by Frank Morin
Verena exclaimed, "I hate cheaters!"
Tears stood in Aifric's eyes and she looked miserable.
What Dougal did to her enraged Connor. Dougal had tried to take control of him too. If only he'd realized the full danger she faced.
"I should have realized what happened," Hamish said, looking as angry as Connor felt.
"I should have killed him when I had the chance," Aifric said sadly.
Hamish nodded. "I was thinking the same thing at the time."
"How could you have?"
"I planted a speakstone on you when I dropped you off. I listened to the whole conversation. I'm no Assassin, but even I could tell you were wasting time."
Aifric glanced at Sir and flushed.
"Against any other target, her actions would not have been entirely inappropriate," Sir said.
"How could you send an Assassin to the Carraig without explaining the risks beforehand?" Verena asked.
"High Lord Dougal was not supposed to be there. She was supposed to identify the Blood of the Tallan and remove him. Nothing more."
"How do we know that's not your mission too?" Connor asked.
"Neither of us are dead yet, remember?"
"Well maybe we aren't interested in allowing you to linger until you change your mind," Verena said, her tone turning unfriendly.
Sir said, "Don't rush decisions about killing. Trust me, you want to be absolutely sure. Once you've killed someone it's hard to change your mind."
An Assassin speaking philosophy was so weird.
Aifric said, "Sir, I think I'm stable. Connor is not the monster we feared. It's Dougal we need to stop, and Connor is our best chance of doing it."
"Unless High Lord Dougal manages to gain control over his mind like he did yours. Then he would become the worst monster since Tallan himself."
Verena's hand slipped into her satchel and her expression turned even darker. "Be careful how you talk about Tallan in this country, Sir. I've heard rumors that it was the Mhortair who killed him. If that's true, I guarantee we won't get along after all."
Sir made a slight bow. "I appreciate your strength, Builder, and thank you for the cultural reminder. Connor, my mission today is not to remove you."
Aifric looked relieved. "Jean, I was terrified you were going to die. I could sense that Dougal was expecting that elfonnel to kill you. Your death would have demoralized the group."
Connor's anger at Dougal grew hotter, but Hamish surprised him by laughing.
"I guess she blew his calculating, plotting, devious, evil wickedness right out of the water!"
He was right. Connor added, "That's what he gets for underestimating our Jean."
Jean flushed. "Aifric, what I don't understand is why Dougal didn't force you to murder all of us in our sleep."
"He probably figured he couldn't get us all," Connor suggested.
Aifric shook her head. "He invaded my mind, but bits and pieces of his own thoughts flowed the other way. He wanted me only as a spy. He wants to destroy Kilian through an elfonnel that he controls. Slitting your throats in the night wasn't spectacular enough."
"I'm glad his sense of the theatrical overruled his practicality," Verena said with a shudder.
"It's scary to think he could strike through people we trust," Connor said.
Aifric stared at the table, frowning at her hands. "There was more, I think, but it's all hazy, like a dream. All I get is something vague about restless elements."
"What does that mean?" Connor asked.
"I have no idea."
"It will come," Sir told her, and his tone was almost comforting.
"Dougal's hold is broken, right?" Connor asked, just to be sure.
Aifric nodded. "He's gone."
Sir said, "I made sure of it. Aifric, I will teach you how to keep him out."
Connor perked up at that. "Can you teach me too? If there's a way to block him, I need to know it."
Sir hesitated. "I agreed not to target you today, Connor, but that does not mean I'm ready to share Mhortair secrets with you."
Jean said, "You're the one who pointed out how dangerous it would be if Dougal seized Connor's mind. Surely it's in your own best interest to teach him to shield and prevent that eventuality."
"You're a clever girl. I will consider it."
Connor wanted to push him, but too much pressure might make Sir deny the request out of pure stubbornness.
Aifric looked up sharply and snapped her fingers. "One thing at least is clear. Dougal has left the army and returned to Obrion."
That didn't make any sense.
