Their postures wilted at the order.
“We will evict them at the right time,” Valek said. “I need you to spread the word to the rest of my corps that Onora is to be trusted.”
Twin surprised expressions.
“Any estimate on a timeline for the eviction, sir?” Adrik asked.
“I suspect things will get hot around the fire festival.”
“And if they don’t?”
“That means we failed, and they won.”
“You didn’t train us to fail, sir,” Pasha said. “And if we can’t fail, neither can you.”
Valek laughed. “You’re right. Now tell me about the castle complex. What’s the word on security?”
“Touch the wall, and you’ll have half a dozen guards dropping down on your head,” Adrik said.
Owen must have rigged it with a magical alarm. “How about the gates?”
“Only the south gate remains open, and it’s tight. All personnel going through it are checked against a list.”
Valek considered. “All right. I have a job for you.” He explained.
As they headed out with eager grins, Valek rummaged in the supply closet. All his safe houses had the same materials. Soon after the takeover, the Commander had given Valek the freedom to secure these houses and purchase equipment. The addresses hadn’t been written down, nor did the Commander know them—the recent orders were probably being sent by Maren. The locations were given to Valek’s agents to memorize once they were trusted members of his corps. Each house had its own safe filled with enough money to cover expenses for a year.
It didn’t take the agents long to return. They supported a wobbly man between them. He wore a kitchen uniform and muttered nonsense—the effects of goo-goo juice. Best of all, he was about six feet tall with short dark hair.
“His name is Mannix, and he just delivered the castle’s meat order to the butcher,” Adrik said.
“Good work.” Valek dressed in the all-white kitchen uniform with the red diamond shapes on the shirt.
Moving quickly, Valek mixed up putty, matching it to Mannix’s skin tone. He then used it to alter his appearance, softening his sharp nose and chin. Tucking his longer hair under his collar, Valek buttoned the shirt up to the top to keep it in place.
“Well?” he asked Adrik and Pasha.
“It should work,” Adrik said.
“Should?”
“It’s dark. You’ll be fine,” Pasha said.
He hoped so. If he was caught...
No. Not going to think about it. “Release Mannix in the morning. And stay alert for any news about the castle and the Commander’s plans.”
“Yes, sir,” they said in unison.
“Thanks for the help.” Valek left by the back entrance and headed to the castle’s south gate.
He strode with confidence and didn’t hesitate when approaching the gate. There were six armed guards. Valek recognized them. It was the two others—one man and a woman—standing just inside the gate who he didn’t know. The man held a clipboard and the woman stared at him.
“Mannix, cook’s aide,” she said in a bored voice to the man. Magic brushed his mental shields. Owen had brought in more magicians. Not good. Valek lowered his shield enough for his surface thoughts to be read. At least, that was what he hoped he did. He concentrated on what he needed to do to prep for the morning breakfast rush.
“Mannix, got it,” clipboard man said. “Go on.”
The gate opened, and Valek headed straight to the castle. His thoughts remained on finishing his work before going to bed. As soon as he entered the castle, he ducked down a little-used corridor. The perks of being in very familiar territory. Valek pulled off the putty and the kitchen uniform, revealing his black skintight sneak suit underneath. While he was tempted to visit his office, he was smart enough to avoid it. Instead, he found a hiding place to wait until the perfect time.
* * *
Near midnight, Valek ghosted through the empty hallways. He had written all the security protocols for the castle. As long as they hadn’t been changed, he would be able to reach his goal without being spotted. It all depended on Owen’s confidence that Valek would never return. Since Owen had easily captured Valek in a null shield and almost killed him the last time they met, the magician had to be feeling pretty confident that Valek would stay far away. And Owen must also believe in Onora’s ability to assassinate Valek, or he wouldn’t have sent her. Add those together, and Valek was literally betting his life that the protocols had not been changed.
He found a window, drew in a deep breath and then climbed out. He clung to the west wall and braced for shouts of discovery or a crossbow bolt shot through his back. When nothing happened, he scaled the wall.
Avoiding all the booby traps on the roof, Valek reached his target. He opened the window and slipped inside. A bright fire burned in the hearth, and the Commander sat in front of it, sipping his brandy. The other seat was empty. A relief. Valek had expected to see Owen lounging in Valek’s chair, and he had a dart filled with Curare just in case.
“Have you come to assassinate me, Valek?” the Commander asked without even glancing in his direction.
Valek approached the Commander but kept his distance. No doubt the man was armed, and his skills with a knife exceeded Valek’s. “No.”
He turned his head, and his golden gaze met Valek’s. “Why not? I signed your order of execution. I sent Onora after you. Well done, by the way. I didn’t think you’d beat her. Pity, though. She had such potential.” He paused as if truly grieving. “You know your only chance to leave this room alive is to kill me. If you can.”
A big if. “I came to talk.”
“Nothing you say to me will change anything.” His tone was matter-of-fact, and a bit resigned. The Commander’s all-black uniform was pristine as always. Two real diamonds on his collar reflected the firelight, sending sparks of yellow onto the walls.
The faint scent of apples laced the air. “I didn’t come to talk to you.”
