The Island Deception

by Dan Koboldt

  A man stalked energetically into the anteroom. His head was perfectly bald, either by misfortune or choice, and smooth as a baby’s bottom. He looked downright exhausted, but his smile was the kind reserved for close friends. Quinn nearly jumped up and greeted him like a fangirl, but decided to play it slow. He’d been back for hours, and no less than two other council members had found him first. Time to have a little fun.

  He let his fork tumble to the floor, and ducked out of view to get it. Moric was pulling up a chair right across from him when he popped back into view. He wiped the fork off, took another bite, and savored the open-jawed astonishment on the bald man’s face.

  “Quinn?”

  “Oh. Hey, Moric.”

  Moric rubbed his eyes, as if he thought it was some kind of optical illusion. “Quinn!”

  “Yep, still me.”

  “How did you get here?”

  Quinn plucked the leather cord out from beneath his shirt, and held it up for Moric to see. No need to brandish the stone here. He’d know what was at the other end anyway.

  “Well, I’ll be damned.” Moric studied him for a moment. “Something tells me we need to talk.”

  About so many things. But Quinn gestured at the chair Moric was holding. “Let’s eat first. This is too good to miss.”

  Quinn and Moric excused themselves toward the end of the meal to take a walk on the green outside the Pirean tower. The trees cast long shadows on the grass.

  “You surprised me in there,” Moric said. “I was beginning to think that you weren’t coming back.”

  “I told you I would, didn’t I?”

  “Saying and doing are two different things.”

  Quinn laughed. “Fair enough. But I was serious about coming back. Being here, learning from you . . . it’s important to me.”

  Moric studied his face. “There’s something different about you.”

  More than I can possibly tell you. Quinn flashed a grin. “Think so?”

  “What’s happened? Tell me everything.”

  “Well, I finished the mission. Happy to report that everybody got home safe.” As for what had happened after that, on the Earth-side of the gateway . . . well, no need to get into that.

  “Excellent! Richard will be pleased.”

  I don’t know about that. “I’m not saying it was easy. There was a moment when I wasn’t sure I’d be able to save them. That I might get killed myself.”

  Moric gasped. “Oh, tell me you had a breakthrough.”

  Quinn smiled. “I called lightning from the sky. And on my way here, I did something in the water.”

  Moric laughed and grabbed his shoulder. “I knew it! Gods be good, I knew you had it in you.”

  “It’s still not something I can just do, though,” Quinn said. “Right now, if you asked me to use magic, I wouldn’t be able to make a spark.” Not without cheating, at least.

  “Even so, Quinn, this is huge. You’re a grown man coming into magic for the first time, which means that one of our fundamental assumptions about the ability was wrong. More importantly, it means I was right to expand our recruitment efforts beyond children.”

  “Glad I could help out.”

  Moric picked up on the sarcasm, but shrugged it away. “I put my reputation on the line when I sponsored you. Between you and me, I needed a win.”

  Quinn looked around to make sure no one else was there. A few of the Pireans had wandered out for their own stroll in the open space, but they were well out of earshot. “You want to tell me what’s happened since I’ve been gone?”

  Moric’s smile fell away. “Noticed a change, did you?”

  “It’s not every day I have council members dropping by my chambers. Other than you, I mean.”

  “Who came?”

  “Sella showed up before I’d even set my bag down. Anton came right on her heels.”

  “Anton.” He said the name in a tone that lacked any emotion.

  “Yeah. That guy gives me the creeps.”

  Moric wrinkled his brow at this expression. Maybe it hadn’t translated.

  “Something seems off about him,” Quinn said.

  “Ah.”

  “He walks around like he owns the place. Is he a prince or something?”

  “Even if he were, that would be a thing of the past,” Moric said carefully.

  “Come on, man. Don’t tell me you don’t know.”

  Moric paused. “I suppose you’d have found this out on your own eventually, but he’s from a family of Caralissian nobles.”

