by Ally Shields
Olseon wasn’t a particularly likable man, but she hadn’t seen or heard anything that made her suspect him of anything more than a slavish adherence to routine. He was an enforcer of rules. His basic nature actually made him a poor candidate as the conduit to Jermon—which involved breaking a lot of rules.
She spent the afternoon observing the operation and looking over information on the night crews. She’d identified four individuals, three men, one woman, in positions that might result in unobserved portal access. Two of those people were already on her suspect list, and she moved them to the top: Sherlee, the assembly line supervisor, and Niku, the transport chief. Neither had been friendly, but that alone wouldn’t have been significant if not for the other factors of access and background.
By the time she finished adding and crossing off names, she had fourteen left, including her top four suspects, four supervisors she didn’t suspect at all, and six line workers chosen at random to support her cover story. And maybe even give Seth and Rhyden management information to consider.
On her way out, she stopped at Olseon’s office and handed him the list of names. “I’d like to meet with the eight supervisors first—one at a time—and leave the workers for the following day.” She waited for his reaction to her two-day schedule, but he disappointed her.
“What time would you like to begin?” he asked woodenly.
“I’ll be here at nine. I hope you’ll have the tea on. I’ll bring a loaf of my mother’s homemade bread to share.” She gave him a last bright smile and left.
* * *
Rhyden’s schedule was tight with business meetings in New Orleans all day. Consequently, he’d arranged to meet Merik that evening to plan their next step. But he was too edgy to concentrate on trade contracts, and he cancelled the last two appointments. As happened too often recently, Esty was one of the things on his mind.
She’d moved home to Elvenrude, and her plan to interview guild workers under the guise of a survey seemed innocent enough, but he didn’t trust her to stay away from the rebels. Or for them to stay away from her. Ellyn was also back in the village. Who knew what those two would get into? And what about the unidentified men who’d waited outside Murielle’s? Would they bother Esty again now she was back in Elvenrude?
It was impossible to focus on business. Someone needed to keep an eye on her.
By four o’clock he was waiting in the woods outside the Lormarc Guild in Elvenrude when she left for the day. She looked cute in her winter cape and black hand muff.
He snorted in disgust. He shouldn’t be there. But he followed her home anyway until she was safely inside.
* * *
As Esty hurried toward the guild the next morning, she kept a close watch for Rhyden. He’d be wise not to take up surveillance for a living. She’d spotted him yesterday watching from the trees. And she lay awake late into the night, wondering why.
She’d been flattered at first, but further assessment led to the irritating belief he was checking up on her. As if she couldn’t take care of herself.
Esty set her chin, more determined than ever to prove him wrong. She opened the Lormarc guild’s front door and looked up to see one of her suspects, Sherlee, talking with Olseon on the upper balcony. The woman appeared upset. What was important enough that a low-level supervisor would consult directly with the guild manager?
She started toward the stairs. As soon as the pair noticed her, they broke off their conversation, and the woman hurried away. Curious.
“Wasn’t that Sherlee?” she asked when she reached the top of the stairs.
“Yes. She’s worried about the work she’ll be missing this morning.”
Uh-huh. And she brought her concern to the head man rather than her shift supervisor?
“Very conscientious of her. I’ll try not to keep her long.”
Olseon escorted Esty to a supply room on the first floor they’d converted for her use. Boxes and crates had been replaced with two tables and a half-dozen wooden chairs.
“Thank you. This will do nicely.”
“I hope activity outside your door won’t be distracting, but I placed you next to the front entrance to limit workplace disruptions caused by your inquiry.” Olseon’s words relayed a civil but not very subtle disapproval. He left without waiting for her reaction.
Sherlee waited at the round table in the center of the room. A second table held a teapot, cups, and small plates. Esty produced a loaf of gooseberry bread, placed a few slices on a plate, poured two cups of tea, and set them on the interview table. Then she took her time getting settled and arranging her files. All the while she surreptitiously studied the other woman.
The mid-forties supervisor was nervous. She clasped her hands in her lap, and her eyes followed Esty’s movements. Sherlee had made an effort to present a business-like appearance. Instead of yesterday’s long blonde curls, her hair was pulled into a tight bun and the faded jeans replaced with a tailored, blue top and skirt.
Esty introduced herself and cocked her head. “Why did you bypass your regular supervisor this morning?”
“Wha-at?” Sherlee stammered. “I don’t understand.”
“I saw you talking with Guild Master Olseon, and he said it was a work issue. Isn’t that unusual to go to the head manager? I only ask because I’m surveying employer/employee relationships. Is there a problem with your shift supervisor?”
“Um, no. He was busy.”
That was a bit lame. “You must find Olseon very approachable.”
“Yes, he’s very good.” Sherlee had composed her expression but kept her eyes averted. Simple nervousness? Office politics? An affair? Something more sinister?
Esty had a list of ten standard questions; only three were important: Who hired you? Have you or would you work with duchaen employees or supervisors? What suggestions do you have for present management?
