by Darian Smith
The students milled around, uneasy. The threat was clear and they'd seen what a life without stardust meant. No one could forget the screaming lunatic sacrificed to teach that particular lesson.
First, one drifted away into the sand dunes. Then another. Someone screamed as one of them made a move against his prescribed target right there in the crowd. Blood spilled onto the sand and people scattered.
Taran, fearful, left his friend's side. As he hurried to hide himself in the desert, he glanced back and saw Mud standing alone, a strong pine standing tall in the plane. A rebellion of one who never wavered in his resolve.
“They punished him,” Taran told Brannon and the mage, pulling himself from the memory as though mired in thick mud. “But not by withdrawing him from stardust. They locked him up and used him as breeding stock. Then he . . . um . . . removed that option as a way of rebelling.”
“You mean . . .” Draeson made a chopping gesture with his hand over his crotch.
Taran nodded. “He castrated himself and bled to death.”
“Ahpra's Tears,” Brannon said. “I see why you wanted to leave. But how could you? Without a supply of stardust, I mean.”
“It was difficult,” Taran admitted. “They hide the recipe and only a few of them know the particular ingredients. It took me years to figure it all out.”
“I'm guessing that's how you learned your chemistry skills,” Brannon said.
“It would be impossible to make stardust without a lot of skill,” Taran agreed. “I don't think anyone else has ever figured it out without being told.” Taran wrapped his arms around his stomach. It did nothing to quell the churning in his gut.
Brannon touched him on the shoulder and Taran flinched. Brannon removed his hand. “So you learned the secret and waited for an opportunity to escape.”
Taran stared at the wall. Faces took shape in his vision like an afterimage from staring into a candle flame: Kreegin, Marbella, Fressin, Mud. “It took a long time,” he said, his voice soft. “But then the job came and we were sent to Kalanon to kill the king.”
Sir Brannon nodded. “Aldan told me about that. You reported your team's activities to him.”
“I betrayed them,” Taran said. “I sacrificed the people in my team in exchange for my freedom.”
“You saved the life of the king,” Draeson said.
Taran felt rope loop around his neck and jerk tight. His feet dangled and he kicked out, struggling, swinging helplessly. His eyes bulged. The faces of his teammates filled his vision, faces purple as they struggled to breath. He clawed at his throat but his fingernails found nothing but skin. A voice called out in the distance, but the roaring in his ears drowned it out.
A rough hand shook him. “Taran! Taran!” He gasped and the vision was gone. He was still in the room at the orphanage. There was no rope around his neck. There never had been. Not his.
Brannon peered into his eyes, a worried look on his face. “Are you okay?”
Taran blinked at him. “Um, yeah. Yes. Sorry. I . . . um . . .” He took a deep breath and let the air soothe his lungs. He forced his hands to rest in his lap, fingers lacing and unlacing by turns. “My team were captured and hanged. All but me and Marbella. She escaped the trap and went into hiding but she was unable to get out of the city. Guards were everywhere because of the assassination attempt and she ran out of stardust. I . . . I found her in a boatbuilder's yard. She was delusional.”
He remembered her face as she'd stood in the incomplete frame of a small boat on dry land and cursed the wind for not filling the nonexistent sails. The bodies of the boatbuilders had been bloody, mangled things. She'd killed them because she thought they were trying to arrest her or because she believed they were sharks. He couldn't be sure which. She hadn't recognized Taran at all.
“After seeing what had happened to the others, I couldn't just hand her over. So I found somewhere to keep her. Somewhere I thought would be safe.” He gestured around the room. “It was this or execution and her mind was already gone . . .” His eyes caught on the chains. He wondered how it would feel to wear them. Would he even realize what they were? Would he understand why he was shackled?
“And now she's free again,” Brannon said. “An insane, violent assassin. Just what we need.”
“If she's been locked up in here for years, she can't be in great shape.” Draeson surveyed the room. “How dangerous is she, really?”
Taran looked the mage in the eye. “More than you can imagine.”
“I fought with her last night,” Brannon added. “That was enough.”
“I'm sorry,” Taran said. He wasn't certain who the words were meant for. Brannon, Marbella, Fressin, Mud. He'd let them all down. Their whispering voices came in waves, accusing, crying, cajoling. They overlapped each other in his head, a roar like the ocean in a storm.
“Okay,” said Brannon. “Go collect your samples and see what you can find out for us. I'll inform the king that, as well as a mythological child-stealing beast and a mysterious team of gold thieves, we now have an insane assassin roaming the city streets. He'll no doubt be thrilled.”
“Um . . . make that two.” Taran took the empty flask from his pocket and held it out in a trembling hand. “I ran out of stardust elixir and the replacement ingredient went missing with the gold shipment. In a matter of days I'll be completely insane.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
King Aldan was angry. Brannon knew his friend well enough to tell something had infuriated him the moment he walked into the room. The king's jaw, beneath his cropped golden beard, was tight and he held himself stiffly upright on the throne. He wore the formal crown, which he usually kept for state events or making judgements, and when he spoke it was with sharp, clipped tones.
