Heat pressed on us as we entered. Workers sat at gaffer’s benches, some gathered molten slugs of glass, and another cracked a vase off a blowpipe and into an annealing oven. I smiled, remembering Opal’s lessons on how to blow glass. That knowledge had saved my life and allowed me to leave the fire world.
I didn’t recognize any of the workers, who glanced at us but didn’t stop shaping the glass even when Leif said hello to a few.
A shriek pierced the kilns’ roar. Leif and I grabbed our weapons, but a small girl with blond corkscrew curls dashed from between the equipment. Opal was hot on her adopted daughter’s heels.
“Come on, Reema. You’ll be late for school,” she yelled as Reema hid behind Leif.
“Uncle Leif, protect me!” she cried.
“After you ditched me with an empty pie pan? No way.” He sidestepped, exposing her.
She shrieked again and clutched my legs. “Aunt Yelena, don’t let them take me away, please!” Reema implored with her big blue eyes.
Who could resist that? Not me. I picked her up. Technically, I wasn’t her aunt by blood or marriage, but Opal insisted I was family. And Valek, too.
“Oh, for sand’s sake,” Opal said. “It’s just school, Reema. You’ll be home in time for dinner.”
Reema smoothed her beautiful face into an innocent expression. “We have company. It would be rude of me to leave now.”
What a con artist. I laughed.
Opal frowned. “Don’t encourage her.”
Devlen joined us. “There she is!” Most of his long black hair had escaped a leather tie and his shirt was rumpled. He nodded at us. “Come on.” He took his daughter from my arms.
She shrieked. “No, Daddy, I want to stay and visit.”
“We’ll be in town for a couple days,” I said. “If you go to school, I’ll finish the story about the curious Valmur tonight.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
She pouted, but no longer assaulted our eardrums with that high-pitched squeal. Devlen carried her off.
“Let me down. I wanna walk,” she said.
“So you can run off again? I think not,” Devlen replied in a tired voice.
Opal gestured to her office. “Come in and let’s have a proper hello.”
We entered the room, and the kilns’ noise and heat dulled. More of the gray foam had been sprayed on the glass walls, but a strip had been left clean. Probably so she could see the factory floor.
“I told you she was a scamp,” Leif said, giving Opal a hug.
“And I never disagreed with you. Hello, Yelena.” She hugged me next. “Nice to see you.”
“What? No nice to see me?” Leif plopped into one of the chairs.
“Talk about a scamp,” I said.
Opal laughed. After all of Opal’s troubles, it was wonderful to hear the lighthearted sound and see the spark of amusement in her dark brown eyes. Her golden-brown hair had been pinned up in a knot, but strands hung down in a haphazard fashion.
“I’m sorry we came at a bad time,” I said.
“Oh no. Don’t worry. This is just our morning routine. Reema runs and hides and we search for her, drag her out from whatever hiding spot she’s found and carry her to school. You actually helped by intercepting her.”
“Ever think of homeschooling?” Leif teased.
“Yes. But she’s never been to a school before, and if she wants to join her brother at the Magician’s Keep, she needs to learn how to be with other kids her age.”
“Do you think she’ll be invited to the Keep?” I asked. At age ten, Reema was too young to show any magical potential, but her older brother, Teegan, had plenty to spare. Bain hoped he’d grow into master-level powers by the time he finished the five-year curriculum.
“Yes. She has an intuitive sense that is more than natural. It’s hard to explain. She can be so mature and smart at times, acting older than ten, yet at other times, like in the mornings before school, she runs around like a spoiled five-year-old.” Opal sank behind her desk. “While I’m happy to see you both, I sense it’s not to discuss parenting methods. Unless you have some news about my sister, Leif?” She raised her eyebrows.
Leif blushed bright red. Now it was my turn to laugh. My brother, the prude.
“I’ll take that as a no. Yelena?”
My mirth died in my throat. “Not even engaged.”
“Too bad. Another wedding would be fun.”
“Except we’d be targets. Better to elope like you and Devlen.”
“Which worked until my mother found out about it.”
I smiled, remembering the big gala Opal’s mother had thrown for them.
“Best food, ever,” Leif said.
“What about at your own wedding?” I asked.
“I was too nervous to eat.”
“Wow, I didn’t think that ever happened,” Opal teased.
“Not funny.”
After a pause in conversation, Opal asked, “Do you want to wait for Devlen to return before you tell me what’s going on?”
“Probably a good idea,” I said. Bad enough telling my story again. Best to avoid telling it twice.
“Then I’ll fetch some tea.” Opal left.
I scanned her office. Glass vases, bowls and sculptures decorated the tables and shelves. Stacks of orders had been arranged neatly on her desk.
Opal returned with a tray and poured four glasses. “Devlen’s coming.” She handed us each a steaming mug.
Devlen slipped into the room. He’d fixed his hair and changed his shirt. He said hello and stood behind Opal with one hand clutching his mug as if it would protect him and the other resting on Opal’s shoulder. Leif stared at him as if scenting his intentions. When Opal had first married Devlen, the relationship between Leif and Devlen had been strained. Leif had dealt with Devlen when he’d been addicted to the blood magic, and hadn’t witnessed Devlen’s change firsthand, only heard about it through Valek.
