Zenia forgot to breathe as she stared at the dragon tears so casually laid out on the desk. Hundreds of thousands of krons in value, and he cared nothing if she knew where they were located. More than that, he would give her one to use. For as long as, it sounded like, she worked for him as a Crown Agent.
“I would be pleased to take on the role of inquisitor again for you, Sire.” Zenia approached the desk, hoping one of the carvings in the gems would be identical or similar to her old one. The eyetooth of justice was a common carving for law enforcers, and she already knew it would amplify her words and allow her to read the minds of those she questioned.
“Is there one that will work for you?” Targyon asked. “If not, we can get Master Grindmor to re-carve one. I understand that takes a week or two though.”
There weren’t any eyetooths of justice. Damn. She needed something for tomorrow night.
Zenia lifted a hand and passed over several that were for warriors, one with a coin for a business owner, and reached for one with a book on it, thinking that would help her with research. But Targyon specifically wanted her to question people and read minds. Perhaps that one with a crown would work, granting her access to magic that would assist her in numerous ways related to serving the king.
As she reached for it, her gaze snagged on the last one in the row, a beautiful blue-green oval with tiny red veins. She’d never seen a gem like it, nor had she seen a carving as… arrogant—that was the word that sprang to mind—as this one held. It featured a dragon, its wings spread and its tail curling around to the back of the gem. Was it meant to portray one of the founder dragons? Or simply one of the wild lesser ones remaining in the world today? Who would have believed themselves worthy of wearing such a gem? What master would have carved it? And what would it do?
“That one’s intriguing, isn’t it?” Targyon must have noticed her gaze. “There were a few notes in the box. Apparently, that one is more than a thousand years old and was worn by several kings over the centuries. It grants mind powers such as dragons have, so you’d likely be able to do all the mental magic you had in your repertoire as an inquisitor. Along with some additional things, I imagine. There’s a mention of a king using it to hurl his enemies about on the battlefield. With his mind.”
Zenia blinked. She’d never wanted that kind of power, and the idea of having it scared her. No, she admitted. She’d wanted it once. When she’d gone to her zyndar father, begging for enough money to pay for her mother’s treatment, and the man had ordered her carried off his property like a sack of potatoes. If she’d had such power then…
She shook her head. “I couldn’t take a family heirloom, Sire. I think the crown would do what you need me to do.”
“You wouldn’t be taking it far. I know where your office is. And I was thinking that you should have a room at the castle so you don’t have to travel so far every day to get here. You, too, Jev.” Targyon waved to include him.
“I accept,” Jev said. “Sleeping on the floor in your library wasn’t that comfortable.”
“You could have stayed awake all night like I did.”
“Yes, that would have been much more comfortable.”
Targyon smiled faintly. He did look tired. Was he sleeping at all, or was he too worried about potential assassins lurking?
Zenia reached for the crown. “Let me see if it accepts me and does what you need, Sire. Then—”
Targyon lifted his hand to block her, then pointed at the dragon. “Try this one first, will you? I’m quite curious myself, I must admit. And I feel like…” He looked toward an empty corner of his desk. “I know you sacrificed much for the kingdom, to do what was right. I appreciate that. As I said before, I don’t yet have many people I know I can trust. I’d like those that I can to be powerful, so they can protect themselves as well as me and the interests of the kingdom.”
Powerful? A little chill went down Zenia’s spine. Did he know more about the dragon tear than he was saying?
“I can try it,” she said, eyeing the gem with wariness. “A mage newly linked to a dragon tear usually partakes in a ceremony where she spends three days fasting and acquainting herself with its unique magical signature.”
“You have until tomorrow night.” Targyon’s tone was dry, but he did spread his hand in apology. “The invitations were already sent out. I didn’t want to give myself time to chicken out.”
“We have a lot of people to talk to before then,” Jev said. “Zenia, can you do your ceremony in a steam carriage in between meetings?”
“Uh.” She didn’t know how to explain the attuning process to them, but she remembered it well and didn’t think it should be dismissed. Her druthers would be to wait until after things settled down and she could take three days off, but if Targyon wanted her to be able to use the dragon tear at his reception, what choice did she have? “I’ll do my best.”
“Excellent. Thank you.” Targyon picked up the dragon tear—it was truly magnificent—and laid it in Zenia’s palm.
A warm zing of energy emanated from it, seeming to shoot all the way through her body, and she gasped, almost dropping it. The gem flared with blue light.
“Zenia?” Jev stepped forward, touching her arm. “Are you all right?”
Zenia didn’t know. She stared down at the gem, wondering if this signaled acceptance or rejection. With her first dragon tear, it had been cool and unresponsive when she first touched it. She’d had to, under the guidance of an experienced mage, learn to coax power out of it.
It didn’t look like coaxing would be required here.
“I think so,” she whispered as the energy slowly abated. It did not disappear all the way. A slight feeling of warmth lingered, along with something less describable. Vitality? She suddenly seemed to have more energy, and the desire to go run a few laps around the castle filled her.
“Will it work?” Targyon was watching her face.
