The two exchanged looks. Xo-Taro stepped between them. “We will put our hoods up and ride in a carriage. But let us hurry. Soon, it will be dawn, and we do not wish to be seen by your people.”
Kylpin nodded. He was quite sure the Belynites would not want to meet any of the Islanders either, especially Kin-Tar. He jogged to the end of the street in search of a carriage. As luck would have it, he spied one parked beneath a darkened street lamp the next block over. He gestured for the Shi’kwarans to follow him.
“I need to get to the north docks right away, my friend,” Kylpin called out as he approached the carriage.
The driver jerked awake, lifted his hat off his face, and grunted. “Gimme the coins first.”
Kylpin tossed the man a couple of coins and climbed into the back of the carriage. Xo-Taro and Kin-Tar were already waiting for him inside.
“Where’s Mai-Jun?”
Xo-Taro pointed skyward. “She runs swift. She will follow us along the rooftops.”
The first hint of pink began to show along the eastern horizon when Kylpin knocked on the roof and directed the driver to stop.
“This is it?” Kin-Tar asked after they piled out.
Kylpin looked up at the three-story, whitewashed warehouse and nodded.
“I see that black dragon symbol again.” Xo-Taro pointed at the door.
Kylpin frowned. “But this isn’t Ian’s warehouse.” He moved closer and stared at the walls. “See, it’s been painted recently. The sea spray hasn’t scoured it gray yet.”
“I think your friend is a Bloody Fist . . .” Kin-Tar muttered.
“No, he’s not!” Kylpin whirled around to face the two Shi’kwarans. They looked unconvinced. “He imports goods from the Scylthian jungle, not the Islands. Besides, he would never trade in human flesh.”
“Then why every place we go, we find his symbol?” Xo-Taro asked. Kylpin noticed his tone was a bit harsher and he was starting to sound like his son.
Kylpin bristled. “Ian hired the Bloody Fists to protect my ship while his cargo was unloaded. That is all. As for this, my friend,” he gestured at the symbol, “it must be a mistake. If Ian had purchased a warehouse on the waterfront, he would have told me.”
“You put much trust in your friend,” Kin-Tar said. “I hope it is not misplaced.”
“I would trust him with my life,” Kylpin said adamantly. “And perhaps later, we can discuss him more, but I’d like to quit wasting our time out here if Evie or Rai-Lin is inside.” He shot the youth a meaningful stare.
Both Islanders fell silent. Kylpin tried the door. It was locked.
“Let me.” Kin-Tar pushed him aside.
“No, don’t break . . .”
Kin-Tar raised his foot and promptly kicked the door open.
Kylpin shook his head at their noisy entrance, but soon followed the two Shi’kwarans inside nonetheless, his hand never far from his sword. Except for a few rock pigeons flapping around in the eaves, their loud entry had not disturbed anyone. Kylpin shut the door and tried to wedge it closed.
“Nobody is here,” Kin-Tar growled. He grabbed a dimly glowing lantern hanging by one of the overhead doors and held it aloft to disperse the shadows.
“Just more crates,” Xo-Taro added. He walked to the nearest one and examined the side. “With the black dragon symbol.”
“Up here!” Mai-Jun shouted.
The three men craned their necks. Kylpin found the nimble Islander standing on a rickety landing high above them. She gestured for them to join her, and then she disappeared back inside the room overhead.
Kylpin raced for the stairs. The two Shi’kwarans were halfway to the top before he touched the first step. By the time he reached the third-floor room, the trio had lit a few tallow candles and was standing around . . .
“Evie!”
The blonde woman cowering on the bed, uncovered her head. “Kylpy?” She jumped up and into his arms. “Oh Kylpy! I was so scared, but I just knew you would find me!” She covered his cheeks, neck and mouth with a flurry of hungry kisses.
“Did Lipscombe hurt you?” he blurted out.
She pulled back and Kylpin saw the nasty bruise swelling beneath her right eye. “He hit me a couple of times and then he chained me to the floor.”
Kylpin looked down at the heavy length of chain attached to her leg. The thick manacle had rubbed the skin around her ankle raw.
