Eye of Truth

by Lindsay Buroker

  They ran into the back half of the building, down another hallway, and to a door that led to the street behind the hospital. Jev hoped nothing but a few trash bins waited out there.

  Sunlight blasted them as he shoved open the door and strode out. His stomach sank.

  Four men in watchmen’s gray and white uniforms waited, sun glinting off the barrels of the rifles pointed at the doorway.

  Though his instincts screamed for Jev to spring to the side and get out of their sights, he reminded himself that this was his city, not some elven encampment a thousand miles to the north.

  “Gentlemen,” he said, stepping forward and spreading his arms so they could see he didn’t hold a weapon—and so they would focus on him rather than Cutter and Lornysh behind him. “I am Jevlain Dharrow, zyndar and captain in the kingdom army, leader of Gryphon Company, in charge of intelligence-gathering during the war. These are friends who worked with our people in the war.” He tilted his head to indicate Lornysh and Cutter as he introduced them. He was careful to keep his arms spread wide to partially block them from the rifles.

  “Dharrow?” the sergeant in the lead asked, his rifle tip lowering.

  “Dharrow,” Jev said firmly, hoping that little had changed in the last ten years and that his family was still held in high regard for its history of serving the king during peace and war times.

  The sergeant looked at the cloak clasp. Jev didn’t know whether to be amused or not that everyone was skeptical when it came to identifying him. He’d left home young enough that he hadn’t truly expected anyone to remember his face, but he hadn’t expected doubt. He was unkempt and dirty and in the same uniform as the rest of the soldiers arriving, but people hadn’t had much trouble picking him out as zyndar when he’d been younger. Had the city changed that much? Or had he?

  “You’re related to Heber Dharrow?” the sergeant asked.

  “My father.”

  The rest of the rifles shifted so they weren’t pointed at Jev’s chest. Shouts came from the direction of the hospital courtyard, and Jev feared that trouble was about to catch up to them from behind.

  “It’s important that I report in to him now that I’m home from the war,” Jev added. Something he would do as soon as he figured out this artifact situation. “May we pass? I will personally vouch for the character of my companions.”

  “It’s not their character that’ll have the citizens worried, Zyndar,” the sergeant said. “This isn’t a good time to be a, uhm, foreigner in Korvann.”

  “A non-human, you mean?”

  “A non-human foreigner. We have a wagon, Zyndar. Will you come with us? We’ll escort you to your father’s land.”

  Jev didn’t want an escort. And he hadn’t planned on going home right now.

  The shouts in the building behind him escalated.

  Jev forced a regal smile and nodded. “That would be appreciated,” he made himself say.

  “Good. This way, Zyndar. And, uh, your friends.” The sergeant headed toward a steam wagon parked at the end of the street, the metal and wood sides painted in the colors of the watch. Soft puffs of black smoke wafted from its stack.

  Not feeling that he had a choice, Jev trailed the man. The other watchmen waited for Lornysh and Cutter to pass, then strode along on their heels, their weapons still in hand.

  Jev told himself this was a good development. Since the wagon was covered, he, Lornysh, and Cutter could make it out of the city without being waylaid again, and he had planned to visit his father and his home. Eventually. Unfortunately, with the watch escorting them, Jev wouldn’t have a chance to sneak Lornysh out to one of the groves without mentioning him to his father.

  Not his largest problem right now, he reminded himself.

  “Why couldn’t you just do that at the dock?” Cutter asked as they climbed into the covered wagon and sat on one of the wood benches. “Get us a free ride and an escort?”

  “I thought you’d want to get some exercise after being cooped up on the ship for the crossing,” Jev said.

  “Exercise? Is that what you call battling women in robes, being chased by crowds, and having vegetables lobbed at our heads?”

  “Fruit,” Lornysh said.

  “What?”

  “Eggplants have seeds and are thus considered fruits.”

  “So are elves,” Cutter said, “but we don’t call them that to their faces.”

