Eye of Truth

by Lindsay Buroker

“I don’t want to leave Rhi out here without figuring out what happened to her.” Zenia squinted toward the village that had been under attack, but it was too dark to see anything. The earlier shouts had stopped, with the night lying quiet in that direction.

  “She seems to be a competent woman who can take care of herself.”

  “True, but…” Zenia didn’t want to admit that she was worried and also that she would feel guilty if she’d been the one to order Rhi to go her own way and then Rhi had landed in trouble. Unfortunately, inquisitors weren’t supposed to prioritize friendship above their duties to the Order. Her primary duty was to return with Jevlain. Technically, the archmage just wanted the artifact, but he was the road to it. “You’re right. She’s probably fine. And like you said, I don’t think the highway will be clear into the city. Not for us.”

  “We could go back to my family’s castle,” Jevlain said, the words coming out casually again, as if he made the offer for her sake and not his.

  “We’re going to the temple.”

  “I believe the answers we’re both looking for may be at the castle. Someone may know what happened to the person who was the last one who likely handled this artifact.”

  “My job is to bring you to the temple, and that’s what I intend to do. There are other ways into the city than the highway and the main gates.”

  “Only the river and the sea that I know of.”

  “What’s the matter, Zyndar? You don’t know how to swim?”

  “I know how. And so do the crocodiles that make the river home. I assume ten years hasn’t changed that.”

  “They’re hunted down often. There aren’t many within twenty miles of the city.”

  “It only takes one hungry crocodile to make for a bad night.”

  “You pick then, Zyndar. Crocodiles or assassins.” Zenia peered down the highway again in the direction those two riders had gone.

  Jevlain sighed. “Crocs. And it’s Jev, remember?”

  9

  As Jev waded into the slow-moving Jade River, he reminded himself that he’d fought elven weapons masters one-on-one, stood his ground at the front lines on a battlefield, and ventured alone through enemy-infested wildernesses in a strange land where humans were hated. It was unseemly to worry about crocodiles. But he’d always found them alarming. One had wandered up the hill from the river when he’d been a boy and had eaten one of the pigs in the village, one that he’d named and ridden. He’d had nightmares after that, and there were always stories of one occasionally attacking fishermen out in wooden boats in the delta. It wasn’t as if his fears were entirely unfounded…

  Still, it was probably good that he was trying to make Zenia think him inept and unthreatening rather than manly and appealing. She’d sounded dismissive when he’d protested the swim. And now, as they alternated between walking and wading along the shore, inlets thrusting inland often to force them into the water, she led the way. Fearlessly. Even though he doubted her mind manipulation magic worked on predators.

  He was surprised she hadn’t wanted to go out on the highway and deal with the guild people, if only because she could affect people’s minds. But she would need to be within speaking range for that. It wouldn’t work if someone was shooting at them from the cover of the trees.

  “Is that a log or a crocodile?” Zenia paused and pointed.

  Even though the darkness wasn’t as complete along the shoreline as in the depths of the mangroves, the moon wasn’t out, and Jev had trouble seeing more than a dark lump thrusting out from the shore ahead of them.

  “I can think of reasons to avoid it, either way,” Jev said, tugging his foot to remove his boot from mud trying to claim it. It didn’t seem to matter if they walked on shore or in the water. The mud had the inevitable ferocity of lava flowing downhill to incinerate a village. There was a reason the land along the river had never been cleared and built on, even though it was close to the city.

  “You’ve had a lot of run-ins with logs that didn’t come out favorably?”

  “My shins have.” Jev decided to take it as a good sign that she was speaking with him more now, even if she was poking fun at him. It reminded him of the occasionally barbed camaraderie he’d shared with the men in his company. She was a lot prettier than the men in his company, so it wasn’t quite the same. He would rather date her than exchange barbs. Not that dates were likely to happen. He reminded himself that she was a renowned inquisitor and would be tickled if she found out he’d committed some heinous crime and could order him hanged.

