The warlord nodded and started walking towards the main gate, Duke beside him with an odd look in his eye.
Ticca intercepted and fell into step with them. “If you’re going out, I’m going with you.”
Duke looked at her. “Ticca, I would rather you stayed here.”
She was about to answer when the air was split by a shrill voice that warbled. “Dukie, there you are!”
Both Duke and the warlord came to an abrupt halt inside the entrance as a gaunt woman in a layered dress of bright red silk skipped past the stunned gate guards. She had her long, silver hair up in a dramatic bun with bows and some golden hair clips, which sported numerous diamonds that sparkled in the midday sun. Her shallow face held a grandmotherly smile as she hugged Duke. “It’s about time I caught up with you.” Duke was grinding his teeth at the sound of her voice. “You have been too busy of late. Now, who is this handsome gentleman?” She turned on the warlord like a lioness about to take down prey, and stepped up to him breathing deeply, like a school girl meeting her heartthrob. She held her right hand out in greeting.
“Uh…” was all Duke managed to get out.
The warlord took her hand and bowed, kissing the proffered hand. “I am a simple merchant, lady…”
She smiled and batted her eyelashes at the warlord. “Duchess Yillion Vransril Olmanna at your service, you handsome rascal. Don’t try to pull the wool over my eyes. You are a military man, if ever I saw one. But don’t worry. Your cover is safe with me.” Then she looked coyly at Duke. “That is, so long as you, your officers, and Dukie join me for tea, this very instant. My chef has prepared the most delicious shaved ice treat you could imagine on this hot day. I have some cool sun tea all ready. I was just popping over to invite Dukie here,” then her eyes landed on Ticca, who was trying to find a way to hide behind Duke, “and of course you, too, Ticca, my darling. You are looking too thin. You really should eat more.”
The duchess pirouetted on the spot, looping her arms into both the warlord’s arm and Duke’s front leg, as if being escorted by the two of them. “Now, come along! That ice will melt soon in all this heat.” With that, she marched the stunned men and Duke to her residence next door. Seeing no way out, Ticca followed behind.
The tea was delicious, the shaved ice cooling, and somehow, that softened the duchess’s voice. A mark and a half passed, during which time the duchess chatted about everything from bakery services to the hunting practices of foreign dignitaries. Ticca wasn’t sure, but she thought the warlord and his men were as lost as Duke was on how to extract themselves from this chatty woman. As near as she could tell, their company had said, perhaps, a hundred words in total, compared to the duchess’s tens of thousands. In sheer numbers, the duchess was the clear victor.
Standing inside their own property, Duke and Ticca came to their senses. The warlord and his party beat a hasty retreat down the street as she watched. Ticca muffled her giggle. A tactically wise maneuver. That is the third time I have lost a mark or two to her. Lady, help me. I think I am starting to like the duchess.
Duke shook his head. “Her voice is the most annoying thing I have ever encountered. And that includes passing out drunk on an ant hill!” He huffed and shook his head. “Ticca, did we let anything slip?”
She thought about it. “I don’t think so, but most of that tea was mesmerizing because of her chatter. Still, the shaved ice was good.”
Duke licked his lips. “Yes, it was, at that. You know, if she feeds me like that every time, I might put up with a visit once a week. But I wish she would drop her voice an octave.”
Ticca laughed, as did Duke.
Duke looked around. “I think I’ll make an inspection of the preparations outside of town. Do you want to join?”
She shook her head and glanced at the tower. “No. Lebuin said there was something he wanted to show me before we got kidnapped. It’s your army, so you take care of that mess.” She looked at him. “About that back-up team you were going to leave behind; we need to discuss that. Over dinner?”
Duke gave her a grin. “I’ll be glad to listen to your well-thought-out argument against a back-up team. In the meantime, Elades has made a sound recommendation which we can then approve.” He leapt back out the gate, giving her no time to react.
Ticca called after the wolf, “Duke!” Even she could hear the whine in her voice. Resisting the urge to stamp, she marched towards the big tent’s entrance.