I had seen Devlen’s soul and knew him like no other. Probably why he acted embarrassed around me. Examining a person’s soul was a ruthless and intimate experience, and I hadn’t shied away, stripping down the layers to see the good man underneath the childhood traumas and insatiable desire for magical power. He’d lost his way, but had been strong enough to find the right path. And Leif was learning to trust him, as well.
“Is this about the man who escaped Wirral?” Opal asked. “Devlen’s been helping the authorities search for him, but the man’s a magician and has just disappeared. Has the Council finally sent help?”
“That’s one of the reasons we’re here,” Leif said. “But not at the Council’s behest.” He glanced at me.
I explained about my connection to Ben Moon and the attack in the woods. “Do you think he could have orchestrated it from Wirral?”
“No,” Opal said. “That place is locked down tight. But he did have help, so one of his accomplices could have organized the attack to knock you out of the picture and ensure you didn’t come searching for him. The prison break required a ton of planning and skill. Let’s just say they’d never get a second chance.”
“Do you know who his accomplices are?”
“Only two. A brother-and-sister team of magicians,” Devlen said.
“Any clue as to where they are?”
“We tracked them for a couple days. They headed northwest from Fulgor before we lost them.” Anger sparked in Devlen’s blue eyes.
“Do you think they’re hiding in Ixia?” I asked.
“We have searched most of Moon Clan’s lands and still have not found them. It is the one place we cannot look.”
True. I’d have to send Valek an update.
“You mentioned another reason?” Opal asked.
Her
e we go. I drew in a breath. You’d think the telling would get easier the more times I recited it, but no, it was even more difficult. At least I knew Opal and Devlen would understand better than anyone else. Each had lost their magic. However, Opal was immune to magic like Valek and Devlen was glad to be rid of the burden.
When I finished, Opal rushed over and embraced me.
“Oh, Yelena, how horrible!”
“I’m hoping it’s temporary.” I swallowed the fat fist in my throat. “And I’m hoping you might have some information.”
“What type of info?” Opal asked.
“I suspect it’s a poison, but there was a gap in time between the bolt’s strike and my symptoms. What if someone siphoned my powers?”
Opal knotted her hands together. “Maybe Quinn learned—”
“It wasn’t him. Unless he could do it from a hundred miles away?”
She relaxed slightly. “No. I needed to be close to the person.”
Devlen squeezed her shoulder, giving her moral support.
“And Quinn’s a good kid,” Leif said. “He smells like the sea—fresh and honest.”
“You mentioned being sick for a day. What were the symptoms?” Devlen asked.
I explained about my extreme swings in temperature.
Devlen almost sloshed his tea on Opal’s head. “I know what it is!”
15
VALEK
Valek was pleased with the morning’s matches. Ari and Janco once again proved why they were his seconds-in-command and Onora revealed quite a bit about herself. Gerik hadn’t been lying when he claimed to be good at fighting. He hadn’t won a match, but, then again, he’d been fighting the best in Valek’s corps. And he’d picked the wrong weapons against those two. Next time, Valek would suggest Gerik choose the bo staff against Ari and hand to hand against Janco.
What impressed him the most about Gerik was the man kept his cool during both bouts. Something Onora struggled with. He’d also confirmed that the two of them at least knew each other. Ah, the plot thickened. And more reasons to take a trip to MD-2.
According to the Commander’s detail, they’d followed security protocol to the letter the night Onora attacked and Gerik had not been on duty. Valek was certain the intel Gerik provided to Onora helped her avoid the sweeps.
No. The real problem lay in the protocol and why the security team hadn’t noticed the gaps. Valek had read it that morning and spotted the lapses right away. Alarming, since Maren had written the new protocols while Valek had been in Sitia.
And he didn’t like where his thoughts led. Perhaps Maren had done it on purpose because of the Commander’s request. Perhaps this had all been a test, including Onora’s timely arrival. All of which Valek had failed.
As for the reason for the test, the Commander might be feeling vulnerable. Maybe Onora sneaked into the Commander’s suite before Valek had returned and they’d worked out a deal.
Regardless of why the Commander had tested him, Valek would not let anyone else write the protocols or assign members to the Commander’s detail again. He’d start fresh with a new group. Although he’d still like to talk to Maren. Where was she?
He returned to his office to finish a few things before his trip north. Reviewing personnel files and writing instructions on how to patrol a castle failed to keep Valek’s mind from wandering. There had been no clue as to what mission Maren had been given and that irked him. Was finding Maren another test?
Valek was very familiar with tests. When he had moved from hand-to-hand combat to dueling with weapons at Hedda’s school, the older students and instructors had tested his new skills at random intervals. He’d learned to sleep with a weapon in each of his hands.
He’d learned how to fight with different types of swords, bo staffs and a number of other sharp implements and nasty-looking devices, but fighting with a knife was his favorite. He loved getting up close and personal with his opponent, despite the drawbacks, like finding out Arbon sprinkled too much garlic in his food. And he loved how the blade was a deadly extension of his hand. Soon no one could beat him in a knife fight.
