by Dan Koboldt
“He stops by every few months. Never stays more than a few days.”
Otherwise the company might have noticed.
“I didn’t realize you two were such good friends.” Chaudri managed not to make it sound too accusatory.
“More like good business associates.”
“What sort of business are you doing?”
“That’s between me and Richard.”
Time for the stick again. Quinn sighed, and started to get up out of his chair. “I’m sorry you aren’t willing to help us. Moric will be disappointed.”
“Wait, now. Hold on.” She threw up her hands in a placating gesture. “Hold on. Old habits, you know.”
Thank God. His legs had been about to give out. The smoke still hadn’t worn off entirely.
“Richard and I usually traded information. When he’d absorbed everything I knew about herbal remedies, we traded favors instead.”
“Like the barrier egg,” Quinn said.
“Yes. One of his more difficult requests.”
“What did you get in return for that?” Chaudri asked.
“An old book.”
“That’s it?” Quinn was incredulous. The barrier easily ranked in the top five displays of magic he’d seen in this world.
Iridessa laughed softly, and her eyes were aglow. “Not just any book. A rare botanical reference that any herbalist would kill for.”
Chaudri gasped. “Was it Elements of Botany?”
Iridessa’s eyebrows went up. “You’ve heard of it.”
“I thought there were only a handful of extant copies.”
“Less than five in the world,” Iridessa said. “I don’t know how he managed it.”
Mendez coughed into his hand. Pointedly. Chaudri gave him a questioning look.
“Remind me to tell you something later,” he said.
So Bravo Team got it for him. Quinn shook his head. This just kept getting better and better. He couldn’t resist a follow-up. “Did you make the egg yourself?”
“No.”
That surprised him—he figured she’d been working alone. “Who did, then?”
Iridessa gave him a flat-eyed look that made him feel cold inside. “I’ll beg Moric for mercy before I tell you that.”
Quinn doubted she was bluffing, either. Damn. I’d sure as hell like to know who can make artifacts like that.
“Fine,” Chaudri said. “I’d rather ask a different question.”
“You’ve asked a lot already,” Iridessa said.
“This is the last one. Answer it, and we’ll be on our way.”
“And Moric never hears of this.” She pointed at Quinn. “I want your word on it.”
“As far as I’m concerned, we were never here,” he said. “You have my word.”
Iridessa gave a sharp nod, as if to say that settled it. Quinn winked back, just to mess with her a little. Come on, Veena, get us some intel.
Chaudri chewed her lip, and smoothed her cloak out even though it didn’t have a hint of a wrinkle. Two of her tells at once: uncertainty and discomfort. “If Richard had something valuable, something dangerous, how would he keep it safe?”
“Other than having it with him?”
“Yes. Where would he keep it?”
Iridessa pressed two fingers against her lip, and stared off at nothing for a long moment. Quinn might have been cold-reading her, but he could have sworn she knew the answer right away. This is a performance, to make it seem harder than it is. Her eyes gave it up the second Chaudri had said “dangerous.”
“It’s not a question of where,” she said at last. “More like who. And if I had to guess, I’d say Darius Blackwell.”
“Really?” Chaudri’s tone had a hint of excitement.
“I’m sure of it.”
“Well, then. We appreciate your time.” She stood, and motioned for Quinn and Mendez to head for the door. “Give us a moment, would you?”
Mendez opened his mouth to argue. Chaudri raised her eyebrows at him. He clamped it shut. He came to his feet, steadying himself on the arm of his chair.
Quinn did the same. His legs tingled like they’d both fallen asleep. He followed Mendez in a slow retreat to the door. I hope Veena knows what she’s doing. Then again, maybe he should be more worried about Iridessa. A woman who’d been trading favors with Holt for years was probably at the top of Chaudri’s shit list.
Mendez reclaimed his sword from the ground and double-checked the blade. “Who the hell is Darius Blackwell?”
