A shiver went up Zenia’s spine as the apparition stared straight at her.
“Would any Dharrow be able to open it?” she asked, though she doubted the entity had been created to answer questions or have sentient thought. It probably delivered this message and nothing more.
“You are not of the Dharrow bloodline,” it repeated. “You may not enter the safe.”
“Right, I got that.” Zenia rubbed her finger. She feared she would have to wait for Jev and hope the person or people with inimical intentions toward her didn’t chance upon her first. “Though maybe…” She looked toward the sitting room. Jev’s grandmother on his mother’s side wouldn’t have Dharrow blood, but if she’d been appointed as the current guardian, then her blood must open the safe too. Right?
“Wait here,” she told the apparition.
Doubting it would listen, she gripped her lantern and hustled around the clutter and into the other room, hoping Visha hadn’t put away her sewing project. More specifically, Zenia hoped the needle was still on the table. Ah yes, there it was. The woman must have hurried off to arrange that rockfall without tidying up. Or had it already been arranged? Had someone guessed Zenia would head that specific way toward the stable? It seemed hard to imagine, given all the entrances, exits, and hallways in the various wings of the castle. But she had made it clear she wanted to talk to Jev’s father, and someone might have assumed he would go to the stable when he returned.
“Questions for later,” Zenia muttered, picking up the needle.
She held the tip to her lantern, squinting. A hint of blood seemed to darken it, but it was hard to tell in the dim lighting. Even if it was stained, would dried blood work on that test?
When she returned to the crafts room, the apparition had faded, the glow disappearing. She pushed aside the tapestry again, careful not to touch the stone this time. The lantern clanked and scraped as she held it as close to the wall, to that particular stone, as she could. She spotted a hole, a hole so tiny it could have been mistaken for a pore in the stone. But she was certain that was where the needle or whatever had pricked her had originated.
“Let’s see if this works,” she murmured and poked the tip of the sewing needle into the hole.
It slid in an inch, then halted. A faint click sounded, like a spring releasing. Zenia let go and jumped back. The needle shot backward out of the hole and crossed half the room before tinking to the floor.
“I guess that was a rejection.”
It had been a long shot.
Zenia waited for the apparition to appear, perhaps with more threatening words this time, but instead, a grating noise came from within the wall, like a gear turning. The stone next to the one with the pinhole slid out a couple of inches.
She lunged forward, afraid it would slide out all the way and crack to the floor. But it stopped there. Warily, she gripped the sides and pulled it out. The stone fit tightly in its nest, but she eased it out. As she stepped back to set it on the floor, a soft golden glow came from the hole in the wall. She peered into it, not getting too close lest some trap guarded the items inside. Was it enough that one had Dharrow blood, or would some greater test need to be passed? As old as his family was, hundreds of people in the kingdom must share blood with Jev.
She squinted into the glow, trying to pick out what lay back there. Dragon tears shouldn’t glow, not when they weren’t in contact with a wielder. She did pick out familiar oval-shaped gems lying on the bottom. Then there was also one whitish-yellow carved object…
“That’s it,” she whispered, reaching in. “Has to be.”
Silently asking her own dragon tear for protection, she touched the ivory artifact, then drew her finger back. She waited to see if anything would happen.
Nothing.
A thud sounded, a nearby door shutting. Someone entering the suite?
Fearing she had run out of time, Zenia snatched the artifact out. She bent, intending to stuff the stone back into place, but white flashed before her eyes.
A gasp came from the doorway to the crafts room. She glimpsed a familiar white-haired bun before a vision sprang into her mind with the intensity of a mallet striking a gong.
Zenia’s knees buckled. She sensed Visha walking into the room, but she was powerless to do anything about it. A scene played in her mind, as if she were in the middle of a stage full of actors, and she lost all awareness of her body and the outside world.