Verena asked, "Why would he do that? He's got the advantage."
"That's precisely why." Aifric pressed one hand to her temple. "He forced me into that coma sleep when we started to fly north because his attention was split elsewhere."
"He was trying to manage two elfonnel," Connor said.
Aifric nodded. "Just before my mind succumbed to sleep, his shielding faltered while he was distracted. He expected Camonica to destroy the Builder compound, lay waste to Faulenrost, then cross the mountains and move against Edderitz itself."
Verena gasped. "That's horrible."
Martys looked impressed. "Bold plan, that. Woulda caused plenty of distraction."
Verena said, "Worse than the people who might have died, such an attack would have diverted critical reinforcements away from Altkalen. The delay could have been disastrous."
"Altkalen?" Connor asked.
"It's the biggest city in southern Granadure. It's a major trading center, and after Harz, it'll be the next target."
"I'm not sure if Dougal knows how much Camonica accomplished." Aifric glanced at Connor, then Verena. "I think you two were targeted by. . ." She started and looked to Sir. "By you! That's what you meant when you said I had failed."
"Indeed."
Connor prepared to tap marble. If Sir had been sent by Dougal, had he waited for this moment to strike after all?
Sir read his renewed tension. "Relax. Eighteen is a gifted student, but who do you think taught her to infiltrate Obrion?"
"Eighteen?" Aifric asked, looking relieved and excited at the same time.
"You have survived yet another potentially fatal blunder, Student."
"No one's ever made it to eighteen before," Aifric said with a proud smile.
Sir gave her a cold look and her smile faded. "And I doubt even you will make it to nineteen, so have a care before you make another rash decision."
She nodded quickly. Verena said, "You still haven't explained about your mission to kill us."
"I infiltrated Dougal's spy network. He gave me the mission to remove you, Verena, although I was to wait before striking Connor."
He made it sound so simple.
"So I'd have time to suffer?" Connor asked bitterly.
Sir shook his head. "No doubt that was part of his plan, but my orders were to ensure your grief sent you back to Shona."
"That. . ." Verena's words faded to an angry whisper in Grandurian, and Connor suspected he'd just heard another choice curse word.
The coldness of the plan infuriated him. Would Dougal have allowed Shona to comfort him, accept him again as her Guardian, marry him, and together serve Dougal's purposes? Or would he have seized Connor and turned him back against Granadure immediately?
Aifric said, "When Dougal saw you and felt my pain, I believe he assumed your mission was successful and that you were removing me too. I don't know what happened at Harz after we left, but he seemed confident enough to return to Obrion. I believe he plans to leverage the early successes for more political advantage and to gather additional reinforcements."
Connor frowned. "Is there another army close enough to Merkland to be a threat any time soon?"
Verena said, "Not that we know about, but it's possible. We need to return to Harz and share this news with Kilian."
"If there's still a Harz left," Connor said.
Verena's expression turned grim. "If
Harz fell, then we go to Altkalen. That city cannot fall, no matter the cost."
Just then, Liesa entered the room, followed by a long line of serving girls carrying platters, trays, and bowls. Connor had expected a simple lunch, but Liesa seemed eager to honor Jean for her valiant defense of the valley.
Savory smells filled the room, and Connor realized he was ravenous. He eagerly piled his plate with spicy sausages and a large meat pie, covered in cinnamon sauce. A bowl of greens and vegetables and a huge tankard of fresh-squeezed apple cider rounded out the meal.
Most of the others dug in with as much enthusiasm, but Verena only picked at her plate. When Hamish piled his for a third helping of roast pork, she snapped, "How can you eat like that, Hamish? Our home was just destroyed!"
The magnitude of their loss had faded from Connor's mind during the discussion with Aifric. He felt terrible that he could forget something so momentous so soon.
Hamish lowered his fork and shrugged, looking surprised. "Verena, the Builder compound was our home. Seeing it destroyed was a terrible thing, but starving ourselves isn't going to help."