“He said he was going to come back later,” Evie continued. She reached down and pulled on the chain. “Can you get this off me? I really hate the feel of metal on my skin. It’s so cold and clunky . . .”
“Lipscombe is coming back here?” Kin-Tar demanded.
Evie eyed the tall Islanders nervously and then glanced over at Kylpin. “Friends of yours?”
“More or less, my love.” Kylpin knelt and examined the chain’s lock. Not far away was a small reddish-brown stain. It looked like blood. How many other women had Lipscombe held in this room?
“Can you pick it?” Evie asked.
Kylpin stroked his beard. His fingers were nimble, but locks weren’t something he had much skill in. At least, not this kind. Bedroom doors were another matter. “I can try . . .”
While he worked, he told her briefly about the events leading up to him finding her and to her credit she kept quiet during most of it. When he finished though, he still hadn’t opened the lock.
“I’m sorry Kylpy, I wish I knew where Lipscombe went after he locked me up, but I don’t. Most of the time I was with him, he was hell-bent on finding Josephine. We looked for her at the Prancing Piper, but she wasn’t there. Then he said he had a chore for me and it would pay really well but then he took me here and he chained me to the floor and . . . and . . .”
“Evie! Take a breath.” Kylpin looked up from the lock. “I’d like to find Josephine too. That little trick she pulled on Ian did not go over well with his wife.”
“That was all Lipscombe’s doing. He made her . . .”
“I don’t know Josephine,” Kin-Tar blurted out. “I don’t care about Josephine. I want Rai-Lin. Where is Rai-Lin? We found your woman, Kylpin Caleachey. Where is my sister?”
Mai-Jun made a clicking sound from her post by the window. “I think someone is at the door downstairs.”
Kin-Tar pulled the Dulon off his back. “I’ll check.”
“Wait,” Kylpin said. “Cut the chain. I’ve seen those weapons cut through metal before.”
“Won’t that be loud?” Evie asked.
“I want you free if we need to leave quickly . . .” Kylpin said.
Kin-Tar glared at Evie, and then motioned for everyone to move aside. With a quick, overhead swing, he brought one of the two blades down, and with a solid cha-lunk the chain link nearest the lock was cut in half.
“Thank you,” Kylpin offered.
Kin-Tar’s attention was on the Dulon. “It didn’t blunt the edge.”
Mai-Jun held up her hand, gesturing for silence. A moment later, she curled two fingers down.
“Only three men?” Kin-Tar snorted. “I’ll go alone.” He walked to the door.
Kylpin stepped in front of him. “Wait, my friend, let’s find out who they are and why they’re here, first. They might know where Lipscombe is. And if not, you can always kill them later . . . if you must.”
Kin-Tar’s copper face somehow hardened even more than usual. “If those men took Rai-Lin, they deserve to die.”
“Agreed,” Kylpin thought it best to appease the volatile young man, “but we still don’t know where she is.” He crouched down by the door and peered through a crack in the landing. Three men were moving among the crates below. They weren’t Bloody Fists. They were Royal Wardens.
“We already know what’s in these crates,” the short warden grumbled. “Why do we have to verify it?”
“Because Captain Straegar gave us an order,” the tall warden replied. “He has Lord Weatherall in custody, and now he wants to make sure the evidence is in place. Besides, he doesn’t tr
ust that Lipscombe fellah.”
Kylpin swallowed hard. Lipscombe was working with Straegar! Ian was arrested! For what . . .?
The bells! He had almost forgotten about the bells! His jaw dropped. What could Ian have done to cause the Bells of Belyne to ring? Had Lumist found out?
“What about the Hewes woman?” the short warden asked. “We can’t search for her if we’re busy counting crates.”
“Don’t worry about her,” the third warden, a squat muscular man chuckled lewdly. “I’ll find that wench when we’re done here.”
“She gave you the slip before,” the short warden chided.
“Only because you’re so slow,” the squat warden retorted. “If you’d grow some legs and learn how to run . . .”
“Gentlemen,” the tall warden shouted. “The sooner we inspect these crates, the sooner we can return to the search and the prize.”
The other two wardens smiled widely.