  “Wise,” Lornysh said.

  Two watchmen climbed in to ride in the back with them, and Jev’s comrades fell silent. He watched the corner of the hospital building as the wagon rumbled into motion with a hiss of releasing steam. He thought of how the nurse had recognized Zenia, and he was positive he hadn’t seen the last of her.

  5

  Sun slanting through a window onto her bed made Zenia open her eyes. She squinted and turned her head, promptly aware of a dull ache from her temple. As her eyes focused on a blue gi in front of her, she grew aware of her surroundings—a hospital bay full of beds with Rhi standing next to hers, one sleeve rolled up to reveal a bandage wrapping her arm.

  “What happened?” Zenia croaked.

  “An elf beat us up.”

  Zenia grimaced. Unfortunately, she remembered that part well. The elf’s unexpected power and preternatural speed. More than that, he’d had mental defenses that she hadn’t been able to get through. Though their fight had been depressingly brief, she’d had time to try a couple of mind attacks. He’d shrugged them off as if they had no more power to disturb him than raindrops.

  “Then what happened?”

  Rhi shrugged but cut the movement short and winced, touching her shoulder.

  “I woke up in the bed next to you there.” Rhi pointed at wrinkled sheets. “A nurse informed me that Zyndar Dharrow and his unlikely friends brought us here and paid for our treatment. And then a very furry doctor spoke into my mind, and I got distracted.”

  “Furry?”

  “A unicorn.”

  “Oh.” Zenia had heard of the hospital in town where a black-and-gold unicorn from Izstara used his magic to heal patients and teach doctors. That meant they were less than eight blocks from the temple where she had been taking Dharrow. But she had failed, and now he walked free.

  She groaned, imagining how disappointed Archmage Sazshen would be when her star inquisitor came home empty-handed.

  “It wasn’t that bad,” Rhi said, mistaking the reason for the groan. “He said I would live and that I can use my shoulder a little bit now but that it will require three days to fully regenerate. I think he treated you too. Your face was a lot bloodier when I first woke up. The nurse sponging away the blood was cute. You should thank him for his efforts by taking him out to dinner.”

  Zenia groaned again, this time for a different reason. She’d gotten used to her monk colleague trying to set her up with men, but this wasn’t the time for it.

  “I’m not looking for men, especially when I’m on a mission,” Zenia said. “You’ll have to thank him for me.”

  “You know that the Codices of the Monk dictate that I be chaste, unwed, and fully devoted to the Order, heart, soul, and loins.”

  “I know that you and your loins frequently practice chastity with company.”

  Rhi smiled. “I’m positive I don’t know what you’re talking about. If I bring a pretty man to my room to entertain me by reading plays until the wee hours of the morning, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “I’ve heard from your neighbors that the readings get noisy.”

  “Since they’re plays, the various parts have to be acted out.”

  “Vigorously, no doubt.”

  Rhi grinned.

  Zenia pushed herself gingerly up on one elbow, fearing the pain at her temple would intensify, but the dull ache remained at a constant level, one she could deal with. Good. She had a mission to complete. She had no intention of returning to the temple until she recaptured her man.

  “I’m surprised the zyndar paid for our treatment,” Rh
i said. “Though his pointy-eared demon of a friend was the one responsible for our injuries, so maybe it’s fair.”

  “I’m certain he was hoping to win leniency from the Order.” Zenia pushed herself into a sitting position and looked for her robe. Someone had removed it, leaving her in her linen chemise. She grimaced when she spotted it hanging from the bed knob, damp and wrinkled. Had someone attempted to wash out her blood? Apparently, unicorn magic wasn’t used for laundering.

  “Will it work?”

  “Winning our leniency? No.”

  “Are we going after them again?” Rhi looked to where her bo stood propped against the stone wall. Her words came out neutrally, without any of her typical enthusiasm for a mission.

  “Don’t want to face the elf again?”