Hedda’s threat hadn’t been serious. No way he could master all the weapons within ten days. That would have been impossible. It was closer to ten months, and during that time Valek had turned fourteen.
Near the end of the ten-month span and at the start of the heating season, Hedda led him into a room. Weapons hung on the walls and a mat covered the floor. An unarmed man stood in the center. He wore the same clothes as Hedda, a light green tunic and loose pants. No boots.
Valek turned to her. “Another test?”
She smiled. “Yes.” Hedda gestured to the assortment of weapons. “Use as many as you like. The goal is simple. If you can draw Jorin’s blood, you win.”
Sounded easy enough. Valek pulled two knives from the wall and tucked a couple of daggers into his belt. He faced Jorin. The man remained relaxed with his arms at his sides. Still unarmed. Hedda watched from the doorway.
“Whenever you’re ready, Valek,” she said.
He suspected a trick and that he was about to get trounced by this man. A lesson in how weapons made you lazy and gave you false confidence. Or something like that.
Valek nodded to the man and assumed a fighting stance. He shuffled close and attacked, slashing at the man’s throat with his left hand and stabbing at his stomach with his right. Jorin twisted, grabbed both Valek’s wrists and yanked him forward, ramming Valek with his knee before tossing him aside.
Valek scrambled to his feet as pain radiated from his ribs. No doubt Jorin had more training and experience than Valek. Determined, Valek rushed him again and ended up on his back again.
New strategy. Valek flipped his knives over, grabbed the blades and threw one a second after the other. A stickiness brushed his skin as both knives veered, missing Jorin by inches.
Interesting. Valek yanked a sword from the wall. Best to keep away from this guy. He approached and encountered a heavy thickness as if he’d walked into an invisible spiderweb. Odd. But not as odd as the surprise on Jorin’s face as Valek lunged with his sword. What else did he expect? It wasn’t like Valek hid the weapon behind his back.
Jorin countered in time, but he scrambled to keep ahead of Valek’s strikes, which had slowed because of that strange sticky pressure. Too bad his blade couldn’t cut through the invisible strands.
Eventually, Valek nicked Jorin’s arm and Hedda ended the oddest match Valek had ever fought.
“Jorin, I told you to use magic on him,” Hedda said.
The man pressed a cloth to his bleeding cut. “I did.”
“All of it?” she asked.
“I couldn’t read his thoughts or manipulate them. He broke through the shield and I couldn’t stop his charge. Nothing worked.”
“Wait, magic?” Valek asked.
“Yes,” Hedda snapped. “You need to learn how to fight a magician. How else can you...?” She gaped at him.
Confused, Valek glanced at Jorin. “You’re a magician?”
“Yes.”
“That’s why the knives missed. You used magic.”
“Yes.”
“Is that why...?” Valek brushed his face. The feeling of cobwebs still tingled on his skin.
“Why what?” Jorin asked.
“Why the air was sticky?”
Jorin exchanged a look with Hedda.
“Try it again,” she said.
Turning his brown-eyed gaze on Valek, Jorin’s brow creased. A wave of thick air engulfed him, clinging to his clothes.
“Is this how magic feels?” he asked, moving his arms around.
“You shouldn’t feel anything,” Jorin said. “You should be frozen solid, unable to move a muscle.”
The magic pressed on him, slowing
him down but not stopping him. He walked toward the magician. The soupy syrup thickened, but he pressed on and reached Jorin.
Sweat beaded the man’s forehead. He released a breath and the air returned to normal. “Nothing works on him.”
“So that means...” Delight danced in her eyes. “He’s immune to magic. And he might be the one to assassinate the King.”
“I will assassinate the King,” Valek corrected. While he was unsure what this immunity meant, there never was any doubt about the King.
“I’ve never heard of anyone being immune. How long have you had this?” Jorin asked him.
“I don’t know. My grandfather was the only magician in my family, but he died years ago. Other than him, I really haven’t been around any magicians.”
“How about that sticky feeling? Have you felt it before?” Hedda asked.
Valek searched his memory. “Once when I waited on your stoop. During our talk, I felt a brief touch.”
“Ah, that’s why Colette couldn’t get a read on you. We thought it was due to the trauma.”
Trauma. What a nice concise word for such ugliness and pain.
Hedda shook her head as if she still couldn’t believe it. “And here I thought this would be a surprise lesson for you and contain your cockiness. It was a surprise all right.” She blew out a breath. “Well, now, King Killer, more good news. I’m going to personally see to your training.”
Uncertain what it meant to be Hedda’s student, Valek decided to focus on her inflection instead. Before when she called him King Killer, it was a tease, like calling a small man big. Now her tone implied a matter-of-factness. That he liked very much.
Hedda’s training included the usual sparring matches and mind-numbing repetition until he could perform a move in his sleep. However, he finally was learning the art of being an assassin, reading body language, picking locks, studying poisons, climbing buildings and lying without giving himself away.
“Remind me not to play poker with you, King Killer,” Hedda joked one night after he’d convinced the cook that Arbon had spilled the soup even though white cream spotted Valek’s pants.