Quinn buckled on his sword-belt, surprised at how much it comforted him. “The name sounds familiar, but I can’t place it.”
Before he had time to contemplate it more, Chaudri and Iridessa appeared in the doorway. They shared a parting look, and smiled at one another. What the hell is that about?
“Thank you for your hospitality,” Chaudri said. She took her sword-belt from Mendez and buckled it on.
Iridessa scanned Quinn and Mendez. Her eyes returned to the sword at Quinn’s belt. Her brow furrowed. “Stay on the trail until you reach the road,” she said, and then she disappeared back into her cottage.
They started back to the horses. It took all of Quinn’s willpower not to look back over his shoulder.
Mendez fell into step beside Chaudri. “Please tell me you know where to find Darius Blackwell.”
“No, I’m not sure where he is.”
“But you know him.”
“Of course.” She smiled. “So does Quinn, as a matter of fact.”
The memory hit him like a hammer. Oh, hell. “Wait a second. Admiral Blackwell?” The guy who’d essentially vied against Holt for the position of Prime. This made no sense. Why would he trust a man who tried to beat him out for Valteroni Prime?
Yet Chaudri didn’t seem all that fazed. “That’s him. The second-most-powerful man in Valteron.”
They rode out of the vale in silence. Near the top of the ridge, the warm air dissipated into cold, and the smell of the wood smoke faded. Quinn felt the wayfinder stone shift on its cord, and clutched it tight against his chest. Thank God. He paused long enough to look back at the cottage. He didn’t see Iridessa, which maybe was a good thing. The curlicue of smoke drew his eye, and he shuddered. I’m definitely not going back down there again.
Mendez checked his watch. “Damn. We were supposed to report in ninety minutes ago.”
“Oh, when we were high as kites?” Quinn snorted. “That would’ve gone over well.”
“At least we have solid intel. Let’s call in.” Mendez activated his comm unit.
Quinn did the same. There was a pause, then they both looked at Chaudri, who was staring back down the way they’d come.
“Chaudri?” Mendez asked.
“Hmm?” Her eyes found focus again. “Oh, right. Sorry.” She found her comm unit and flipped it on.
“Three amigos to Kiara, come in,” Mendez broadcasted.
Quinn chuckled. “Nice.”
“You’re late, Mendez,” Kiara replied.
“Sorry, we were in a valley. No signal.”
Quinn opened his mouth, then shut it just as quickly. God bless Mendez for sticking to the essentials.
“Did you find Chaudri’s source?” Kiara asked.
“Affirmative,” Mendez said. “She gave us a lead on where Holt might have stashed the backpack.”
“I want Logan on for this, too. Stand by.”
There came a soft click, and then Logan said, “I hope you have good news.”
Mendez pointed at Chaudri. She cleared her throat. “Two pieces of information, actually. First, Iridessa was the one who provided the barrier egg for Dr. Holt.”
“In exchange for what?”
“An extremely rare book on botany. I’m not sure where he got it.”
“We know where he got it,” Kiara said.
Quinn smiled to himself. Totally called it.
“Any word on the backpack?” Logan asked.
“She seems to think that Holt would have
left it in the keeping of Darius Blackwell.”
“The admiral?” Logan scoffed. “I thought he and Holt were rivals.”
“I’m beginning to wonder if that’s only what Dr. Holt wanted us to believe,” Chaudri said.
“The guy could be anywhere,” Logan said.
“He’ll be close to the fleet,” Kiara said. “I want you three to proceed east to the nearest seaport. That looks to be . . . Crab’s Head.”
“Is that really a place?” Quinn asked. It sounds made up.
“It’s on the east coast of Landor.” Chaudri had out her parchmap, and was marking off the distance with a ruler. “Probably eight or ten days, if we go overland.”
“What if you push the horses?” Kiara asked.
“We could try for a river ferry out of Landor’s capital.”
“That’s a high-risk location,” Logan said. “Strong military presence, tight security.”