The drapes on the windows were closed and the room lit by gas lamps and candelabra. Palace guards stood at attention, spaced almost within touching distance around the walls. A woman in an elaborate silk dress stood in front of the throne with guards flanking her. Her dark hair was up, with ringlets allowed to tumble artfully down her neck beneath a bright red hat. Ylani.
“I'm glad you're here, Sir Brannon,” the king said. “I was just about to send for you.”
Brannon let his own news fade from his lips. “What's happened?”
Aldan glowered. “Why don't you ask the ambassador?”
Ylani inclined her head graciously. “I don't know why Your Majesty would think I have any further information than what your own people can provide. I imagine you have all the information Sir Brannon needs to conduct a thorough investigation.”
Brannon moved closer. “What exactly am I investigating now?”
Aldan huffed. “One of our armories was broken into last night and certain specialist weapons were taken.”
Brannon looked from the king to the ambassador and back again. “Ah,” he said. “The Nilarian swords?”
“Exactly. And given our difficult discussions with Nilar over the ownership of the swords, we have some questions regarding what happened.”
Ylani raised her eyebrows. “Such as?”
“Did you or your countrymen take matters into your own hands?”
Ylani's lips were tight. “I'm sure that you can understand that my government can make no comment sanctioning that kind of action on Kalan soil. However, you are very much aware that those swords are Nilarian property and, as such, none of your concern if they were to be returned to their rightful owners.”
Aldan scowled. “How can we be expected to trust you if you steal things from our very capital?”
Ylani straightened. “Stealing implies lack of ownership.”
“My gold shipment has been stolen,” the king said. “Why shouldn't I believe that was you as well? Nilar has always been after our gold. That's what the war was all about.”
“The war is over. I was personally instrumental in saving your country and your heir from the kaluki invasion and revealed the plot of the traitor, Duke Roydan Sandilar, to you. Surely that
counts for something.”
“That's because you had a vested interest in protecting your government and fostering peace.”
“And you think stealing a shipment of your gold is the act of a country trying to build on a stable peacetime relationship?” Ylani threw up her hands. “That's ridiculous.”
Aldan narrowed his eyes. “Perhaps I should arrest you and every other Nilarian in Alapra until we sort it out.”
“Do that,” Ylani said, her voice suddenly low, “and see how quickly you have war again. Do you want your people to die for a few pieces of steel that aren't even yours?”
They stared at each other for a long time in silence.
Brannon stepped forward again and cleared his throat. “You realize this nonsense is keeping me from trying to find a group of missing children, don't you?”
“By all means, go and see to your other duties, Sir Brannon,” Ylani told him.
Aldan frowned. “A group now? Do you have a better lead?”
“We're working on it. I've requested an increase in patrols in the city to search.”
“Granted,” the king said. “And while that happens, I'd like you to conduct a search of your own.”
“Of course, Your Majesty. We're looking for the children, the frost wolf, and also—”
“That will be the patrols,” Aldan interrupted. “You will be searching Ambassador Ylani's apartments, and anywhere she has visited recently, for the missing swords.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ambassador Ylani's apartment was beautifully decorated and neatly arranged. Most of the rooms had silk panels on the walls with inspirational words in Nilarian script embroidered in large characters, the gold, silver, or black thread standing out against the vibrant colored silk. Each room served a specific purpose—to greet guests, to sleep, to work. It was organized and precise in a way that Brannon's military background appreciated.
The men searching the apartment did little to preserve that orderly quality. They pulled out drawers, overturned the mattress, lifted furniture, and emptied cupboards.
Brannon stood in the greeting room with the ambassador while the search took place. Ylani draped herself across a sofa and calmly watched as they piled a collection of weaponry on the floor in front of her. There was a miniature crossbow, several daggers, and a contraption for launching tiny darts, but no swords.
“Interesting collection,” Brannon commented.
Ylani shrugged. “Well, I'm no Bloodhawk, but my staff and I can take care of ourselves.”
One of the searchers came into the room and held up a locked wooden case about the size of a breadbasket. “We can't find a key for this box, sir.”
“Really?” Brannon raised an eyebrow. “And do you imagine there's an entire shipment of swords inside it?”
The man blushed. “No.”
“Then put it back,” Brannon said. “Let's allow the ambassador some small privacy, shall we?”
The guard nodded and disappeared back into the other room.
“Thank you,” said Ylani. “I appreciate at least someone in this process having common sense.”
Brannon looked at her, his face blank. “You really wanted those swords, Ylani.”
“I did.”
“But you're telling me you didn't take them.”
“They're not here, are they?”
“That's not really what I asked.”
Ylani shrugged and said nothing.
Brannon frowned. “You know this is taking me away from time I should be searching for missing children?”
“Well, whose fault is that?” Ylani leaned back, arms folded across her chest.
They stared at each other, neither one willing to look away. Brannon sighed. “If we find something, Ylani, I'm going to have to do something about it.”
“We all do what we must,” she said.
“Would your government really go back to war if we arrested you?”
“Who's asking? The Bloodhawk, the Master of Investigations, or my friend?”
“So we're friends?”
