With a heavy heart, he left the reins of office in Gorgie’s chastened hands, strode through a portrait-lined corridor, and climbed upstairs to the royal suite. There he had a call to make on his private comm unit.
“Tog, what news?” He’d encrypted the channel to his friend in State Security. Leaning forward at his desk, he tensed in readiness for more bad tidings.
“I followed through on your requests, rageesh.” Tog’s crisp voice reminded Zohar of their youth. “Regarding the military grade armaments, I found a discrepancy in munitions inventory and traced it to a military base on Cavendii Two. Several suppliers make regular stops there. One company happens to be owned by Colonel Yaloom’s brother.”
“Yaloom?” Zohar’s pulse accelerated. “Was he not the officer disciplined after the fiasco at Alamir?” Yaloom’s division had mistakenly fired upon friendly troops during the border dispute with the Morano Confederation. The fallout had caused an uproar at home.
“Aye, the Major General was demoted to Colonel.”
“So you say his brother has a contract with the base at Cavendii Two? For what?”
“Machinery parts. Their company lost money in the economic downturn, but recently they have been doing quite well. Too well, in fact, for the income they report to the tax collectors.”
“Hmm. An unreported profit indicates they may be engaged in illicit trade.”
“I agree. Their ship, the Hedery, follows a route that takes them to the Osmer asteroid facility for refueling. I pulled in a favor and got hold of their docking manifest.”
“And?”
“Another ship, the Mariner, always shows up at the same time.”
“So you believe the brother is stealing munitions from the depot on Cavendii Two and transferring them to the Mariner at Osmer Station?”
“Yes, sire.” Zohar pictured him nodding his head of wiry black hair. “Next stop is a private storage facility on Earth.”
Zohar reached for a drink of water. He’d filled a glass before making the call. His mouth had suddenly gone dry.
“Who is masterminding this trade? Colonel Yaloom?” That could account for the inventory discrepancy under his command, which no one might have noticed if Tog hadn’t gone looking for it. Thus Tog’s answer surprised him.
“I don’t believe so. Connecting the dots, I followed the trail to─get this─Timerus Halston.”
“W-What, the High Exchequer?” He choked, spitting water down his chin.
“The Mariner is registered under a front company that I backtracked to your royal treasurer.”
“But Halston…why?” The betrayal stunned him, and yet why should it, after what he’d just learned from the rebel leader?
Tog coughed. “He’s been losing money on gambling debts. Besides smuggling arms, he’s also been skimming the tax rolls and stealing from the grain warehouses. I’ll have enough evidence to indict him when you’re ready.”
“Not yet.” Zohar drummed his fingers on the desk. “Keep your investigation discreet for now. Were you able to determine where the Mariner offloads her goods on Earth? They must be using a cloaked shuttle to make the transfer.”
“Sorry, but I lost the trail there. If I had to guess, I’d say someone on that planet is acting as middleman, arranging for arms sales from the traitors in the Empire to the Trolleks.”
“Obviously. The question is, did this person hire the thugs who ambushed me? And if so, why?”
“Chances are Halston wouldn’t want you assuming the throne and discovering his secrets.” Tog’s voice deepened. “This middleman is smart. Probably he gets paid both ways, from Halston and from the Trolleks.”
“Any ideas on his identity?”
Zohar held his breath, dreading the answer. Despite what the Gatekeeper had said, Rayne couldn’t be the guilty party. The ambush on Magnor and himself had come after Rayne’s death. Did that mean the Gatekeeper had lied about Rayne sabotaging his equipment? If so, who had really killed Rayne and why?
“About that, you asked for a background check on your team.” Tog cleared his throat. “Regarding Lord Magnor, it took some persuasion to get information. As you know, the Tsuran are a reclusive tribe from the mountain region. Magnor had a sterling reputation as one of their top warriors, until he screwed up. He got cast out in disgrace.”
“That is bad?”
“Being shunned is the worst punishment for a Tsuran, worse than death. I assume your primer hired him as bodyguard because of his famed skills. But I wouldn’t worry about him. The Tsuran warriors hold honor in high regard.”
“What of the others?” Anxiety nibbled at his gut.
“Borius frequents bars that cater to kags.”
“Borius? You cannot be serious. He may be bashful about his virginity, but he is quite open about it.”
“Perhaps because he’s never done it with a lady.”
“But we did a stringent background check before accepting him into the corps.”
“Yes, but as you said earlier, things could have changed since then. Listen to this.”
Zohar’s heart plummeted. “What?”
“Two years ago, when the Drift Lords had leave, he disappeared for an entire moon cycle. His spacecraft logged enough hours for a round-trip to Earth.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Nira paused in the midst of doing sit-ups on the packed dirt floor in her cell. Her chest heaved from the exertion. She’d been in this hole for days with little to eat or drink. Refusing to let herself go weak, she entertained herself by exercising and reciting mental math problems.
Located in the basement of the Grand Marshal’s house, the detention area held eight cells at a glance, with no windows and only one bare electric bulb in a central corridor. She’d noted that much before being incarcerated. Left in total darkness, she had no way of knowing how much time had passed.