Gingerly, Zenia closed her fingers around the dragon tear. It did not object. If anything, she felt a sense of contentment from it. But that was silly. Rocks didn’t have feelings. Her old dragon tear hadn’t emanated anything like that.
“I think so.” Realizing she was repeating herself, Zenia nodded firmly. “Yes. Thank you, Sire. I’ll do my best to use it to keep the kingdom safe.”
“I know you will.” Targyon returned her nod and placed the other dragon tears back in the box. He paused, holding the last one as he turned toward Jev, raising his eyebrows.
“My mother tested Vastiun and me when we were boys to see if either of us had an affinity for magic. We didn’t. I’m honored, though, that you picked a dagger. You must think I’m a better fighter than I think I am. Or maybe you think I could become a better fighter with magic?”
“It’s just what I have. Most of them are for warriors. I don’t think any of these would lend themselves to linguists.”
“What kind of carving would lend itself to a linguist?” Jev asked.
“I saw a dragon tear with lips cut into it once,” Zenia said. “Technically, I believe the owner was a professional singer, but lips should work for someone learning or using languages too.”
“I’m not wearing lips around my neck,” Jev said. “I don’t care if it would allow me to finally pronounce all those elven wines and names for species of trees.”
“A moot point since I have no lips.” Targyon closed the lid of the box. “Though we could get you one with a more applicable carving if you were interested. From what I’ve read, almost anyone can develop the ability to use dragon tears if they’re willing to work at it. Some are naturals, yes, but…”
“You don’t have one, Sire,” Jev pointed out.
“No, I never wanted one. It always seemed a bit like cheating, or it would have if I’d used it for my professional goals.” His tone turned dry again. “Of finishing the advanced science courses and becoming a professor.” He sighed. “Do you think I could still pursue that?”
“The classes? Yes. Giving up ki
nging to become a lowly university professor? I doubt that’s allowed.”
“Damn.” Shaking his head, Targyon returned the box to the vault and locked the door again. “I had hopes of being a highly professor, by the way. Not a lowly one.”
“That doesn’t make sense, Sire.”
“I told you I was studying science, not language.”
Zenia was only vaguely aware of their banter as she attempted to examine her new dragon tear with her thoughts, establishing a mental connection with it the way she had with her old one. It continued to glow softly, the blue light leaking out of her fist. She hoped it would grow quiescent eventually. She’d slept with her old one on its chain around her neck, but she imagined the glow being obnoxious if she was trying to doze off.
Something akin to a haughty sniff entered her mind. Once again, she almost dropped the dragon tear. That hadn’t come from the gem… had it? No, her imagination had to be playing tricks on her.
“I’ll let you two go back to your work,” Targyon said. “I have another meeting. I must inform Zyndar Garlok that he’s being replaced as head of the Crown Agents.”
“He finally came back to work, eh?” Jev asked.
“Apparently, there was a death in the family, so he’s been out of town.”
“Was he here when the princes died?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe we’ll chat with him too,” Jev said.
“You’re welcome to.”
Jev headed for the door. Zenia withdrew her attention from her fist and curtsied to Targyon. This time, he was facing her and nodded gravely in return.
Jev waited for her at the door, and they walked out of the office together.
“I guess all this means we can’t have our date during the next three days,” Jev murmured as they passed through the secretary’s office.
“Why is that?” Zenia asked, though dating was the last thing on her mind.
“It wouldn’t be much of a picnic if you were fasting and mumbling to your new rock the whole time.”
“Mumbling isn’t required.”
Judging by the way Jev quirked an eyebrow toward her, he may have already heard a few unusual noises come from her lips. Gasps, surely. Not mumbles.
“But fasting is required?” he asked.
“Yes, but water is allowed.”
“Won’t it be romantic when I pour water into our wineglasses?”
“Are you suggesting I wouldn’t enjoy a date with you if I weren’t drunk?”
“You don’t need to be drunk. A slight inebriation should sufficiently bend you toward appreciating my charms.”
He held open the outer door so she could enter the hallway first.
Zenia stepped out, turned, and almost crashed into a scowling man in the green and silver uniform of one of the zyndar houses. Zyndar Garlok, she realized, guessing the former captain of the Crown Agents had arrived on time for his meeting.
“You,” he snarled at her, lifting a hand.
To strike?
A surge of alarm rushed through Zenia, and without thinking, she drew upon the dragon tear’s magic, intending to throw its power into a command of stop. Instead, energy crackled in the air around her, and she sensed it completely encompassing her body. Like a shield?
“And you,” Garlok growled, his gaze shifting to Jev as he stepped out beside Zenia.
Jev’s shoulder must have bumped the invisible shield of energy, because he wobbled and stepped away from her. A flash of surprise crossed his face, but he quickly focused on Garlok.
“Us,” he said agreeably toward the scowling zyndar, issuing one of his affable smiles that tended to make him look less intelligent than he was.
The stout zyndar glared at him, at both of them. “I leave for a few days and return to hear you two lickspittles have usurped my position? Don’t think I’ll stand for this. I’m going to see the king right now.”
“You do that,” Jev said. “I understand he’s waiting for you.”
