When he spotted The Mosquito standing near the entrance to an alley, Valek recognized the setup. Those three worked for the bug. Like a pack of sheep dogs, their job was to herd him toward that alley, where Valek’s prey would conveniently dangle like bait on a hook. Then the bait would slip down the alley and draw Valek right into an ambush. Classic.
He judged his odds. The Mosquito plus three—doable with darts, but just how many waited? A brief thought of using his magic to sense the others flashed before he dismissed it. Too many people around. Even though Teegan had taught him to control his magic in order to prevent a flameout back at the Stormdancers’ safe house, he was reluctant to use it. According to Teegan, his mental barrier was strong enough that he didn’t need to wear a null shield. Besides, he liked being able to detect when magic was in use around him.
Instead of using magic, he decided to take the high ground. Valek returned to the heart of the market and lost his sheepdogs, then cut down the street next to The Mosquito’s chosen alley. When no one appeared to take an interest in him, he climbed the nearest building and reached the top.
When he straightened, he spotted The Mosquito waiting on the roof two buildings down on his left. Fisk did say the man was smart. So how did Yelena get away from him with only a few cuts?
It occurred to Valek that perhaps Yelena wasn’t his target.
Valek drew both his daggers and faced The Mosquito as he lightly hopped buildings.
The Mosquito halted six feet in front of Valek. “Please tell me you really didn’t think I’d set up such an obvious trap for you.”
“You took a contract to kill Yelena. That makes me question the level of your intelligence.”
“Fair enough.” He swept a hand out.
Sensing movement behind him, Valek angled his body to keep the bug in sight while he glanced back. Four black-clad figures stood up from where they’d been lying on the right side of the rooftop. Nice.
“What about now?” The Mosquito asked.
“It depends on who you brought for backup.”
“Well, this is Sitia. Not a ton of trained killers here. But there are plenty of magicians. Four might be excessive, but...” He shrugged. “I’d rather too many than not enough.”
Ah. Smart move. Around Valek, the presence of magic disappeared suddenly. The magicians must have surrounded him with a null shield. Valek dropped his arms to his sides, as if an invisible hand had wrapped around his torso. When he’d been immune to magic, a null shield could immobilize him like a rat stuck between the jaws of a trap. Now...not at all. However, he didn’t want the bug to learn this fact until the perfect moment.
“Now I’m questioning your intelligence, Valek. Why would you come after me alone when everyone knows how easy it is to trap the infamous assassin?”
“Who says I’m alone?”
The Mosquito opened his mouth, but snapped it closed as his gaze slid past Valek’s shoulders. Four thuds sounded behind him. The presence Valek had sensed in the market stood among the prone forms. As usual, Onora was barefoot.
“You do realize she wants the same thing I do,” The Mosquito said.
Valek rolled his shoulders as if he’d been released from the pressure of a null shield. “I do,” he said. “But she’ll wait her turn. Right, Onora?”
“You can play with your bug first,” she said.
Valek didn’t hesitate. He flipped his dagger and flung it at The Mosquito’s chest with all his strength. Shock whitened the man’s face as the blade pierced bone and buried deep into his heart. The force slammed The Mosquito to the ground.
Shuffling close, Valek crouched beside the assassin. Valek met the bug’s horrified gaze. “I’m sorry we didn’t have a proper match, but I need to save my energy for the next fight.”
For Onora to show up in broad daylight meant it was going to take all his skills to defeat her. If he even could. She must have downplayed her abilities when sparring with him before. “Oh, and Yelena says enjoy the fire world.”
Valek yanked his knife from The Mosquito’s chest and stood to face Onora.
3
LEIF
“You can’t pack an entire hothouse’s worth of plants onto one wagon, Father,” Leif said for the billionth time. Sweat rolled down his face as he helped Esau pack the plants’ roots into large terra-cotta pots filled with soil. They’d been at it for two days now. “Just collect the important ones and those that you think can survive the trip.”
Esau knelt among the greenery. Dirt streaked his face and smeared his coveralls. His tragic expression over leaving any of the shrubbery behind was almost comical. “If Mara makes me glass panels for the wagon, we could construct a hothouse on wheels and—”
“It would weigh a ton and take a team of oxen to drag it to the Citadel. Not to mention draw attention to us, and right now, we can’t afford to be noticed.” Leif and Mara had to dodge a number of military patrols on the eight-day trip here. Traveling with a full wagon was going to be a nightmare. “We’ll probably have to put a tarp over the plants we do take in order to blend in.”
Esau gasped in dismay, and Leif suppressed a sigh. His father was the best at identifying and working with plants, but sometimes the man’s devotion bordered on obsession.
“We’re leaving in the morning, Father. So tell me which ones to pot, or I’m going into the farmhouse and—”
“Take the crossbreeds and the grafted Theobroma trees.” Esau stabbed his finger at the plants. Soil filled his nails, which had grown long, along with Esau’s wild gray hair.
Leif hadn’t wanted to leave his father behind in Broken Bridge when he’d returned to the Citadel two months ago, but that Zaltana stubbornness won out, and Esau had remained at the farmstead. And it appeared that he had practically lived in the glass hothouse and only spent the minimum amount of time on things like basic hygiene, sleeping and eating.