"Celebrating doesn't feel right," Verena said with a sigh.
"I'm not celebrating the loss of our home. I'm celebrating the fact that we're all alive."
Verena looked amazed, as if that different focus was completely foreign to her. Connor realized that with her privileged upbringing, she might not have ever suffered such a devastating loss before.
He said, "In Obrion, we were used to losing the little we had. Lord Gavin could even take away the right of families to stay together, and could enslave us at a whim."
"I hadn't realized that," Verena said.
"It be the ugly truth," Martys said between mouthfuls of baked potato.
"My mom always said to look for the good in every day, so I will." Hamish saluted with a sausage.
Verena lifted a fork full of meat pie and saluted in return. "Thanks, Hamish. That helps."
"The sausage helps more."
Verena smiled, and her dark mood seemed to fade. Connor hoped she could maintain the new perspective. He doubted they'd seen their last trial.
Sir insisted on coming with them when they left Faulenrost, and Connor was happy to leave the question of what to do with Sir to Kilian.
Jean said, "I'm thinking maybe I should stay here to help organize relief efforts."
Hamish shook his head. "Oh, no. You come with us. I sent you away once, and you nearly died."
"But I can't do any good in a big battle."
"You destroyed that elfonnel today," he pointed out.
Verena said, "I think you should come. We can plan the rebuilding while we travel. Besides, I'm thinking we're going to need to fine-tune the Swift and Hamish's suit as much as possible before the next fight."
"I do want to help with that."
Connor was happy to hear it. He didn't want to leave Jean behind. Their team felt incomplete without her.
Hamish's sighed. "I'm glad you're coming, but I'll still worry about you."
Jean took his hand. "Bad things happen, Hamish, especially in war." Her voice fell to a soft, tender whisper. "Like what happened to Ingrid."
Hamish nodded, and didn't look like he could speak.
Jean looked around the table. "We'll all do the best we can. That's all we can do. We can't let fear rule us, or we've already lost."
Connor felt moved by her simple, heartfelt declaration. She was right, and he wanted to go hug her.
Martys raised his mug of ale. "Aye, lass! Well said. Spit in the eye of evil an' fight to the last."
Connor raised his glass and said, "Fight to the last."
The others joined him, and they drank together.
Chapter Forty-Six
"But the sweetbread that falls off the tray and gets kicked under the oven is eaten only after the rest are consumed."
~Connor
"You're going to like Altkalen," Verena shouted over the wind as they flew high over southern Granadure.
Connor sat right beside her in the front row, but barely heard over the wind. Gisela, who sat on her other side, staring at the view, didn't appear to have heard anything.
They were flying fast, pushed along by a helpful tailwind. Since they weren't sure if Harz fortress had fallen, Verena had suggested a slightly westerly course to check in at the trading center of Altkalen. The flight had gone smoothly, and they now approached a range of hills with pointy peaks that made them look like they were stretching upward, eager to be called mountains.
He tried to ask a question, but the wind whisked his words away. Verena frowned, then her face lit up and she plunged her hand into her satchel.
A shimmering shield of pulsing air formed into a half dome over their seats, blocking the screaming wind. Verena pushed up her visor and said, "I should have thought of that a long time ago."
"Does it affect speed?" Connor asked.
"I don't think so, and it makes travel so much easier. We'll see Altkalen soon. It's the biggest market in all of Granadure."
Sir seemed very interested in the air shield. He sat in the second row, flanked by Hamish and Martys. "Dougal must take Altkalen in order to survive the coming winter."
Verena nodded. "It's got plenty of supplies."
"Enough for fifty thousand troops, plus all the residents?" Hamish asked.
Connor wondered if the army would just kill everyone. He hoped Dougal intended conquest and not annihilation.
Verena said, "Altkalen's market center is bigger than the markets in all the other cities combined. I hope we find time to visit. It's amazing."
When Hamish didn't look impressed she added, "The culinary quarter, which is centered around the bakery district, is bigger than all of Alasdair. There are six hundred bakers and pastry chefs alone."
