Zhari put a hand to her temple. “They haven’t had any luck tracking them down yet, either.”
“That’s because Eronit and Varian stole them and gave them to Alek.” I explained everything I’d discovered—seeing Alek talk to Eronit and Varian at the Broken Cup, the handover of the papers, the strange business loan requests, and how I’d noticed so many able-bodied Sonnenbornes in town. “This is much bigger and more involved than we realized. I’m concerned that Alek may even have had something to do with the abductions in Duvey, or at least tipped off the Sonnenbornes that Duvey’s defenses would be weak after sending soldiers to Kartasha. I wish we knew more about what happened with Zephyr Landing, because I fear the Sonnenbornes may be setting up the same thing to happen here. I don’t know why I’m the only gods-damned one who seems to see it,” I finished.
“You’re absolutely certain you saw them give the papers to Alek?” Laurenna asked, her hand white-knuckle tight on her wineglass.
I nodded.
Zhari frowned deeply. “I’m very upset to think records from my program might be getting used to help the Sonnenbornes target vulnerable young magic users for abduction.”
“Protecting our young people is of the utmost priority,” Laurenna said. “But I don’t know if we could afford to shut the program down. Just this past year we found two guardian candidates through the program. They’re training in Corovja now. If we started losing trainees of that caliber, it could have a devastating long-term impact on our kingdom.”
“So what are we going to do about this?” I asked. “Surely what I’ve been seeing isn’t isolated. This warrants investigation by the Winter Court. Eronit, Varian, and Alek need to be questioned. We have to get that list back before it can be used as a weapon against your people.”
Laurenna nodded her agreement. “We’ll need to see to it immediately. In the meantime, it’s important that you keep yourself safe. I know you’ve been spending a lot of time at the salle. I have a gift that may help you with your training.” She stepped over to a trunk in the corner of the room that showed no signs of a lock, hinges, or seams. “Zhari, do you mind?”
Zhari smiled. “I haven’t minded storing it for you, but it’s about time you passed that thing along.”
“I agree,” Laurenna said. At a hissing word and a wave of her hand, the top separated from the bottom and lifted away.
She returned with a long object wrapped in faded blue fabric and set it on the low table at the center of where we were gathered.
“I think this will help you,” she said. “Unwrap it.”
I pulled away the fabric carefully, revealing a stiff leather scabbard that looked old but barely used. The hilt of the cutlass gleamed in the low light. It had an ornate guard of twisting silver and a line of blue gems inlaid in the ricasso.
“You can’t be giving this to me,” I said. Even without taking it out of the scabbard, I could tell the sword was of incredibly fine make. At some point I’d planned to buy a sword of my own, since I had the means, but this was far too much as a gift.
“Draw it and see how it feels,” Laurenna said, her voice encouraging.
I stood up and cautiously drew the sword from its sheath. It wasn’t overly heavy, and from what little I knew, it was balanced. The grip felt as if it had been made for my hand, and though the curve of the foible would take a little getting used to, I could tell it would make the weapon that much more lethal in a situation where it needed to be.
“Why would you give this to me?” I asked. It looked like an heirloom or a custom weapon—not some generic item she’d pass off to a foreigner without a thought.
“Consider it a reward for the quality of the information you’ve gathered,” she said. “It will be of much more use to you than me—I have plenty of other blades to choose from should I need one.”
“Thank you. I’m honored,” I said, sheathing the weapon and placing it reverently back on the table. “What can I do to help with the next steps?”
“Continue to keep your ears open, first and foremost,” she said. “You did right by reporting this to me immediately. I’ll see that Alek and the Sonnenbornes are questioned, and this information will all be passed to the queen.”
“We shouldn’t expect too much help from the north, though,” Zhari said gently. “The queen will be focused on training her elites. We must do everything we can to handle the problems here ourselves so that she has room to do that.”
“Of course,” Laurenna agreed.
“There might be something else I can do to help,” I said.