“Take this to the humans, Princess Yrellia. To someone of import, someone who will pay attention. I grow weary of suffering their soldiers, and it has become harder and harder to keep the young elves from enacting their plan, to cross the sea and use magic to attack the humans on their own soil, to devastate their kingdoms.” The speaker, a gray-haired elf in white and silver robes, stood in front of a green backdrop, branches leafing out all around him, a platform of lace-like wood under his feet.
An elven woman sat cross-legged before him, her head bowed, her blonde hair partially hiding her face. “I will do as you say, Father.”
She extended her hand, and he rested a trinket in it, a carved ivory trinket that had been imbued to speak the truth to any who would listen.
“It shares the history, the true history. The one that humans have chosen to forget. I did not believe it was so until I visited among them in disguise. Until I saw that none of their leaders remembered. Perhaps this war of theirs would end if they remembered the truth. If they accepted it.”
“That they have been stealing the dragon tears from us for countless millennia? Almost since the days when the dwarves gave them to us for safekeeping?”
“A task I fear we have failed.” The gray-haired elf sighed deeply. “And the dwarves won’t let us forget it.”
“They’ve stopped trying to annihilate each other with them.”
“And now the humans use them to try to annihilate us.” He waved for her to rise. “Take it to the Kor capital. It is that kingdom that leads the war on us. It is that king who must be swayed—or those with the power to influence him.”
“I understand, Father.” Yrellia closed her fingers around the carving and rose lithely without using her hands.
“It is no longer easy for us to walk in their cities. You may need to befriend one with the means to act as a liaison or guide for you.”
“One of their nobility, perhaps?”
“Yes. We have had supporters among them in the past. Find such a person.”
“I understand, Father. It will be done.”
Pain splintered in Zenia’s mind, and she lurched back to awareness as something was yanked from her fingers. She tried to lunge after it but realized she was on her back on the floor. She grasped only air, and then the darkness crept into her vision again.
As Jev tore chunks of stone from the rockfall and hurled them into a growing pile behind him, a hand came in from the side and gripped his shoulder.
He pulled away, afraid someone wanted to stop him. What if his father had come in and intended to order him to give up?
“Jev, she’s not under there,” Lornysh said, his familiar voice getting through the mindless rock-throwing haze he’d been in.
Lornysh looked down at Jev’s hands, at his bleeding fingernails. He raised his eyebrows.
Did that mean Zenia hadn’t been caught? That she was safe somewhere else?
“Is she alive?” Jev croaked, worried he was misinterpreting his friend.
“That I do not know yet, but I sense her dragon tear.” Lornysh pointed upward and toward the center of the main wing.
“She wasn’t caught?” Wyleria asked from behind Lornysh. They stood together on the landing. “Thank the founders. I was so sure…”
“Lead the way,” Jev told Lornysh. “Please.”
“Of course.”
Lornysh headed for the nearest set of stairs. Jev started after him, but Wyleria squeezed his arm, making him pause.
“I found the elf out front, waiting with a dwarf, and I got him inside and through a
door before anyone noticed, but we almost ran into Grandma Visha leading your father out into the courtyard. They were talking about I don’t know what. We might not have long before he comes to check on this.” She waved at the rockfall but also included Lornysh in the gesture.
“I’ll deal with it.” Jev knew his father would explode when he found an elf in his midst, but he didn’t care. He had to find Zenia. That was all that mattered right now. Even if she hadn’t been caught in that rockfall… if it had been meant for her, someone in the castle was after her. Someone who might try again as soon as he found her.
He ran up the stairs after Lornysh, catching up quickly. He had the urge to shove his friend along so he could move faster, but he doubted Lornysh wanted humans planting their hands on his butt. Judging by the way he paused at the next landing and tilted his head, he didn’t know exactly where the dragon tear was. Shoving him wouldn’t help.
A cry of pain came from somewhere ahead. A woman’s cry.
Jev raced past Lornysh and sprinted through passages until he came out on his grandmother’s garden balcony. The door to her suite stood open. He sprinted in and scoured the suite with his gaze.
“Zenia?” He couldn’t imagine why she would be in his grandmother’s rooms, but the cry had come from this direction and this level.