  Rhi took a deep breath and let it out. “If that’s what we have to do, I’m with you, of course. But I do recommend taking reinforcements. This zyndar didn’t seem to realize your fearsome reputation was supposed to cow him into coming along quietly.”

  “He came along. It was the elf who was problematic.”

  “Yes, he definitely wasn’t cowed.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m not foolish enough to try the same tactic more than once. We’ll assume they’re going to continue to travel together, and we’ll requisition some help. The watch will be willing to supply some men to assist an inquisitor.”

  Rhi raised her eyebrows. “You don’t think going to the temple for another mage and three or four more monks would be better? The watch has low standards.”

  Zenia smiled faintly, well aware of the nonviolent feud the watch and the monks of the four Orders seemed determined to continue for all eternity. She’d long suspected politicians from the kingdom and the Orders fomented that hostility, so one group could be convinced to fight the other if someone tried to claim more than their share of the pie of power.

  “I think a squad of watchmen will be sufficient,” Zenia said, not wanting to explain her desire to avoid the temple and Archmage Sazshen until she could stride up the stairs with Dharrow in shackles.

  “If you say so. Any idea where the zyndar and his friends will run off to hide?”

  Zenia stared down at the floor. She could use her gem magic to track criminals she’d met in person if they weren’t out of her range, but she always preferred to use her mind. Though she was grateful with all her heart to the Order for awarding her a dragon tear, it was so much more satisfying when she captured men with nothing but her wits.

  “Most criminals wouldn’t be foolish enough to run back to their families, since the watch would look for them there first, but Jevlain Dharrow has been away for ten years. I think he’ll go home. His father is still alive and, I believe, acting as zyndar prime for the estate. Jevlain may think the man has the power to help him out of this situation. I think he’ll also be arrogant enough to believe we won’t cross onto his family’s property to collect him.”

  Long ago, a zyndar’s land had been considered almost a country unto itself with extradition papers signed by the king required to retrieve someone who’d been granted sanctuary there. Those days were gone. The king’s justice crossed all borders in the land, and no property was truly private anymore.

  “But we will, right?” Rhi asked.

  “I’ve never been one to bow to zyndar arrogance.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. But just so you know, I’m going to let you go first.”

  “Why don’t we let the watchmen go first?”

  “The New Codex says it’s cowardly to hide behind lesser warriors.”

  “But hiding behind inquisitors is acceptable?”

  “I believe it’s encouraged.”

  “I really must read these Codices someday. To see how accurate your interpretation is.”

  “As a noncombatant, you’ll surely find them dry and boring.”

  “You wouldn’t be trying to discourage my perusal, would you?”

  “Not at all.” Rhi smiled benignly and reached for her bo.

  “Inquisitor Cham?” a nurse asked, scurrying forward while ducking his head and wringing his hands. “I’m so sorry you were injured. Our director, the unicorn Oligonite, healed you himself. Your skull was cracked and your brain swollen. It must have been terribly uncomfortable, but all the pain should fade away by the end of the day. Our director is the best. Can I get you anything? The fees have already been covered, but even if they hadn’t, we would not be comfortable charging you.”

  “I’m fine,” Zenia said as the man continued to wring his hands and avoid her eyes.

  Was he nervous because of her job and her reputation? Or because of some crime he had committed?

  She knew from experience that even those who hadn’t committed crimes sometimes felt guilty around inquisitors, perhaps for some long-past indiscretion that they regretted, or simply because they feared they could be dragged off to a dungeon by mistake.

  As if Zenia made mistakes.

  She drew upon the power of her dragon tear and funneled the magic toward his skull, gently probing to see why he was worried. Guilty thoughts floated at the surface of his mind. Thoughts of sneaking bandages, poultices, and medicinal substances home from the hospital so that his wife could use them on their six children and also the three nieces that they’d cared for since his sister had passed. He wouldn’t have taken the items, but the nurses weren’t paid much…

  Zenia rubbed her head, withdrawing her mental touch.

  “I’m fine,” she added again. “You said our healing was already paid for?”

