Jev wished he could have no interest in them, but zyndar second sons and beyond were the only ones who could get away with ignoring them. The heir to the prime? No. He’d take his father’s place one day with a seat in the king’s court, and he’d have to attend the quarterly meetings, vote on laws, and share his thoughts on domestic and foreign affairs.
“As far as I heard,” Hydal said, “nobody’s thinking of acting against you or accusing you of anything at this time, but you may want to set an agent to watching the zyndar social scene.”
“Zyndar Garlok is the only one who could.” Jev grimaced, imagining asking the crusty former captain of the agents to head to nightly parties and listen to the vapid conversations of those who chose not to work and had no reason to rise before noon.
“Or yourself.”
“Yes, I’ll start attending to listen in on the latest gossip about me.”
Hydal smiled faintly. “Are you at liberty to hire more agents? Perhaps you could find a diligent zyndar you could trust.”
“Are you lobbying for a job, Hydal?”
Hydal blinked. “Me? Not at all. I wasn’t in Taziira quite as long as you, but eight years was plenty. I intend to spend the next year contemplating my navel while drinking copious amounts of brandy and port. Perhaps after that, I’ll return to handling my father’s books.”
“Is that what you were doing at Gorgin’s house? Drinking port and navel gazing?”
“It was sherry, and it was wretched. I’d rather lick the bottom of that still Targyon made in the field. What was he fermenting? Some kind of elven berry?”
“I don’t remember, but it was potent.”
“And dreadful. I’d rather consume that. Gorgin has the taste of a commoner.”
“Such an insult.” Jev eyed his old second-in-command thoughtfully. He hadn’t truly meant to go on a hiring spree, not until he and Zenia had fully assessed the agents currently working for them, but he could likely talk Hydal into taking the same salary as he did: none. So, it wasn’t as if adding him to the staff would tax the office’s coffers. “Can I talk you into spending the summer working part-time with us? For the sake of Targyon and the kingdom?” Surely, that was a plea no zyndar following the Code of Honor could reject.
Hydal’s lips twisted again.
“I’ll have Lornysh select a port for you. You know he has a good palate.”
“He does,” Hydal admitted, not sounding sold yet.
“And I’ll introduce you to the new female agent in the office.” Jev couldn’t imagine the muscular and athletic Rhi Lin falling for the bespectacled Hydal, but maybe he could convince her that one date wouldn’t be so bad.
Hydal’s eyes sharpened with speculation. “I’ve seen her. She is a beauty, and nicely athletic. But common-born, right?”
Jev was surprised Hydal already knew about Rhi and wondered how many rumors about the castle—and its Crown Agents—were circulating at these social gatherings this month. “Yes, but I wasn’t suggesting marriage. Just that you might enjoy asking her to dinner.”
Jev kept himself from mentioning that, given how sketchy Rhi’s celibacy oath had been as a monk, a man’s odds might be good for more than dinner. It wasn’t his place to imply Rhi might sleep with Hydal. He already felt like a procurer for trying to arrange a date for her without her permission.
Hydal patted him on the arm. “If you need my assistance, sir, all you have to do is ask. I owe you my life. Twice.”
“See you at the office soon then?” Jev asked. “I’ll make sure the guards know you’re on the roster.”
“Very well.” Hydal mounted his horse and turned it toward Dharrow Castle where breakfast was likely growing cold. “She’ll be there?”
Jev smirked. “I’ll introduce you.”
3
Rhi yawned.
Zenia hoped that wasn’t a sign that she was already bored with her new job. They were walking through the city, visiting the informants on the Crown Agents’ payroll. In the future, Zenia would send junior agents to collect whatever news and gossip the informants gathered from week to week, but she first wanted to acquaint herself with them, to make sure they were trustworthy and that they were worth paying.
“Do we need to pick a fight with some thug to keep your interest?” Zenia asked when Rhi yawned again.
“I’d welcome a fight, but I’m only tired because I was up early getting kicked out of my room. I don’t think Archmage Sazshen ever sleeps.”