  “If it’s a log, we could use it to float downriver. If we walk the whole way along the shore, it’ll take until dawn to get there.” She veered toward the dark lump, her pistol drawn. “Technically, we could float downriver on a crocodile, too, I suppose. If we killed it first.”

  “I had no idea inquisitors were so bloodthirsty.” He sloshed out of the inlet, hurrying to catch up with her. If it was a crocodile, he ought to stride forward and deal with it instead of hiding behind her robe. “Or that it mattered if we waited until dawn to reach your temple.”

  “In the dark, it should be easier to get there without being identified or shot.”

  Jev reached the dark lump first and prodded it with the butt of the rifle. He’d been carrying it above his shoulder to ensure the bullets didn’t get wet.

  “Log,” he said at the dull thuds. “Sounds like it’s partially hollow.”

  “Good. Help me drag it into the river. If we both hang on, we don’t have to worry about being separated.”

  “Yes, I’d hate it if a river current carried me out to sea and forced me to be forsworn.”

  “People fish in the delta on rafts. The current isn’t terribly threatening most of the year.”

  Meaning she wouldn’t believe it had been an accident if he were carried off by the current.

  They dragged the log into the water, and Jev balanced the rifle atop it. As cold water reached all the way up to his shoulders, and a fresh flash of pain came from his bullet wound, he decided that dealing with the assassins would have been better than this. He also lamented that he’d told Lornysh to stay out of trouble instead of coming to assist him again. Jev could have sent him after these guild thugs like an attack hound loosed on coyotes.

  He slung an arm over the log and let the slow current carry them away from the shore. “Will your archmage mind if you drip water all over the temple floor when you drag me in?”

  “Not as long as I have my man.” Zenia floated ahead of him, gripping a broken branch on the log and kicking to direct their conveyance to stay near the shore. “Though technically, she was a lot more interested in getting the artifact than you.”

  “I’ll hope she doesn’t plan to simply shoot me to get it.”

  “She would never do such a thing.” Zenia managed a haughty sniff despite the water kissing her nostrils.

  They kicked their way down the river for a couple of miles, doing their best to stay close to the shoreline and keep their heads low so nobody would see them. Twice, Jev glimpsed lanterns in the mangroves. Maybe this hadn’t been a bad idea, after all. There had to be dozens of people out there searching. For him. Or for the artifact they thought he had.

  Not for the first time, he wondered what, by the pointed teeth of all the founders, this Eye of Truth did. More than a dragon tear, he was certain. Dragon tears were rare, but not that rare. One could purchase them if one had enough money, and they were frequently given as dowries with arranged marriages among the zyndar.

  What kind of artifact could be so desirable that the leaders of the Water Order Temple wanted it, as well as the leader of a powerful criminal guild? Whatever it was, he doubted he wanted either organization to have it. If he found it, and Zenia wasn’t pointing a gun between his shoulder blades at the time, he would take it to Targyon and let him have it. It sounded like something that would make a nice coronation gift, and with access to all the books in Alderoth Castle, Targyon would be able to research it and figure out
what it could do.

  Jev smiled, imagining Targyon accepting the position of king simply so he could claim that library as his own. His stewards would be looking all over for him, needing him to sign documents and revise treaties with neighboring nations, and he would be at some back table with open books scattered all around him, oblivious to the passage of time.

  The log came to a stop, pulling Jev from his musings.

  “We’ve snagged on something.” Zenia shifted and kicked, trying to knock the log loose from whatever had caught it.

  “A crocodile?”

  “I don’t think so, though I did see one swimming upstream a minute ago.”

  “Comforting.” Jev also kicked, trying to manipulate the back half of the log toward the shore.

  The river was wide and shallow where they were, and his boots brushed the bottom, but he didn’t find any submerged logs or boulders that might have caught their ride.

  Zenia grunted with exertion or maybe annoyance. “It’s some fishing net.” She scooted closer to the front of the log. “What the—” Her splash drowned out the rest of her words as she tried to disentangle the log from the net.

  The rumble of a steam engine reached Jev’s ears, and his stomach sank to the bottom. “That’s on the water. Behind us. A boat.”

