink. She waved for him to come closer and scooted sideways so that he could sit on the edge of the bed. “More importantly, what are you doing up and dressed so early?”

  “I checked with one of the few contacts we have in the city to see if there were any letters waiting for us from Darnal. The woman is a servant in one of the noble houses across the river, so it was necessary to meet with her early in the morning.”

  “And were there any letters?”

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tightly rolled sheet of paper. “Just this one. She said that there had been two others that arrived together over a month ago, but she had already burned them as instructed. Based on the timing, I expect those were copies of the letters I retrieved while we were in Rhea. Since Hania wasn’t sure where we were traveling, or when, copies were sent to all of our operatives to make sure we would receive it.”

  “It seems like such a wide distribution would make the letters easier to intercept.”

  “I expect that’s why we have received so little correspondence from Darnal. They are only communicating with us when it is absolutely essential.”

  Nerissa eyed the paper in his hand. “Then the contents of this letter must be important. What does it say?”

  “I haven’t opened it, actually.” When Nerissa arched one brow, Raysel’s gaze flicked over to Desta, who slept on, undisturbed by their hushed conversation. “This letter is addressed to Desta. It must be a response to the one she asked me to send to Shae while we were in Rhea.”

  “That was fast! Shae must have immediately sent her reply back with the messenger,” Nerissa said. She added, in a voice so soft it was barely audible, “I’m sure that’s what my mother would have done.”

  Raysel gave her a questioning look, but Nerissa changed the subject before he could ask her to explain herself. “I suppose there are few who have better insight than servants into the comings and goings of both the nobility and the common people. Did your contact have any information that might help us?”

  “Not as much as I had anticipated. Here in the Twin Cities, everyone’s focus seems to be on the illness. New cases arise daily, and many seem to be resistant to the modern medicines local doctors are administering.”

  “Hania already mentioned that in the letter you retrieved in Rhea.”

  “Yes. What we didn’t know is that Casimer recently sent the queen and the prince to their country estate because he fears they may fall victim to the disease as well. Between attempting to control the outbreak, searching for us, and escorting the queen north, I think the Senka must be spread quite thin.”

  “This illness really is both a blessing and a curse,” Nerissa said, recalling the line from the prophecy. “It helps us by preventing Casimer from focusing his efforts on securing Chiyo—or pursuing us, for that matter. But it is also harming so many people at the same time.”

  Raysel nodded and then continued on, his expression growing troubled. “I’ve also learned that Hania sent letters to our operatives here in Nyx and Maze with instructions on how to prepare the cure Ildiko found.”

  “You look like you find that problematic.”

  “It is!” His fingers tightened around a fistful of the blankets. “Your goal of taking back the throne is already a momentous undertaking. We should exploit every possible opportunity we have to get an advantage—”

  “No,” Nerissa interjected. “Not when innocent citizens are being harmed.”

  “Casimer didn’t have any qualms about involving innocent lives when he attacked the Manor,” Raysel argued.

  “No,” Nerissa repeated, her voice quiet yet stern. “If no one other than Casimer and the Senka were affected, I would agree with you, but in this situation, I support Hania’s decision wholeheartedly. What kind of leader would I be if I used the suffering of children and the elderly to my advantage without doing what I can to render aid?”

  “One who thinks strategically and always acts in the best interests of her people,” Raysel murmured.

  Nerissa let out a long sigh. “I’m not saying that we shouldn’t use this situation to our advantage. If we didn’t already have a cure, I wouldn’t go out of my way to find one for them. That’s Casimer’s responsibility, not mine. Still, we do have a cure, and because of that I feel an obligation to ease the suffering of those who are sick.”

  Raysel wouldn’t meet her eyes, but he loosened his grip on the blankets and nodded in acquiescence. “I will respect your wishes even though I feel no such compulsion. Regardless, it didn’t matter in the end that Hania shared the instructions for making the cure.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “My contact shared the ingredient list with two different apothecaries, informing them that it was the same recipe being used to cure the afflicted in Niamh. After both practitioners laughed her out of their shops for requesting a folk medicine cure, she gave up. Not only did they refuse to formulate the medicine, they don’t even stock the ingredients in the first place. In fact, my contact tried to cobble together the ingredients to make a few doses to have on hand for herself and her family, but they simply aren’t available anywhere in the Twin Cities.”

  Nerissa’s lips pressed into a thin line. “What a shame to have the cure at hand and scoff at it.” She huffed in frustration. There wasn’t anything she could do to change their minds—for now. “Have we at least been able to avoid the Senka noticing our presence in the city?”

  “My contact had heard nothing on that front, so that appears to be the case.”

  “I’m afraid that conclusion may not be correct,” Jarold’s voice interrupted.

  Nerissa and Raysel both turned simultaneously to find him peering around the doorframe that connected to the adjoining room. They had been so engrossed in their conversation that neither of them heard the door open.

  “Come in,” Raysel whispered, motioning for him to come closer. “What have you learned?”