  Quinn laughed. “A wine baron? That is too good.”

  He’d been reading up on Caralissian wine, more out of fascination than anything. Holt had estimated that something like ninety percent of the produce grown in Caralis went to the royal vintners. The queen and her pet nobles made a killing on the wine, and the rest of the country starved. Now that he thought about it, that fit Anton perfectly.

  “Remember how I said that some council members see things differently than I do?” Moric asked.

  “Ah, yes. The ‘friendly rivals’ speech. I remember.”

  “In retrospect, that might have been too soft of a description. Anton and his minions are my adversaries.”

  “Over what?”

  “The Enclave’s role in Alissia,” Moric said.

  “I didn’t think you had much of a role.”

  “Exactly. Our strategy has been to avoid attention and political entanglements. We have our quiet arrangements with the leaders of some nations, but little more.”

  Such as Holt. “What does Anton want to do?”

  “He believes the Enclave should wield its own power in Alissia. Independent of the other nations.”

  It honestly didn’t sound that bad. “But you think it’s a mistake,” Quinn said.

  “I think he underestimates the world’s tolerance for magicians.”

  Quinn debated whether or not to tell him about Anton’s free advice. Maybe it was too soon to go there. Moric disliked the man enough already. “Gotta be honest, I’m not sure we’re going to become best friends.”

  Moric chuckled. “It won’t be the last offer of friendship you’ll receive, now that you’ve proven your abilities.”

  “I’m not sure I’ve proven them.”

  “Weren’t there any witnesses?”

  There had been a ton of them—Kiara, Chaudri, Logan, Mendez, the Swedish guy . . . not to mention the half-dozen smugglers who’d ambushed them. Can’t exactly issue a summons for them. “Not really.”

  “Tell me you at least had the wayfinder stone on you.”

  Quinn touched his fingers to the amulet. “Yeah. I haven’t taken it off since you gave it to me. Why?”

  Moric paused, and looked away. “I may not have been entirely honest about what it does.”

  “It worked just fine to get me here. And the ship’s captain who brought me seemed to recognize it, too.”

  “Of course it did, that’s right there in the name. And they’re a sort of symbol for our people when we’re on official business. But the wayfinder stone is more than that.”

  Quinn felt a cold sliver of dread slide down his back. “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t you find it curious that I was wearing it on our mission in the first place? No one knows their way back to the Enclave better than I do.”

  “I didn’t really think about it.”

  “Wayfinder stones are the eyes and ears of the Enclave.”

  “You’re talking about this, right?” Quinn held up the stone so Moric could see it.

  “Indeed,” Moric said. “With the right enchantment, we can see everything it’s seen. Hear everything it’s heard.”

  “You don’t say.” It took all of Quinn’s training to keep his face neutral. Jesus, where has that thing been? The gateway, the island facility. The Bellagio in Vegas. Mission briefings with Kiara and the others, covering all of the intel they’d collected on the Enclave. He closed his fist around it, and didn’t realize how hard
until the points jabbed his palm.

  “I suppose I should have mentioned that when I gave it to you,” Moric said.

  You think? “Eh, I wouldn’t have believed you anyway.” He furrowed his brow. “You know, the only thing is, when I had the breakthrough, the stone was tucked under my shirt. I don’t like having it out in the open.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Pretty sure, yeah.”

  “Well, we could have a look, just to be certain.”

  “No!” It came out a little more forcefully than he’d intended. “It’s just . . . I’d rather prove it myself. To you, and to everyone here.”

  Moric knitted his bushy eyebrows together. “I thought you said you couldn’t do it on command.”

  “Not unless my life is on the line,” Quinn said. “And even then, it’s sort of accidental.”

  Moric stopped abruptly and sat cross-legged on the ground. “Let’s try something.”

  Quinn looked around, suddenly uncomfortable. Practicing in private was one thing, but anyone could see them out here. My lack of ability is public enough. “Here?”