“Ah.”
They walked through a busy intersection, passed a steam carriage wafting black smoke into the air, and headed toward the clanks and whistles of Anvil Row.
“Is one of your quirky informants a smith?” Rhi waved toward the columns marking the entrance of a street lined with the workshops of carpenters, smiths, and furniture makers.
“No. We’re taking a break to visit Master Grindmor’s shop. And they’re your quirky informants now too.”
“Lucky me.” Rhi glanced back toward a tenement building, the home of the informant they had just visited. “They’re not at all what I imagined assistant spies would be.”
“They’re normal people who happen to work in jobs where they see and hear a lot. That last fellow collects the fees at the docks.”
“Normal? Did you see all the collections he had? That’s not normal.”
“Not everybody follows the Codices of the Monk and has been instructed to live a simple life with few material belongings.”
“I don’t have to follow those anymore, but I’m still not going to start collecting dead butterflies to frame and hang on the walls. Or ancient ogre jewelry pieces. Or pressed autumn leaves to turn into a book. By the founders, you shouldn’t have asked him about that book. I didn’t know there were that many species of trees in the world, and I didn’t want to know.”
“He’s very observant. I put a checkmark next to his name.” Zenia waved the notepad she carried. “We’ll definitely want to keep him on the payroll.”
“I’m sure he’ll be pleased,” Rhi said. It grew harder to hear her as they passed smithies with open rollup doors, the bangs of tools echoing out into the streets. “I think he liked you. I got the impression few girls ask him about his collections.”
“You’ll have to learn to ask questions and speak to people, you know. As an agent, you’ll be expected to gather information, not simply thump on people with your bo.”
“I can gather all kinds of information by thumping on people.”
“There’s Master Grindmor’s shop.” Zenia spotted a brown-haired dwarf with a knapsack and toolbox standing outside the shop and peering through a narrow window beside the closed rollup door. At first, she thought it was Jev’s friend, but Cutter had more red in his hair and beard, and he also had a hook in place of his right hand.
But this dwarf might know something. Zenia quickened her pace.
“Hello,” she called to him. “Is the master in?”
The dwarf jumped and spun toward her, his gray eyes widening. He glanced over his shoulder, as if he had been caught doing something wrong and might race off down the street, but he settled down and met Zenia’s gaze.
“I was looking for her,” he said. “Shop hours say she ought to be in.”
“What do you want to see her for?” Zenia kept her tone casual, not wanting to sound like an inquisitor, but he seemed suspicious. Should she draw upon her dragon tear to test whether he was lying or telling the truth?
His bushy brows drew together. “What do you want to see her for, human? Your dragon tear is already carved.”
Something he couldn’t know without drawing upon some magic of his own—she wore her gem under her blouse.
“I’m here on the king’s business. And you?” She offered her friendliest smile, but she also silently willed the dragon tear to aid her in pulling the truth from him.
“Just want to talk to the master.” He backed away. Could he sense her prying? “But if she’s not here, I’ll come back later.”
As he spun and strode away, Zenia got a strong feeling of embarrassment from him. He didn’t want to admit… Oh. He was a young dwarf who’d seen her work back in his home city and had grown smitten with the master carver from a distance. He’d arrived early, ahead of a shipload of dwarves coming to Korvann for work, and he’d hoped to make her acquaintance before other male dwarves came and swarmed her.
“You want me to catch up and thump him?” Rhi fingered her bo as she watched the dwarf’s hasty retreat.
“No.”
“No? He’s oozing suspiciousness like a slug oozes slime.”
“He doesn’t have anything to do with her disappearance,” Zenia assured her.
Rhi frowned over, glancing down at the faint bump under her blouse where the dragon tear lay. “The rock tell you that?”
“It did indeed. Apparently, he has a romantic interest in the master carver and wished to make himself known to her before the competition showed up.” Zenia stepped into the spot the dwarf had vacated so she could peer through the narrow window.
“A what?”