  “By Zyndar Dharrow, yes.”

  “I see. Thank you.”

  “Please let me know if you need anything,” the nurse said, backing away as he spoke. He almost tripped over his feet as he turned to leave the bay.

  “It’s going to be quite the feat to find a nice man willing to go to dinner with you,” Rhi said.

  “That’s not my priority right now,” Zenia said.

  “From what I’ve noticed, it never is. Sometimes, I wonder if I should try to find you a nice woman, but I’ve never caught you ogling me, so I assume that’s not where your interests lie.”

  “Maybe you’re not ogle-worthy.”

  “I assure you, I’m terribly appealing when I’m out of this gi.”

  “Uh huh.”

  Zenia swung her feet to the cool stone floor so she could put on the damp robe and hunt for her shoes. It was time to retrieve a wayward thieving zyndar. Without thinking about the fact that he’d paid for her healing. She was positive he’d sought to win her favor so she would look the other way. That would not happen.

  As the wagon rolled closer to Dharrow lands, the densely packed houses and commercial dwellings of the city giving way to small farms and horse pastures, Jev alternated between listening to the watchmen talk to each other and contemplating how he’d ended up wanted by the Water Order.

  Zenia’s absurdly brief description of the missing artifact wasn’t that helpful. What had she called it? The Eye of Truth?

  He’d never encountered an eye carved out of ivory. He had handled all manner of dragon tears and lesser gems over the years, and his soldiers had occasionally found tools and artifacts, ivory and otherwise, among the elven camps they had managed to overrun, but he’d never pocketed any of them for himself. Per his orders, he had boxed up any loot they recovered and sent it back to the king’s castle for Abdor’s people to analyze. It had always bothered him to take such loot, even if the items might be used to humankind’s advantage, and he never would have considered pocketing interesting pieces. He’d always hoped the loot would be returned when the war ended, perhaps as part of a treaty. He doubted that had happened. In the end, there hadn’t even been a treaty. The king had died, and his people had withdrawn. He didn’t think anyone had even told the Taziir.

  “You think we’ll still have jobs after the coronation?” one of the watchmen asked the other.

  The two guards sat on benches across from each other, placed so they could
ensure Jev, Cutter, and Lornysh didn’t jump out the open back of the wagon. As if the men could have stopped Lornysh if he was inclined to leave.

  “Why wouldn’t we?”

  “They say the new king was a soldier and will favor soldiers. Give the men who just came back our jobs.”

  The watchmen looked over at Jev, eyeing his soldier’s uniform. As if he might even now be contemplating his application to the watch. Or captain of the watch, he supposed. One of his distant ancestors had held that job at a time when only zyndar had been considered capable of such a critical position. The captain commanded hundreds of men and had to ensure that the underworld guilds never grew too powerful or became a threat to the average citizen. Jev had no idea whether a zyndar or common man held the spot now.

  “What do you know of the new king?” Jev asked, having forgotten about Targyon’s predicament while dealing with his own.

  “They say he’s just a boy.”

  “I heard he’s bookish. Might be he’s more likely to give librarians our jobs instead of soldiers.”

  “As if librarians can be watchmen. You can’t use a book to bring in a criminal.”

  “You can if it’s a big book. And you thump him over the head enough times with it.”

  Jev sighed and lifted his gaze toward the canvas top of the wagon. He doubted these two intellects knew anything worth knowing. Once he had cleared his name, he would go to the Alderoth Castle and check on Targyon in person.

  “How much farther to your castle?” Lornysh asked quietly from his side. He had chosen a position as far from the watchmen as possible.

  Jev glanced toward the countryside out the back. They were traveling past the Groshon family’s estate now.

  “About three miles until we reach Dhar-din Village and turn off the highway. It’s another mile up a side road to Dharrow Castle. It won’t take long in this.” Jev waved to indicate the vehicle with its steam-powered engine, though neither it nor the boiler and smokestack were visible from inside.