Inside the tent, forty sweating workers were continuing to dig and hammer out the burned foundation of the old house. A respectable ten-foot-deep hole was present and expanding. The rubble was being sifted and the dirt was being collected in an expanding pile behind the tent. The broken masonry was also stacked in a pile in front of the tent, where some carters were making regular passes to collect and take it someplace outside of town.
Ticca inspected the hole, which did not have a dirt floor. Ten feet below the ground level, there was a white, marble-like surface. Three Daggers were standing off to the side, overseeing the workers. She nodded to them. “Coxom, anything new here?”
The heavily muscled Dagger shook his head. “No, Sir.”
She took another look at the glossy surface. Duke insisted that the new foundation be put in this deep. He knew that, whatever that is, was there. It’s annoying, the way he doesn’t share information. Nodding to the guards, she moved along the front edge of the tent, to the far end of the hole, and then stepped through the canvas partition that cut off the left third of the tent from the open area in the center. The interior of the tent had two wings on the left and right that consisted of a series of canvas walls that made a labyrinth of rooms and halls, which would be for the performing artists, if the tent was being used for the purpose it was designed for.
She walked through the labyrinth to the tower door. Pausing to be sure no one was near, she slid the lock sliders into position and pulled the key out as the keyhole snapped open. Taking another look around, ensuring she was still alone, she slipped the key into the lock and opened the door. She jumped into the tower and closed the door as quietly as she could. Once the door was closed, she knew there was no chance of anyone hearing. Duke had tested the tower to see if it was soundproof. They had discovered that the tower had amazing properties. It was proof even against Duke’s exceptional hearing. Yet, from inside the tower, you could hear things outside as expected.
Duke had then made an extensive security check of the tower, declaring it better than he ever imagined. Even Duke was surprised to learn that the windows never revealed anything inside. From the interior, the windows were so transparent as to be nearly invisible, but from the outside, they provided a view of a simple room of one type or another. Even more interesting was that the rooms changed light and look to match the time of day and weather, never appearing lit at night. Once inside the tower, one could use as bright a light and work as loudly as needed. To the outside observers, the tower was always empty and quiet.
She explored the tower, calling out for Lebuin before finding him on the third floor. His voice came from one of the more upsetting rooms they had found. She stepped up to the door and saw Lebuin was on his knees with a table next to him. He had his head in the far corner, under the burned remains of a side table. On the small table was a collection of bits of melted or charred relics from the room. The floor had a set of lines scraped into the ashes from the table’s legs, as well as a line of debris piles arrayed behind Lebuin’s progress through the room. He had been at this since early that morning, as the table trail covered almost every inch of the room, in a circular search pattern. All of the destroyed furnishings, including the nearly-destroyed work bench, had been dusted clean and mostly reassembled, as well as could be expected.
Well, this explains why he was so dusty when he grabbed Duke and me earlier with Illa’s warning about the warlord. I thought he had been poking around in the hole that will be the foundation of his new home someday. “What are you doing?”
Le
buin looked up, his face sweating from the work he had been doing and smudged with ashes from the floor, where he had wiped the sweat away with his dirty hands. “I finished taking an inventory of the other labs. I’m sure this room was Magus Vestul’s study and workroom.”
Leaning against the door jamb, she inspected the clean and undamaged wood door. “Okay, so?”
Lebuin gave her a look that indicated she should be paying more attention. “This wasn’t an accident, as Duke speculated.”
That got her attention. She crouched down, looking at the fine layer of ashes on the floor. “Duke said anything going wrong with time magics resulted in massive explosions and fires. So what makes you think this wasn’t the accident that convinced Magus Vestul to stop and turn himself in to Duke?”
Lebuin waved a hand at the table of relics. “First off, that other study on the second floor is a ruse. There is nothing in there of any importance. I bet Magus Vestul pretended it was his office when he brought anyone in here. Everything about this place tells me about how Vestul thought. It is layered. Each defense and level has a subtle ruse or deflection built into it. In order to understand the real meaning or use requires not being deflected by the ruses.”
