by Taven Moore
So that was how the dresl and Shinra communicated with each other. It made sense. With so many different types of mouths and throats, a spoken language would be impossible.
The two finished their silent conversation and the bull-man turned back to face her. “Please, I only wish to leave. I want no confrontation,” she said. Again the choking cat laughter from behind the bull-man. They could certainly understand her perfectly well.
The bull-man reached toward her with obvious menace. Her heart clattered fearfully against her chest as she stepped away. Where was Jinn?
12. The Note
Jinn woke to a certainty that something was wrong. Unmoving and without opening his eyes, he assessed his situation.
The dryness of his tongue, the faint aftertaste of copper, and the sharp tingling in his arms and legs told him he’d been drugged. The flicker of cool air against his face meant it was no longer high sun. Early evening or late afternoon, perhaps. The beat of steady foot traffic indicated that he was near a major thoroughfare. Not in a building then, and still in town.
The absence of Remora’s near-constant verbal dialogue bothered him more than he cared admit. The girl seemed unable to let even the passing of a single seabird go unnoticed and unremarked upon. Peace and stillness he’d once craved now felt flat and empty.
Only death or unconsciousness could still her tongue were she nearby. The one was past his assistance and the other not immediately remedied, so he set the matter aside.
Every situation could be reduced to base elements. Attempting to handle more than one element at a time led to lack of control. Lack of control led to death.
The tingling faded, concentrating in his hands and feet. The symptoms of his poison indicated that he’d been drugged with dried iocane. Deadly in larger doses, it was one of the few poisons that guaranteed an immediate state of unconsciousness in a Shinra’ere.
Iocane, he was familiar with. It had, as a matter of fact, been chosen for his Shinra’ere poison exams. No agoge student took the poison exam more than once—there was no need. The exam was simple: the student must survive the initial poisoning, self-diagnose, and self-medicate. The very real possibility of death was more than enough to encourage most students to study, and Jinn had been no exception.
Whoever had done this to him was either very stupid or very, very good. Iocane was no tool of a common thief. Either his attacker had wanted him dead and failed in that goal, or he’d known the precise amount of the poison to use in order to take him out of the equation for a while.
One problem was simple enough to solve. He was alive, and any attacker foolish enough to try and kill a Shinra’ere would be easy to find. The other . . . well, he hoped it wasn’t the other. He did not have time for a clever enemy.
He cast his memory back. Perhaps he could find a clue.
Remora had darted off to a side alley. Like a bird, the girl moved in rapid spurts, never telegraphing her intent until the movement was complete. Her erratic movements would have made her a formidable opponent in battle. As it was, they simply made guarding her all the more difficult.
He’d called after her and followed to the mouth of the alley before blackness claimed him.
No, there had been something else. The cat-dresl he’d brushed past, impatient to chase Remora. His eyes had met Jinn’s squarely, without the sideways glances and hooded glares the rest of the dresl in town had given him. Had the cat’s arm moved as he passed? He could have been scored by an iocane-laced dagger then. He burned the cat’s face (gold fur, dark rosettes, green eyes, left ear decoratively nocked in two places, two bent whiskers on his right side) into his memory. It wasn’t much, but it was a good start. A better start than he expected his foe wanted him to have.
The tingling finally left his feet. If he were required to defend himself, he could now do so with only moderate difficulty.
Jinn opened his eyes.
He sat in the mouth of an alley. Late afternoon shadows stretched over the white limestone wall across from him. Pinned to that wall by a blooded dagger—in a place he would be absolutely certain to see—a piece of paper struggled like a trapped butterfly.
13. The Package
Nolan parted the filmy curtains separating the balcony from Jinn’s room at the Lion’s Pride Inn and strode in as confidently as if she’d entered via the door. “I see you took my advice and got rid of the dirtsider,” she said after a glance around the nearly-empty room.
Jinn, leaning against a wall in a position that gave him full visibility of the entire room, jerked his head in the direction of the low table against the balcony wall.