He poked his head into the dark crafts room and almost drew back right away, since no lanterns were lit, but Lornysh came up behind him and stopped him with a hand to his shoulder.
“It’s in there.” Lornysh peered into the dark. “As is she. On the floor behind the loom over there.”
Jev couldn’t see her, but he trusted his friend. He snatched a lantern off the wall and plunged in, almost tripping over an easel. He started to kick it out of the way, but a groan came from the back, and he forgot his irritation. He raced through the maze of projects and finally spotted Zenia as Lornysh had described her, on the floor. A lantern lying next to her must have gone out when she’d fallen.
“Zenia?” Jev dropped to his knees, set his lantern down, and touched her face. “Are you all right? What happened?”
He glanced around the room, puzzled about why she was in here and who or what would have attacked her.
“Here.” Lornysh knelt by the wall a couple of feet away and swiped his finger through a scattering of sand or dust on the floor.
Jev stroked Zenia’s hair as Lornysh stood, shifted a tapestry aside, and ran his fingers over the wall. One of the stones wasn’t flush with the others. He drew it out and peered into a dark hole. Jev vaguely remembered the spot, remembered standing in this room when he had been six or seven and his father removing dragon tears to test him for aptitude with them. It was the secret niche he’d been thinking of when he’d mentioned heirloom gems to Iridium, but he hadn’t seen the spot in decades.
“This was disturbed recently,” Lornysh said. “It looks like there’s a magical ward on it or a warning. But it wasn’t reset the last time someone was in here.”
“Did Zenia trigger something? Why didn’t she wait for me?” Jev frowned down at her.
Her eyelids fluttered but did not yet open.
“Did you know someone was after you?” he murmured softly, answering his own question. She might not have thought she had much time.
“There are eight dragon tears in here in addition to the one she wears around her neck,” Lornysh said. “I don’t sense any other magic in the room, but…” He gazed toward one of the walls, his eyes growing distant.
“She took it from me,” Zenia rasped, her green eyes finally open and looking up at them.
Jev read the pain in them and wished he had the power to heal her. A bruise darkened one of her cheekbones, and one of her eyes was swelling shut. If she’d been caught by any of those falling rocks, she would have more bruises under her robe.
“It was showing me… the past,” Zenia said. “From the elves’ eyes. I think it would have shown me more, but she took it from me.”
“Who?” Jev asked.
“Visha.”
“My grandmother?” As soon as his startled word came out, Jev realized he shouldn’t have been so surprised. Grandmother was old, yes, but she was also the guardian of the dragon tears—and of another artifact inside that vault, it seemed. If she’d seen a stranger removing an item, of course she would have taken it back.
“She tried to kill me,” Zenia whispered.
“Uh?” Jev looked up at Lornysh, as if his friend might advise him on how to respond. If Zenia had been hit on the head, she might be confused.
“She arranged the rockfall,” Zenia continued earnestly. Her eyes were clear and didn’t appear dazed or confused. “Or she had an accomplice. I’m sure of it. I made the mistake of looking toward the vault when we were talking. She saw me. I didn’t realize that was enough for her to see me as a threat. Where did she go? She must have the artifact.” Zenia struggled to sit up.
“Wait, just rest.” Jev didn’t want to force her to stay on the floor, but he also didn’t want to encourage her to run off. She looked like she might pitch over if she tried to stand. “Lornysh will find the artifact.”
Jev met his friend’s eyes, expecting a sarcastic response or for him to point out that he might run into trouble if he strolled openly around the castle. But Lornysh nodded gravely and jogged out of the room.
“I must take it back to Sazshen,” Zenia said. “And I wish to see the rest of the vision. To know what happened next. I shouldn’t be curious about something that’s not mine, I know, but I am.”
“I think we all are at this point.” Jev gathered her into his arms—she was halfway to her feet already—hoping to halt her attempt to sprint off without seeming like he was impeding her. “Come, sit on the couch. I know my grandmother has some poultices and some willow bark powder for tea. It’ll help with the pain.”
