by Cat Adams
So that’s why Mumbai was being so casual with him—taking him away from the pomp of the courts and the fawning of his staff. He needed help to be seen as the king, with all the knowledge of the world—and was willing to get that information however he had to. Including plying the son of his old friend with flattery.
Yet, even Tal’s own knowledge was stolen, taken from the scrolls entrusted to Mila. And there had been hundreds of scrolls in the secret garden, likely revealing the entire history of the soul-conjurer’s guild. Trust me. The words seemed to echo in his head … burn through his chest. She claimed to trust him and had proved that trust with the sweat of her brow. Could he do any less? Was he willing to betray her trust by offering up stolen knowledge as though his own?
He shook his head. He couldn’t take Mumbai to Viktor’s home. But he could reveal the information he had so far. “I will tell you what I know, on the condition that the knowledge not be attributed to me … because it’s not truly mine.”
King Mumbai stood and brushed off the front of his golden robe. “Your father had that same humility inside … an odd sort of ethics which was cold as steel, and hot as fire when betrayed. He couldn’t be bought, nor bullied. It made him a valuable advisor, and worth the rather frequent bruising of my ego. I see in your eyes and stance you inherited that. I don’t know if you’re his magic equal, but he could … well, let’s say I ruled over my warriors because he had no desire to lead.”
It was fascinating to hear his father spoken of this way. He’d had no clue. And whether Tal could live up to the king’s memories of the man—time would tell.
He explained what he’d seen of the egg dying process, remembering to call them pysanka, as Mila had done … but being careful not to mention her by name. He didn’t want the king to suddenly pay her a visit in a fit of frustration, nor endanger her to Mumbai’s court, since he wasn’t certain they could be trusted. “And once the eggs are fully dyed, they can house magic inside to be used by any crafter.” He explained what he’d seen of the egg on the mantel and how his focus stone had filled itself without aid. “And so I believe it’s Vegre’s goal to create large masses of the pysanky to aid him in his conquest of the overworld.”
Mumbai was listening … truly listening, and trying to work things out in his head. He tapped his jaw with one wide finger and began to walk around, examining the bits of shell scattered around the room. “This wasn’t all achieved in two days. Those people were nearly starving. What I’m hearing is that Vegrellion has somehow been able to command his people to capture the Parask and force their labor from within the walls of Rohm.”
That furrowed Tal’s brow. “No, Majesty. I’m telling you that Vegre hasn’t been in Rohm, or has been getting in and out at will. I’m betting it’s been at least two years, since he formed Demeter’s Children.”
The reaction was enough to tell him that the king had no idea about that aspect of Vegre’s plan. It made him sigh. “You didn’t speak with Lady Rockwell directly, did you?” When the king shook his head, Tal was forced to break the bad news. “I fear you’ve a traitor close to your throne, Majesty … or at least someone who’s been bewitched.”
Mumbai frowned and then waved a hand. A pair of chairs appeared—thick—cushioned but simply crafted of wood that seemed right at home among the crumbling stones. “Then perhaps you should start at the beginning.”
CHAPTER 18
“And that is the private door to the fire escape for our Presidential Suite, where Mr. Popolous is staying.” Jean-Paul’s second, Denise, pointed at a sturdy fire door, up the final flight of cement stairs. Mila grabbed the handrail and twisted so she could see the red emergency bar with the words DOOR OPENS OUT printed in bold letters. It was handy information, because the fire stairs accessed every floor. It would make it easier to move around if she need to track or escape from Vegre the night of the party. But if the door only opened out—
“What if, for example, a fire started in the basement. Sending the top floors down could kill people. Is there guest access to the roof for helicopters or ladder trucks to pick them up?”
She nodded professionally. It was actually nice to be taking this tour with Denise. Jean-Paul would be rolling his eyes at her paranoia. “Absolutely. Right this way.”
Denise spun around and tripped down the stairs past Mila and Candy. Fortunately. the woman didn’t realize Candy didn’t work for the firm, so she hadn’t asked a single question about her following along, taking notes when Mila pointed to her. She was actually starting to hope that Candy really was taking notes. It was a complicated building, for the small size.
Denise had just walked through the fire door on the fifth floor and Mila was about to follow when Candy tapped her on the shoulder. “Um … is that what I think it is?”
She turned her head and followed Candy’s finger, but couldn’t see into the dark space under the stairs where she was pointing. So she stepped up to where her friend was standing and peered into the spot. “Is that a pysanka back in there?”
It was. She motioned down to the door. “Go block that door with your boot and pretend it’s stuck for a minute.” Candy nodded hurriedly and sprinted down, bracing her body against the metal just as Denise started to open it to find out what was keeping them.
“It’s stuck!” She shouted the words at the assistant concierge and peered through the glass. She rattled the handle and tugged while adding her knee to her weight against the door. Turning her head, she whispered back. “Hurry up! She’s stronger than she looks.”
Mila wrapped one arm around the handrail and swung wide into space. The little pysanka was crudely drawn, a lot like the ones she’d made when she was just a child. It seemed to be a mage egg, and an overkill one at that. Multiple interpretations of the sun and stars covered the face, along with jagged saw patterns around the top and base which weren’t anywhere close to even or straight. Only red and black had been used for some reason, which wasn’t very typical.
