by Dan Koboldt
Granted, Logan’s own recon teams might have helped. They had infiltrated the libraries and archives throughout Alissia, creating the fictitious backstory for Holt and other researchers. This allowed them to assume the roles of scholars, priests, and teachers—all backed by planted documents and altered records.
Barely an hour had passed since the announcement was made, but already the city watchmen had cleared would-be revelers from the plaza. Wagons and horse carts were trundling in to sell produce and livestock. Maybe the city wouldn’t starve after all.
They ascended an exquisite marble stair from the plaza to the front of the palace. Logan noticed archer slits cleverly concealed in the ochre walls; a dozen uniformed soldiers guarded the main entrance beneath an iron portcullis. He knew, too, from assets inside the palace, that the roof of the structure was studded with catapults and mangonels. A standing army of at least two hundred soldiers manned the ramparts and entrances and murder holes at all times. It might look like a cargo vessel, but the palace was a warship through and through. There would be no getting Holt out of here by force.
For a hopeful moment, it looked like the guards would challenge their mismatched party. With just the right amount of discord, Logan might be able to slip away. Only he couldn’t see Kiara’s face, and they dared not risk the comm units while being so closely watched. Besides, there would be no getting Chaudri away quietly. Not until she saw Holt.
The woman magician barely slowed down, though. She showed some kind of parchment with a wax seal. “The Prime is expecting us.”
Soldiers parted ranks so that they could pass. They marched up a narrow hallway—more arrow slits here, and a few murder holes—to an immense receiving hall. It had to be three stories tall, with great bay windows overlooking a courtyard that lay beyond. Everything here spoke of incredible wealth, at least on Alissian terms. Lamps burned in dozens of alcoves around the room, casting a warm glow on oil paintings and rich tapestries. Logan had eyes for none of it, though. He was too focused on the man who stood gazing out one of the windows, apparently lost in thought.
“Hello, Richard,” Kiara said.
He turned at the sound of her voice, but wasn’t startled. That little bit had been rehearsed, then. He wanted them to know he felt secure. “I hoped it would be you, Kiara. I trust my associates were not unkind?”
“No more than we had to be, your eminence,” the magician said. Her tone was softer now, deferential for the first time. “They didn’t come easily.”
“I warned you about that,” Holt said. “Any injuries?”
“One of your men got hurt. The big one surprised him.”
Holt smiled at that. “I think she’s talking about you, Logan. That’s as close as you’ll get to a compliment, from one of the guild.” He moved away from the window and came over to look Logan in the eye. He still kept a healthy distance between them. “You look well.”
Anger simmered in Logan. “Not as well as you.”
Holt smiled in his infuriating way. His gaze flickered over to Chaudri, who was still muddy and a little dazed from her tumble with the swordsmen. She pushed an errant strand of dark hair aside and met his gaze.
“Dr. Chaudri,” said Holt.
“Dr. Holt.”
“You managed to get your hands dirty.”
Chaudri wore a hint of a smile. “Just following your advice.”
“I can see that. And I’ll bet you’re enjoying it, too.” Holt looked at Kiara. “But where is the fourth member of your party? This magician I’ve been hearing about.”
He put an emphasis on the word, like he guessed at Bradley’s game. Kiara said nothing.
Holt looked at the woman magician, who seemed uncomfortable with the attention. Strange to think someone with her abilities would be nervous around him. “Well?” he asked.
“We only saw three of them,” she said.
“There’s a fourth. Find him,” Holt said.
She took her men and left down a narrow hallway.
Kiara waited until the door closed, then she turned on him. “Richard, you must know why we’re here.”
“I hope it’s not for the seafood. Most of the fishermen fled when the navy arrived.”
“You’ve broken nearly every gateway protocol.”
“I know that quite well, having written most of them.”
“Enough games, Richard!” she snapped. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Running the most powerful nation on the Alissian continent,” he said.
“So it would seem. I look forward to learning how you pulled that off when we get home.”
“Home?” He shook his head. “This is my home, Kiara.”
He gestured out the window toward the bay, where a pair of ships with colorful sails were gliding into harbor on a steady breeze. “Look at this place! A world without pollution. Without landfills or nuclear weapons. Alissia has given me the greatest joys of my life. It seems only right that I should do something in return.”
“We have orders,” Logan said.
“Orders from a faceless company,” Holt said. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m grateful for what they’ve done. But I fear that the executives don’t have the interest of Alissians in mind. Do you have any idea what they’re planning?”
“That’s not our concern,” Kiara said. Too quick, maybe. As if she were worried that he might go on. Which made Logan wonder: What does Holt know?
“It’s not your concern. It certainly is mine. They have shareholders to think about. Millions—probably billions—of dollars invested. Eventually, they’re going to exploit this place, the way Earth has been exploited.”
“You have no reason to believe that,” Kiara said.
“Haven’t I? What about the core samples from all over the continent? They’re predicting crop yields, from those soil analyses. And what about the terrain surveys, the ultrasonic scans? Tell me why they’re all tuned for precious metals.”