“A romantic interest.”
“Has he seen Master Grindmor? She has a beard you could strangle a horse with.”
“I don’t know much about dwarves. Perhaps that’s an appealing trait.”
“Not if you’re a horse with your throat being threatened.” Rhi stepped up to the window on the other side of the rollup door.
Zenia couldn’t see much in the shop’s shadowy interior. A few large tools and a counter in the back. Was that the entrance to another room behind the counter?
She bent and tried to tug up the door, but a padlock looped through the handle kept it from opening. “I guess this means she wasn’t likely kidnapped at her workplace.”
“You don’t think kidnappers lock doors on their way out?”
“I suspect Master Grindmor was trouble enough that they would have their hands full subduing her. She has magic in addition to being rather sturdily built.” Zenia did not know the extent of the dwarf’s powers, but she had caused a tunnel-boring drill to operate on its own in Iridium’s underground lair while she also brought a ceiling down on Jev’s guards.
“I could bust that lock with my bo.”
Zenia eyed the metal clasp of the padlock and willed her dragon tear to unlock it. She didn’t know if it could, as she’d yet to discover its full abilities, but she had learned that it was capable of far more than detecting truths. The week before, it had sucked the water out of a well to put out a farmhouse on fire.
A soft snap sounded, and the padlock opened. Before Zenia could reach for it, a similar snap rang in her head, a crack of power accompanying it, like something using a bullwhip on her brain. Pain stabbed between her eyes, and she tipped over, landing on her back on the sidewalk before she could catch herself.
“Zenia!” Rhi blurted, kneeling and gripping her shoulder.
The sharp pain disappeared, but a harsh throbbing remained. A voice rang out in her head.
Trespassers and thieves will know the wrath of Master Arkura Grindmor!
“Zenia?” Rhi squeezed her shoulder. “Your eyes are open. I know you’re in there. You are in there, aren’t you?”
“I—yes.” Zenia swallowed and let Rhi help her into a sitting position.
Several passersby looked curiously in their direction, but only one spoke. “You don’t fiddle with a dwarf’s shop when she isn’t there.”
“Thanks for the sage wisdom.” Rhi made a shooing motion at him. “Move along and mind your own business.”
The man gave her a rude gesture.
“I hate people,” Rhi grumbled.
“And yet you want to heroically save lives and be immortalized in song?” Most of the pain, along with the dwarf’s voice, had faded from her mind, and Zenia found she could talk again. She wiped a few tears from her cheeks. That had been as abrupt and painful as a fist to the nose.
“Songs aren’t required. I’d settle for being immortalized in print. Can you get up?”
“I think so.”
Zenia shifted toward her hip so she could push herself to her feet, but Rhi hoisted her up as if she weighed no more than a child.
“I forget your strength sometimes.” Zenia straightened her clothes and turned her back toward the street and the passersby.
“Scrawny heroes don’t get immortalized.”
Zenia scratched her cheek thoughtfully as she eyed the broken lock. She had hoped the dragon tear could open it without destroying it. Maybe she should have been more specific with her thoughts.
“Since we tripped the booby trap,” Zenia said, “it seems unlikely that anyone has been in the shop since the last time the master locked it up.”
“Probably not. Should we barge right in? What if there are more booby traps? We could bring down one of your junior agents to go in first. Got anyone who is expendable?”
“You know you’re the most junior agent in the office, right?”
“That can’t be true,” Rhi said. “I’m almost twenty-eight.”
“It goes by how long you’ve been working there, not age.”
“Oh, damn.” Rhi shrugged and bent to unhook the padlock.
“Wait,” Zenia said before her friend could pull the door up.
She drew out the dragon tear on the leather thong she’d found in the castle—one day, she would buy a silver chain worthy of the fine gem—and clasped her fingers around it. It warmed her palm and vibrated faintly. Almost… hopefully?
It still disturbed her that the dragon tear had a personality, but at least it always seemed eager to work. She wasn’t sure how to request that it spring other magical attacks before she stumbled into them, but she pictured the inside of the shop in her mind, then envisioned padlocks popping open. Maybe that would convey the idea.