Nolan stiffened and her red eyes flicked to his side, where his hand rested upon the hilt of his weapon.
Good. He wanted her to know that he didn’t trust her.
A silent pause, then Nolan moved to the table. The thin page waited, weighed down by the same dagger that had pinned it to the wall.
“‘An even trade. Noon, in the central market,’” she read aloud. “Cryptic. Should this mean something to me?”
Her hand moved to the dagger. Jinn spoke, “I would not do that if I were you. The blade has been kissed with iocane.”
Her hand jerked back. Interesting. She hadn’t known the blade was poisoned. He relaxed, but only slightly.
“Iocane is as expensive as it is illegal,” Jinn said, watching Nolan carefully. “How might someone come across such a poison in your town without your knowledge, I wonder?”
“You expect me to know the sale and trade of all illegal goods in this city?” asked Nolan, one eyebrow lifted.
“I would expect no less of you.”
“Good. I would be insulted if you thought me so poor a peacekeeper as that.”
She smiled then, and he remembered the pigtailed Shinra’ere she had been when they first met as students of the agoge. He banished the mental image. People changed.
She nodded to his hand, still wrapped around the hilt of his weapon. “Do you intend to use that, or would you rather sit down and explain this note and dagger?”
Jinn paused.
He could not truly believe Nolan was involved in Remora’s kidnapping, though he did not want to examine his reasons for that belief too carefully. He had always found it difficult to maintain a strictly businesslike relationship with her. His feelings of respect and camaraderie seemed too often to twist into something . . . well, something he had neither time nor freedom to explore.
She was a colleague, and one he trusted. That was enough.
He released the hilt of his weapon, folding his arms across his chest in the Shinra’ere at-ease stance.
“So,” she said. “What happened?”
“Dresl in the crowd scored me with the blade. When I woke, Remora was gone and that note was left behind.”
Nolan glanced back down at the note. “‘An even trade,’” she repeated, frowning for the first time.
“I can think of only one thing they might want from me that would be considered an even trade for a kidnapped girl,” Jinn said. Only one thing—and no one should know even that he could find that thing let alone that it might be in Helion. No one but Nolan.
Nolan’s brows winged upward. “You won’t really make the trade, will you? Not for that dirtsider.”
“Where is the package I entrusted to your care, Nolan?” he asked. Silently, he added a hundred other questions. Why should anyone think to look for it in Helion? Had she told anyone? Had she—could she—have betrayed him?
Nolan paused.
Jinn’s heart dropped.
A slight flush of ruddy color tinged the gray skin of Nolan’s cheeks. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” she said. “I don’t have the package any more.”
Jinn inhaled sharply.
Nolan rubbed the back of her neck with one hand. “You put me in an awkward position, Jinn. My employer was not pleased to find—”
“You told your employer?” Jinn interrupted, so shocked he could not hold his tongue.
Nolan immediately straightened, scowling at him. “I agreed to protect your package until you came to claim it. I did not agree to jeopardize my position or violate my oaths of office.”
With painful slowness, Jinn clenched his hands into fists. “You no longer have the package. Dangerous kidnappers not only know about the package, they also know that it is in your city. How, precisely, does this fulfill your promise to protect the package?” He had trusted her. Foolish, stupid sentimentality, but he had trusted her. The betrayal, accidental or no, soured his stomach.
“I want to clarify that I did not lose the package, Jinn.” Nolan leaned forward, red eyes flinty. “She ran away. You told me that the girl was rescued, but if that were true, why would she run? I need the truth now, Jinn. Did you and your brother kidnap that woman?”
14. The Shinra’dor
Jinn stilled at the implied accusation. “What must your opinion of me be, to think that I might participate in a kidnapping?”
Nolan stepped back. “Jinn, it’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just—”
A new voice—male, unfamiliar—finished Nolan’s sentence for her. “What Nolan is too polite to say is that your brother is a worthless scab of a Shinra and you have, in the past, shown remarkable moral flexibility where he is concerned.”
