Blood Ties

by Lindsay Buroker

  He started to smile, but Lornysh was gazing gravely at him, and his lips froze.

  “What?” Jev asked.

  “If I were you, I would be very careful with my investigation.”

  “Why?”

  “You know more about your own genealogy than I do,” Lornysh said, “but given your family’s standing in Kor and your estate’s proximity to the capital and Alderoth Castle, I wouldn’t be surprised if some of your ancestors had married Alderoths at some point in history. Or multiple points.”

  “They have.” A tendril of worry wormed its way into Jev’s stomach as he realized what his friend was implying.

  “Then it’s possible you may share this mutation that makes you susceptible to whatever this affliction is. And if whoever brought it into the castle is still there…”

  “I see your point.” Jev thought of the dead doctor, the man somehow having been warned of the investigation before it arrived on his doorstep. Yes, someone was still around who’d been involved. Or who had been responsible. “I see your point,” Jev repeated softly.

  “Lower your hood,” a man growled, walking up to the table behind Lornysh. It was unoccupied, but other tables beyond it held crowds of people, and several were looking their way.

  Jev should have known someone would find Lornysh suspicious sooner or later. He stood up and gave the man a steely gaze while noting the dagger and a one-handed hatchet belted at his waist. Clad in coarse, dirt-spattered clothing, he looked like he’d come in from someone’s field. Or perhaps the winery’s field.

  “Is there a problem?” Jev asked.

  “You’ve got suspicious companions, Zyndar,” the man growled.

  Jev flicked his fingers toward the door, the gesture only for Lornysh and Cutter. He didn’t want a fight to break out. There was nothing to be gained from it except a bill from the owner and the need to carry people to a hospital.

  “How boring would it be if my companions were mundane?” Jev smiled and stepped forward, effectively blocking the newcomer from Lornysh. He hadn’t yet tried to touch Lornysh, but he was glowering hard enough to wilt flowers.

  Lornysh hadn’t turned around or acknowledged the man, but he appeared tense, his head up and alert. He slowly set down the charcoal stick.

  Cutter sighed, though his expansive map appeared nearly finished.

  The hatchet man glanced over his shoulder to comrades at a nearby table, and they all nodded encouragingly.

  “If you’re loving elves,” the man told Jev, “your father’s name won’t help you.”

  “If I were loving elves, my father would beat me black and blue.”

  If he still could. Jev liked to think he could handle himself against the old man these days.

  “As he should.”

  More head nods.

  “We insist that your suspicious companion leave.” The man slurred the word suspicious. Neither he nor his buddies appeared sober.

  “We’ll all leave if that’ll make your evening more comfortable.” Jev pulled out his purse and dropped a few coins on the table.

  His self-appointed harasser seemed surprised, as if he’d been readying himself to spout more threats.

  “Why don’t you sit down, friend?” Jev offered as Cutter folded his map and returned it to his pack.

  “You think I’m afraid of you because you’re zyndar?” the man snarled. “World’s changing. People got used to not bowing so much during the war, when there weren’t so many zyndar in the streets. Zyndaring.”

  “I imagine.” Jev continued to block the man as Cutter and Lornysh slid out of their seats and headed for the door.

  Lornysh kept his hood up. Jev didn’t see how the hatchet man could have seen his ears and known for certain he was an elf. Unless it had become common knowledge that Jev was roaming the city with an elf and a dwarf. If so, as much as he hated to contemplate it, it might be better for his friends if he parted ways with them. At least for a time.

  The man’s fingers twitched toward his hatchet as Lornysh walked out the door, his cloaked back to them. Maybe he wouldn’t have attacked, and maybe Lornysh would have sensed an attack coming even if he did, but Jev didn’t take the chance.

  He stepped forward, his hand darting for the man’s forearm. His foe tried to jerk it back, but Jev was faster. He clamped down, keeping the man’s fingers from touching the hatchet.

  “Don’t do anything foolish,” Jev murmured, glaring into his eyes for a second before sharing the glare with the man’s companions.