Then again, it was probably a good thing Esau hadn’t accompanied Leif. Considering he’d been ambushed, kidnapped, brainwashed and shot in the chest with a crossbow bolt, Leif thought his father had fared better, even with the malnutrition. Leif rubbed the scar on his chest, remembering the pain and the knowledge that he was dying. That he’d never hold his beautiful wife in his arms again. Then, from nowhere, Valek had appeared and saved his life. With magic! A month later, Leif still couldn’t get his mind to accept it. Valek, who’d been immune forever, and now...a magician of considerable strength. Weird.
Leif finished potting the plant and several more that Esau gave him, then stood. Stretching his back, he wiped the sweat from his face and headed toward the house to check on Mara. Ever since his near-death experience and seeing her a prisoner of Bruns, he grew nervous when he’d been separated from her for more than a few hours.
The trip to the Citadel was going to be tricky. He planned to let her ride his horse, Rusalka, with instructions to head back without waiting for them. It was safer for her, and she’d have a better chance of avoiding the patrols by traveling alone. The time apart would be torture for him, but it was much better than letting Bruns capture her again.
Mara was in the farmhouse’s large kitchen, cooking supper. He paused in the threshold and watched his wife. Honey-colored curls framed her heart-shaped face. She was gorgeous on the outside and equally as beautiful on the inside. He’d never met a sweeter soul. But he’d learned she wasn’t as soft as she appeared. Her run-in with Bruns had brought out her inner strength.
She spotted him hovering and flashed him a huge grin, her tawny-colored eyes shining with love. His heart melted at the sight, and he rushed to gather her close.
Mara nuzzled his neck. “You smell of earth and sweat.”
“Does my man-odor turn you on?”
She leaned back to meet his gaze. “You’ve been spending too much time with Janco.”
“
I haven’t seen Janco in weeks,” he protested.
“Doesn’t matter. The damage is done,” she teased. “Go get cleaned up. Supper is almost ready, Man-Odor.”
“Come with me? Father is busy.”
“And let the roast dry out?”
“Yes.” Food had lost its appeal. Almost dying had a way of rearranging a person’s priorities.
“I won’t serve a meal that tastes like shoe leather.” She squeezed him. “We’ll have time later. This house has lots of bedrooms, and we’ll probably need to check on the horses sometime this evening.”
He laughed. “Is ‘check on the horses’ going to be our code?” Leif imagined a house full of kids and a future Leif announcing that Mommy and Daddy needed to “check on the horses” and would be back.
“You’ve no sense of romance.”
“That shouldn’t be a surprise.”
She shooed him away in mock disgust. Smiling, Leif cleaned up and helped her finish cooking dinner. He brought a tray of food outside for his father. After Esau ate, they loaded the wagon and watered the plants.
“Poor things.” Esau tsked. “Out in the cold. Maybe I should—”
“No. You’re not sleeping here with them. We’ll be on the road for—” he calculated “—sixteen days, if the weather cooperates. You’ll have plenty of time to coddle the plants. Tonight, you should get cleaned up and have a proper night’s sleep in a bed.”
But Esau fretted anyway, and Leif offered to put the tarp on that night instead of waiting until the morning. By the time he finished securing the fabric to Esau’s satisfaction, Leif really did have to check on the horses. He sent his father into the house with strict orders to wash up and go to bed, then headed to the barn.
He breathed in the comforting scent of hay, horses and manure. Rusalka greeted him with a soft nicker. He topped off her water bucket and added grain to her feed. Then he tended to the other two. Fisk had lent them a hardy sorrel quarter horse named Cider for Mara to ride, and who had also been trained to pull a wagon. Leif had traded in his father’s horse for a barrel-chested black draft horse named Kohl. The brute could probably handle the wagon on his own, but, due to the distance, Leif felt better with two.
Mara arrived just as he finished cleaning Kohl’s hooves.
“Come to check on the horses?” He leered.
She ignored him. “I tucked your father into bed, but I had to promise to tug on the fabric over the wagon to ensure it doesn’t come loose.”
“Sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing?”
“’Cause you’re looking at your future. I’m going to turn into an obsessed old man who will demand that each bag of tea I make will have the exact same number of leaves while hair sprouts from my ears seemingly overnight.”
She cocked her head to the side and stared at his right ear. “And how’s that different than now?”
He growled. Mara squealed and ran for it. He caught her easily and carried her to the piles of hay. “Time to check on the horses,” he whispered in her ear.
* * *
The next morning didn’t go as smoothly as Leif had imagined.
“No.” Mara crossed her arms, emphasizing her point.
Leif tried again. “But it’ll be dangerous.”
“No. Where you go, I go.” She climbed into the wagon and sat next to Esau, picking up the reins. “We’ll avoid populated areas and keep to the back roads. We’ll be fine.”
“Do you even know—”
“Leif Liana Zaltana, if you don’t mount Rusalka, I’m going to run you over.”
Esau covered his mouth but couldn’t quite stop a chuckle. Great. This was just great. Didn’t she know Leif wouldn’t survive if something terrible happened to her? However, her stern expression meant he’d have more luck convincing the Commander to welcome magicians into Ixia.