A bolted wooden door sealed her inside. At regular intervals, a guard opened the top grating, peered at her, and then closed it silently. Once a day, he brought her a tray with bread and water. A metal toilet was the only furnishing in her cell. Dehydration made her visits there infrequent.
Feeling her way by touch, she splayed her fingers on the cold stone wall. Leaning against it, she sat and let her head droop. A chill stole into her limbs and penetrated her bones.
The Kaptein had confiscated her backpack, shoes, and diamond ring. He’d tried to pry the watch off her wrist, too, but it wouldn’t yield. So he’d allowed her to keep the precious timepiece for now.
Nira thought about which loss she mourned more: her Coach purse, which had been the first luxury item she’d ever purchased, or the shoes, her only means of escape. She might languish here forever, and Zohar would never know.
Zohar. Had he located the jamming device? Was he even now planting explosives to destroy it? Did he care what happened to her? Or had she fled his mind like he’d flee her planet once his mission was done?
The threat of imminent death didn’t hurt as much as his abandonment. She’d always known he would leave someday, but he’d just turned his back on her as though she meant nothing. How could their fates be entwined when she might never see him again?
Doubts assailed her. Maybe she’d been wrong about the whole mythologicial thing. Maybe she just wanted it to be true to explain why her parents had left her on a church doorstep.
Images swam before her eyes. She must be delusional, imagining Mimir’s magic well and mischievous elves and a ferocious shapeshifting wolf.
A vibration shook the walls as the outer door burst open. Her heartbeat accelerated. It wasn’t time for the guard’s next visit, so who? Could it be the Kaptein returning to interrogate her? Or the Grand Marshal coming to amuse himself?
She shot to her feet, summoning strength to defy them.
A key rattled the lock, then the door swung wide. She threw up an arm, the light from the corridor blinding her.
Her eyes adjusted while an old woman hobbled inside carrying a tray. Nira sniffed chicken
, and her gaze zeroed in on a plate of food and a pitcher of orange juice. Was this a mirage? She ran her tongue around the inside of her sore mouth.
Restraining herself from pouncing on the meal, she wondered what strings were attached to this gift.
She licked her dry lips, unaccustomed to speaking. “Thank you,” she croaked.
The gray-haired slave shrugged in such a characteristic manner that Nira did a double-take.
“Grace, is that you?” Her pulse raced. When the woman knelt to leave the tray but failed to respond, Nira corralled the muted buzzing in her head and pushed against it. “Stand up straight, and let me see your face.” Her faith restored, she spoke in a firm voice.
“As you command.” Grace’s blank eyes lifted. She wore a coarse cotton sheath that looked several sizes too big and a pair of dirty sandals. Her bones had grown more prominent, her wrinkles deeper.
Unable to help herself, Nira flung her arms around the older lady. Grace didn’t move a muscle. After a few moments where she clung to Grace’s frail body, Nira stepped back. Her resolve hardened. She’d found Grace. Now they had to escape so she could fulfill her part in the prophecy.
She straightened her shoulders. “You are no longer under Trollek mind control. You have free will. Look at me and see me for who I am.”
Astonishment blossomed on Grace’s face along with clarity.
“Nira. My word, what are you doing here? What’s happened?”
Nira embraced her again, tears leaking from her eyes. She parted with reluctance only because the guard might return.
She gave Grace a brief explanation. “You’ll have to keep pretending you’re confounded. Find out how many guards patrol the house upstairs. Now that I’ve found you, I don’t have to linger here any longer. Algie probably doesn’t even know that I’m here.”
Grace’s expression brightened. “Actually, that’s the woman who ordered you to be fed. She was furious when she arrived and learned how you’d been treated.”
With renewed hope, Nira fell upon the food and drink, sharing her repast with Grace. They ate quickly, afraid of being interrupted by the sentry.
Once they’d finished, Nira swiped her mouth on a sleeve. Then she considered how to spirit the old lady away.
This is what it’s all for, to preserve our families, our way of life, and our worlds. Zohar and I share a common goal. Why wasn’t I kinder to him, less selfish, and more supportive of his mission?
She’d sacrificed their relationship to rescue Grace, but squeezing the older woman’s fragile hand, she decided the choice had been right.
Grace left silently, acting docile and carrying the empty tray. The guard came to escort Nira up the cellar stairs and into the brightly lit residence. Herded into a parlor, she stopped in front of Algie.
The Trollek scientist looked svelte in a slate wool suit, her blond hair styled in wavy layers. Red lipstick made a bright slash across her mouth.
“You smell as though you’ve just come from the stables.” She raked Nira over, her lips curving in disapproval.
“My accommodations were rather sparse.”
“Yes, I’m sorry for that.” The regret didn’t extend to her glacial blue eyes. “Why did you want to see me?”
“The Drift Lords turned their backs on me. I’m ready to deal.”
“Is that so?” Algie paced, her long legs enhanced by two-inch heels. “How did you find this place?”
“I have my ways.” Nira lifted her chin, unwilling to provide information unless she gained something in exchange.
Algie gave her a sly glance. “Did you sneak through another portal, like you did to reach our screened village in the park?”
“You heard about that?”
“I got a report. What did you do to the Grand Marshal?”