  “We’re not the foolish ones here. We’re not drinking with an elf.”

  “He didn’t drink,” Jev said, then promptly gave himself a mental kick for admitting what they could have only suspected.

  The man growled and tried to pull his arm away. Since Cutter and Lornysh had left, shutting the double doors behind them, Jev let go. He issued another baleful glare to the table, for all the good it did with drunk men, and strode toward the exit.

  A thud came from beyond the doors, followed by a crash.

  Cursing, Jev sprinted outside, worried that lout had set his friends up for a trap.

  He almost tripped over a man writhing on the path and grabbing his crotch. A second man lay crumpled against the wood wall of the tasting room. Lornysh stood over him, his expression impassive. Cutter had his fists balled as he crouched, facing the one protecting his nether regions from further abuse.

  “Problem?” Jev kept his tone calm, but he looked around, worried more threats would materialize.

  These men wore farmers’ clothing, similar to that of the hatchet thug inside. At least his friends hadn’t knocked out watchmen.

  What would happen if the law came after Lornysh? Would Jev’s status as zyndar and now agent of the Crown keep them from attempting to arrest him? Or worse?

  “Only that Cutter chooses unsporting targets when he brawls,” Lornysh said.

  “I can’t help it that humans are so tall. That’s the level my noggin’s at when I bend over to head butt someone.”

  Since the two men didn’t look like they wanted anything more to do with them, Jev waved for his comrades to head down the path. The sooner they got out of the area, the better.

  He paused when he spotted a pistol in the grass next to the man Lornysh had knocked unconscious. Jev grimaced and kicked it farther from the path.

  “Just a typical evening out with Lornysh,” he said, forcing a smile as they walked away. He couldn’t bring himself to suggest that they should part ways and avoid each other for a while. Especially when Lornysh had given him information relevant to his research.

  “That’s the truth,” Cutter said. “There was always someone trying to kill him in the army too. Not always the other side.”

  “Perhaps,” Lornysh said, as they headed into the sunset, “I will accept Shoyalusa’s offer.”

  “Who’s that?” Jev asked, eyeing people riding up and dismounting by the hitching post. Fortunately, nobody did more than glance at his hooded comrade.

  “The current elven ambassador in Korvann. He sought me out and suggested I stay in the embassy tower.”

  “A tower?” Cutter asked. “Seems like a life of paucity after living in a castle.”

  “I haven’t been living in the castle,” Lornysh pointed out.

  Even though he sounded matter-of-fact rather than resentful, Jev winced. His father had made it clear that neither Lornysh nor any other elves were welcome inside his walls or anywhere on his land. Jev had told Lornysh that nobody would know if he was camping out in the woods, but it galled him that he couldn’t truly offer his friend a hospitable place. It galled him further that at thirty-three, he still felt dependent on his father.

  Jev wasn’t without funds, and he’d almost run into town in a snit to rent a townhouse where he could invite Cutter and Lornysh to stay as long as they liked, but he’d known Lornysh wouldn’t be interested in sleeping in a stone-walled box, as he referred to human homes. If this ambassador’s tower was in the city, it li
kely had some lush gardens and vines crawling up the sides of it to make it more palatable to an elf.

  “Do you think he knows anything about the unorthodox succession?” Jev asked.

  “We did not discuss it when I met him.”

  “How about discussing it when you move in? I doubt you think your people had anything to do with the princes’ deaths, and I’m inclined to agree, but an ambassador has spies, I assume, and might know something.”

  “I believe they’re called diplomats,” Lornysh said. “If I hear anything relevant, I will tell you.”

  “Good. Thank you.” Jev felt guilty asking his friend to spy on his own embassy, but he owed it to Targyon to use every resource at his disposal.

  “Where’s the tower located in the city?” Cutter asked.

  “Why do you ask?” Lornysh asked.

