Assassin's Bond (Chains of Honor, Book 3)

by Lindsay Buroker

  “I’m guessing she’s irked with her son right now. We—I—kept her from acquiring the lodestone for whoever hired her to get it. And we wrecked a lot of her ships along the way.”

  “I have limited funds, and I don’t have the authority to promise Turgonian money from the army coffers.”

  “I doubt a pirate would take a promise anyway,” Yanko said.

  “I have a purse for my needs as a traveling diplomat,” Tynlee said, “but I doubt it would be enough to hire a fleet.”

  “We’re not using your money for this scheme,” Dak said.

  Tynlee arched her eyebrows. “You wouldn’t take the money of the person you kidnapped?”

  “No.”

  “How much can you offer?” Yanko asked her. “Maybe I could throw in Sun Dragon’s scimitar. I haven’t had a chance to explore its magical abilities yet, but I’m sure it’s valuable.” He didn’t mention the thieves who’d been willing to murder him to steal it.

  “Perhaps two hundred and fifty zekris.”

  It was a lot to Yanko, but he knew it wouldn’t go far when it came to paying a fleet of pirates.

  Dak and Tynlee were both watching him expectantly.

  Yanko let out a slow breath, daunted by the idea of contacting his mother, but they were right. There was no point in rescuing prisoners if they had no way to get them off that island.

  “I’ll try,” Yanko said.

  “The communications orb is in the captain’s cabin. I’ll let him know to expect you.” Tynlee’s mouth had a dubious twist to it, but she touched his shoulder encouragingly before heading belowdecks.

  Dak spotted Professor Hawkcrest coming up on deck, gave Yanko a few parting words, and headed over to talk to him. Hawkcrest listened, then lifted his arms and gesticulated expansively. Yanko didn’t know if they were talking about new Turgonian engine technology or possible methods for breaking prisoners out of an impregnable island jail.

  As Yanko headed for the steps, Arayevo also came up on deck.

  “Good morning, Yanko. I hear the travel plans have been finalized for our prison break.” Her eyes gleamed, as if she had no memory of how his last prison break had gone.

  “Yes. If I can convince my mother to help us.”

  She blinked. “Oh? Do you think she will?”

  “No.”

  She laughed shortly. “Well, if she does, will you introduce me to her this time?”

  Yanko hesitated, imagining her running off to join his mother’s fleet. That would be even worse than her going back to Minark.

  “Please, Yanko? I’ve longed to meet her for such a long time. She’s so tough and fierce and goes everywhere and does whatever she wants.”

  Including killing people, Yanko thought, but he kept the words to himself.

  “She does,” he said. “Yes, if I get the opportunity, I will introduce you.”

  “Thank you.” She hugged him.

  There had been a time when he’d dreamed of nothing more than having her arms wrapped around him. But now, he gave her a pat and extricated himself. He had a task to do, and a lot of people’s lives were at stake.

  The communications orb glowed a soft blue, waiting for his touch. Yanko didn’t know whether to hope Pey Lu had an orb or not. He needed ships, but he didn’t want to ask her for a favor. If she agreed to help at all, he feared the price she asked in exchange would be too high.

  After taking a deep breath, Yanko rested his palm on the orb, the smooth crystal warm under his hand. He was alone in the captain’s cabin, the man having stepped out to give him privacy he wasn’t sure he wanted. Did this privacy mean that Tynlee trusted him fully? He could call anyone in here, anyone within range and with access to a communications orb. A person had to be close and linked to one to feel the mental ping of activation.

  Not that he knew many people he could contact. One had to either be familiar with a person and have touched his or her mind before or one had to be familiar with a specific orb. It wasn’t as if he could contact the Turgonian president—or, more likely, his Kyattese wife—and ask for a favor from the republic. He might be able to contact Mela Komitopis or one of her grandchildren, but he doubted any of them could conjure a fleet and send it to ferry people.

  “Only one person who might help,” he mumbled, imagining his mother’s face in his mind. “Dak was right.”