  Ten years ago, paddle boats and small skiffs had made up the majority of the river traffic, but he wouldn’t be surprised if more steam-powered craft plied the waters now. He also wouldn’t be surprised if the location of this net wasn’t an accident. Did it stretch across the entire waterway?

  “Swim to shore,” he ordered.

  Zenia was still splashing about, trying to disentangle the log. Or maybe she’d been caught up in the net herself?

  Jev pushed away from the log.

  “Zenia?” Worried she wouldn’t hear him over the splashing, Jev raised his voice. “Can you get free?”

  The noise of the steamboat grew louder, its wheel splashing as paddles rotated in and out of the water.

  Jev glanced back and spotted lanterns burning on the deck. With the current helping it along, the boat approached quickly.

  Jev paddled backward toward the shore, keeping an eye on Zenia and on the boat. If they were tangled in the net when it arrived, they would be hauled in as easily as fish.

  “I got caught, but I’m coming.” Zenia shoved away from the log. “Go.”

  She turned and swam. The current carried Jev into the net, and he cursed. It did indeed seem to stretch all the way across the river. He tried to swim away from it while still angling toward the bank.

  He wanted to dismiss the net as some new fishing tactic, but he knew nobody was out here fishing in the middle of the night. This had all been placed for him. For the artifact.

  Realizing he would keep getting caught in the net if all he did was push himself back upstream, he gripped it. The rope was taut enough that he could pull himself along it, almost as if he were climbing a sideways ladder.

  A gun fired from the boat.

  Jev’s heart jumped into his throat. These people were determined to kill him.

  “This is getting old,” Zenia growled.

  Jev couldn’t agree more.

  Aware of the boat looming closer and closer, he took a breath and dunked his head, pulling himself along underwater. Another gun fired.

  His legs streamed out behind him as he pulled himself along, so his elbow struck the bottom first when he reached the shore. He came up with a gasp, letting go of the net and scrambling to get his feet under him. He glanced back, hoping Zenia hadn’t been hit by that shot. He didn’t see her. Was she also staying underwater? Or had she been—

  Her head came up, and she gasped for air less than three feet away. He grabbed her to help her out of the water. Now, he could make out several dark figures out on the deck of the steamboat, all with weapons in hand.

  Gripping Zenia’s arm, Jev rushed for the cover of the trees.

  A lantern was unshuttered right ahead of them, yellow light spilling out.

  “That’s far enough,” the man holding it said.

  Two men with pistols stood next to him, the muzzles pointed at Jev.

  Zenia stopped beside him, her sodden robe clinging to her. As with the other thugs, these men did not target her.

  Jev calculated the distance to them and whether he might be able to dive behind a tree before they could shoot. It was doubtful.

  “Search them,” someone said from the side, and Jev realized there were two more people over there. Two dark-hooded people. The riders they’d seen earlier?

  More men walked out of the trees, more lanterns being unveiled. Jev’s shoulders slumped. He might have taken his chances against three men, but there were too many now.

  One of the two men with pistols holstered his weapon and stalked forward. Even though the others were aiming at Jev, he went straight toward Zenia. There was just enough light to see the eager grin on his face. He lifted his hands, reaching for Zenia. No, for her breasts.

  Her eyes blazed before he touched her. Jev took a step, intending to block the oaf’s path, but Zenia lunged toward the man first, launching a palm strike at his face. Even though he looked like a lustful idiot, he had the presence of mind to throw up a block and deflect her attack. She dropped into a crouch with her fists raised, clearly ready to defend herself.

  But one of the other men came forward. He circled his buddy and pointed his pistol at Zenia’s face.

  Her chin came up in defiance.

  “Don’t think we won’t kill you because of your robe, Pretty,” the man said. “People die and get thrown in the river all the time. Accidents happen. Nobody pays attention.”

  “Lower your weapon and back away from me,” Zenia ordered, touching her dragon tear.

  Both men stepped back, and the one aiming at her let his arm droop to his side. They wore befuddled expressions.