  “I need to know where to find you in case I need your wisdom as I go seek out Master Grindmor’s tools. Your wisdom or even your company. You know a quest undertaken by oneself is a lonely affair.”

  “You want me to finish your map, don’t you?”

  Cutter grinned.

  5

  Zenia glanced at Jev as they walked together through the city, heading for the Air Order Temple. He hadn’t made any jokes yet this morning, which she found she missed, and she kept catching distracted expressions on his face. A couple of delivery boys on bicycles piled high with crates almost mowed him over, and he barely noticed.

  “Are you all right?” Zenia finally asked.

  His eyes focused, and he nodded quickly. “Yes, of course.”

  “Because you seem distracted. I’m not sure you could loom effectively right now.”

  “I disagree, but do you think looming will be required at our first stop? The Earth Order people are the ones you suspect of plans to strong-arm the king, right?”

  “Yes.”

  Zenia had been tempted to head straight to their temple this morning, but she wanted to check with Air first for a couple of reasons. First off, she thought the Earth archmage would be less suspicious and on-guard if he learned she was simply questioning all the archmages. Second, the Earth and Air temples rarely worked together and more often worked in opposition to each other. Supposedly, it had to do with the alignment of the stars and grudges the original dragon founders had carried toward each other. But Zenia had heard that when the city had been founded, both Orders had coveted the valley the Air Order managed to snag first, a beautiful area with a stream cutting through on its way to the sea. Ancient oaks and cottonwoods lined the banks, creating natural shade over the street and walkways.

  “Given what Archmage Sazshen has said about me, according to Rhi, I may have difficulty getting any of the Orders to work with me. I may need you to be more charming than looming.”

  “I can certainly attempt to charm these people with my infectious good humor. I’m glad you noticed I have such an ability. I’ve wondered at times, since you don’t usually laugh at my wit. They say a good laugh can cure many ailments.” Jev offered his first smile of the morning.

  “I’ve heard that.”

  “You should try laughing more often.”

  “At your jokes or just in general?”

  “Both, but my jokes are a particularly fine medicine.”

  “It’s possible I’m in the placebo group.”

  He snorted. “Is that why you avoided answering me yesterday when I asked you on a date?”

  “No, that was because one of our colleagues came out and leered at my chest.”

  “I remember. I look forward to punching him the next time he does it. Don’t forget that you’re going to stand back and let me.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Good.” Jev’s smile faded as they turned at an intersection to head up the road into the valley, the stream trickling alongside their route. “I admit I have ailments on my mind for a reason.”

  “Besides infecting people with your humor?”

  “Yes.”

  As Jev and Zenia walked beneath the shady trees, he summarized the chat he’d had with Lornysh the day before.

  “So, if you were exposed to the disease, it might be deadly to you?” she asked, focusing on that for now, rather than some of the more contentious things the elf had told him.

  “Possibly. And to Targyon, of course. And any of his brothers and sisters who visit the castle.”

  Zenia eyed him, not surprised he would make light of the threat to himself and focus on someone else. “And possibly deadly to your family too?”

  His expression grew bleak.

  “I merely bring this up because extortion could be a possibility, something you should prepare yourself to deal with,” Zenia said.

  The Air Order Temple with its white salt-encrusted dome and travertine columns came into view farther up the valley.

  “I understand. I’m going to hope that nobody else makes the leap that Lornysh did, thinking that because the Alderoths and Dharrows share some distant ancestors, my family and I might be susceptible to the disease. For all I know, we’re not. My ancestors married lots of different zyndars. Dharrows are a randy bunch.” He smiled again, though it didn’t reach his eyes and make them twinkle the way it usually did.

  “Nonetheless, you should avoid putting yourself into situations where you might be exposed.”

  “The easy way to do that is to solve this case as quickly as possible and make sure the person responsible gets locked up or shot.”

  “I’m happy to work toward that end,” Zenia said.

  She wondered if having a zyndar father meant she might possibly share blood with the royal family. Was it worth investigating the Morningfar genealogy? Would that information even be available in the library? To commoners?

