Ashes of Dearen: Book 1
Page 28
*
He retraced his steps as quickly as his feet allowed, breathless by the time he reached the spot where their paths had crossed. Where might he have gone from here?
Picard could only guess, but he kept walking in the direction the man had vanished. Luck must have been on his side, for he soon spotted a suspicious fellow standing in a window of the Windy Tower. Picard sensed in his gut that this was his man, so he hurried inside.
It was a cramped stone cylinder with spiraling steps up the innards. Every so many steps, the walls opened with apertures looking outside. These openings also let in the wind, earning the name Windy Tower quite rightfully, for the breeze seemed to collect within the stones and snake down the steps with a rushing current.
He climbed all the way to the top without finding anyone. An enclosed platform topped the tower. Windows interspersed the curving stones, letting in enough air to create a whirlwind. Torches on the wall sputtered and whooshed but somehow continued to burn. It was actually quite beautiful, for the wind of course carried the Haze, and as a result speckles of safra flickered in the light. Picard enjoyed the visual, even though the lashing of his clothes and hair stung his skin rather harshly.
But how was this possible? No one could have hidden in that tiny staircase. Well, no one but a Wolven, of course.
“What do you want, Picard?”
Picard started and turned to see a dark shape nearby. Somehow, the Wolven had crept up behind him. Once Picard’s heart stopped trying to jump from his chest, he couldn’t help but laugh. “Sean! Friva’s mercy. I hardly recognized you.”
As Sean moved into the light, Picard saw once again the man he had passed in the hallway. Indeed, he looked like an entirely different person than the one he’d met in Vikand. His clothes and sleek hair were largely to blame, but the soft copper eyes were most unsettling of all. “You look ... nice.”
Sean took a step forward, his body bristling, his arms curling as if to grab something. Now this looked a little more familiar. “I asked you a question.”
“What do I want, you asked? Well, as you might imagine, I want an update. Tell me how your mission is going.”
“I have nothing to tell you yet.”
“Well that is ... disappointing.” Picard leaned back against the wall, partially so he could cross his arms over his chest and look tough, partially so he find some protection from the lashing breeze. “How close are you to the princess?”
“Not close enough. It will take time to earn her trust, and she is a very busy woman. I am not the only one vying for her time.”
“So I hear. But perhaps I can give you advice. After all, you’re new to this espionage business.” Picard attempted to brush back a blond curl lashing incessantly against his eyes, to no avail. “What is your tactic thus far?”
“I’m a suitor.”
“A suitor?” Picard nearly choked on his own breath. “Gods, whatever gave you that idea? Why not become her bodyguard or something like that? You most certainly won’t succeed that way. There is a chief I heard mentioned today that seems to have won the princess’s affection: Chief Darius. She raced from a meeting with the khan himself to go see this Chief like a fucking bitch in heat. Do you know who he is?”
Sean considered for a moment. “No.”
“Well then figure it out, and when you find him, kill him.”
Sean said nothing.
“Must I make it official? To kill him would be to our mutual benefit. Must I give you another assignment?”
“I would refuse it. To kill anyone other than my target right now would compromise my mission.”
“Good point. But still.” Picard sighed and moved off the wall. The wind had abated somewhat, giving him the leeway to pace around. Away from that girl now, he felt antsy again. And the Wolven was not exactly a calming presence. “How goes it with the prince?”
“I’ve only met him briefly,” said Sean. “But I think he knows something.”
“Really?” Picard stopped and looked at him. “More than the princess?”
Sean nodded.
“Damn. I suppose we must keep him alive a little longer, then. But you must act quickly, or Father will be down both our throats.” Perhaps this wasn’t necessarily true; the khan was too dazed by the safra to focus. Sean didn’t need to know that.
Picard took a step closer to the Wolven, studying his fake dark eyes once more. “I wonder how Belazar feels about all of this? Have you any clue?”
Sean said nothing.
“When you’re near the boy, do you feel a very strong urge to kill him? I am curious. Please tell me.”
Sean remained silent.
“And the lenses. How does Belazar feel about those? Can he still see through your eyes? Can he still lend you his power?”
“We’re finished talking,” said Sean, and turned to go.
“Not necessarily.” The wind struck up again. Picard struggled to lift his voice above its roar. “I want to meet you here, every night, to hear your progress. You understand?”
“When I have something to tell you,” said Sean, “I’ll tell you.”
And then he was gone.
Picard felt a little rattled. He didn’t know why—perhaps this damnable wind—but he trembled from head to foot. He gnashed his jaws and stuck his hand into his tunic. He pulled out his own precious safra supply and poured it into his mouth.
After a moment he felt better. Everything would work out for him in the end; it always did. He wondered whether a certain redhead still waited for him in his chambers—he could take more safra from her, after all—then he left to find out.
9
Darius