“Discussion of urination habits may get you some disapproving frowns in this part of town,” Zenia said, choosing to respond to the second topic rather than the first. Because she feared the answer to the first would be no. But she had to ask. She worried she wouldn’t be able to perform her new job adequately without a dragon-tear gem hanging around her throat, one that lent her the power to read minds when she questioned witnesses and interrogated suspects.
“What does it say about our city that it doesn’t get you frowns everywhere?” Rhi asked.
Zenia shook her head and stepped inside, the shop cool and shady after the warm sun. To her surprise, a man and a woman in brown gis almost identical to Rhi’s blue uniform were pointing at items in a display case in the back.
“I wouldn’t have guessed monks could afford jewels,” Zenia murmured.
“Trust me, they can’t. I make less than you. Or than you did. I’m sure they’re here on behalf of the Earth Order archmage or someone else with access to the donation trays at their temple.”
Zenia frowned at the idea that someone might pilfer money meant to assist the Orders in providing aid for those less fortunate. She didn’t think Archmage Sazshen had done that. The Water Order Temple leader certainly hadn’t worn jewels. She’d been modest in dress and appearance and fair in… most matters. Zenia knew she should resent her old employer, but she couldn’t help but wish things had turned out differently and that she was still at the temple, still on the path to becoming archmage herself one day.
“Are you going to make a lot more at the castle?” Rhi asked curiously. “Is that why you think you can afford this?” She pointed the tip of her bo around the shop, drawing a frown from the room’s other occupant, a raven-haired woman in a richly colored silk dress and slippers. The clerk. Or perhaps the owner.
“I don’t know yet what my salary will be, but I’m not expecting largess.”
“You said yes without knowing what the king is going to pay you?”
“One doesn’t ask impertinent questions of the king when he’s offering a job perfectly suited to one’s talents.” Talents Zenia worried would be insufficient now that she no longer had the use of one of the temple’s dragon tears. She let a hand stray to her chest, to where the oval-shaped gem had once dangled.
“Asking what your salary will be isn’t impertinent.”
“It is among the zyndar and even more so among royalty. When they work at all, it’s supposed to be for the glory of their kingdom, not because they need money.”
“Four elemental hells, are they going to pay you at all?”
“Yes.” Zenia hesitated. “I think so.”
By the founders, should she have asked? She had assumed…
“For someone with the intelligence to outmaneuver criminal masterminds, you can be dense at times, Zenia.”
“I hope your new inquisitor enjoys your bluntness as much as I do.”
Rhi opened her mouth to respond but closed it when the owner sashayed in their direction.
Zenia braced herself for a suggestion that they would find shopping in a less ritzy district more to her monetary tastes.
When she’d worn her blue inquisitor robe, nobody had questioned her right to go anywhere in the city she wished. But she not only didn’t have a robe any longer, she didn’t even have much of a selection of civilian attire. Her brown and beige cotton dress was almost ten years old, and the hem and collar were starting to fray. Now, she wished she’d bothered to shop and purchase clothing a little more often, but it had hardly been necessary when she dressed in the same robe every day for work.
The owner pointed toward the door, her lips parting in preparation to issue her decree.
“This is Zenia Cham,” Rhi said, speaking first. “She wants to see your dragon tears.”
The owner blinked and lowered her pointing finger. “Inquisitor Cham? I—my dragon tears? Are you here to take inventory? See my books? I assure you there’s nothing nefarious going on. I only have three dragon tears in inventory. I know that’s far more than most sellers, but I assure you, they were all legitimately acquired from zyndari ladies who’ve passed on and whose heirs had no aptitude for magic. I paid a fair price to the families—more than fair—and my markup is quite modest when you consider how much the rent is in this exclusive neighborhood.”
“I’m not an inquisitor anymore,” Zenia felt compelled to admit.