  “After we’re done with the interviews, I’ll poke around the castle and talk to the staff,” Jev said. “See if I can get a solid description of what the princes’ symptoms were before they died so I can look for a match in the history books. I suppose I could get one of our agents to help.”

  “Hm.” Zenia hadn’t asked any of them for anything yet. In theory, they had all these people at their disposal, but she had no idea what kind of vetting King Abdor had done. For all she knew, one of them was responsible for the deaths. Was it possible they had double agents in their midst? Could some other country have been responsible for this? Wanting to throw Kor into chaos over the succession?

  “It will be good to have that information when I go to interview medical specialists,” Jev added.

  Zenia opened her mouth to reply, but a white-eyed old woman sitting cross-legged next to the stone steps leading up to the dome lifted a hand to get their attention. A cane rested next to one of her knees, and a ceramic soup tureen with a few coins in it sat beside the other.

  “May I tell your fortune, friends?” she asked. “I’ll charge half what the temple mages demand, and my fortunes are twice as accurate. They come to me in visions that the sighted would never see.” She pointed at her milky white eyes.

  Zenia kept walking for the steps, planning to ignore the entreaty, but Jev paused, then veered toward the woman. He placed a kron coin in her tureen.

  “Give me your hand, love.” She raised hers toward him.

  “How did you know which one of us came over?” Jev asked dryly as he lowered a hand into hers. “Or do you call everyone love?”

  “Only those who tuck money into my bowl.” She lowered her head and sandwiched his hand between hers.

  Given what he’d just been worried about, Zenia was surprised he wanted his fortune. She never put much stock in such things, despite having lived and worked in a temple for twenty years, but even if someone could share an accurate one with her, she would prefer not to know.

  “Hm, you were born under the stars of the air sign,” she said.

  “Yes,” Jev said.

  “I see potential happiness in your stars, but the road to that place is fraught with numerous dead ends and winding mazes that lead nowhere. Yo
u must choose wisely in the days ahead and expect a storm to test your mind and body.”

  She lowered her hands and lifted her head.

  “Thank you,” Jev said.

  Zenia couldn’t tell what he thought of the fortune. She thought about asking him, but the temple doors opened, and a white-robed inquisitor walked out.

  Zenia recognized the woman. Ji Loo. They’d worked together on a case once, one that had involved both of their Orders. Zenia had been the one to stay up late every night and rise early, dedicated to the duty until she solved it on her own. Ji Loo had been far less dedicated, wandering off for long lunch hours and shopping. Ji Loo hadn’t been pleased when Zenia had told their archmages as much rather than implying they had both worked equally hard and both deserved credit.

  She wasn’t surprised when Ji Loo sneered and stepped in front of her on the steps, blocking her way. “Zenia Cham, dear. I heard the news, that you betrayed the Water Order and Archmage Sazshen. For your own gain, no doubt. I understand you work for the king now.”

  “I understand gossip spreads faster than news in the Korvann Chronicle.” Zenia shifted to walk around her, wagering the true story hadn’t gotten out, that Sazshen wouldn’t have spoken widely about the Eye of Truth, not when she’d tried so hard to keep it a secret.

  “The young king risks much in hiring you. The wrath of the Water Order. Of all the Orders. He would be unwise to make enemies of the archmages.”

  “You should have gotten your fortune told,” Jev said, climbing up to stand next to Zenia, his shoulder to hers.

  “So I would have foreseen an inquisitor coming out of the temple to harass me?”

  Ji Loo squinted at Jev. He wasn’t wearing his wolf-head brooch today, a sizable piece of jewelry that identified him as zyndar from an important family, but ever since he’d cleaned up and trimmed his beard, he looked far more the noble than he had when he first got off that ship. Would Ji Loo recognize him as such? Or care?

  “So you would have gotten your hand caressed by that lady. She has some lovely lotion on her palms. It smells like lemons, don’t you think?” Jev raised his hand toward Zenia’s nose.