  Jarold knelt by the side of the bed, his expression grim. “Rian came down a short time ago to relieve me of guard duty. When I passed the front desk on my way back to the room, the attendant flagged me down to tell me that a letter had been delivered in the middle of the night.”

  “A letter addressed directly to you?” Raysel asked.

  “No, not directly to me. It was addressed to the ‘book merchants.’ ” He handed the letter to Raysel. “The attendant found it strange that the letter just showed up on the front desk. She stepped away to visit the washroom, and when she returned, the letter was there. No one has come to the front door all night, so she has no idea how the messenger got in to deliver it.”

  “Then it must have been left by one of the other employees or someone who is also rooming here,” Raysel murmured, not taking his eyes away from the page.

  Nerissa could feel her apprehension growing with every passing second. “Well, what does it say?”

  “It says that the sender has a family heirloom that is an antique book with a crystal embedded in its spine. They know we are searching for books matching this description, and they want to give it to us. They’ve even specified a time and place tonight to meet with them.”

  So many questions were tumbling through Nerissa’s head that she didn’t know which one to ask first.

  “Who else in Maze—other than the Senka—would know s
o many details about the books we’re searching for?” Jarold asked, though it was a statement more than a question.

  “Could the sender be connected to another book collector we inquired with in the past? A business associate?” Nerissa asked.

  Raysel tapped the bottom of the paper with his thumb as he considered the suggestion. “There’s something more in the letter that makes me doubt that possibility. They’ve instructed that one of us should wear a hat with a pink feather in the brim to identify ourselves.”

  Nerissa’s heart beat with a single, resounding thud in her chest. “They know what we told Charis to wear last night.”

  Raysel nodded solemnly.

  A moment of tense silence passed before Jarold finally spoke up. “It must be a trap,” he said softly. “We need to leave the city as soon as possible.”

  “Absolutely not!” Nerissa exclaimed and then slapped her hand over her mouth, hoping her outburst hadn’t woken Desta. “Not when Charis could be in danger.”

  “They knew where to deliver the letter, so they already know where we are staying. They’d just pursue us as we left the city anyway,” Raysel said. He raked his fingers roughly through his long hair and tapped his foot, lost in thought. Finally, he said, “If the letter really is from the Senka, why offer to give the book to us? We would immediately recognize that we were being lured into a trap. Obviously, if they had a copy, they would give it to Casimer—not us. The ploy is almost too simplistic to be their work.”

  Jarold folded his arms across his chest. “If the letter isn’t from the Senka, who is it from?”

  “Could it be that the sender really does have the sixth book?” Nerissa added.

  “Even if the letter is from the Senka, they have to work within the shadows like we do,” Raysel said. “An outright confrontation in a public place would risk having their existence revealed, which is something neither of our groups can afford to do.”

  “So you don’t think the letter is from the Senka?” Nerissa asked.

  “I don’t know,” Raysel answered. “I’m afraid the only way we’re going to get any answers is to meet with them as the note instructs.” He turned to Jarold. “Wake the others. We’re likely walking into a trap, and we don’t have much time to prepare. We’ll start planning our strategy over breakfast.”

  Chapter 7

  Ambush

  Nerissa

  Even though its streets lay on the far outskirts of the festival, the historic district of Maze was decorated with the same brightly colored lanterns as the city’s main square. Long ago, predating even the founding of Renatus, Maze had been built over the top of hundreds of tangled canals that had been created by reinforcing the natural cave system through which a part of the Brochan River flowed. It would be an understatement to call the city old—and the historic district was the oldest part of all.

  The flickering candlelight of the lanterns projected warm pools of color onto the festival kiosks and carts just as they had the previous night, yet to Nerissa, the atmosphere now felt more sinister than merry. Instead of softly illuminating the smiling faces of the passersby, the lanterns seemed to throw a stark contrast across their features, transforming them into shadowy-eyed caricatures with over-pronounced foreheads and noses.

  Nerissa knew that neither the people nor the lights had changed, but that knowledge did not alleviate the uneasiness welling up in the pit of her stomach. She could not imagine a more ideal location for a trap.

  Here, the uneven streets were narrow and pocked with haphazardly placed drains leading into the canals, and the houses were so tightly packed they loomed ominously overhead. Unlit alleyways between the buildings cut gloomy chasms that festered with the dark promise of dangers hidden within.

  “I can see him.” Raysel murmured the words under his breath so that no one could overhear, though there was little risk of that happening. He was standing close enough that Nerissa could feel him shifting his weight from one foot to the other and back again. Clearly, she wasn’t the only one on edge tonight.

  Her eyes picked through the crowd, passing over Cole twice before spotting the hat with a pink feather in its brim. If not for the hat, he would have been entirely unrecognizable in his current guise. In addition to the liberal use of facial prosthetics, padding had been layered under his cloak to make his shoulders look broader than they really were, and special shoes with platforms hidden inside made him stand several inches taller. Beneath his cloak, hidden from sight, Nerissa knew he wore a messenger bag with a decoy book already tucked inside.