  Pey Lu’s face appeared in the glow of the orb more quickly than he’d imagined. She must have been close to an orb of her own. It might also mean she was somewhere nearby. That would make sense, since Gramon had been in Yellow Delta. Even if they had parted ways for some reason, she wouldn’t have had time to sail far.

  “Yanko,” Pey Lu said coolly, her voice tinny through the orb.

  The light and crystal distorted her face, making it fuzzy around the edges, so it was harder than ever to read her expression. But she didn’t sound delighted to see him. He couldn’t see the side of her neck. It didn’t appear to be bandaged, so he hoped that meant she’d had access to a good healer and nothing but a scar remained.

  “Captain Pey Lu,” Yanko said, keeping it formal. He was going to offer a deal as a potential business partner, not beg for a favor as a son. “I hope you’ve recovered from your injuries.”

  “Well enough.”

  He took another deep breath. Best to simply get his request out of the way. “I intend to rescue approximately a thousand of our people from an internment camp on Seventh Skull Island, but I only have access to one small ship. It’s not enough to transport them. I’ll need the use of three or four frigates or other large craft for a short time—long enough to get them to the mainland. If you’re in the area and not otherwise engaged, I would like to hire you—or a few of your captains—for the job.”

  He gripped the edge of the table, half-expecting her to break the connection without responding. Or to give him a blunt no and then break the connection.

  “That’s not the mission you were on last month,” Pey Lu said.

  “It’s evolved.”

  “How much are you offering?”

  “Two hundred and fifty zekris and the gratitude of those you rescue.”

  He expected her to snort at that, and he wasn’t disappointed.

  “The gratitude of honored Nurians is fleeting,” she said, “and they’re more likely to shoot me than step onto one of my ships.”

  Yanko hadn’t expected her to know about the internment camps or who was rumored to be on Seventh Skull. Maybe she was more of a potential resource than he’d guessed. She couldn’t know where Zirabo was, could she?

  “Two-fifty is nothing, Yanko. It wouldn’t pay for me to resupply a single ship.”

  “I’ll throw in Sun Dragon’s scimitar,” Yanko said.

  One of her eyebrows twitched, the movement almost lost in the orb’s light. “You stole it from him?”

  There was emotion in her voice for the first time, but he couldn’t tell what it was. Disgust? He doubted it. She sounded more impressed by his daring. Not that it had been daring…

  “He forced me into a battle,” Yanko said, “and I defeated him. I don’t know the provenance of the sword, but it’s magical and is likely worth a lot of money.”

  “He’s dead? You wouldn’t have the right to claim it otherwise.”

  “He’s dead.” Yanko doubted he had the right to claim it, regardless, but after all the angst the mage had put him through, he wasn’t inclined to worry about finding an heir.

  “Good. But I have no need of magical swords. I can acquire them easily enough myself.”

  “What would motivate you to send ships to help?” Yanko asked. “You wouldn’t have to come in person if you feared people wouldn’t accept you as a savior.”

  “Thoughtful of you.”

  He lifted his chin, waiting for an answer. Hoping she would ask for something he could provide.

  “I’ll assist you, if you join me after you free those people. Assuming you don’t get yourself and all your friends killed in the process.
” Her tone turned dry. “You know something epic is keeping those people imprisoned, right? If they’re all moksu, there must be a lot of mages among them.”

  “I’m bringing a Turgonian engineer along to help,” he murmured, though his mind was stuck on her first sentence.

  She still wanted him to join her? After all the trouble he’d caused?

  “That’s not what your bodyguard is,” Pey Lu said. “Gramon recognized him.”

  Yanko almost asked her if she knew where Gramon was—maybe she would be grateful that Yanko had assisted her lover. But if she’d cast Gramon out or if he’d left because of hard feelings, bringing him up might not be wise. Besides, Yanko didn’t want to try to get something when he’d done that as a thank-you. He already owed her. Besides, she’d already listed her price.

  “I know who he is,” Yanko said, since she seemed to be waiting to see if he would ask, “and he can’t get a Turgonian fleet to help with the prisoners.”