Jinn’s hand went to the hilt of his arcblade and his gaze flew to the gauzy curtains to the balcony. “You were followed?” he whispered to Nolan.
“No need for theatrics, Outcast.” The newcomer flicked aside the curtains and strode into the room. He was Shinra’dor. Jinn’s hand dropped from his weapon. Brothers and sisters to the Shinra’ere, the Shinra’dor matured . . . differently.
Where Jinn’s skin was dark gray, the newcomer’s was a very pale gray—nearly white. Jinn’s wrapped forehead was effectively featureless, while the newcomer’s temples sprouted an impressive pair of backward-winging horns. Most obvious of all differences, though, was the pair of webbed, bat-like wings draped over the newcomer’s shoulders which trailed to the ground like a leathery cloak. All Shinra’dor sported a lizard-like tail, though this one’s was currently hidden behind his folded wings.
The eyes, though, were the same among all Shinra. Deep red, the color of heart’s blood.
“My darling Nolan was not followed. She invited me.”
Jinn’s eyes narrowed. My darling Nolan? Since when did Nolan allow anyone such liberties with her name?
“Jinn,” Nolan said, moving to stand between Jinn and the Shinra’dor. “Please don’t be angry. I wanted to tell you my own way, but perhaps this is better. This is Rjon. He can help.”
Watching Rjon’s eyes hungrily sweep the room, Jinn very much doubted the man could help. How could Nolan even consider bringing outsiders into this matter? It wasn’t that he was hurt, he assured himself. It was that she was being reckless in a matter that held so many lives at stake. He kept his voice businesslike as he replied. “How much have you told him?”
“Everything. He is my employer.” At Jinn’s immediate frown, Nolan drew herself to her full height. “As you know, I am honor-bound to inform my employer of all matters that affect the safety of this city.”
“Always so official, my darling.” Rjon chuckled, holding out a hand for Nolan to take. She did. Rjon pulled her closer, looking into her eyes. “I am lucky to have her on my task force. The streets of Helion have never been safer.”
Jinn fought to keep his hand from the hilt of his arcblade at the insipid endearment and the corresponding look of adoration in Nolan’s eyes. If Nolan did not find it objectionable, that was no business of his.
Clenching his fist upon his bicep instead of his weapon, Jinn reminded himself of his place. The Shinra’ere existed to protect their brothers. To draw blade upon a Shinra’dor was a death sentence. His nails bit into his skin, but he did not shame himself by giving into the mad desire to attack the Shinra’dor.
Nolan was a free woman. She could choose whatever partner she desired.
He was being irrational. The fact that Nolan had informed her employer was not something that should have surprised him. She was, after all, Shinra’ere. She had promised to protect the package. Recalling Nolan’s words, he believed that she had made a good faith attempt to do so.
Still, the thought of his secrets being whispered to this Shinra’dor did not sit well with him.
He had to believe his distrust of the Shinra’dor was rooted in the day’s events rather than in the way Rjon’s pale hand curled protectively over Nolan’s dark one.
Logically, there had to be a weak link in Nolan’s command chain. The mysterious iocane-wielding enemy knew more than anyone should about Jinn’s business.
He would have to assume that anything he told to Nolan was somehow being relayed to his enemy. And, given the struggles he and his brother had gone through to acquire the package in the first place, his enemy could be very powerful, indeed.
If he could not trust his secrets to Nolan, he must work alone. He pushed aside the pang of disappointment. He had been looking forward to working with Nolan again, but of course that was foolish. She was peacekeeper for one of the largest Shinra port cities, and in a relationship with a Shinra’dor. Why should she endanger any of that for a futureless Outcast?
He pushed aside the thought, and the pang of unidentified emotion that went along with it. Enough introspection. Now was a time for action.
“How, precisely, do you intend to assist, Dor’Rjon?” he asked. Nolan started as if she had forgotten he was there, and stepped slightly away from the Shinra’dor.