Laurenna raised an eyebrow.
“My brother has offered his cavalry should it be needed,” I said. “Of course we would never send in any fighters without your explicit welcome. But with a threat looming, it might be good to have them on reserve, either in Duvey or here in Kartasha if you don’t think they’d cause too much disruption. That would also spare the queen from having to try and coordinate any support from the north.”
“That’s a very generous offer,” Laurenna said. “I’ll keep that in mind once we know more. Let’s plan to meet again just after Midwinter to go over any new information you’ve gleaned.”
“I’ll do that,” I said. “Thank you for listening.”
“At least we may have some help coming from the north in spring,” Zhari said. “After Midwinter, the ranking of the queen’s elites will be determined. I’m open for an apprenticeship, and it isn’t uncommon for a winner to choose to come here.”
She spoke with quiet modesty, but I knew what the implications were—another of the most powerful magic users in Zumorda might soon be here to assist us. I couldn’t help but think of Denna, and the agony was almost more than I could take.
“Do you know how the trainees are doing?” I asked tentatively.
“No,” Laurenna said. “It’s an isolated environment. We are not likely to hear stories of any injuries or deaths until the elites have battled at Midwinter. That’s the first time their abilities will be put on display for the public.”
“Battle?” I barely kept the note of panic out of my voice. “Deaths?”
“Don’t fret,” Zhari reassured me. “The Midwinter Revel is not what it once was. I can’t recall the last time a trainee was mortally injured.”
“Did that happen often?” I asked.
“Oh, of course,” Zhari said. “Back when I became guardian, Queen Invasya was still reinventing the government after overthrowing the boar king—finding new ways to ensure that her eyes and ears could be everywhere in the kingdom. The quickest way to identify the strongest magic users was to pit us against one another in battle.”
“But to the death?” I asked.
“From what I know of the history, the first Midwinter Revel was a bloodbath,” Laurenna said, her voice casual. “They’ve toned it down since then—now the competitors just have to defeat their opponents instead of killing them, but accidents do still happen.”
“The training itself is fairly brutal,” Zhari said. “Occasionally there’s an elite who doesn’t even make it to the Revel.”
Had Denna known what she was getting into when she agreed to go with the queen? She wasn’t a fighter—or at least I didn’t think she was. Her powers were formidable, if uncontrolled, but how would she fare against a bunch of ruthless magic users who’d had proper training from the first time their gifts showed themselves?
My mind churned with worries after I left Laurenna and Zhari. On one hand, Laurenna had taken me seriously. Real progress was going to be made with investigating what the Sonnenbornes were doing, and I’d gotten important information to people who mattered. I’d even managed to bring my brother’s offer of cavalry to the table as a strong show of support for everything we were trying to do. Yet in spite of all that, unease plagued me. Zhari and Laurenna’s description of the elites’ training frightened me, and for the first time it occurred to me that Denna might already have suffered some kind of injury. She could even have died, and I would
n’t know—and the mere idea of that crushed the breath from my lungs.
Instead of going back to my rooms as I probably should have, I headed into town to Morwen’s in search of Kerrick, hoping he was still planning to meet Harian there as he’d told me. He might have more information that would help flesh out the Sonnenbornes’ plan if he’d been able to find out more about the business loans they’d been taking out. More important, I had an idea about how I might be able to get in contact with Denna. If there was even the slightest chance she didn’t know how much danger she was in, it was my responsibility to let her know.
I hurried out the gates of the Winter Court and into the city. It was early enough that people were only just heading for drinks or dinner, looking for an escape from the dry, chilly wind that swept through the streets and kicked dead leaves past their feet. The burst of heat that hit me when I entered Morwen’s was a welcome reprieve. I didn’t see Kerrick right away, but Harian leaned up against the bar, easily recognizable since he stood half a head taller than anyone else. I hurried over to greet him, finally spotting Kerrick as I drew closer.
“You came!” Kerrick said, looking pleased.