Kylpin sank back on his heels. The three wardens looked familiar, but he could not place where he’d seen them before.
“What are they saying?” Xo-Taro asked softly in Kylpin’s ear.
“Nothing about Rai-Lin,” Kylpin whispered.
“This is more wasted time,” Kin-Tar fumed. “You have found your woman. Take her, and let us do what we must to find Rai-Lin.”
“Killing members of the Bloody Fists is one thing,” Kylpin stated. “Killing three royal wardens . . .”
“They must die after I question them. They cannot know we were here. No one can know we left our island,” Kin-Tar said savagely. His young face held such a harsh predatory expression that Kylpin almost forgot how young he was.
“You can’t just kill everyone, my friend.”
Kin-Tar stared back at him, his blue eyes devoid of everything except pure hatred and rage.
“Are you going to kill me too?” Kylpin stood and looked up at the young Islander. “And Evie? Gentle Evie? What has she done to deserve your wrath?”
“No, he will not,” Xo-Taro said, glaring at his son. “You have given us aid. We will not harm you, or your woman.”
Kylpin shook his head. “No slight intended toward you, Xo-Taro my friend, but I would prefer to hear Kin-Tar say that.”
Kin-Tar’s brow knitted fiercely, but finally, he nodded. “As my father wishes. Neither of you will be killed, by me.”
Kylpin sighed. He had hoped hearing those words coming out of the young Islander’s mouth would bring him a measure of comfort. They hadn’t. Reluctantly, he returned his attention to the wardens below.
“. . . Everything matches the list so far,” the short warden said.
A half dozen or so crates had been opened and from his vantage point, Kylpin could look right down inside them all. It was the missing cargo, the shipment he had brought back from Scylthia for Ian! He recognized the various statues and the carved wooden chests filled with jeweled necklaces and colored stones, crates and crates of the precious gems found deep in the jungles.
Kylpin stroked his beard in thought. Various pieces of the strange puzzle began to slowly fit together in his tired mind. Ian would have given Hans Mesbone all the pertinent information about the shipment, the location of the warehouse . . .
And Lipscombe had simply stepped in and taken it from under all their noses, with the help of some traitorous guards. Then . . . he covered up the theft with the use of a powerful fire mage.
The only thing Lipscombe hadn’t counted on was Ian showing up and rushing into the building to rescue Sir Nelson, thereby learning of the betrayal and the switch.
And the fire mage . . . he’d been sent to torch Serenity because . . . because . . . Kylpin stood and paced around the small room. His head ached. Because . . . because . . .
Kylpin stopped short. The fire mage had been sent not only to torch his ship but to kill him as well!
He sank to the floor as the realization settled over him. If he had died before talking to Ian about the outpost, no one would have known about the changes and Ragget would have not only retained control of it, but he also would have in his employ the only ship captain capable of navigating the Northern Reef.
It would have taken Ian months to organize a land expedition to reach Scylthia and all the while Ragget would have secretly profited from his devious scheme.
“Kylpy, what’s wrong?” Evie reached out and took his hand. “You look kinda pale, which is very strange with your coloration. Actually, it’s more of a yellowish hue . . .”
“I need to get to the Prancing Piper,” Kylpin cut her off. “I need to speak with Lumist and . . .”
The Prancing Piper! He remembered now. That was where he had seen the three wardens before! They had been sitting in the corner of the tavern while he and Ian had shared a drink. They had been . . . what? Watching them? Watching . . . watching while Josephine planted the letter and box on Ian! And now they were searching for her too. But . . . why? Why would they need . . .?
Perhaps to silence her forever? Why stop with one murder when two works out even better? And why stop at two . . .
Kylpin climbed to his feet, stunned by the complexity of Lord Ragget’s plan. He wasn’t just out to take Ian’s outpost. He was out to ruin him completely!
He glanced around the small room. “Where’s Kin-Tar?”
A sudden scream from below answered his question.
“Kin-Tar, no!” Kylpin shouted. He ran for the door.
Below, the young Islander stood over the body of the squat warden. He was holding the man’s severed head in one hand, while pointing the Dulon at the other two.