Soft creaks, snaps, and groans sounded. The rollup door fell off its frame and almost crumpled to the sidewalk on top of them. Rhi grabbed Zenia, yanking her to the side to keep her from being battered.
“Thanks,” Zenia muttered, staring from the collapsed door on the walkway into the shadowy interior of the shop.
“If you were going to rip the door off the hinges, what was the point in breaking the lock?”
Zenia sighed. “Nothing. That was unintentional.”
A breeze came from inside the shop, tugging at her braid, and white flashed a step inside the doorway. Another flash brightened the back door behind the counter. The hair rose along Zenia’s arms. She wasn’t positive magical traps had been triggered, but she’d definitely felt surges of power along with those flashes.
“Is it safe to go in?” Rhi scowled at more passersby who had stopped to gawk into the shop and at them.
“Maybe?”
“That’s the confidence that inspires junior agents.”
Zenia would have walked in first, but Rhi strode inside, her bo extended like a blind man’s cane. Maybe she hoped it would trigger any remaining traps.
A feeling of indignation came from Zenia’s dragon tear. Because she still worried there might be traps?
Shaking her head, Zenia followed Rhi inside. She wished she could reaffix the door since she had inadvertently made it much, much easier for looters to take advantage of the master carver’s absence. She would have to find someone to repair it, at her own expense if necessary.
The shop abruptly grew darker, and a clang sounded behind Zenia. She jumped and spun toward the entrance. The door was attached again, attached and somehow repaired.
Smugness emanated from her dragon tear.
Rhi looked at Zenia, her face highlighted by a sunbeam slanting through one of the narrow windows. “Going places with you didn’t used to be this eerie.”
“It’s not eerie.” Zenia tapped the dragon tear before lowering her hand. “It’s useful.”
“Uh huh.”
“You did request this job.”
“Don’t remind me. What are we looking for?” Rhi walked to the glass counter in
the back of the shop and peered inside. “Not that we can see anything in the dark.”
The dragon tear glowed blue, creating enough light to illuminate the area several feet around Zenia. She joined Rhi at the counter, earning another dubious look.
“Eerie,” Rhi muttered.
The combination counter and display case held watch bands, jewelry chains, and clasps, and Zenia looked wistfully at one that would go nicely with the predominantly blue-green coloring of her dragon tear. Once they found the master carver, she would reward herself by purchasing it.
“Boring,” Rhi announced and walked around the counter toward the door.
Zenia took a longer look at the outer shop, at the shelves and bins full of tools, books, and raw materials. Nothing appeared amiss. Given the value of those materials, it was interesting that the shop hadn’t been ransacked after Grindmor had disappeared. If she had been kidnapped, the kidnapper did not care about wealth.
“Hells, this is alarming,” Rhi said from the back room.
Zenia hurried through after her and almost bumped into her back. A high window on the alley-side wall let in light, and it was brighter than the front room. She could easily see a desk, chair, shelves, and bulletin boards on one side and a small forge taking up most of the rest of the space. It was the bulletin boards that Rhi stared at.
“What did you find?” As far as Zenia could tell, the inner room was as undisturbed as the outer, with no signs of a skirmish or a hasty departure.
Rhi leaned forward, pulled a tack out of a piece of paper, and handed it to Zenia. “That.”
“A picture of a dwarf?”
Someone had sketched a bearded dwarf on the paper. It might have been Master Grindmor, though the artist hadn’t been overly blessed with ability, so it was hard to tell.
“That’s Grindmor, I think, and there’s a heart around the picture.”
“So?”
Zenia checked the back and found a poem. A love poem from what she could decipher. It had been written using a combination of dwarven and Korvish, switching mid-line depending on the demands of rhyme and meter. Since dwarven words tended to be a couple of feet long, she imagined finding good rhymes in that language was difficult.
Agents of the Crown- The Complete Series Page 58