The answers weren’t really as important as how people reacted. All of them had been hired by Jermon. She wanted to see their faces when they talked about him. On the other two questions, they’d tell her whatever they thought she wanted to hear. But again, she was hoping for reactions, not necessarily the truth.
Sherlee handled two out of three without blinking an eye but stumbled over the duchaen question. “I haven’t worked with any of…” She seemed to search for the right word. “…them. But whoever was assigned would be OK with me.”
Esty wasn’t sure what to make of it. Them? The woman was one of “them.” The blue tinge in the supervisor’s light brown eyes indicated there was an Elite Ryndel connection somewhere in her background, at least a generation or two ago. Esty stifled a sigh. Someone in her extended bloodline had abandoned a child. Maybe she’d projected her own discomfort onto Sherlee. She added a question mark beside the woman’s name and moved on.
Her other top suspect walked in just before the lunch break. Niku was a tall commoner, with broad shoulders and long blond hair. Women probably admired his handsome features as long as he kept the brief sneer hidden.
“You wanted to see me? What’s this about? I haven’t much time.”
On the offensive, huh?
“Have a seat, please.” She deliberately kept him waiting while she picked up her papers and pretended to read them. After two minutes passed, he shifted in his chair. She counted off another forty-five seconds in her head, then looked up.
“Are we ready?” She introduced herself and went through the list of questions, saving the important three until last.
He stumbled over the first two, giving short, vague answers, and frequently looking at the door.
Esty finally frowned at him. “Am I keeping you from something?”
He leaned back and patted his stomach. “Just thinking about lunch. We only get a short break.”
So close to insolence. And why?
She gave him a direct look. “Then let’s make this the final question. Lormarc has added a few duchaen workers since summer. Has that been a problem?”
&nbs
p; “Not for me.”
“Are you implying it has been for others?”
“Hey.” He lifted his hands as if pushing her away. “I didn’t say that. Even if it was true, I wouldn’t be naming names. I got no problem. Let’s leave it at that.”
Esty stood and walked to the door. She held it open and looked back at him. “That’s all for today. If we need to talk again, I’ll let you know.”
Hopefully not. She didn’t care for his slimy grin. On the other hand, he hadn’t said anything to move him up or down on the suspect list. His discomfort was obvious. He didn’t like being questioned…or he didn’t like her…or he resented the aristocracy. None of those meant he was the link to Jermon. But he could be.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Seth set down the phone and chuckled. New Orleans’ Guild Master Henre was entirely too delighted that Esty’s efforts in Elvenrude were annoying Dorth Olseon. Henre had dutifully passed on Olseon’s complaint regarding lost worker time, but Seth heard the amusement in his voice. The two Lormarc managers worked efficiently together, but no one watching their stiff interaction would suggest they were friends.
He stood and crossed to the coffee pot, refilling his mug. At a sharp rap on the door, he turned to see Prince Trystan. The Cyrilian monarch seemed harried.
“Coffee? You look like you could use it.”
Trystan made a face. “No thank you. Too bitter. But I’d welcome tea.”
Seth relayed the request to his secretary and motioned the prince to a seat. “What brings you to New Orleans so early?”
“I’ve studied the report of your world’s creation in the Chruthud Elvenrude, and read early accounts of Cyrilian history. I’ve concluded the formation process was nearly identical, and…I don’t believe our original obsidian was destroyed. It was taken away and lost or hidden.”
“So it might still be out there?” Seth leaned forward. “What makes you think so?”
“A lot of small things, but three main facts in particular…and assumptions about them. I discovered Cyrilia’s first palace was the center of the earthquake that destroyed it, making it possible, even probable, the vault holding the obsidian was broken open. I also learned our founding king did not perish in the quake but was murdered during the chaos and unrest afterward. I think he died defending the vault’s contents, and his murderers stole our version of the Heart of Ishka. And lastly, since the stone’s magic is not sustaining Cyrilia, it must have been carried through the portal to earth. Which means it’s still here…somewhere.”
“Couldn’t it simply have been destroyed in the quake?”
“I don’t think so.” Trystan’s face lit with conviction. “It’s mentioned in the days immediately afterward. Two references to Cyrilia’s core. What else could it be?”
“That complicates things,” Seth said, straightening. “Jermon doesn’t need to gather multiple pieces of obsidian of the right age and weight. He only needs to find the missing stone.” He stood and paced to the window. “Whether Jermon knows this or not, he’ll recognize the stone’s power if he finds it. It must radiate huge levels of magic.”
“Although it’s somehow been shielded,” Trystan cautioned. “If not, we’d all know where it was.”
“True, but no shield is perfect. We’ll feel the hidden power if we touch it.” Seth picked up his phone. “Let’s fill Kam in so she can alert our spotters and scouts to concentrate on larger pieces of obsidian, then we’ll seek an audience with King Seliwyn. He’s the only person who’s seen our source and can describe what we’re looking for.”
In less than an hour Trystan repeated his theory in King Seliwyn’s private audience chambers. Seliwyn listened without comment until the prince finished. “You bring greater hope for Cyrilia’s recovery, and yet the danger increases. Jermon only needs to make one lucky find.” He shook his head. “Your missing artifact may look much like our own. One of the sacred books refers to the Heart of Ishka as ‘two of one.’ Ours is a black statue carved in the shape of a young boy’s head with hair resembling twisted twigs.”