The corner of Ylani's mouth twitched downward. “I thought so.”
Brannon opened his mouth and then closed it again. Friendship wasn't going to be enough if there was evidence to find. Whether or not Ylani and her government believed taking the swords was the right thing to do, Aldan wasn't going to agree. And Kalanon was Aldan's kingdom.
“Sir Brannon,” one of the men searching called out. “I think we found something.”
Brannon looked at Ylani. Her face was neutral. “What is it?” He replied.
The man stepped into the room and held up a sword in an elaborate scabbard. “This looks like what we're looking for.”
Brannon sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, it does. Any thoughts, ambassador?”
Ylani rolled her eyes. “How many swords did you find?”
“Just the one so far,” said the guard.
The ambassador stood up and reached out to take the sword by the hilt. “Exactly.” She handed it to Brannon.
He drew it partly out of the scabbard and examined it. The blade was definitely Nilarian steel. It was beautifully crafted, with the character for strength imprinted on the base of the blade. The hilt was engraved with birds in flight, delicate details were picked out—talons extended, sharp beak. They were hawks.
“I had it made for you,” Ylani said. “As a gift. I was waiting for the right moment to give it to you.”
Brannon blinked at her. “For me?”
She nodded and touched his shoulder. “To replace the one you lost to the earth spirits. It seemed appropriate. A big part of your legend is that you have one of our swords but I know that one came with a lot of baggage. This one was made specifically for you.”
Brannon swallowed. It was a fine sword. None of the Kalan weapons he'd used since losing his old sword had been as good. Nilarian steel was the best and under other circumstances it would have been a thoughtful gift, but right now it felt like a bribe. He handed it back to her. “I'm sorry, ambassador. I can't accept this.”
She gave a sad little smile. “Even as a gift between friends?”
“Even then.”
“Very well.” She took a deep breath and looked around. “Does this complete our little search then? I assume you're all satisfied I don't have two hundred swords under my pillow or tucked in amongst my hatboxes.”
Brannon scratched the scar on his cheek. “It completes the search of this location. King Aldan has asked us to look into some others as well. Apparently you have a friend staying at the Blue Rose?”
Ylani went very still. “You've been spying on me.”
“I haven't.” He reached out to her but she pulled away. “Nilarians wear hats, Ylani. They get noticed.”
She gave a slight nod. “Of course.” Her words were clipped and precise. “The gentleman you're referring to is Marrol, my brother. He and a colleague are here about the silk import negotiations. He's a merchant. I'm sure he'll be thrilled to have his room searched on his very first trip to Kalanon.”
The trip to the Blue Rose was awkward to say the least. Ylani insisted on coming with them, leaving her apartment in a state of disarray, and sat in the carriage with her arms crossed, chewing her lower lip as she stared out the window.
Brannon watched her, his mind awash with thoughts. The city around him carried on as if nothing unusual were happening, yet Brannon felt as though he were juggling knives. When the king had offered to make him Master of Investigations, he hadn't expected things to become so chaotic so quickly. For all that he'd come to hate the killing, at least his duties as King's Champion in the war had been straightforward. There had always been a clear enemy and he'd known exactly who that was.
Now, it seemed there was a multitude of different enemies hidden in plain sight and he was at a loss to identify most of them. The frost wolf was taking children and killing adults and he still had no notion of how to find it or what it even looked like. The thieves who had taken the gold had l
eft little to go on but the burned instructions of a dead man—that and their obvious willingness to commit murder. There was no way to know when they might strike again and now it seemed their theft had also left poor Brother Taran without the medication he desperately needed to stay sane. The young man had always been a little odd, but Brannon had no desire to see what would happen if he truly took leave of his senses. He'd sent the priest to speak to Master Jordell in the hope that the more experienced physician might have a solution to at least delay the progression of his madness. One insane assassin was more than enough for Brannon!
That was another complication he hadn't needed. With Marbella on the loose, now it wasn't just citizens who fit the frost wolf's hunting profile who were at risk. The woman was likely to attack without reason. And after years of being chained up in the orphanage, even the most sane person might have reason to lash out.
The carriage wheels went over a pothole and Brannon almost hit his head as he was jolted back and forth. The hilt of his plain Kalan sword dug into his side. Ylani glanced at him and looked away. Brannon settled back into his seat.
He had little doubt the ambassador had something to do with the missing Nilarian swords but she would never admit to it. In her view, they belonged to her government and any action to retrieve them was fully justified given Aldan's reluctance to return them as requested. Brannon had a hard time faulting the logic on both sides. Aldan would clearly not want to give up the superior weapons but, truth be told, they were in Kalanon due to illegal activities on both sides and Kalans had no real claim to them. Especially not in a time of peace.
He wondered if there would be anything to be found with the ambassador's brother at the Blue Rose. Ylani had seemed surprised that he'd known about the merchant's presence in the city—as had Brannon himself been when Aldan had informed him of that particular piece of intelligence—but she was shrewd. It seemed unlikely she would have hidden the weapons anywhere so easy to find. Frankly, he half expected the swords were on their way back to Nilar already and this Marrol would be nowhere to be found.