Nira raised an eyebrow. “I’ll tell you under one condition. You let Grace go. Send her home and provide confirmation that she has arrived safely in Orlando.”
“I may do so, but only if you do something for me first.”
“What’s that?”
Voices murmured out in the hallway. She wondered where the Grand Marshal had gone. Algie must have dismissed him to conduct their interview in private.
“We’re excavating an archaeological site. You may have seen the workers out in the field. I’d like you to read the rune stones.”
“I’m not a runecaster.”
“No, but you can decipher the inscriptions. Why else do you think we left you alone for a while? So you could gain the knowledge.” She must have seen Nira’s expression falter. “Oh yes, our spies are everywhere. We’ve been keeping tabs on your movements. Nothing escapes our notice.”
Nothing? Algie may not know about the magic shoes. She could be bluffing.
“Why are these runes so important?” Without waiting for an invitation, Nira sank into a nearby chair. Her knees wobbled. She still needed to regain her full strength.
“We’re searching for a certain incantation.”
“That does what exactly?”
“It unleashes an ancient and terrible power.”
“And you want to bring forth this entity, why?” Nira’s blood chilled. Was this the deeper evil she’d been warned against?
Algie sat opposite from her, crossing her legs. She clasped her hands together, averting her gaze. “I am under direct orders from his Majesty, King Jorg.”
“Yes, I heard you’re the chief scientific advisor to the king, but I thought you reported directly to the Council of Elders.”
“That is true.”
“Is it also true that your father is a clan chieftain and your husband is a council member?”
Algie straightened. “Where did you hear this gossip?”
Nira smirked. “I understand there aren’t any females on this ruling council. For a woman of your intelligence, that must be irksome.”
The blonde grimaced. “I plan to change that. In the meantime, it serves my purpose to please the king.”
“Your purpose?” Nira leaned forward in her chair. “Does that have anything to do with my blood sample?”
Algie rose and paced the carpet. “Your genome contains a strand of our DNA. Somewhere in your ancestry, you’re descended from a Trollek.”
Nira lurched to her feet. Trollek DNA? Was that why their spell had no effect on her, because she was one of them?
Algie continued as though she hadn’t just dropped a bombshell. “Our females have mated with human men before, but their progeny have never exhibited your talents. You’re different. I want to know why.”
Because I’m a daughter of Odin, whatever that means.
“I can understand why you’d want to examine me, but what about the test samples you’re taking from other people? What’s going on in Tent Ten?”
“You read the runes, then I’ll explain.” Algie glanced at a clock on the mantel. “It’s nearly eight o’clock. The sun should have risen enough for us to see outside.”
“Wait. About Grace—”
“Come now, Nira, or I’ll question your sincerity.”
Algie escorted Nira toward the front door, guards in tow. In the hallway, the Grand Marshal accosted them.
“I have reported this situation to my chieftain.” His jowls quivered like a bowl of Jello. “He insists we offer you our cooperation. Be aware though, the Kaptein and I know your game. Our loyalty will not be compromised.”
“This dig is important to the king, you idiot. And while I’m here, I’ll see how my pet project is progressing.” She pointed to Nira’s bare feet. “Get this woman some sandals. I don’t want her stepping on a nail outside.”
Once he’d complied, Nira followed Algie outdoors where an early morning mist shrouded the fields. Her flip-flops sank into the soft turf as they headed toward the dig site. A faint scent of manure drifted on the wind.
“You must be proud of your project,” she told Algie, fishing for information. “It has to be important for you to have the support of your king.”
“Recently, we discovered the reason. The water we’ve been drinking has rendered many of our males sterile. While our females can mate with humans and bear children, our pure bloodline is in danger of extinction. If we hope to continue as a species, we must correct this problem.”
“Is that why you invaded our dimension?”
“Earth has a fresh water supply. The Jorgonauts, King Jorg’s loyal subjects, believe military might is the solution. My colleagues, or the Videns as we call ourselves, feel science can protect the future.”
“How so?” Nira’s feet grew cold and damp from dew. She tread her way carefully, skirting holes in the ground. Shapes rose ahead that looked like crumpled stone ruins.
“If we can repair the damaged genetic sequence in our males, we wouldn’t need your contaminated world. You’ve poisoned the atmosphere and polluted the soil. Who’s to say the water here wouldn’t be worse?”
“How can you repair the genes, and what does that have to do with your human test subjects?” The pungent aroma of peat smoke blew her way along with the scent of richly turned earth.
Algie smoothed her hair, lifted by the breeze. “I am attempting to splice our DNA into humans to find a compatible combination. Once a stable string is identified, we can adapt it to fix the damage to our genome.”
This is why you’re torturing our people? No wonder they scream in agony when their cells reject the foreign material.
“Did you take on this project yourself or because your king ordered you to work on it?”
Algie took a deep breath. “My father married me to Igor without telling me he was sterile. I’d always wanted children, and this came as a bitter blow, especially when I learned the extent of the problem.”
Nira felt a surge of sympathy. Her plight in society wasn’t so different from some cultures on Earth. “So you applied yourself to finding a solution.”
Warrior Prince Page 28