“Mila—” Candy’s voice pulled her out of her inspection. Should she take it along or leave it here? If Vegre had placed it there, he might come back to look for it. On the other hand, it could be vital to learn how they were crafting them. She tucked it in her pocket. If they spotted any more of them, she’d leave them, but mark the locations to come back and destroy later.
Because that’s something she could do. If his plan was to put eggs all over the hotel to draw the magic from, then the more of them she destroyed, the less he’d have to work with. Maybe she could even stop the whole process if she broke enough of them.
She caught Candy’s attention and mouthed, “Okay.” Candy put on her best, most fierce face and leaned back with all her might, simultaneously releasing her weight from the door. Denise burst through the entry and slammed into Candy and only Candy’s grip on the knob prevented them from bouncing down the next flight of stairs.
Denise’s voice was horrified. “I am so sorry! I’ll have maintenance look at this door immediately.” In fact, she pulled a black radio from her back pocket and did just that. While Mila felt a little bad about the extra work they’d probably go to trying to fix a problem that didn’t exist, it had been worth it. She knew more about what he was planning and she had been right. There was no reason at all why there’d be a pysanka in the stairwell, and it had only been here for a day or two. Someone would have spotted it during a regular inspection, just like Candy did.
Now that they knew what they were looking for, they spotted six more eggs hidden around the hotel. It was like an Easter hunt. They were tucked into little-used spots—from the top of the furnace to the center of an artificial flower arrangement and even wound into the garland that still decorated the bannister. Someone had been pretty darned creative. Once or twice she’d looked over at Candy’s pad to verify that she’d later be able to follow the directions to the eggs.
But despite looking in every room she could, on every floor, she still couldn’t figure out the burning question—why here?
In the long run, she knew it didn’t really matter. One place was as good as any other for a catastrophe. It would just be nice to know if there’s something I’m missing … some tiny detail that would make the difference in figuring this out.
And then the tiny detail walked in the door, while they were standing at the top of the grand staircase on the second floor.
Sela walked across the lobby, dressed in a blue designer pantsuit. On each side of her was one of the Guilders she remembered from being in Tal’s head at the prison. Following behind nervously were several people who were staring at the decorations as though they’d never seen a hotel.
And maybe they haven’t. For one of the entourage was Tal’s mother, Sybil. Mila stepped back abruptly and looked up as though admiring something. But the move put her behind a large potted tree, hidden from the lobby. Candy stared at her oddly until Mila pointed down. Then Candy likewise dove behind the tree, but not with nearly the subtlety. “Is there a problem?” Denise looked all around her, probably still spooked from the sticking fire door.
“I was just admiring the stained glass. The sun’s not so bright back here.”
Denise nodded, pleased and proud. “Oh yes. That’s our pride and joy. The original owner had—”
While Denise was talking and pointing up, Candy whispered in her ear. “That was my client down there with Sela. The one who ordered the eggs—Terry Cardon.”
Why was she not surprised? But then Denise’s voice cut in again. “—designed and made by the finest craftsmen in England and flown here in pieces to put together. At night we even backlight it so people can see the intricate design.”
The phrasing actually made Mila look at the window. She really did have a good vantage from this location and stared up at it. The center of the hotel was open all the way to the roof, where the stained-glass skylight sparkled color across the rich gold-and-blue carpeting in the lobby. Made by the finest craftsmen in England. But what if it was made by the finest crafters, instead?
Denise looked down over the railing and pointed. “Oh, look. You were asking earlier who’d checked in. That’s Mrs. Pierce right there. Would you like me to introduce you?”
She and Candy looked at each other with raised brows. “Mrs. Pierce? I hadn’t heard Veg … that is, David had married.” She waved it off with what she hoped was a nonchalant expression. “No, that’s okay. We really need to get back and she looks busy with all those people. I’ll meet her at the party tomorrow.” She held out her hand. “Thank you so much for your help today. I’ll let Jean-Paul know how much I appreciated your knowledge of the hotel.”
As expected, Denise beamed and shook her hand amiably. Now the only trick was getting out of the hotel without Sela seeing. It was Candy who came to the rescue.
“Any chance we can take the elevator down, Mila? My feet are killing me from climbing those concrete stairs in these heels.” She bent down to rub one ankle just for good measure. Mila could have kissed her!
“If you’d like to take the service elevator, it comes out right next to the garage, so you won’t have to walk all the way around the block. It’s right over there. Let me unlock it for you.” Ah … wonderful, helpful Denise. And she didn’t even realize just how helpful she’d been. It was definitely worth talking her up to her boss—if she still had a place to work come next week.
Once they were settled in the front seat of the SUV again, Mila let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “So what do you think?”
Candy started the engine and backed out of the parking space so fast she nearly hit the car behind them. “I think we were lucky to get out of there in one piece. But I won’t feel better until there’s a few miles between us and Sela.” Mila couldn’t agree more, so she just sat back to let Candy take care of the driving. She pulled the egg from her pocket and looked at it in the bright sunshine that came through the windshield. There was something familiar about the design, but she’d be damned if she could remember what.