“So formal. Please, call me Rjon,” said the Shinra’dor, laying an easy arm across Nolan’s shoulders.
“It would not be proper,” Jinn replied.
“As you please,” said Rjon, shrugging. “As to how I may help,” his eyebrows winged upward. “I am laird of this city. Consider the whole of my forces to be at your disposal in this matter. A favor, for my darling Nolan.”
Nolan beamed. Jinn’s stomach churned.
He needed to complete his business here and leave. The heat of the city was not sitting well with him.
“What has been done thus far?” asked Jinn, steering the conversation back to business.
“We’ve put out a live capture notice on your runaway package—the cat dresl girl. Very striking coat pattern, according to Nolan. Not many white leopards running about. If she appears in public, one of my agents will bring her in.”
Jinn gritted his teeth. A live capture notice? That meant every agent in the city was already searching for her. Jinn’s hope of finding the potential informant among Nolan’s chain of command dissolved. Anyone who walked into an office from the street could see the paperwork and her likeness.
Still, with that many eyes seeking the girl, she should be caught almost immediately. “How long have you been searching for her?”
Rjon waved a dismissive hand. “Only a few days.”
Startled, Jinn spoke without thinking. “Your entire force has been looking for her for days and you have yet to locate her?”
Rjon’s easy smile hitched. “Remember to whom you speak, Outcast. The favor I do is for Nolan, not for you.”
Jinn bowed his head, bringing his fingertips to his forehead. The motion was immediate, and kept the expression of distaste crossing his face from being visible. “Apologies, Dor’Rjon. It will not happen again.”
“See that it doesn’t.” The shadow in the Shinra’dor’s voice disappeared, his attention captured elsewhere. “Ah, is this the ransom note, then? I heard you speak of it while I waited outside.”
While you eavesdropped on a private conversation, Jinn amended.
Without waiting for a response, Rjon strode to the desk and picked up the knife and paper, eyeing both carefully.
A small muscle worked in Jinn’s cheek and he refused to so much as glance in Nolan’s direction. If she was staring adoringly at Rjon, he didn’t want to know.
“Well, not much to go on here
,” he said, dropping the items back to the desk with a clatter. “If you’re going to get your dirtsider girl back, we’ll need to know anything you can tell us about this dresl girl so that we can find her.”
“Why did you and your brother kidnap her, I wonder?” Rjon’s eyes gleamed, the casual indifference that had so marked his behavior up to this point sharpening.
“She was not kidnapped, Dor’Rjon,” Jinn replied flatly, carefully keeping any emotion from his response. Rjon’s avid interest in the dresl girl raised a flag of alarm in Jinn’s mind.
“Oh, come now. You do want to find her, don’t you? You needn’t hide the truth. If she wasn’t kidnapped, why would she run?”
Nolan spoke up, voice firm. “Rjon, if Jinn says a thing, it is true. He has never lied to me. The girl could not have been kidnapped.”
Was that a brief flash of irritation on Rjon’s face, or had Jinn simply imagined it? He couldn’t be certain. Furthermore, he reminded himself, it was none of his concern.
“As you say, darling. Tell me then, Jinn who does not lie, what your plan was for this girl.”
Jinn met Rjon’s eyes squarely, carefully not looking at Nolan. Unblinking, he lied to the Shinra’dor without pause. “I knew only that she was important to my brother. When he was captured, I left her in the care of the one person I trusted to watch her. That is all I know.”
Rjon frowned, searching his face for the lie Jinn knew well how to hide. “So you have nothing you can contribute, no information or clues, to help this search? I assure you, my agents have been doing their utmost to find this dresl girl of yours.”
“I have no doubt that is true,” said Jinn. The truth. Whatever Rjon’s goals in this, Jinn believed the man wanted the dresl girl found.
He also believed that if Rjon found her first, Jinn would lose both dresl and Remora.
“Very well then.” Rjon turned with a sharpness that made the leathery webbing of his wings snap.
He held out a hand. “Join me tonight, Nolan?”