Zenia stepped aside, willing whatever shield she’d created around herself to disappear. Even though Garlok’s fist was still clenched, he hadn’t drawn it back for a punch, and now that she’d had a moment to consider it, she doubted he would right outside the king’s office.
“I will.” Garlok shoved past them, making a point of knocking his shoulder against Jev.
It was a hard bump, but Jev saw him coming and braced himself. The older zyndar was taller and stouter, but Jev didn’t budge, and Garlok was the one to stumble slightly and adjust his gait. He launched a scowl over his shoulder and slammed the door after he strode inside.
“He’s as cordial as I remembered,” Jev said.
“Do you think we should add him to our list of inside suspects?” Zenia wished she had thought to ask him a few questions right there in the hallway, but she had better spend some quality time with the new dragon tear before trying to read anyone’s mind. She needed to figure out what it could and couldn’t do.
Jev slowly poked a finger toward her. It reached her shoulder, and he withdrew it. “Huh. I could have sworn I bumped against… something.”
“You did. An energy shield. I was thinking of protecting myself, and I felt magical energy wrap around me.”
“Huh,” he repeated. “Did you expect it to do that?”
“No. I don’t know what to expect yet. But I did think it would take a few days before I grew attuned enough to the gem to draw on its power.”
“Three days, to be precise?”
“Yes. From what I’ve heard, you can make a connection more quickly than that, after a few hours of meditation, but that’s rare.” Zenia opened her hand. The dragon tear glowed contentedly on her palm.
“I guess the king gives good gifts.” Jev smiled. “I’m a little jealous. I should have thought to give you a dragon tear.”
“It’s not a gift. It’s a tool to be used in his service.”
“Which is probably why you accepted it from him and wouldn’t have from me.” His smile grew lopsided.
She opened her mouth to object but remembered how firmly she’d rejected the idea of accepting his hospitality when he’d offered her a room at Dharrow Castle.
“Shall we go visit the doctors on Zyndari Ghara’s list?” she asked, deciding to change the topic back to work.
“Eventually, yes, but I want to make a stop along the way. I want to visit the elven embassy in the city.”
“Any particular reason?”
Jev nodded slowly and thoughtfully. “Call it a hunch.”
13
Jev allowed Zenia to talk him into riding horses into the city instead of taking a steam carriage. Zenia, more intimately familiar with Korvann since she’d spent her whole life within its walls, said the elven embassy was in a very old part of town, one full of narrow, winding roads that were smaller than the alleys in the more modern areas. An un-carriage-friendly area.
As they rode out the gates of the castle, they spotted a figure in blue jogging up the road, a six-foot-long bo in hand. The stocky woman had a graceful, easy gait even though she had shoulders fit for logging.
“Isn’t that your friend?” Jev asked.
“Rhi.” Zenia frowned and nudged her horse into a trot. “I hope she’s not in trouble.”
Jev didn’t see anyone else on the road behind her, but that didn’t negate trouble.
Rhi slowed down as they approached and wiped sweat from her forehead. The late spring air had turned warm again in the aftermath of the previous day’s storm, humid with clouds playing chase with the sun in the late afternoon sky.
“What’s wrong, Rhi?” Zenia slid down from her saddle to face her friend.
“What makes you think anything is wrong? I enjoy a good jog in the afternoon heat.”
“If you’d jogged another hundred yards, the guards would have stopped you with pistols.”
“Dodging bullets puts pep in one’s step.”
“Or lead in one’s step,” Jev said, waiting in his saddle, not
sure if the women would want privacy to talk.
Rhi grinned up at him, her cheeks flushed from her run. “Zyndar Dharrow. It’s good to see you. Have you and Zenia mated and made babies yet?”
Zenia made a choking noise.
Jev merely arched his eyebrows. “Were we supposed to?”
“I just assumed it was forthcoming from the way Zenia ogled your bare chest at the beach the other day.”
Zenia dropped her face into her hand.
“I don’t remember that,” Jev said. “I remember you beating me with your large stick.”
“Don’t be dramatic, Zyndar. It was a slight tap on the bottom of your foot.” Rhi dropped her smile and gripped Zenia’s arm. “I’m glad I ran into you here because I doubt the guards would have let me in. I need to tell you something.” She looked up and down the road. A carriage was making its way up from the city farther down the slope, but it wasn’t yet close enough to worry about eavesdroppers.
“Yes?” Zenia asked.
“I heard someone’s been saying that Archmage Sazshen put bounties out on the leaders of several criminal organizations. But she didn’t. I just heard her talking to Marlyna. Vehemently. She’s concerned the rumors will be enough to bring down the wrath of the guilds, and she’s sending Marlyna—and me—out tomorrow at dawn to the temple in Sun Falls. She wants them to send a few monks and inquisitors, as many as they can spare, to protect the temple in Korvann and help Sazshen figure out who started the rumors.”
“That’s interesting,” Zenia said. “One of my staff just reported those rumors to me. She didn’t mention who started them. Apparently, we have several spies in the city who share information with our agents.”
Blood Ties Page 14