  “Of that I have no doubt,” Pey Lu said. “The Turgonians would lob explosives at that island if they knew they had that many powerful and influential Nurians all in one place.”

  That was a chilling thought. Yanko didn’t truly believe that Dak wanted those prisoners dead, but was it possible he’d agreed to accompany Yanko again for more than, or something different from, what he’d said? What if Zirabo wasn’t his main priority?

  “You have my offer,” Pey Lu said. “Come and train with me and join my fleet, and I’ll ferry prisoners for you. Maybe I’ll even help you get them out.”

  Yanko swallowed. He’d rejected her offer easily before. Not only could he never see himself as a pirate, hurting people for monetary gain and losing any chance he had at redeeming his family’s honor, but the idea horrified him so much he’d have to take his own life if he ended up stuck in that position. Bound by his word.

  But this time, it wasn’t just about him. With the assistance of Pey Lu and her fleet, he would have a far better chance of rescuing those people. And if his family was among them, as he believed, what did his own life matter? Wasn’t it worth it in trade?

  But he didn’t know the situation yet. He’d had only the words of a moksu boy younger than he. He couldn’t barter away his life without knowing for certain that he was doing the right thing.

  “I can see you’re honored by my offer,” Pey Lu said, that dryness in her tone again.

  “I would be honored to learn from you,” Yanko said, surprised the words were true. She was a murdering criminal and had caused his entire family to lose its honor in the eyes of their people, and she repented nothing. But he understood her a little better now, and it wasn’t so easy to judge her anymore. Maybe it should have been, but he could see why she’d made some of the choices she had. “But I can’t become a pirate. I can’t kill innocent people. I don’t want to kill anyone. I want to help our country and figure out how to put an end to this war and turn the focus toward what’s important. Feeding everyone. Getting that continent for Nuria.”

  “You’re naive, Yanko.”

  “Yes, I hear that a lot.”

  “And I’ve seen your continent. It couldn’t feed a bird.”

  “It will in time.” Why could nobody else see that? In a few generations, it could become a lush and bountiful place that would provide food for millions. He wagered he could get things growing there within the decade if he could work the land himself and bring in soil amendments from fertile areas.

  “If you free those people, you’ll only add fuel to the fire of that war,” she added. “Whatever it is you seek, don’t delude yourself into believing that letting a bunch of honored snots out of a camp will help you find it.”

  “I believe our family is there,” he said quietly.

  “You have my offer. I’m not interested in helping for a lesser prize.”

  She terminated the connection before he could speak again, and the orb went dark.

  A prize? Was that what he was? He couldn’t imagine why she would consider him that, unless she’d gained some tiny modicum of maternal pride in seeing him become better at his magic.

  Or did she need a new right-hand man now that Gramon was off doing… whatever he’d been doing in Yellow Delta to be captured?

  A knock sounded at the door.

  “Come in.” Yanko rose from the captain’s seat and turned as it opened.

  Dak stood out there, the captain in the passageway behind him, no doubt wanting his cabin back.

  “Any luck?” Dak asked.

  “Not unless I’m willing to apprentice myself to Pey Lu and become her new pirate assistant.”

  Dak arched his eyebrows.

  Yanko wished he hadn’t shared that. Maybe Dak would think he was foolish not to accept, to sacrifice himself for the good of others. It seemed like something a Turgonian would do.

  “Turgonia will be pleased not to have another powerful mage haunting the seas and terrorizing its ships,” he said.

  “Oh? Now I’m certain I made the wrong choice.”

  He grunted.

  “So,” the captain said, leaning into the cabin, “we have no assistance for carrying people?”

  “We’ll see what we’re up against and figure something out.” Yanko smiled and tried to look confident. Right now, he hoped that the island would have some ships they could steal.

  14

  Yanko felt tremendous power somewhere ahead of them. He stood at the railing, peering across the choppy waves toward the cloudy horizon, but he didn’t see anything yet. The captain had said they would reach the island that afternoon, but Yanko was surprised he already sensed something. What, he didn’t know. A Made artifact in constant use was his best guess.