  “Humor me.” Moric gestured to the ground in front of him.

  Quinn sat on the trampled grass.

  “Remember this?” Moric held out a hand between them. A ball of blue-white light appeared above it, flickering and hissing like a wet log on a fire.

  Quinn drew in a sharp breath. He’d forgotten the thrill of seeing true Alissian magic up close. “How can I forget?”

  “Go on, touch it,” Moric said.

  “I’m good, thanks.” It’s a little hard to do card tricks with charred fingers.

  “It won’t burn you,” Moric assured him.

  Quinn put his hand toward it, and indeed felt no heat. If anything, the ball of light cast a chill into the air around it. He waved his fingers through it once, then again. “What is it?”

  “Light, without substance. As simple a thing as exists in the world.” He let the ball wink out. The after-image played across Quinn’s vision.

  “Now, you try it,” Moric said.

  Quinn took a breath, and tried to will the sphere of light back into existence. Of course nothing happened. He might as well try to make the sun rise. “I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be doing.”

  “Picture the ball of light in your mind. Open yourself to the possibility of creating it on your own.”

  Quinn could picture the ball of light, no problem. The image of it was still burned into his retina. But the deep-down warmth of magical power eluded him. Might as well make some conversation. “I don’t suppose we got any more jobs from the Valteroni Prime?”

  “Why do you ask, when you should be focusing on the task at hand?”

  Quinn put up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m focusing, I promise.” Not that it would do any good. “I’m just curious, since I helped out on the last job.”

  “Which I’m still in trouble for. The only positive result was that you had a breakthrough.”

  And my friends didn’t die. Quinn couldn’t resist a dig. “I’m sure the Prime pays well.”

  “Valteron is good for it. Now, concentrate, please.”

  Quinn gave it another shot, but knew it was a lost cause. Even if he weren’t exhausted, true magic just wasn’t his to command. He sighed. “It’s not working.”

  Moric nodded and stood. “You should get some rest. We’ll try again tomorrow.”

  “I’ve got class with Sella in the morning. Maybe that’ll help.”

  “That’s the advanced class.”

  Quinn didn’t like the way Moric’s eyebrow went up. “So she said. Should I be worried?”

  “Not at all.” Moric grinned, and clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re a brave man, Quinn. Don’t let anyone say different.”

  Chapter 20

  Bay of Rocks

  “Port towns in Alissia are simultaneously the most dangerous and most exciting.”

  —R. Holt, “My Time with Tioni Cutpurses”

  Veena Chaudri was in charge of her first mission ever. That’s what Julio had said. In charge. When Quinn had been with them, they’d been a sort of committee. She’d provided the cultural input, Julio the security, and Quinn the unpredictability. Sure, Kiara had given most of her instructions directly to Mendez. But now he was letting her call the shots.

  Their task was to get a fix on the admiral of the Valteroni fleet. Which should have been the easiest thing in the world, given the size of that fleet and the fact that he was in charge of it. Of course, start looking for something and that’s when you can’t find it.

  She’d arranged passage on a shore-sweeper, the most efficient of Alissian vessels. Single-masted with a removable boom, it could switch to oar power to cut across the shallow water flats that often stretched miles beyond the Alissian shoreline. Julio was off making a report to Kiara, so Veena came up on deck and stood at the rail. They were under wind power right now, running south and almost straight downwind. The sound of the churning water under the bow, the smell of the sea, and the tickle of the wind on the back of her neck were a hypnotic combination.

  “Ah, there you are,” Julio called.

  He joined her at the rail and put his arm around her. He’d insisted on posing as a married couple for this trip. For security reasons, of course, but he seemed to be having a lot of fun with it. Too much fun, but she didn’t tell him to dial it back, either. She could feel her face heating. “Yes, here I am.” She glanced around to make sure no one was within earshot. “Any news?”

  “Nothing about the admiral.”