Once, she would have been proud that her reputation had reached all the way to the Silver Ridge, but it would do her little good now. Could she one day establish a new fearsome reputation as one of the king’s Crown Agents? She didn’t know. She feared the agents worked largely in secret and weren’t supposed to be seen or heard until they pounced on some threat to the kingdom.
“I’m just a shopper,” she added.
The owner’s eager-to-please expression faded. “You’re not here about a case?”
“No, I’m interested in seeing your dragon tears as a potential buyer.”
“She’ll need one for the work she’s doing for her new employer,” Rhi said. “King Targyon.”
The owner’s lips formed a round, “Oh.”
Rhi smirked smugly as the woman turned, murmuring, “This way,” and headed toward a door in the rear of the shop.
Zenia didn’t know if she should thank her friend for name-dropping or not. She hadn’t minded relying on her reputation, but she didn’t like the idea of receiving preferential treatment because she worked for Targyon. It reminded her of the zyndar favoritism that she hated. Besides, it wasn’t as if she’d even seen the king since the morning she and Jev had dined with him, and Targyon had hired them.
They followed the shopkeeper through the rear doorway, and Zenia jumped when she spotted a bodyguard—or maybe security guard?—looming just inside, his thickly muscled arms bare, a pistol and heavy cudgel belted at his waist. He narrowed his eyes at Rhi and her bo.
She winked at him. “Hello there, Muscles. What are you doing in the back instead of displaying those forearms up front?”
“Muscles are uncouth,” he rumbled in a voice deep enough to belong to a dwarf. “Zyndari Grayela said.”
Zenia took that to mean the Silver Ridge customers might not find it appealing to see armed beefy types roaming the shops. But if the owner truly had dragon tears, Zenia wasn’t surprised she kept someone fearsome nearby.
“Over here, ladies.” The shopkeeper—Grayela, presumably—waved them to a small vault built into the stone and plaster wall. “I would usually ask to see proof of finances from commoners,” Grayela said, eyeing them up and down. “But if you’re here on behalf of the king…”
Zenia frowned at her back as Grayela inserted the first of two keys into the vault door. Zenia hadn’t said that. She didn’t even think Rhi had implied it.
“Is he looking to acquire more dragon tears?” Grayela asked. “One would expect the Alderoths to have a whole stash in the castle somewhere—most of the old, wealthy zyndar families do—but maybe his father and cousins died without telling him where it is? That would be tragic, wouldn’t it? Though you’d think someone with a dragon tear could use its magic to find other magic gems located in the castle. Unless they’re stored elsewhere. I could see the princes having died—all at once, speaking of tragedy!—without writing down the family secrets. Or sending them off to Targyon at the front. I don’t think anyone ever expected that boy to be crowned. I bet there’s a lot he wasn’t told.”
“I’m sure,” Zenia murmured, wondering if Grayela had heard any useful rumors about the three princes’ mysterious deaths from a “disease of the blood” that only affected their family.
It was the very mystery King Targyon had asked her and Jev to investigate first. In less than an hour, she was to meet Jev at the office of the doctor who’d treated the princes, so they could begin asking questions. She’d wanted to go right at dawn, but he’d been pulled aside that morning for some zyndar-only meeting with the king. She, being a mature and self-ass
ured woman of thirty-two, wasn’t envious, jealous, or feeling left out. Or so she promised herself.
“Here we are.” After turning a second lock, Grayela opened the vault door and drew out three boxes, each carved from ivory with gold or silver clasps and hinges. She produced a keyring and proceeded to open the boxes one by one and hand them to Zenia. “As you can see from the carvings on the fronts of the tears, that one holds a loom and was used by a master weaver. This next one has a quill and is more versatile—anything to do with books or writing and recording or even teaching should work. This last one is for more of a warrior woman—Zyndari Masarathi had quite the reputation for winning fencing competitions even against male competitors—with its sword carving. I’m told that one is quite powerful, so it is accordingly valued. Of course, if none of these work, you can see the city’s master gem cutter, Akura Grindmor. For a reasonable fee, the dwarf is rumored to be able to fill in the old carvings, using magic to ensure the gems are fully whole again, and then carve new ones.”