“We’ve been doing those surveys for years,” Kiara countered.
“It’s not the surveys that changed,” Holt said. “It’s CASE Global’s Earth-side acquisitions. Two timber companies in Brazil. A Texas refinery. The top metallurgy firm in Germany. They’ve also doubled the number of mercenaries in the past six months. That’s when I knew I had to act.”
“You’re reading too much into those things,” Kiara said.
“No. They’re gearing up for an invasion. And the people here are defenseless to it. That’s why they need me.”
“You can’t stay here. No matter what you believe.”
Holt said nothing. Instead, he strolled back to the window, looking almost distracted.
Logan ran a quick scenario. If they grabbed him here, they’d have to get back down that narrow hallway, past the guards. There was probably a magician somewhere around here, too. But that might be manageable. Especially with the element of surprise. He eased a hand beneath his cloak to the handle of the short-range dart gun. How much did Holt weigh? About one-eighty back home, but he looked like he’d lost a few pounds. All they had to do was get him out of the palace. And they might not have another chance.
Kiara caught Logan’s eye; she was thinking the same thing. She gave a curt nod. He drew the pistol quietly, aimed at the center of Holt’s back, and pulled the trigger. The dart flew wide, missing Holt by just an inch. He’d missed. Damn! He fired again. Another miss.
Kiara, alarmed, drew her own pistol and fired. This time the dart hit the window frame and stuck there, quivering.
Holt barely spared it a glance. “You needn’t bother. Do you know how many times the Valteroni Prime has been assassinated in the past century?”
What the hell is going on? They all looked at Chaudri.
“Not once,” Chaudri said. “They all died of natural causes. There were numerous attempts, of course.
None succeeded.”
Holt turned to face them. “Seems peculiar, doesn’t it? In medieval Europe, most monarchs lasted less than two decades.”
“Some less than a year,” Chaudri said.
“I’d long suspected that the Valteroni Prime had certain protections. Now I have the proof,” Holt said.
Wonderful. The man had some kind of magical shield. Logan considered just grabbing him, but the failure of the dart gun made him wary. Where was Bradley when they needed him?
He almost shuddered at that last thought.
Kiara took a different approach. “It will go far easier on everyone if you come willingly,” she said.
“Easier for you, certainly,” Holt replied.
“I’ve been authorized to offer you immunity. Complete access to your research files for the rest of your life.”
Holt looked back out the window.
“A financial settlement as well,” Kiara said. “Ten million, transferred to your account the moment you set foot back through the gateway.”
“Free to return here whenever I want?” Holt said.
Kiara’s expression grew pained. That was the weak point of the offer, and she knew it. “I can’t promise that.”
“What would happen to Valteron, if I agreed?” Holt asked. “Here’s something I can promise you. There’d be another civil war. Thousands would die, both of violence and hunger. The populace is already on the brink of starvation.”
“Richard—” she began.
“No,” he said. “You’ve made your offer, which I decline, but let me give you a counterproposal. Admiral Blackwell has been so kind as to hold a package for me, to be opened in the event of my death or disappearance.”
“What kind of package?” Kiara asked.
“The most damaging kind. Information. Everything the Alissians need to know to disable the gateway, and sufficient motivation to ensure that they do.”
Kiara’s face was neutral, but Logan knew that look. Cold fury.
“How about giving us the contraband back?” Logan asked. “The weapons and the disruptive technology make everyone back home pretty nervous.”
“They were meant to,” Holt said. “Imagine if I put them into the right hands. The craftsmen, or the guild of magicians.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” Kiara said.
“I have no desire to interfere with the course of Alissian civilization,” Holt said. “But I’ll do whatever I must to protect Alissia’s future.”
“Yes—you’re so altruistic, Richard.”
“I’m not claiming I’m a saint. But ‘benevolent supreme ruler’ is far better than what these people had before.” He shook his head. “I don’t expect you to understand . . . and honestly, I don’t care if you approve or not.” He clapped his hands twice. A contingent of uniformed guardsmen appeared from the hallway and took up position around Logan, Kiara, and Chaudri.
“And here’s your escort,” Holt said. “They’ll see you back to the plaza. Please send word before you enter my city again. I won’t ask my people to be so gentle, next time.”
“This isn’t over, Richard,” Kiara said.
“It is for today, I’m afraid.” Holt turned back to the window. “Valteron has need of me.”
Logan half expected the soldiers to escort them to a prison cell. That’s what he’d have done in Holt’s shoes, to eliminate and contain the threat. That is, if he didn’t want to simply eliminate the threat once and for all. True to the man’s word, however, his troops showed them back to the plaza. The squad’s commander, a solemn man of middle years sporting an oiled mustache, touched Kiara’s shoulder as she passed.
“One officer to another,” he said quietly. “Make yourselves scarce. The Prime’s given clear orders for if we see you again.”
“Understood, Commander,” Kiara said.