“Tell me where Lipscombe is, now!” Kin-Tar bellowed.
Kylpin raced down the stairs. At least, the young man had learned to stop and ask questions first before killing everyone.
“Speak now, or you’re next!” Kin-Tar continued venomously. He lifted the tip of the curved blade and nicked the tall warden’s neck.
“Gylfalen!” the warden responded.
Kin-Tar’s brow knitted together, and he glanced up at Kylpin. “What does that mean?”
Kylpin hesitated on the second-floor landing and shrugged. He had never heard of a district within the city named Gylfalen . . .
The dock door exploded. Shards of wood flew viciously throughout the room. Kylpin thought he heard the tall warden laugh, but all sound was suddenly drowned out by a high-pitched whistle like a tea-kettle about to boil over. Kylpin grimaced. His entire body shook. He’d heard this kind of noise before.
Gylfalen wasn’t a district. Gylfalen was a wind mage!
A cloaked figure dropped out of the sky and stepped casually through the warehouse’s gaping hole. The two wardens scurried for cover, hiding behind a pile of crates.
“Kin-Tar! Get down!” he shouted.
But the young Islander didn’t hear him over the sound of the screeching wind, or if he had, he wasn’t listening. He dropped the severed head and faced the newcomer, armed with the Dulon and his rage. Kylpin tried to descend the last flight of stairs, but the intense wind forced him back.
“Kin-Tar! Get down!” He tried again. The wind plucked his words from his lips and tore them apart.
Head bowed against the gusting wind, Kin-Tar fought his way forward. One step. Two. Gylfalen cocked his head to one side and watched him come. Then, with a grin that flashed rows of pointy teeth, he calmly pointed a finger at the young Islander. Kylpin put a hand to his mouth. He knew what was coming next, but he was helpless to stop it.
A cold blast of wind, like a giant fist, slammed into Kin-Tar’s chest, lifted him off his feet and threw him violently against the far back wall. The young Islander collapsed and lay still.
chapter 33
“Young man, I did not install that bell cord so you, of all people, could wake me from my slumber before dawn breaks.”
Garett Navarro stepped away from the massive oak door and looked up at the wizened man peering down at him from the second-floor window. “Master Tu’olo, I need your help.”
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The old man squeezed his eyes closed and rubbed them fiercely. “Just a moment, let me find my spectacles, my eyes are deceiving me again.”
“Master Tu’olo . . .” Garett pleaded.
“Because this cannot be the same brash, young man who boldly told me not twelve months ago to, how exactly did you phrase it, take my antiquated, mind-deadening, obsolete methods of training the fine skills of fire manipulations and control, and place them in an orifice of my body that I generally use to vacate my solid waste.”
“Master Tu’olo, please open the door and allow me to explain.” Garett glanced warily up and down the street. Already, since leaving the Weatherall estate, he had been chased by a small group of Yordicians intent on ‘giving him a beating’ and harassed by three members of the city patrol. But perhaps worse of all, besides losing Delila and being hunted by Ragget’s men . . .
He was soaking wet.
Garett wiped the rainwater from his face and pushed a long strand of wet hair back off his forehead. “Master Tu’olo . . .?”
The old, white-haired man slammed the window shut. Garett stood in shocked silence. Shivering, he wrapped his arms across his chest, tucking his still cold hands under his armpits. With his magic spent, he couldn’t seem to get warm. Reluctantly, he turned to leave.
The oak door swung open. “I expect to be thoroughly impressed with your apology and your explanation young man,” Master Tu’olo called from within, “or I shall personally hold you down while my man summons the city guard.”
An hour later, while standing with his back to Master Tu’olo’s gigantic stone fireplace, Garett finished his lengthy tale. The heat from the crackling fire was finally . . . finally! . . . soaking into his chilled body and his white-tipped fingers began to tingle. He downed the last of his now lukewarm tea and glanced over at his former mentor, trying to read the old man’s lined face. Master Tu’olo leaned back in his rocking chair and scratched the top of his balding head. “I warned you against joining with a Fire Elemental at such a young age, but you refused to listen.”
“I am wiser now,” Garett replied. “You can see that, can’t you?”
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