Hamish gaped. "How long did you say before we arrive?"
Aifric, who lounged between Jean and Dierk in the third row, leaned forward and smacked Hamish lightly on the back of the head. "You always think with your stomach?"
Jean laughed. Her braid had gotten tangled by the wind, and she was trying to straighten it. "That's Hamish."
Hamish shrugged. "When your stomach's full, most of life's problems seem a little less severe."
Connor couldn't argue with that, and he was happy to see Aifric looking herself again. She hadn't even dozed once. Jean was watching for any signs of lingering problems.
Verena said, "Every year, Altkalen holds an annual Eat Till You Pop competition in honor of old Schwinkendorf, the guy who wrote that cookbook."
"Even if it still existed, it's gone now," Hamish said with a sigh.
Verena's smile faded. "The contest will probably be canceled due to the war."
Hamish looked crestfallen. "We should visit the bakeries at least, in honor of old man Schwinkendorf."
"All six hundred?" Gisela teased.
Hamish nodded, looking completely serious.
Jean draped an arm over Hamish's shoulder. "We should."
They flew over the hills and a panoramic vista opened to the south. An enormous city sprawled across the northern half of a vast plain. Connor blinked, barely believing that one city could be so huge. It stretched for miles under a brilliant azure sky that had just enough puffy, white clouds to make the blue look even more intense.
Hamish whistled softly. "You said it was a market center, you didn't say it was the biggest city in Granadure."
Verena shook her head. "Altkalen is big, but only half as many people live here as in the capital."
Connor wasn't sure he wanted to visit the capital. That many people in one place could not be healthy. When he glanced back, he noticed Aifric staring in mute astonishment at the sprawling metropolis.
"Don't tell me a big city is enough to impress a deadly Assassin," Connor teased.
Aifric shrugged and smiled. "My home in the mountains of Ravinder is a tiny fortress. I thought the Carraig was impressive."
It was. Connor had gaped li
ke a country fool at the majestic, many-towered castle city. Sir didn't look happy that Aifric was talking about their home, but even he looked impressed by Altkalen.
As Connor scanned the huge city again, its layout began to make sense. They were flying in from the north. That side of the city was covered in towering spires and huge palaces, all clustered around a mighty citadel.
The citadel walls were made of layered stones in different shades of gray, darker at the base and growing increasingly lighter. The breathtaking effect made it seem like the upper reaches were preparing to merge with the sky.
Granadure might be a different country, but Connor wondered if the rulers of Altkalen were different from other nobles he'd met. Most high born would be served well to live in poorer neighborhoods for a few months. He smiled to think how a slippered lady might handle stepping in a fresh, steaming pile of manure as she crossed a livestock paddock.
That grand, prosperous northern part of the city was separated from the rest by a river running through a deep channel cut into the rocky ground. In places the water reflected the light like a ribbon of silver, but in others it looked blue, yellow, red, and even orange. The effect was remarkable. The winding course of the river was spanned by five majestic, arcing bridges that looked wide enough for several wagons to pass each other without crowding.
"Why does the river have so many colors?" Connor asked.
Verena said, "This area's very volcanic. The top layer of earth is thin, and underneath it's extremely rocky. The river has cut deep enough to expose minerals that give it those colors. Every time I look at it, the river seems a little different."
"It is being very beautiful," Gisela said.
Beyond the river, the central sections of the city were laid out in grid-like patterns. Connor focused on groups of gigantic, low structures clustered around wide, tree-lined thoroughfares. They had to cover two square miles.
"What are those huge buildings?" Hamish asked.
"Those are the trading floors. That's where the merchant houses buy and sell goods that get shipped all across Granadure, the Arishat League, and even Obrion during times of peace."
The buildings were big enough to swallow entire caravans. It was hard to comprehend so much merchandise for sale. One of those houses could hold enough goods to supply Alasdair for a year. Well, maybe not with Hamish and Martys along.