  That meant there was some other sort of news, but he’d deliver it in their own time. So much for spouses not keeping secrets from one another. “It’s a little worrisome that the Valteroni fleet has withdrawn. They normally play a sort of policing role.”

  “When the cat’s away, the mice’ll play. As Bradley found out.”

  “Should we be worried ourselves?”

  “Not in a shore-sweeper, no. Any ships start to hone in on us, and the captain can take her shallow.”

  Unless the marauders had a shore-sweeper themselves. She made a mental note to review Dr. Holt’s file on Alissian piracy.

  Julio took his arm away, and the place it had rested felt cold. “What do you want to do if the next port has no sign of the admiral or his fleet?”

  “Then I suppose we’ll head to Valteron.”

  “Going to turn into a regular party down there.”

  “We should avoid Valteron City, though. Dr. Holt will have eyes everywhere.”

  He grunted. “The lieutenant and Logan are working on that.”

  “How?”

  “Trying to reclaim some of our human assets. We should be doing the same, once we’ve located the admiral.”

  “I’m not nearly as good with people as he was,” she said.

  “Don’t sell yourself short. You can work a room as well as anyone. Even Bradley said so.”

  “He did?” She could feel the blush on her cheeks. “Well, I’m trying my best.”

  “You’re much prettier than Holt. That’s a good start.”

  “Oh, stop it,” she said.

  “Don’t be afraid to use it. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “All right. I’ll try.”

  He put his arm back around her. “But not until we get off this ship, comprende? I got a reputation to uphold.”

  Veena had to admit that there were worse things than playing house with Julio. Maybe she should just live for the moment, rather than the man who was half a world away. She turned and smiled at him.

  Of course, that’s right when the lookout piped up. “Port ahead!”

  Bay of Rocks was an aptly named city at the border of Landor and Pirea. Ships from both nations had free rein to dock wherever they could find room. Vessels jostled for position while they navigated the maze of rock formations for which the bay was named. Some of the delicate-looking structures were hundreds of feet tall, but only a few feet thick. H
ow they withstood the relentless winds and battering waves was a mystery that CASE Global’s consulting geologists had yet to solve.

  The coast-cutter had a narrow enough profile to slip through some of the tighter gaps between the rocks. At the moment, the captain had them pointed through one that couldn’t have been three feet wider than the ship itself.

  “Jesus, is he going to make it?” Julio whispered.

  “I hope so.”

  He turned away from the water. “I can’t watch.” His face looked a little pale, and suddenly Veena remembered why. He’d come over from Cuba on a makeshift raft at the age of twelve, and told her he’d avoided the ocean ever since. He probably couldn’t swim.

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “Coast-cutters are just about unsinkable.”

  He took a breath and turned back around. His knuckles were white around the rail. “How long till we get to shore?”

  “Half an hour, if the wind holds.”

  “Why isn’t he using the oars?”

  “If he does that, any ship under wind power has the right of way.”

  “Really?”

  “Rules of the water.”

  Even without the oars, the coast-cutter slipped through the heavy bay traffic like a slalom skier. Fifteen minutes after they’d cleared the maze of rocks, they were dockside.

  “Let’s get off this death trap,” Julio said.

  Veena tsked him, but let him guide her to the gangplank while the crew secured the boat to the docks. Their ship had squeezed between a wide trader’s cog and some kind of longboat, with no more than a yard of space on either side. The captain certainly knew his business. She paid him twice the usual fare—an unspoken request for discretion—and then she and Julio disembarked.

  There hadn’t been room for their horses on the coast-cutter. They’d arrive in about a week on a trading cog whose captain had been a little too eager to take their silver. Which meant, of course, that they might not arrive at all. Julio had tagged the ship so they could track her down, if it came to that.

  She stuck close to Julio as they made their way among the crowds on the dock, making mental tallies of the nationalities, genders, and occupations as best she could. It was too much even for her to keep track of, though. Not without her notebook, and Julio seemed determined to make a beeline for the shore without stopping for anything.