  One of the dark-cloaked figures made an exasperated noise and strode toward Zenia. Jev was positive he was one of the riders and possessed a dragon tear of his own.

  “Stay back,” Zenia ordered.

  But the man didn’t falter.

  Even though Zenia could defend herself, her doing so might get them both shot.

  Jev stepped forward to intercept the cloaked figure, raising his hand. “We have nothing on us that you want, but I’m not opposed to working with your leader to find the item. Take us to her, and I’m sure she will reward you.”

  The cloaked figure paused to stare at him. Deep shadows in the hood hid the person’s face, and Jev had no idea what he was dealing with. Some guild assassin? Something worse?

  “You can tell I don’t have anything magical on me,” Jev said, guessing that was true. People with dragon tears could usually use them to detect magic elsewhere. “But the inquisitor and I have information. That’s more valuable than a grope. Take us to your leader. We won’t discuss what we know with minions.”

  “Minions?” one of the men protested.

  The hooded figure said nothing, simply kept staring. Jev stared back. He’d dealt with enough elves and their terrifying magical creations not to be scared by anything his own city could throw at him.

  “We’ll take you to see Iridium,” one of the men finally said. “But you’ll wish you’d simply dealt with us.”

  “You are charming, but I’ll take my chances.”

  “Remove her gem,” the man told the cloaked figure with a gem of his own. “We don’t want any surprises.”

  Zenia stirred, growling in her throat like a wolf.

  The cloaked figure turned his stare on the order-giver, and Jev sensed that the man, or whatever was under that hood, didn’t like being told what to do. However, he strode around Jev, nudging him aside with some magic that felt like a physical shove, and reached for Zenia’s necklace.

  She lifted her arms, as if she meant to punch him, but she froze mid-motion. The figure lifted a black-gloved hand and tore the dragon tear from her neck. She remained frozen wit
h rage burning in her eyes.

  The figure shifted her robe aside and withdrew her pistol, though it had gotten wet during their swim and wouldn’t have fired anyway. Still, Zenia’s eyes flared with even more indignation.

  Jev wanted to step in on her behalf and clobber the thief, but the odds were too far in favor of him being shot. Judging by the night thus far, these people did not believe his life mattered.

  The men surrounded Jev and Zenia and pointed them in the direction of the highway and the city. Jev supposed it was too much to hope that a watchman at the gate would stop their party and throw these louts in jail.

  Zenia regained her ability to move and shook out her arms. Their escort didn’t give her time to enjoy her freedom. Pistols prodded them in the back, leaving them no choice but to go with the men.

  “Am I supposed to thank you?” Zenia growled, her fingers straying to the empty spot where her dragon tear had hung.

  Jev shook his head, having no better reply to offer. His wet clothing chafed as they walked, and he hoped they would not have far to go. Weariness assailed him at the idea of dealing with some crime lord tonight. Or crime lady. Whatever this Iridium was. He was tired of this day and longed for a bed. He would even settle for a blanket spread deep within a Taziir forest right now.

  “I don’t suppose your elf friend is going to come to your aid again?” Zenia muttered as the highway came into view through the trees.

  “I’m afraid not. That seemed to irritate you, so I told him to stop doing it.”

  “It would irritate me less if he was beating the piss out of other people.”

  “I’ll let him know next time I see him.”

  Whenever that would be. Jev gazed wistfully up the highway in the direction of Dharrow Castle, but they were miles away from it now. Their escort turned them the opposite way, toward the city.

  10

  “I asked for artifacts, not people,” the raven-haired woman said, drumming her long black fingernails on the marble armrest of what could only be called a throne.

  Its presence wasn’t as out of place as one would have expected in the large subterranean room since all manner of pots, statues, paintings, and other items—stolen items—from past eras filled the space. A huge astrological painting behind the throne showed the four seasons, beautifully illustrated dragons of each color within each quadrant, along with their matching constellations. Zenia wondered if underworld guild leaders were as likely to pay attention to signs and portents as the average kingdom subject.