“I also think you were lucky I was in there with you.” Candy’s voice was laced with enough smug satisfaction to choke on, but Mila could hardly blame her.
“True. You found the pysanka. I didn’t even notice it. And you managed to get us into the staff elevator so Sela didn’t spot us. Good job on both counts. Now, if you don’t have any plans, I need to make a couple of stops. Otherwise, run me home so I can grab my car.”
“Oh, no. I’m sticking to you like glue. I’m out a thousand bucks with no eggs to give the client. And I’ll just bet you’ve already given a chunk to the bank. Haven’t you?”
Mila winced and nodded, but then a thought occurred to her and it made her laugh. Candy turned her head briefly in acknowledgment before going back to watch traffic. “Technically speaking, I’m out of the loop. I made the eggs. Your client got the eggs. We both know darned well they’re hidden somewhere in that hotel. We just didn’t have enough time to search.”
Candy let out a frustrated breath, followed by a snort. “Well doesn’t that just bite. But you’re right. I can’t blame you when the client stole them from you so he wouldn’t have to pay me. What really sucks is I can’t even file with my insurance because who’d believe me?”
Mila reached over to touch her friend’s hand. “Candy. I’m kidding. Of course I’ll get the money back to you. But could it at least wait until payday? That’s just next week. Of course, that’s provided I’ve still got a job then … and there’s a next week at all.”
“Point, that.” She flipped her fingers in the air, still holding onto the steering wheel with her thumbs. “So, where to next?
“We need to stop at that weird candle shop on Third Street we found on Halloween. Remember it?” Then she allowed herself to smile, but it wasn’t a friendly one. It made Candy visibly shiver. “After that, I think it’s time I made damned sure nobody—human or Guilder—gets in my house unless I want them to.”
CHAPTER 19
The news that Demeter’s Children was being led by Vegre sent shock waves through the O.P.A. office. Nearly every agent knew someone who had converted and it was growing more difficult to keep the news quiet.
King Mumbai had returned to Shambala later in the day and was making all his reserve magic available to the O.P.A. He’d even persuaded the other kings to do the same. While few knew what Tal had actually said to the king, the other agents and commanders were certainly treating him with kid gloves.
Even Henry Ordos, who had never been particularly friendly, apologized openly. “No offense, Tal—yeah? It’s just that Sommersby made it sound like there was such strong evidence against you. You do understand, don’t you?”
Both Alexy and Kris had snorted at the idea Henry was really sorry. It was more likely he was embarrassed at being one of Tal’s leading detractors, now that he was a favorite of a king. When there was a spare moment after Mumbai left, Tal sat down and told the pair what had happened, especially the events after the chairs appeared from thin air. That part had been interesting because Tal had never known a Guilder to be able to move matter. It was one thing to craft items for use, but another thing entirely to move them without touching.
“He listened to the whole story. And he asked some very pointed questions about what could be proved versus what was mere speculation. But he seemed to believe me.”
Unfortunately, much of what Mila believed fell into the speculation category and Mumbai couldn’t be persuaded to send even a single man to Denver. “He also shared the evidence his own men found at the guild house. I can’t say that I blame him for believing there’s a threat to the residence of the queen.” It was certainly compelling and even Tal was swayed.
“I’m sorry, Tal, but I have to agree.” Kris really did look sorry. “The evidence is just too strong. I can’t reveal what I know, but trust me. It’s compelling.”
He shook his head in frustration. “Anyway, that’s when he gated us both right back to the center of the lunch room.”
If Tal had thought th
e king’s first appearance had raised eyebrows, showing up midsentence in a pair of chairs was going to be the talk of the office for months to come.
Alexy let out a slow whistle. “That was something all right. And what about that communication viewer he made from a tree? I mean, I can talk through soil, but to make a plant into a viewing gate? Wow.” Tal nodded. He distinctly remembered when the king stood and it was a good thing he followed suit, because the chairs disappeared before he had fully unbent his legs. Mumbai’s crown started to glow again but this time nobody was being forced to kneel or bow. It was as if he could put aside such trivialities in times of need.
The potted tree in the corner of the room had indeed become a makeshift communication viewer. Leaves wove together at the touch of his finger, and then the image of a room filled with flowering vines and leaves appeared. “Lady Rockwell, may I speak with you?”
Dareen rushed to whatever in the room was providing the image of the king and dropped to both knees. She had cleaned up and was now dressed in the traditional golden robes of Shambala. She’d styled her hair in a complicated pattern of braids with golden leaves and flowers woven in that was quite beautiful. “Your Highness! Long may ye reign.”
He chuckled, and this time the rest of the agents got to experience the rumbling of the ground underfoot. Even the dirtdogs like Alexy seemed impressed, so it must not be a common thing. “The last time you said that to me, Dareen, was the day I wed Krystella. And you were laughing at the time, because you knew I would never reign a single day thereafter in my home.”
Her eyes twinkled but she didn’t even crack a smile. “I was very clear when you asked me whether I thought Stella was strong-willed enough to be queen. Was I wrong?”