She beckoned the others and set out quickly across the plaza, eager to put some distance between them and Richard Holt’s new seat of power. None of the soldiers followed, but Logan marked a few shadows moving parallel to them. Whether these were Holt’s men or someone else’s, he couldn’t say, but he wouldn’t be surprised if they were a little of both—people who get an audience with the new Prime so soon after his ascension would be of interest to any number of people.
Either way, they were keeping their distance.
“Where the hell is Bradley?” Kiara whispered over the comm link.
“I was hoping that Holt’s people nabbed him, and we’d find him in the palace,” Logan said. He doubted Bradley would have fought his way free. He’s more dangerous to himself than anyone else, when it comes to fighting. And yet Holt was still looking for him, which meant Quinn Bradley was on his own in Alissia.
God help us.
Chaudri had been quiet since they saw Holt; now she spoke for the first time. “It occurs to me that if there’s one magician in Valteron City, there might well be others.”
Logan drew in a sharp breath. “If he tries some of that sleight of hand stuff on a real magician . . .”
“Let’s hope he didn’t,” Kiara said.
“We can hope that, but I’m telling you. It’s his go-to move,” Logan said. “To be fair, that’s why you brought him in the first place.”
“I brought him to help avoid altercations with people other than real magicians. I can’t imagine how an encounter with one would go down.”
Logan glanced at Chaudri. “What would happen if he did?”
“You know the law as well as I do.”
Logan shook his head. “It was a mistake to bring him.”
“What’s done is done,” Kiara said. “The only thing we know for certain is that Holt doesn’t have him.”
“Let’s go back to the east gate,” Logan said. “I think I saw something.”
They returned to the east entrance to the plaza, where Bradley had been posted. Right out in the middle of the plaza, Logan found what he’d glanced before: a red-backed playing card stuck in the mud. “Got something,” he said. He picked it up. “Ace of spades.”
“Here’s another one,” Kiara said. She plucked it from the mud. “Ace of clubs.”
“Got one, no, make that two,” Chaudri said. She plucked them from the wheel ruts that crisscrossed the plaza. “Both eights. Clubs and spades.”
They searched for a few minutes, but found no more cards.
“Not much of a trail,” Kiara said.
“I think it’s a message,” Logan said. “Aces and eights.”
Chaudri looked at him, her eyes questioning.
“Dead man’s hand,” he said.
Kiara found a lonely section of the plaza to talk strategy. Their watchers hovered nearby, visible but out of earshot.
“We need to regroup,” Kiara said. “Let’s get back to the inn, and figure out a different way to grab Holt.”
“A different way?” Logan asked. He jerked a thumb toward the palace. “Last I heard, we were told to get out of town.”
“Of course he wants us gone. He considers us a threat.”
“What about the part where he jumps Alissian technology ahead by about five hundred years?” Logan asked. “Or tells them about the gateway?”
“He was bluffing.”
“I don’t know,” Chaudri said. “Something’s different about him. I’m not sure what he might be willing to do.”
“If we get him out clean, he won’t have a chance,” Kiara said.
“Don’t see how we’re going to do that, Lieutenant,” Logan said. “The palace is a fortress, and he’s got people shadowing us. If there’s a magician with them, all bets are off. Holt has every advantage here.”
She paused. “Maybe we should think about removing him from the equation.”
“How?” Logan asked. “We can’t get anywhere near him.”
Son of a bitch. “You brought R-117, didn’t you?” Logan asked.
Kiara didn’t deny it.
“What’s R-117?” Chaudri asked.
“A bioweapon,” Logan said. “Tuned to one person’s DNA.”
Chaudri was aghast.
“Damn it, Logan, she’s not cleared for this,” Kiara said.
“She’d have to know, if you were serious. Which I hope you’re not.” Surely even she wouldn’t be that coldhearted.
“I want no part in this,” Chaudri said.
“Neither do I. It’s cowardly.”
“It’s efficient,” Kiara said.
“We can find another way, Lieutenant.”
Kiara clenched her jaw. Logan knew how she felt; he hated a failed mission. But sometimes you had to cut your losses, and move on to the next one. He’d carry her out of the square bodily if it came to that.
A soft, persistent beeping noise saved Logan from looming insubordination charges. It came from the comm unit strapped to Kiara’s wrist, the one disguised as a wide metal bracer.
“Thank God. Command is up,” she said. Relief flooded her face. But it was short-lived. The stiffness came back.
“What’s wrong?” Logan asked.
“There’s been another breach at the facility. A team of gunmen has infiltrated the gateway.”
“Into Alissia?” Chaudri asked.
“Yes.”
“How many combatants?” Logan asked.
“Several. Bravo Team came in after them.”
“Should be over quickly, then.” He’d trained every man on Bravo himself. They were good.
“Maybe not. They’ve been in pursuit for two days.”
“Where are they headed?”
Kiara’s brow furrowed, and she checked her map again. Twice. “Right toward us.”
“How is that possible?”
“I don’t know. But they want us to make for Felara to help intercept,” Kiara said.