Ticca thought about it, and it sounded reasonable. “Okay, and so?”
“So he didn’t have an accident that destroyed this room.” Lebuin stood and gestured to the burned and smashed remains of the workbench, which appeared to be the center of some huge explosion. “All this is camouflage.” He picked up an ornately worked and slightly melted chunk of silver. “I admit I didn’t figure this out until I found this.” He handed it to her.
She looked at it, but it only took her a few seconds to determine that it pulled apart into two pieces, one of which was a section of the silver key they had found on entering the tower. Lebuin was smirking.
“That was what told me this was no accident. He left it where I’d find it. It was large enough and pretty enough to make me curious to determine what it was a part of. As soon as I realized it was a fake relic, I knew what I needed to do next.” He indicated his search trail. “Take a look at this.” He pointed at a set of burned paper scraps.
She walked over and looked at the papers on the table. They were from different books and places, as each was a different kind of paper. They were scraps with burned edges and writing in various-colored inks. Confused, she looked at Lebuin, who was smiling like he had won some prize.
“I don’t get it.”
Lebuin smiled wider and handed her a burned scrap of paper with a geometric pattern on it. “I found this by the door.”
Sighing, she shook her head. “All right, I’ll admit it. You’re a smart wizard. Get to the point.”
He pointed back at the table, and suddenly, the scraps of paper started moving around. As they moved, she saw that despite the fact that they were all supposedly scraps torn and blown apart, they were geometric, with only minorly rough edges. As she watched, her admiration for Lebuin’s ability to assemble data went up several notches. The scraps, under Lebuin’s magics, arranged themselves in the pattern of the geometric design he had shown her. When they stopped moving, they formed a letter. She read it in disbelief.
‘Lebuin, in every prior attempt, we were stopped completely and effectively without ever discovering who was behind our destruction. I am sure there is a traitor or two deeply implanted in our groups. My notes are safe and sealed using magics Argos would be shocked to see used again. My notes are the bait. You must find a way to secure them without becoming a primary target again. If you do open them, I caution you to take your time continuing my work.’
She felt her pulse quicken and looked at Lebuin with a smirk. “We are ahead of them this time, aren’t we?”
The scraps of paper floated up and ignited. Lebuin picked up the table and indicated the door. She walked with him as he carried the table. As Lebuin closed the door, she saw the ash piles jump into the air in a whirlwind of debris.
Lebuin finished closing the door, turned, and nodded to her. Pointing at her pouch, his eyes smiled as much as his mouth. “Yes, we are. There has to be more to those notes, but we have them, and that means they don’t.” He then looked down at himself and frowned. “I wish he had made this less dirty work.”
Warlord Eshra-Zunia allowed a hint of a frown to show on her face as she reviewed the first report. Not a single operative, warrior, or trace of the Llino Outpost remains. Duke even had the houses burned to ash. She looked up at the dusty man and woman standing at attention. She put the first report down and picked up the second one, reading it. Ossa-Ulla took Runa-Illa from the observation outpost and left with orders to burn Magus Vestul’s house, and then proceed to Rhini Wood to learn the truth about Ticca. Warlord Maru-Ashua said that the Gods had killed Ossa-Ulla and Runa-Illa; Ossa-Ulla only had time to communicate their destruction before the end.
“Your reports are complete. Return to your duties.”
The two officers saluted her, spun, and were halfway to the exit when the doors swung open, slamming into the mounted armor on each side. She smirked, remembering how much she had enjoyed doing that. It was most dramatic. However, at that point, she was warlord, which meant her second, the only person who would dare do that, had something critical. She stood from her throne, looking at the figure in the doorway. From the shadowy silhouette, she could tell that the person who had thrown the doors open was not her second. Her two officers took a momentary look at whomever it was before calling out, startled, and falling to the floor, prostrating themselves before the intruder.