Leif bit back a childish retort. Instead, he said “Fine” in a peevish tone, then mounted Rusalka and took point. The wagon team followed him from the farmstead.
They stayed close to the Sunworth River and kept to the back roads. Making steady progress to the southwest, Leif decided to remain well north of Fulgor and skirt the edge of the Snake Forest until they crossed into Featherstone lands. A solid plan, until it started to rain.
They’d been traveling about eight days when the skies opened and sheets of rain turned the road into a quagmire, forcing them to go south to access the stone-covered ground of the well-traveled east-to-west route.
Blending in with the other miserable travelers was the one benefit of being on a popular route. However, the presence of more patrols was the downside. But with the three of them huddled under cloaks and the plants hidden by the tarp, no one paid them much attention.
Two rainy days later, they were just about past the outer limits of Fulgor when the scent of burnt sugar stung Leif’s nose. Magic. He tightened his grip on the reins but stayed still as the strong aroma swept over him. Rusalka jigged to the side, agitated by the sudden wave of magic. Leif kept his mental barrier firmly in place but was ready to build a null shield if they were attacked by a magician.
Nothing happened, and the scent disappeared. But just in case, Leif pressed on longer than normal, trying to get as far away from Fulgor as possible before they stopped for the night.
The next day dawned bright and beautiful. Too bad it didn’t last. Two hours after they set off, Leif spotted a patrol of ten soldiers blocking the road, as if they’d been waiting for them.
Leif slowed Rusalka and opened his magical senses. When Mara caught up to him, he told her to stop the wagon.
“I’ll go talk to them. Stay here, but be prepared to jump off the wagon and run into the woods if I give you the signal,” he said.
“What’s the signal?” she whispered.
His magic detected the sweet scent of her anxiety. It smelled like molasses. “I scream, ‘Run.’”
“Clever.”
“That’s why I’m one of Valek’s go-to guys for spy stuff.”
She managed a smile. “Just be careful.”
Leif nodded and spurred Rusalka into a gallop. Ideally this was just a routine road check and he could talk his way past them. When he rode into a fog of black licorice, his magic detecting deceit, he knew they were in trouble.
Big trouble.
He spun Rusalka around and drew breath to warn Mara, but the words died in his throat. Another patrol stood behind the wagon. Mara spotted them as well, and the bitter tang of her fear stabbed right through him.
Ah, hell. He grabbed the hilt of his machete.
Mara stood up and yelled, “Rusalka, go home.”
“No!” But the well-trained horse grabbed the bit in her teeth, cut to the right and plunged into the woods at top speed, leaving Mara and his father far behind.
4
YELENA
After Valek left, I paced from the door to the kitchen and back again. The Mosquito was smart and well aware of Fisk’s network. There was no way he’d let them find him unless he wanted them to. He probably had an ambush set up for Valek. At least a null shield no longer trapped him, but he was vulnerable to other magic. An intelligent magician would be able to adapt once he or she realized the shield didn’t work.
I really wanted to get some fresh air, but I was trying to be sensible. There was no reason for me to go out. Turning around, I almost walked into Hilly. She blocked my path to the kitchen.
“Lovely Yelena, there are two runners upstairs waiting to report in.”
I glanced at the door.
She inclined her head. “Do you think staring at the door will make him return faster?”
“No.” In fact, he’d warned me he might not be back until the morning.
“Then why do it?”
“Becaus
e emotions don’t always follow logic.”
“Ah.”
“And I’m going crazy.”
“That I understand. Perhaps you need something to keep your mind occupied.”
“The reports—”
“Not enough. What about all that plant information you and Mr. Valek collected?”
“I’m waiting for my father and brother.”
She remained quiet.
I sighed in defeat. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t take a look at it now. Thanks, Hilly.”
Flashing me a smile, she returned to the kitchen as I headed to Fisk’s office. The two young boys sprang to their feet when they spotted me. Words tumbled from their mouths before I’d even settled behind the desk. I raised a hand, and they stopped.
Once I was ready, I asked them to repeat the information. Noting it down in Fisk’s log book, I thanked them for the good work. I assumed it was vital. Fisk had his members gather an eclectic range of data. And from this variety, he was able to make connections and discover golden nuggets of intel.
I collected the files Valek and I had taken from Bavol’s residence. Ignoring the dark brown stains of my own dried blood, I returned to the office. During my initial pass through, I organized them into three categories—useful, useless and beyond my expertise. I marked the third pile for my father.
Getting comfortable, I read through the notes in the useful stack. Bavol had considered the grafting techniques that Leif said Owen’s unknown Master Gardener used to increase the production of Theobroma. He had sketches of how to cut into the tree’s bark and insert a limb from an older tree and then bind them together. The older limb would produce pods quicker than the new host tree, cutting down on the two-year wait for the tree to mature.
I wondered if Bavol had tried it. There hadn’t been any plants in his home or office. Would he have used another location? Maybe in the Council Hall? No. Not enough light. Perhaps the Magician’s Keep? The gardeners who worked for the Keep had an impressive amount of knowledge.