“Nice to see you again,” Harian said, always polite.
“Let’s get a table,” I suggested, pointing to an empty booth not far from the bar. The two men picked up their drinks and we settled in.
“Did you find out anything about the loans?” I asked Kerrick after asking the server for a barleywine.
“Yes, but I don’t think it’s going to be particularly helpful,” he said.
“Why’s that?” I asked. Surely there had to be some pattern in what the Sonnenbornes were asking for in their loans, some sign of connections to weapons or military action—maybe even the abductions.
“About half of them were for the usual businesses—imported goods, gift shops, spirit shops, cobblers. General tradespeople. The only odd thing was that fifteen loans were requested for animal kennels.”
“Animal kennels?” I stared at him in disbelief. That seemed very odd, and I couldn’t fathom a single connection that made any sense.
He shrugged. “Strange, right? There can’t be that many people in need of somewhere to keep their animals while they’re away on holiday. The wealthy have servants, and the poor have families and neighbors. It’s not like the Tamers are moving in.”
“You’re sure it wasn’t for stockyards or livery stables?” I asked. Those things made more sense. Merchants almost always had animals in need of boarding, and the demand for meat meant there would always be stockyards.
“The applications said ‘animal kennels.’ I saw them myself.”
A pretty server set down my barleywine with a wink.
“I should have ordered a stronger drink,” I said.
“There’s plenty of the night left,” Kerrick said, raising his glass in a toast.
I raised my glass to his and Harian’s, feeling glum and afraid, only half listening as they chatted about training and a handsome man who’d recently caught Harian’s eye. I should have been trying to untangle the strangeness of the Sonnenbornes and their animal kennels, but all I could think about was Denna—how angry I was that she’d left, how heartbroken I was that she’d done so without saying good-bye, and how terrified I was that something could have happened to her and I wouldn’t even know. I needed her advice more than ever now that pieces of the Sonnenborne plot were coming to light. Was I trusting the right people? I didn’t even know. I needed a way to talk to her—and that meant magic.
Wymund had said the ability to Farspeak was rare, but also that his previous Farspeaker, Tum Hornblatt, had settled in Kartasha. Cockroach and drinking problems aside, if he was still here, surely I could bribe him to help me reach out to Denna. As for tracking him down, I knew where the records were kept. Only one piece of the equation was missing.
“Do either of you know where I can buy a bottle of honeyshine?” I asked.
Harian and Kerrick both grinned.
Unfortunately, the best time to track down Hornblatt was during Fadeyka’s usual late-morning riding lesson, since it meant no one would be looking for me, which meant I ended up with company.
“Are you sure you have the right address?” Fadeyka asked as we entered an alley that zigzagged at odd angles.
“I’m sure, or else I spent two hours talking to the records master about ice fishing for nothing,” I said.
“Better you than me,” Fadeyka said, making a face.
I was grateful for the drought and the lack of snow, because the alley wasn’t very well maintained. Piles of trash sat outside the wooden doors we passed, one containing a tailless orange cat who dashed away when we walked by. “Do you see numbers on any of these doors?”
“That one said five twenty-two,” Fadeyka said, jerking her thumb behind us. The doors were all made of the same disintegrating wood. Perhaps once they’d been as colorful as the other doors in Kartasha, but their paint had long since worn to nothing.
“We’re close,” I said, slowing down. Rusting metal numbers on the next door gave the address as 536, and a mailbox hanging crookedly by one nail had the name T. Hornblatt inscribed on it. Bless that ice-fishing crab of a records master. “Here goes nothing.” I gave the door a firm knock. For a long few seconds, nothing happened, and then a crash sounded from inside.
“Fiddleshits,” someone said.
Fadeyka giggled as crunching footsteps approached. The door swung open to reveal an older man with a wild gray beard and red-rimmed blue eyes. The tassel at the end of his stocking cap looked like he’d managed to dunk it in his tea several times over.