“What’s a reasonable fee?” Rhi asked as Zenia considered the gems.
A sense of bleakness came over her as she realized she could no longer sense magic, not without a dragon tear of her own, and had no way to tell if these were real. Given the reputation of this shop, she was inclined to believe they were, but she would need someone else with a dragon tear—someone she trusted—to verify that before she sank her life’s savings into a purchase.
“For a remake and re-carving? Around ten thousand from what I’ve heard. It’s only five thousand if the master cutter is starting from scratch with an untouched dragon tear, but it’s exceedingly rare to find one that hasn’t already been carved these days.”
“Ten thousand?” Rhi asked, her bo drooping. “How much for just the gem?” She eyed the sword one.
Zenia had only heard of a couple of monks receiving dragon tears from the archmage, as the temple usually sought out gems that would be useful to its mages over its fighters. Even then, few mages received them. To be offered one was a great honor. Once again, Zenia felt a twinge of distress over losing the regard of Archmage Sazshen.
“For that lovely one?” Grayela pointed at the sword-carved gem. “Seventy-five thousand krons.”
Zenia planted a hand against the cool stone wall to brace herself. She’d only made five thousand a year as an inquisitor. Rhi’s salary—her mouth was dangling open at the price too—was only half that. The temple had included room and board and their uniforms in with their compensation, but even with all that Zenia had saved over the years, she didn’t have that much money, not even close.
“The quill is a mere sixty, and the loom fifty.” Grayela arched her eyebrows at Zenia. “Forgive my uncouthness in discussing sums, but that must come out at some point, especially when I don’t know the depth of your coffers and if I can simply bill you. How much did the king say you have to work with?”
“I…” Zenia didn’t know what to say. This was Rhi’s ruse.
But Rhi only shook her head slowly.
Zenia lowered her hand from the wall. She should have known the prices would be exorbitant. And unattainable. Coming here had been a mistake. There was no way she could ever save enough. Even if she somehow could, the quill was the only gem she could imagine meshing with her abilities and needs, and it wouldn’t be as tailored to her as her last dragon tear, carved with the eyetooth of justice, had been.
“We’ll have to clarify that with him and see if any of these carvings suit his needs.” Rhi gripped Zenia’s arm and nodded toward the door.
Zenia allowed herself to be led toward the doorway while biting her tongue to keep from protesting Rhi’s continuing ruse. Zenia hadn’t grown up zyndar with notions of their Code of Honor planted in her head, but she was proud that she’d achieved all she had without bending her morality. She hated to think she might start her new life with lies and misdirection.
“Thank you for showing them to us, Zyndari Grayela,” Zenia said, bowing on her way out.
“…he better listen to our archmage,” the male monk muttered as Zenia and Rhi returned to the main room. “He’s only sitting on that padded throne by the grace of the Orders.”
“If he’s smart, he’ll remember that. The archmage isn’t asking for anything unreasonable.”
Zenia paused, the reference to King Targyon piquing her interest and reminding her she had something more important to do than shopping.
But the monks turned, noticing Zenia and Rhi, and stopped their conversation.
“Rhi Lin.” The woman bowed to Rhi.
Zenia wondered if they knew each other. Female monks were rare among all the Orders, the training being rigorous and the tests geared more toward men.
“Danja.” Rhi bowed back, including the male monk in the gesture. “Choris. Anything interesting happening at the Earth Order Temple these days?”
“No,” Danja said blandly. “Anything of interest with the Water Order?” She looked at Zenia but didn’t direct any questions to her. Her expression seemed dismissive.
Zenia held back a frown, not sure if the monk recognized her or not. If so, she wondered if she was now considered an outcast among all the Orders. Could word have traveled so quickly about her parting from the Water Order?
“Nothing at all,” Rhi responded with an edged smile.
They bowed to each other again before turning away.