“I don’t want tea, Jev. I want to find that artifact.”
“I know, but Lornysh will do that. And you can lick the powder if you don’t want to take time to make tea. Though I seem to remember it being bitter and disgusting.”
“Lornysh will get it? And then disappear with it? What if—”
“He won’t.” Jev hoped he spoke the truth. He didn’t think Lornysh would abscond with the artifact, but if it had something to do with the elves, then maybe he would consider his people the rightful owners.
After depositing Zenia on the couch, Jev made a stay-there motion with his hands and hoped she would. He hurried to the cabinet where his grandmother kept her healer’s supplies.
Footsteps pounded on the floor outside the crafts room. Jev didn’t see the poultices he had been thinking of but spotted a jar of the unctuous salve his mother and grandmother had slathered him and Vastiun with whenever they had been injured. He assumed it had medicinal qualities. He spotted the willow powder, grabbed it and the jar, then hurried to stand protectively over Zenia. She’d half risen, using the arm of the couch for support, and looked determined to rush away, no matter who was coming.
“Jev?” came Cutter’s voice from the next room.
“In here.”
Cutter and Rhi appeared in the doorway.
“Zenia, what happened?” Rhi demanded and rushed to the couch. She wrapped an arm around Zenia’s shoulders, also appearing determined to keep her from hurrying off.
Good.
“A rockfall happened.” Zenia didn’t look like she wanted anyone stopping her. “To me. At least partially. I was lucky and ran fast enough to avoid it.” She touched her shoulder and winced. “Most of it.”
“A rockfall?” Cutter asked. “In a castle?”
“I saw soot.” Jev sat on Zenia’s other side. “Someone set a charge. It’s downstairs on the way to the stable if you want to take a look at it.”
“You do know how to get me excited.” Cutter trotted out, his tools and weapons clanking on his belt.
Zenia gripped Rhi’s arm. “Jev’s grandmother is the one with the artifact. She may be running off to hi
de it. Will you find her? Please?”
“His grandmother? How old is she?”
“Not too old to hide an ivory carving.” Zenia didn’t mention again her suspicions about the rockfall, but her lips pressed together with disapproval. And pain.
Jev frowned. Could his grandmother truly have been responsible for the rockfall? It seemed so unlikely. His father was the one who hadn’t been down there even though the staff had said he was in the castle. That had been odd. But Jev couldn’t imagine his father sabotaging his own castle, not when he’d be the one who would feel responsible for leading the repairs later. If the old man wanted to get rid of an inquisitor, he’d be more likely to walk up and shoot her. Or challenge her to a duel.
Zenia, her face still tight with pain, lowered her hand.
“Let me spread some of this on your injuries.” Jev held up the jar of salve he’d grabbed. “It might help with the pain until we can get you to a healer.”
“Rhi?” Zenia asked, her gaze intent and locked onto the other woman. She didn’t acknowledge Jev’s offer.
Too focused. Like a hound pointed at a treed raccoon, unaware of anything else around it.
Rhi nodded. “I’ll go look for her.”
“Lornysh is already looking for her, so follow him if you see him. Apparently, he can sense magic—the artifact. Make sure—” Now Zenia glanced at Jev. Warily. “You know what to make sure, Rhi.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll get the bauble. You stay here and let your zyndar rub stuff on you.” She saluted, then jogged out of the room.
“My zyndar?” Zenia mouthed and looked at Jev again, this time for more than a glance.
“I could be,” he said. “You don’t have one of your own yet, do you?”
“No, I’ve never wanted a zyndar.” Zenia, perhaps realizing she’d done as much as she could for now, and that Rhi would do the work she needed done, finally let herself slump against the backrest of the couch.
“Not at all? We’re terribly desirable.” Jev removed the lid from the jar, nose wrinkling at the pungent tea-tree-oil scent. “Perhaps you should start a collection.”
Agents of the Crown- The Complete Series Page 22