“Are there any low-risk locations?” Quinn asked. “Because I’d rather go to one of those, if I’m being honest.”
“It would shave off a couple of days,” Chaudri said.
“Do it,” Kiara said. “We need a fix on the Valteroni fleet as soon as possible.”
“Just keep your heads down,” Logan said.
“I want daily updates,” Kiara said with her unmistakable tone of dismissal. “Mendez, a word in private?”
It was tempting to eavesdrop, but Quinn dropped off. He satisfied himself by listening to Mendez’s half of the conversation.
“All right, you’ve got Mendez … No, he’s been good. Steady … I haven’t forgotten the standing order, Lieutenant … Roger that.”
He flipped off the comm, then turned to give Quinn and Chaudri the thumbs-up. “The lieutenant says nice job with the crazy-ass witch.”
“Ha! Sure she does,” Quinn said. “But hey, thanks for calling me ‘steady.’ ”
“Who said I was talking about you?”
“You said ‘he.’ Who else would you be talking about?”
“Maybe myself. Mendez is steady. Mendez is on the ball!”
Chaudri laughed, and Mendez grinned at her.
What’s that standing order, buddy? Quinn wanted to ask. But he probably didn’t want to know, and for what he had planned, he didn’t want to put Mendez in an awkward position. “So, any advice on staying out of trouble in Landor’s capital?”
“Well, we’ve got two days. That should be just enough time for me to cover all of them.”
Chapter 10
Wrong Number
“In the short time we’ve been here, Alissia is largely at peace. Every observation must consider that context. War changes everything.”
—R. Holt, “Summary of Alissian City-states”
Logan and Kiara pressed south from Three Corners, making good time on the long ride to Valteron. They rode from sunrise to sunset, in six-hour stints, stopping only long enough to water the horses. If anyone on the road thought them an odd pair—big black guy, tiny white lady, riding together at a steady clip—they were wise enough not to say so. But the swords and crossbow probably had something to do with discouraging any casual derogatory remarks.
The animals held up well, which they damn well should for what the company paid in annual stud fees. Just for fun, Logan had pulled the pedigree on his gelding before the mission. He had stopped counting Kentucky Derby champions at six.
He couldn’t complain about the pace or the weather. But the longer he spent alone with the lieutenant, the more the awkward tension grew between them. Every decision he’d made over the past two months, she’d pulled rank and overruled. He wanted personal sidearms on this mission. Overruled. He said Bradley needed more training. Overruled.
He managed to keep his mouth shut, at first. They crossed most of New Kestani without incident. Then Mendez missed his daily check-in time.
“Not like him to be late,” Logan said.
Kiara put a hand to her ear, probably to flip to the backup frequency. “It could be a comms issue.”
“He should have had some downtime, after Thorisson.” Or maybe not gotten that order in the first place.
“You spent all last week telling me Bradley’s more likely to hurt himself with his sword than anyone else. You want Chaudri alone with him?”
“Hell, no. I didn’t want Bradley here in the first place,” Logan said.
“We need eyes inside the Enclave, and he’s our best shot.”
Logan grunted. “Only if he makes it there alive.”
“Which is exactly why Mendez will stick with him as long as possible.”
“He needs R & R, that’s all I’m saying.”
Kiara hunched her shoulders. “If I could have spared him, I would. But the mission is too important.”
So you said. But Logan let it drop one more time. Nothing he could do about it now anyway. “So, you going to read me in on these communications disruptions?”
“I did read you in.”
“You said there was a disruption in the comms.”
“Yes.”
“Come on, Lieutenant. A single blip wouldn’t move up the mission timetable.” Not with so much at stake. That was CASE Global 101, and they both knew it. “Hell, we had two of them last month. What’s different this time?”
Kiara paused. She’d either tell him the scoop, or feed him a line about insufficient clearance.
“We’ve lost contact with station nine,” Kiara said.