Outside, Zenia squinted at the bright sunlight.
“I need to get to the temple so I can trail Marlyna—don’t even think of calling her Marly for short—around the city,” Rhi said. “I’ll leave you to your new investigation.” She paused, looking like she wanted to say something else.
“Will you be all right?” Zenia asked. “I know Marlyna isn’t as warm and chatty as I am—”
Rhi snorted.
“—but she’s good at her job and gets sent out on a lot of missions.” Zenia kept herself from saying Marlyna was brusque and sometimes cruel and that she would love a chance to pummel the inquisitor on the wrestling mat after what she’d done to Jev. “At least you won’t be bored.”
“Boredom isn’t what I was worried about. And that’s the question I was thinking of asking you.”
“If I’ll be all right?”
“Yes. You may have noticed—” Rhi tipped her bo toward the shop door, “—that the archmage hasn’t been quiet about you being kicked out of the Order. She made it clear she’s irked with you and that you’re not to be trusted. Also that you may be sympathetic to elves.”
“Ah.” Zenia knew she’d earned Sazshen’s wrath, but she hadn’t expected the archmage, a woman in her late sixties, to be vindictive or hold a grudge. The knowledge stung. They had worked together for so many years. But it had only been a few days since Zenia had done what she believed was the right thing. Perhaps in time, Sazshen would mellow and realize that giving that artifact back to its rightful owners would not likely result in the world ending.
“I think she wanted to make sure you wouldn’t easily gain employment with any of the other Orders,” Rhi said. “Probably because you know a lot of the Water Order’s secrets—I assume that’s the case, since lowly monks aren’t told any secrets—and she wouldn’t want that information being shared with the other Orders.”
“There’s something to that, I suppose, though it’s not like I would have gossiped.”
“Your employment in the king’s service was unexpected.” Rhi grinned. “People in the temple were flabbergasted. Even Sazshen.”
“Are you supposed to be sharing all this gossip with me?”
“Oh, absolutely not. I’ve been forbidden from talking to you.”
“Truly?”
“Yup. You’re just lucky Marlyna is so odious and humorless and that I felt the need to seek you out.”
“Don’t get in trouble—or worse—because of me, please.” Zenia felt bad enough about her own ruined career. She did not want Rhi to lose hers simply for associating with her.
“If
I do, do you think the king has a position open for a monk?”
“Uhm, I don’t know. He’s got a bunch of dour-faced guards that trail him around the castle. I don’t know what training they had before being added to the staff.”
“I can be dour. Let me know if you hear of a position.” Rhi waved her bo. “I’m off to see if I can requisition one of those orc ears for free. A donation for the temple, if you will. Maybe if I offer the vendor a fortune and the favor of the Blue Dragon founder, he’ll be eager to share with me.”
“Monks aren’t allowed to tell fortunes.”
“Yes, but those who are only vaguely religious rarely know all the rules.” Rhi winked and trotted off up the street.
Zenia blew out a slow breath, worried that her friend would get in trouble, worried that she would be ineffective at her job without a dragon tear, and worried that she was now considered an outcast by every member of the four Orders in the city. Aside from the personal implications, that status might make people less likely to cooperate with her when she did work on the king’s behalf.
“This day is off to a good start,” she mumbled as she headed off to meet Jev.
2
Jev climbed up the fire-escape ladder, heading to the rooftop of a three-story building across the alley from a row of backyards belonging to elegant stone townhouses. Soft clinks sounded on the rungs below him as Cutter followed, his hook doing as well on the ladder as his right hand once would have.
“When I said I’d come with you because we were going the same way,” Cutter huffed from below, “I didn’t expect you to take a detour.”
“It was a whim.” Jev touched the folded paper in his pocket, a single address written upon it. Not that much of a whim, he admitted silently.
Cutter grunted something indecipherable even to someone who spoke numerous languages, including Preskabroton Dwarf.
Agents of the Crown- The Complete Series Page 28