  The fact that the twins had been able to produce such an unusually colored feather from their supply of costumes should have come as a shock, but she was no longer surprised by their seemingly bottomless clothing trunks or the breadth of their costuming skills. The success of tonight’s plans depended on those skills—along with some sleight of hand.

  Cole meandered past several vendors and finally came to a stop at a lamppost several yards away from them. She could only assume that Rian, Eloc, and Leal were already in their positions farther down the street. Now, everyone should be in place to execute their plan. If all went well, they would be meeting back up with Jarold and Desta at the inn in less than an hour with the sixth book in hand. And if all did not go well…then it would be time for their escape plan to go into effect.

  Raysel leaned back against the wall and took a nonchalant sip from his cup of coffee. Nerissa wished she could pretend to be relaxed as well. Instead, she distracted herself by reaching inside her cloak to fiddle with the strap of the messenger bag slung across her chest. Hers was the only empty one, but it wouldn’t be staying that way for long. After the arranged meeting with the anonymous book owner, Cole was supposed to slip the “genuine” copy to her, then she and Raysel would leave. Meanwhile, Cole would continue in the opposite direction with his decoy in hand. Since this meeting was likely a trap, everyone else was already carrying a decoy. If things went sour after the exchange, they could bring out the fakes as they made their escape to confuse their pursuers about who had the original one.

  For his part, Cole was doing his best to look as conspicuous as possible. He paced back and forth beneath the lanterns and craned his neck to make it clear that he was looking for someone. Sure enough, within moments, a figure draped in a black cloak from head to toe approached him.

  Nerissa’s breath caught in her throat, and every inch of her skin felt like it was thrumming in anticipation. To her surprise, Cole did not take anything from the stranger. Instead, he turned and pointed down the street, gesturing first to the right, then to the left, and then to the left again. The stranger’s head bobbed in apparent gratitude before they walked off in the direction Cole had indicated.

  Raysel huffed over the rim of his coffee cup, and wisps of steam rolled over the rim. “They were asking for directions to the main square,” he said, sounding half amused and half annoyed.

  Several more minutes passed without incident, and Nerissa began to fret that their mysterious contact would be a no-show. Just then, a cluster of drunken men emerged from a nearby pub, the stench of alcohol following them like a sweet, reeking cloud. One of the men paused in front of Nerissa and Raysel, held up a finger, and let out a great bellowing belch from within the depths of his hood, for which his companions promptly began congratulating him. Nerissa wrinkled her nose in disdain and pointedly avoided looking at them as they zigzagged onward.

  And that is why she almost missed what happened next. The group’s stumbling path took them on a collision course toward Cole’s lamppost, yet, somehow, each man managed to lurch safely around the pole, singing a raucous tune all the while. As they passed, they showered Cole with amiable claps on the shoulders and back, not seeming to recognize that he wasn’t a member of their group.

  Cole’s eyes went wide, and he clasped his arms across his chest. That’s when Nerissa realized that the group of men had suddenly dissipated, melding into the crowd, singing and stumbling no longer. Cole surveyed his sur
roundings and then began striding purposefully down the sidewalk. Along the way, he casually brushed past Nerissa and pushed a bundle into her hands—exactly according to plan.

  “H-he gave me the book,” Nerissa stuttered as she reflexively slipped the package under her cloak and into the bag. “I can’t believe it. One of those men had the book.”

  “Our mysterious contact is quite clever,” Raysel replied, not taking his eyes off Cole. “I’m not sure if that should make me feel relieved or put me even more on edge. Is the book secured?”

  Nerissa nodded vigorously.

  “Then it’s time for us to go,” Raysel said.

  Nerissa gave Cole’s retreating form a parting glance and silently wished him a safe and uneventful return to the inn. But as soon as the thought crossed her mind, a man lunged out from one of the numerous alleyways and grabbed him from behind. Cole reacted instantaneously by grappling the man’s forearms and thrusting his head backward to strike his adversary’s nose. The impact whipped the man’s head so violently that it jostled loose the cord holding his hair in place, and long black locks spilled down to his waist.

  Stunned, the man loosened his grip for a split second. That was all the time Cole needed to duck down and wriggle free, shedding his cloak and shoulder pads in one fluid motion. A second man, who had apparently been lying in wait, lunged out of the alley to aid the first, but Cole was already out of reach. He kicked an altered shoe at each of his Senka assailants and dashed away, wearing only the messenger bag and the women’s clothing he would have revealed on the way back to the inn.

  With blood blooming from his nose, the first man cursed and slammed the discarded cloak to the ground. The people around him scattered out of his way, creating an easy path for him to follow Cole. Or it would have been an easy path, if someone hadn’t stepped out from beside one of the kiosks.

  Nerissa’s heart missed a beat.

  It was Rian.

  He flung out one arm in a sweeping motion, and the fabric of his cloak fanned around him. Dragon’s Bane glinted menacingly in the flickering lights, making it clear that no one would get past without a fight.