Uh-oh. Station nine was a CASE Global supply cache in northern Tion. The company built a dozen such installations across the Alissian mainland in the early years of the project. Every cache held food, weapons, comm equipment, spare clothing . . . anything that Logan or other operatives might need in a pinch.
“How long ago?” Logan asked.
“Three days before we came through,” Kiara said.
“You could have told me sooner.”
She sighed. “I was hoping it would come back online.”
For the first time, he noticed Kiara’s fatigue. They’d set a grueling pace since leaving the others. I keep forgetting that she’s not a regular field operative. He felt bad for snapping at her about Mendez.
“It’s probably just a bad transmitter,” he said by way of apology. The Alissian weather cycles were hell on sensitive electronic equipment. No matter how much engineering you put into them.
“Maybe,” Kiara said. “It’s still unusual for the primary and the backup to go out at the same time.”
He grunted, more puzzled than concerned. The security systems in the supply caches were one of the few technology exemptions granted by CASE Global’s executive team. Numeric keypad entry, pinhole surveillance cameras, self-destruct mechanisms, the works.
“Could also be a power outage, with all of that equipment.” Station six had had similar problems, because the dust from the Caralissian dry season kept clogging up the solar panels.
“Here’s hoping,” Kiara said. Judging by her tone, though, she didn’t really believe it.
They’d crossed the border that morning, and were just getting into Tion’s infamous marshlands. It was like the land couldn’t make up its mind between dry and sopping wet. The only reason that station nine ended up here was that CASE Global’s geological surveys stumbled on a rare natural cave. Just the right square footage for a supply cache, too.
It’d be my favorite station, if it weren’t for the flies. Few things felt safer than a foot of solid limestone all around you.
Virtually all of the Tioni marshlands looked identical, but Logan had kept an eye on the mileage since they crossed the border. “I think we’re close. No more than a quarter mile.”
“We should have the homing beacon by now,” Kiara said.
The ultra-high-frequency ping had a thirty-second interval. Logan had lost count of the number of times he’d used it to find a station at night, or during a snowstorm. CASE Global comm units could pick up the beacon from half a kilometer away. Kiara’s tablet had twice that rang
e.
Logan spotted a pear-shaped boulder ahead, right next to the muck-trench that Tioni considered a road. “There. That’s the landmark.” The boulder’s bright alabaster color helped it stand out against the Tioni marshes, where virtually everything was brown.
“Have you got anything on UHF?” Kiara asked.
Logan flipped his comm unit to the frequency, and got only static. “Nada. Smelling more and more like a power outage.”
He urged his horse down the narrow trail and around the thicket to the entrance. He dug into one of his saddlebags for a spare lithium battery, in case the keypad needed one.
His horse stopped without warning, and he nearly lost his saddle. “What the—”
The ground fell away in front of him, a steep slope that continued left and right in almost a perfect circle. The crater had to be twenty yards across, and it was right where the entrance to the cave had been. The stone walls had shattered outward, leaving nothing more than a pile of muddy rubble at the bottom where the supply cache used to be. The steel security door lay crumpled to one side of the basin, with half of it buried in the earth.
“Son of a bitch.” He’d really been looking forward to hitting the pantry, too. “What happened?”
“Looks like the secondary blew,” Kiara said.
“The remote trigger takes an executive-level passcode. Even I would have to get authorization.”
“Every door has a fail-safe on the access pad.” Kiara coughed and swallowed, as if relaying this information took a toll on her.
“I know that. High-voltage electric shock.”
“That was the original plan . . . but the engineers were worried about the power drain.”
“So?” Logan asked.
She looked away from him. “They wired it to the secondary instead.”
“Are you kidding me?” The fail-safe was supposed to be a deterrent, not a goddamn self-destruct. “What if some kids found it?”
“That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you.”
“Because I’d have said, Screw that.” He couldn’t believe her nonchalance about this. You didn’t set a bomb on a keypad in a world that had never even seen a telephone. Any dumb-ass swamp-dweller might have stumbled on this and punched a few buttons, just out of curiosity.