He pinched his chin for a moment, then continued. “Let’s pray we find it first. The mystics finally confirmed what Murielle told you.” He gave a disgusted grumble in his throat. “They claim the possibility of Jermon obtaining the correct obsidian to create anti-magic is so remote they did not want to alarm anyone by mentioning it. But your theory makes the possibility far from remote.”
“As you said, it depends on who finds it first,” Seth said. “The description will help. We’ll get it out to our people as quickly as possible.”
“God speed.” The king appeared older, more discouraged than Seth had seen before. “I’ll start planning for our evacuation. If Jermon gains control of our guild portals, I’ll open the remaining portals so as many people as possible can escape to earth. I know.” He lifted a hand to stave off objections. “The earth may be taken too, but in case it isn’t…”
“Evacuation? Father, Trystan. What is happening?” The king’s twenty-two-year-old daughter Theanne stood in a side doorway. She hurried toward them, fright filling her silver-gray eyes and marring her delicate features with lines of concern. “Please, somebody tell me.”
“Annie, my dearest.” The king folded his only child in his arms and looked over her head at Trystan, shaking his head. “It is only a precaution. You must not upset yourself.”
She twisted her head and appealed to Trystan. “Tell me.”
“Trystan.” The king’s voice held a warning.
The prince frowned and cast Seliwyn an unreadable look. “There’s been a bit of trouble, but nothing we can’t handle.”
Theanne pulled out of her father’s arms and came to stand in front of Trystan. “It’s not like you to lie to me,” she said softly. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s a long story, but the rogues elves are looking for a powerful artifact. It could pose a danger to Elvenrude.”
She glanced at her father and returned to Trystan. “It must be very serious if you’re talking evacuation. What exactly is this danger?”
Trystan sighed. “The possibility of a worldwide explosion.”
Her eyes widened, but to her credit, she didn’t cry out. “Then you have to stop them.”
A hint of a smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “We’re trying. It’s not that easy.”
While Seliwyn and Trystan continued to talk with the princess, Seth slipped quietly from the room and returned to New Orleans.
He found Kam studying the desk computer’s screen with her head cocked to one side. His lips curved. Just seeing her lifted his spirits. He cleared his throat, and she glanced up.
“What did the king say? Did he tell you what it looks like? I’ve found a couple of pieces to consider.”
Seth relayed the conversation about the Heart of Ishka. “Of course, we don’t know that’s what the Cyrilian piece looks like, but ‘two of one’ is suggestive.”
“So another statue.” She turned back to the computer screen. “That eliminates one of these, but there is a possible match or something just as dangerous in the Egyptian Museum in Cairo. It’s posted on their social media sites, so Jermon will have picked up on it too by now.”
She brought up the web page. It was a photo of a table of artifacts and an article on the new Grand Egyptian Museum not yet open. “They’re starting to catalogue artifacts from the basement storage for eventual transfer to the new facility in Giza. These items were just found in a crate.” She clicked on the photo. “Look at the statue on the back row. The photo caption identifies it as obsidian.”
Seth scrutinized the object on the screen. “It’s definitely a head of some kind and looks about the right size.” He jerked his head up and stared at her. “By the gods, Kam. This could be the missing piece. Even if it’s not, it’s large enough to attract Jermon and Dreysel. But why have they ignored the Cairo museum this long?”
“They haven’t.” She picked up one of her lists. “Several obsidian tools on display
were taken two months ago. But this artifact,” she pointed at the screen, “was still in storage. I’ve heard the basement in the old museum contains so many boxes and stacks of relics no one knows what’s there.”
“When was the photo posted?”
“A few hours ago. I have obsidian set as a web search alert.”
“Unless he’s already in the region, Jermon will have to book a flight to get there. That should give us a few extra hours.” Seth checked the time on the computer screen. Nearly one o’clock. “What time is it in Cairo?”
She clicked on the keyboard. “Seven fifty-four in the evening.” She returned to the museum page. “The exhibits closed to the public an hour ago.”
“We should hurry. Night would be the best time to search.”
“I have a spotter in Cairo. I’ll send him to watch the building until we arrive.” Kam stood. “Maybe this time we can be waiting for Jermon’s renegades instead of one step behind.”
* * *
After eating an apple and some of her mother’s bread for lunch, Esty squirmed in her seat, resigned to a long afternoon of useless interviews in order to maintain her cover. She didn’t anticipate learning much from the other guild supervisors, but maybe they’d surprise her.
When the door abruptly opened, she expected to see the acquisitions supervisor, her next scheduled interviewee.
But Rhyden strode in, his face set in grim lines. He crossed the room in two strides and pulled her out of her chair. “We’re leaving. Now.”
She hung back. “What’s the matter with you? Are you angry?”
“No, but don’t argue with me. I’m taking you home, if I have to carry you.” He lowered his voice to a tense whisper. “Someone’s taken Murielle.”