The intruder stepped authoritatively into the room. His silhouette resolved itself into a tall, muscular warrior, wearing grey and black armor which flared dramatically from his heavy shoulders. His head was held tall with long, silky, black hair pulled back into a ponytail. His violet eyes glanced at the prostrated officers and then rose to her, as a charming smile grew on his pale, silvery face. “Eshra-Zunia, I received your message.” His voice was deep, sending a quiver down her spine.
Her heart raced as her thoughts spun out of control. He’s here! Oh, Lords, he must be even more upset than we guessed. She threw herself to her knees, drawing her odassi and holding them out flat at a forty-five-degree angle, forming a cross before the Grand Warlord. “MY LORD, I AM YOURS TO COMMAND.”
Shar-Lumen stepped over the prostrated officers, to stand in front of her, his steps a mere whisper of air. He ran his fingers down the edges of her odassi. As his fingers traced her blades, she could swear she felt them running down the length of her body. She felt him press down at the apex of the cross formed by the two blades. She used all her strength to keep them from dipping. As his pressure grew heavier, she drew power from the odassi to give her the strength needed to keep them steady. Without warning, the pressure stopped and her muscles relaxed, preventing the blades from springing up.
Eshra-Zunia felt his calloused hand lifting her chin. She hadn’t realized she had closed her eyes. Opening her eyes, she still knelt before him with her blades forming the proper cross. Her head was up, held by his hand, as she looked upon his face, but this time much closer than she ever dreamed she’d be. He was as beautiful as she remembered from her childhood when she had dreamed, as all the girls, of rekindling his love. He had perfect lines and a beardless, smooth-skinned face that was the most handsome she had ever seen, despite being a silvery hue. He nodded and then straightened back up. Stepping back a half step, he drew one of his odassi. It was a sparkling, mirrored blade with a clean bone hilt and golden cross-guard. He brought his blade down onto the apex of her crossed blades. When they touched, the maker’s marks on the bands of all three blades flared gold.
“I accept your service. Rise, Warlord.”
She stood and sheathed her blades.
Shar-Lumen sheathed his own blade, and as his hand came back from the hilt, it held a familiar, bloody roll of parchment clenched in his fist. “Warlord, you will order all outposts in your domain to send every warrior here
within three cycles, except the minimum needed to maintain essential duties.” His other hand produced a large ruby, set in a golden stand, which he handed to her. “When this glows, you will have exactly fifteen minutes to assemble the warriors, in proper ranks, in the practice field facing north. Several portals will open on the north central target. You will have five minutes to have all warriors through them. Have your strongest warriors lead to push back any resistance, and allow room for all to get through. Once through the portal, everyone not Nhia-Samri is to be killed. If the Assembly approves this action, we will level Gracia.” He waved the bloody parchment at her in emphasis. “Do you understand?”
He intends to attack the Assembly! She nodded, not letting any of her emotions play on her face. His piercing eyes bore into her. He nodded and turned, putting the parchment back into his cloak. Without another word, he strode out of the room, and the doors closed of their own accord with a soft thunk.
Eshra-Zunia let her breath out slowly and counted to twenty to steady her nerves. Looking at the officers on the floor, she realized they were not going to get any rest yet.
“Stand up. You heard the orders. Move it. Assemble our fastest messengers. I will brief all at the stables in thirty minutes.” They needed no further incentive. Both standing, they rushed to the door, except the officer who was reaching for it remembered who had just left by that route. His hand froze and he glanced back. Eshra-Zunia placed her hand on the hilt of her odassi and projected impatience. His hand moved, opening the door on the long and empty hall beyond. Both officers glanced at it before racing down the hall at full speed.
Duke will be there with an army. A shudder passed through her. She stood as tall as she could. Grabbing her odassi hilts, she strode out of the room. We… I will not fail.
CHAPTER 7
NEVER GIVE UP
Thread Strands (Golden Threads Trilogy) Page 17