“You expected Owen to be here? We’re not to that point yet, but he’ll be along soon enough.”
“Magical alarm?”
“In a way.” The Commander tapped his forehead.
“How much time do I have?”
The Commander refused to answer.
Which meant not much. Valek knew the Commander’s physical body was female, but Ambrose had always identified as male and lived as a man since puberty. No one else was privy to this information except Yelena. Her Soulfinding abilities detected that the Commander’s mother’s soul also resided in his body. When Signe had died in childbirth, her magic transferred her soul to her baby. The Commander had trusted Yelena and Valek to keep it a secret.
“I came to talk to your mother,” Valek said.
He shrank back in his chair. “She can’t talk.”
“She can if you let her.”
“I can’t... Owen...” He pressed his fingers into his temples as if enduring a sudden headache.
“Signe’s the reason for the inconsistencies. Why you could send me and Yelena away, despite Owen’s influence on your mind. Owen doesn’t have control of your mother’s soul.”
“Owen thinks he does, but he can’t know...or all is lost.”
“I’ll be quick so he doesn’t find out,” Valek promised.
The transformation of Commander Ambrose into his mother, Signe, would have been startling if Valek hadn’t seen it before. His features didn’t shift, but from one breath to the next, another person peered from his almond-shaped eyes. Even with his bristle-short gray hair, she appeared feminine.
“How did Owen get to Ambrose?” Valek asked her.
“Owen pleaded for his life. He promised my son barrels of Curare for his army in exchange. It appeared to be a stan
dard business deal, but Owen planted a...seed, I think, during that first meeting.”
“A seed?”
“A powerful suggestion in Ambrose’s mind that Owen was to be trusted.”
Ah, hell. That was over four years ago.
“What happened to the null shields in his uniforms?”
“Owen forced Ambrose to lie about them to you so you wouldn’t suspect he was being influenced by the magician.”
Valek considered. “It worked. Plus, I didn’t notice any change in him. Not then.”
“No one did. It was subtle. In fact, Ambrose wouldn’t believe me—he was too focused on getting Curare for his soldiers. Owen kept the connection hidden until he arrived at the castle. By then it was too late.”
“When is Owen planning to take over Sitia?”
“Once the Cartel has control of the Sitian military, it’s a done deal. They are going to assign military districts and generals to the clans.”
“The Sitian people won’t accept that.” Especially Fisk and his people.
“Owen and the Cartel have a way to change their minds.”
“There isn’t enough Theobroma for everyone in Sitia.”
“They don’t need Theobroma. They have something else,” Signe said.
A cold wave of fear swept through him. “What is it?”
“I wish I knew. Owen won’t tell Ambrose what it is. But it doesn’t matter at this point. My son cannot disobey Owen’s commands.”
“But you can?”
“For now. Owen believes I’m trapped, like Ambrose, and we’ve been careful to keep up the ruse.”
Good to know. Valek focused on the problem at hand. “Do you have any idea what it is?”
“All I know is that Owen learned about it from his ancestor, Master Magician Ellis Moon. It was in the magician’s notes.”
Valek muttered a curse. “Does Owen have those notes with him?”
“I don’t think so. He complained that he could only copy the information, despite being a direct descendant. They’re considered vital historical documents and are kept in the Magician’s Keep’s library. He made an odd comment about how the library wouldn’t let him take the files.”
Muted voices reached them through the gap under the door. The doorknob jiggled.
“You need to go,” Signe said.
9
JANCO
Janco resisted the urge to scratch. No matter what color he dyed his hair, it always caused his scalp to itch something fierce. And the fake ear glued over his scarred one just added to his discomfort. Sweat pooled underneath the putty, driving him crazy. Add in the heat and humidity, and Janco longed for an assignment on the northern ice sheet. At this point, he’d gladly endure frostbite and evade snow cats. Better than dodging deadly Greenblade bees.
The creak of wood and rattle of a harness cut through Janco’s misery. From his hiding spot, he craned his neck, peering around a bush. Sure enough, a wagon rode into view, heading west. Two horses pulled it at a fast trot. Janco waited as it slowed. The driver—a tall, impossibly thin Greenblade man Janco had nicknamed Toothpick—must have spotted the tree trunk lying across the road. The tree wasn’t big enough to halt the wagon entirely, but in order to continue his journey, the driver would have to roll over it with care or risk a broken wheel.
Janco shifted his weight to the balls of his feet. When the horses stepped over the log, he slipped behind the wagon. As the wheels thumped over the obstruction, Janco climbed in and crawled under the tarp, avoiding the sacks of white coal as he wedged his body between the other supplies.
The wagon increased its speed after it cleared the trunk. Janco grinned and pumped his fist. Toothpick didn’t have a clue he’d just picked up a passenger. Not sure how long it would be until they stopped, Janco settled into a more comfortable position.
Janco’d been watching and tracking the deliveries to the Greenblade garrison for two weeks now, trying to identify which wagon brought in the Theobroma for the cook to use in the garrison’s food. It had been harder than he expected, since they used a tarp and the schedule was erratic. But once he figured out Toothpick was the delivery man, it didn’t take long to plan a way to hop a ride to see just where the Theobroma was coming from.