  “You’re scrutinizing the waves intently,” Lakeo said, walking up to the railing beside him, Arayevo trailing behind. “Are you chatting with a kraken or some giant jellyfish?”

  “I wish.”

  “You’re a weird boy, Yanko.”

  “A weird man.” The wind gusted, batting his topknot around.

  “A man?” Lakeo leaned an elbow on the railing and regarded him. “Have you been counting your chin hairs again and getting uppity because there are more than three now?”

  “Are there?” He should have known better, but he probed his chin exploratively. It had been a few days since he’d shaved.

  Arayevo smiled and shook her head.

  “Oh yes,” Lakeo said. “I think I saw a fourth one this morning. Unless that’s a dirt smudge.”

  Yanko eyed her warily, expecting her to tweak his chin like some handsy grandmother. But she simply smirked, content to tease without tweaking anything.

  “Can I ask you something, Yanko?” Lakeo looked at Arayevo, and Yanko had the sense they’d been discussing whatever this was before joining him.

  “Yes.” He tilted his head. “Were you praising my chin hair in the hope of a favorable response?”

  “Possibly. Let’s see if it works, eh?”

  He opened his palm, inviting her question. It surprised him that she would ask permission before coming out with it.

  “Arayevo said that you’re going to introduce her to your mother,” Lakeo said.

  “If I get the chance.” Yanko nodded to her. “But I’m not sure when I will.”

  Lakeo shrugged easily. “If you do, will you introduce me too? I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to make enough money for a real academy or even a tutor, but if I could work for her, maybe I’d learn a few things.” She turned wistful eyes toward the horizon, the dark water melding with the gray sky.

  Yanko wondered if she sensed the magic he felt out there. His skin crawled as they sailed closer.

  “I didn’t get the impression that she tutors many people,” Yanko said, reluctant to send another friend off to a life of piracy. He’d always known Lakeo’s morals were sketchy, but if she could find a way to get what she wanted from life legally, he thought she would. It was the pursuit of her dream to become a mage that kept leading her astray.r />
  “I’d be willing to take my chances,” Lakeo said. “I’m a good worker. You know that. Even if I could just watch her, study what she does, maybe it would help. Trying to teach myself—well, you’ve seen how that’s gone. I don’t have your innate talent.”

  Her mouth twisted with familiar bitterness.

  “I can introduce you if we meet up with her.” Yanko felt fairly confident that they wouldn’t since he had rejected Pey Lu’s offer. “But if we succeed in rescuing these prisoners, they might be grateful. Maybe a mage among them would look past your…” He waved to indicate her unusual height and meaty, muscular arms. “Maybe there would be someone willing to tutor you for free. If one of them can point us to Zirabo and we find him, maybe he’d even be willing to teach you.”

  “Doesn’t he just play a flute?”

  “It’s a magical flute.”

  “That’s not exactly throwing fireballs,” Lakeo said.

  “I’m sure he knows some of the basics.”

  Lakeo opened her mouth to say more but spotted someone walking up from the opposite side and frowned. Jhali.

  Her white hood was up, keeping her long hair hidden. Yanko remembered seeing it whipping free on the beach and decided he liked it that way. A little wild instead of always contained and controlled. And a little more feminine. The white mage-hunter wrap didn’t reveal much skin. Not that he wanted to see her skin. He just didn’t like the reminder that she was a professional assassin.

  “We approach the island soon, I understand,” Jhali said.

  Yanko nodded. “I can already sense whatever magic is in use there, something that’s keeping the prisoners in, I imagine.”

  “That seems likely,” Lakeo said.

  “Will the Turgonian accompany you?” Jhali didn’t look at Lakeo or Arayevo, only focusing on him.

  “Dak?” Yanko knew she had to know his name by now. But maybe he hadn’t invited her to use it. Or did she use labels as a way to distance herself from people she might have to kill one day? “I think so. Someone should go with Consul Tynlee though, especially since I’m supposed to have kidnapped her and bent her to my will.”