“Who are you and what do you want?” the man barked.
“You must be Tum Hornblatt. I’m Mare and this is Faye. We need help your help talking to someone.”
“I don’t do commissions anymore.” He moved to shut the door.
“We have this,” I said, pulling the bottle of honeyshine out from beneath my cloak. It wasn’t a terribly common spirit, but Kerrick and Harian had known just the supplier to get it from.
The door stopped. “How much do you want for that?” His tone was wheedling, as though he intended to bargain with us, but I could see the thirst in his eyes.
“A conversation with a friend in Corovja,” I said.
He muttered something I couldn’t quite make out, but I was pretty sure profanity was involved. “How about a conversation with a friend in Valenko?”
“I don’t have any friends there. We can leave if you’re not interested in the honeyshine, though.” I started to tuck the bottle back into my cloak.
“No, no!” Hornblatt opened the door and beckoned us in. “Don’t be numbskulls. Mind your step.”
We entered the house, which was even less clean than the alley. Piles of books, papers, tools, and dirty dishes sat on every surface. I sidestepped a small gray cat on the floor that was licking the remains of some porridge out of a bowl that did not look as though it had originally been meant for her.
“Jingles, stop it!” Hornblatt shouted from the next room, ostensibly at the cat we’d already passed.
I glanced back to see her still rhythmically licking, completely unperturbed by the reprimand. I shook my head. Cats.
“You can sit over here.” Hornblatt swept a pile of papers splattered with brown spots off a bench covered with fabric that was equally stained. Fadeyka sat down gingerly, and I was suddenly rather grateful for the time I’d spent in seedy drinking holes in Mynaria. I’d seen worse.
“We brought this for you to work with,” I said, handing him a long, dark strand of Denna’s hair that I’d pulled out of the hairbrush we’d been sharing on our trip.
“Let me see the honeyshine,” he said.
I held up the bottle and he reached for it.
“Not until we come to an agreement.” I pulled it back.
“Fine, fine.” He huffed impatiently. “I use the mirror for you, you give me the honeyshine. Simple.”
“What
happens if we can’t get hold of her?”
“I never fail to reach my targets.” He thumped his fist on the table for emphasis, sending an empty bamboo birdcage clattering to the floor. “Whether they want to speak to the person contacting them is their business.”
“You make it so I can see her face and talk to her, and then I’ll hand you the bottle,” I said.
The gray cat trotted into the room, leaped onto Hornblatt’s desk, and head-butted him fondly.
“These kids drive a hard bargain, don’t they, Jingles?” He scratched behind her ears and was rewarded with another thump to the face. “Fine. I’ll do it.” He pushed the cat aside and unearthed a small mirror from beneath one of the mountains of stuff on his table.
Fadeyka leaned forward, and I put my hand on her arm to stop the stream of questions I could see about to explode out of her mouth.
Hornblatt murmured some words over Denna’s strand of hair, which took on a silvery glow. Then he wrapped it around the handle of the mirror and passed it to me. “Speak her name three times,” he instructed.
I looked at Fadeyka. “I need you to swear on your mother’s life that you will never speak of or repeat anything you’re about to hear.”
“All right,” she said, looking a bit confused.
“I’m serious,” I said.
“I swear on my mother’s life that I will never speak of or repeat anything I hear today,” Fadeyka said.
“Dennaleia. Dennaleia. Dennaleia.” Her name felt like a prayer on my lips every time I spoke it. Every muscle in my body tensed at the thought of seeing her face for the first time since she’d left me behind. The mirror swirled with white and silver as though clouds were parting in the glass. When the vision came clear, I appeared to be staring up Denna’s nose. Fadeyka craned her head over my shoulder, trying to get a look.
“Denna?” I said. I could hardly believe it was her.
She looked down, and then visibly spooked at what she saw. The sight of her face made a tangle of emotions well up, but before I could say another word, the mirror went black as her hand covered up my view.
Of Ice and Shadows Page 27