Janco checked the lump under his tunic, ensuring it remained in place. The null shield pendant kept the Cartel’s magicians from brainwashing him and also from detecting him. They’d been rather vigilant about spies, which was why he couldn’t simply follow the wagon on horseback.
As the afternoon turned into evening, Janco guessed Toothpick would stop for the night. He remembered General Brazell’s Theobroma-producing factory. They had smelled the sweet aroma of the drug miles downwind. He doubted many of the Greenbladers recognized the scent. However, finding an isolated spot to produce the stuff must have been difficult, since the Greenblade forest, which covered two-thirds of their lands, had dozens of tiny settlements all over the place.
When the wagon slowed hours later, Janco prepared to ditch. While certain he could take Toothpick without breaking a sweat, Janco didn’t want to ruin the mission. This was an information-gathering endeavor. Ari, his partner, had just about pounded the importance of not being seen into Janco’s head.
Slipping out before the horses stopped, Janco dropped onto the road. He ducked into the woods as the wagon continued toward a bright yellow glow. Perhaps Toothpick had decided to overnight in one of the settlements. By the distant brightness, Janco guessed it must be one of the bigger villages.
Janco hurried to catch up, but paused at the edge of the...town? He stared through the trees at the wide array of buildings and factories. People bustled between them even at this late hour. Greenery filled the extra-long glass hothouses lined up like fingers—ten in all. The nutty sweetness of Theobroma fogged the air and mixed with the unmistakable citrus tang of Curare.
Holy snow cats! He’d hit the jackpot.
Or had he? This was blatant, even for Bruns. And judging by the age of the tree stumps and worn paths, this had been here for years. Someone would have noticed it by now. Unless Owen had set it up and scared off the locals?
The answer popped into his head, and Janco almost groaned aloud. Idiot.
He removed the null shield pendant—a gift from Leif—and a dark forest replaced the scene of bright industry. All sounds ceased, and only a moist, earthy scent filled his nose. Pain burned in his right ear.
The town was covered by a massive illusion. Even though Janco hated magic, he had to admit the deception was impressive. The main road curved around the northern edge, so unsuspecting travelers would avoid all the buildings.
Looping the pendant back around his neck, Janco squinted in the sudden light. He spent the next couple hours observing. The activity slowed well after midnight, with only a few people remaining outside. The desire to nose about the complex to learn more pulsed in his chest. Perhaps he’d spot Owen’s Master Gardener. The man or woman had to be in charge of this operation. And Janco even wore the long green tunic and pants that the Greenblade men preferred. His light brown hair and tanned skin matched them as well.
However, Janco remembered the last time he’d pushed his luck. He’d ended up not only getting caught but also causing the rest of his team to be captured. Dax had died, Hale went missing and Leif had almost died.
Being sensible for the first time in his life, Janco left, jogging along the road. He’d report back to Ari and, after they sent the information to Fisk, they’d return and have a good snoop.
* * *
Janco arrived in Longleaf late the next morning. Instead of trying to go undercover in the garrison, they’d decided to rent a small house in the nearby town and keep an eye on the flow of traffic going to and from the base.
With a sudden burst of energy, Janco sprinted to the narrow wooden ho
use wedged in the middle of a row. He rushed into the front room and was about to shout his good news, but Ari’s tense posture stopped him in his tracks. Ari wore his I-want-to-strangle-someone expression. One that was usually aimed at Janco, but was directed at a young boy. Poor kid.
At six feet four inches tall, Ari loomed over most others. The skinny-mini standing next to him appeared tiny in comparison. Must be one of Fisk’s...spies. Hard to call kids under the age of fifteen spies, but the little tykes had come in handy since the Cartel decided to take over Sitia. And the guild members had saved their asses back when Bruns had them. Gotta give them their due.
Sensing trouble, Janco asked, “Something wrong?”
“We’re being recalled to the Citadel,” Ari said. Frowning, he ran a big, beefy paw—er...hand—over the short curls of his blond hair.
“Who and why?”
“Valek’s orders. Tell him,” Ari said to the boy.
Janco braced for bad news as Skinny-Mini detailed Yelena’s capture and her agreement with Cahil—which explained Ari’s murderous glare. Despite the results, using lamplighters for an ambush was a sweet move. He’d never look at them the same way again.
“I need to inform the others. Master Fisk is pulling all agents from the garrisons,” Skinny-Mini said.
“Go,” Ari said.
“Wait.” Janco grabbed his shoulder. “Are you returning to the Citadel after this?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Tell Fisk we’ll be delayed a few days.”
“We can’t disobey a direct order,” Ari said.
“Don’t worry, Ari. Valek will forgive us. He’ll probably give us a medal.”
“Why?” Ari and Skinny-Mini asked in unison.
He told them about the complex. “We can’t return without checking it out. It might be the key to stopping the Cartel.”
Ever cautious, Ari asked, “How many guards are there?”
“Doesn’t matter. We’ll be like ghosts—invisible.”
“Ghosts aren’t... Oh, never mind. We’ll check it out, but I’ll decide if we go into the complex or just watch from a distance.”