The scarred man had shaggy white hair and a mustache that hid his top lip. He looked about as friendly as the predatorial grimbals of Turgonia’s northern frontier. Yanko had read about and seen the furry white creatures in books. The picture he remembered most distinctly had been of a grimbal standing over the frozen remains of a human while tearing off pieces of flesh.
Yanko hadn’t met the man before, but that didn’t keep the colonel from glaring at him. That glare didn’t diminish when the women walked in after him and Kei flew in and landed on Yanko’s shoulder.
“Do Turgonians have any friendly military officers?” Yanko muttered to Arayevo as they fanned out in front of a large oak desk.
“They beat friendliness out of you at the academy,” Dak said from the side. “It’s considered a weakness.”
He stood with his arms folded over his chest, that envelope still in hand, though it had been sliced open, the message inside presumably read.
Amaranthe and Sicarius were also in the office, standing shoulder to shoulder against a wall. Colonel Grek flicked a hand at the guards, and they let themselves out. He didn’t seem concerned about having a mage and a mage hunter in his office. With Dak there, Yanko wouldn’t have tried anything, regardless, but having Sicarius manhandle his neck earlier made him feel especially compliant.
Jhali perused the room thoughtfully, her gaze lingering on the second-story window. Their weapons had been taken when they had been dumped in the cell, but they weren’t restrained in any way. Maybe she’d had enough of this circus.
“I suppose we need to have this meeting in Nurian,” Grek said, enunciating slowly and pausing to find the words he wanted.
“Yanko doesn’t speak Turgonian,” Dak said. “Arayevo knows some. I don’t think the others do.” He considered Jhali.
She didn’t comment.
Sicarius quietly asked Amaranthe something. She hesitated, then shook her head. One of his eyebrows twitched slightly. She grinned and poked him in the ribs. The eyebrow twitched again, and he faced forward without comment. She kept grinning. He was such a serious man that Yanko was surprised he allowed such familiarity from a partner.
“Nurian will be best if there are no objections,” Dak finished.
Grek sighed but nodded.
“Yanko,” Dak said, “we may have a use for you.”
“Oh?” Yanko asked carefully.
He liked the idea of not having to stage another escape from Turgonian captors, but the idea of being of use to the enemies of his nation made him nervous.
“I’ve received orders from my president and the head of his Intelligence network.” Dak extracted a single typewritten page from the envelope. He looked like he would offer to show it to Yanko but must have remembered that Yanko couldn’t read Turgonian. He needed to find time to study the language. “You’ll never guess who they’ve assigned me to find.”
“Me?” Yanko asked.
“They barely know who you are,” Dak said dryly.
“Should I be concerned that they know who I am at all?”
“I would be,” Lakeo muttered from behind his shoulder.
“Two of his agents—” Dak gestured at Amaranthe and Sicarius, “—happened to be in Kyatt at the same time as Sun Dragon almost made their volcano erupt in an attempt to get to you. I wasn’t aware of it at the time. They heard about some of the commotion and visited the Komitopis house the day we left. They reported what they learned there back to headquarters in our capital.”
“Oh.” Yanko’s guess had been correct.
But the president couldn’t yet know that the continent had risen, could he? Back on Kyatt, Yanko and Sun Dragon had only been at the beginning of their search for the lodestone.
Amaranthe said something in Turgonian with a smirk. She seemed to be following along well enough, even if she wasn’t speaking in Nurian.
“Yes, it seems that someone else reported in to the head of Intelligence even before his two agents arrived back in the capital,” Dak said.
“Koanani,” Amaranthe said, her smirk widening as she named the sixteen-year-old girl that Yanko had met that night at the Komitopis house. The girl that Dak had later told him was one of the Turgonian president’s children.
“She used her grandmother’s communications orb to tell her parents about it all?” Yanko guessed.
Dak nodded. “This all means that Rias and Tikaya have had some time to think about this.”
“Wait, is Honored President Starcrest’s wife—” Yanko fumbled over the proper title since he couldn’t imagine calling her by her first name, “—also the head of your Intelligence network?” He had a feeling he should have known that already.
“Yes,” Dak said. “She’s as smart as he is, if in different areas of study. They match each other well.” His eye grew a touch wistful, and Yanko imagined him wishing he’d find a match of his own.
“But they don’t know about the continent yet, do they?” Yanko glanced at Colonel Grek, thinking he might get more of a reaction from him than from Dak, who was as stone-faced most of the time as Sicarius over there.
Grek scowled and gripped his desk. Maybe it hadn’t been a good idea to remind him of the attempt to intercept the message.
“They will soon,” Dak said, “if they don’t already. Rias has a lot of agents around the world. And no, Yanko, before you ask, I don’t know what he’ll do about it. That’s not what my new orders revolve around.”
Yanko glanced at the letter again. You’ll never guess who they’ve assigned me to find, he’d said, and it slowly dawned on Yanko who he must mean.
“They want you to find Prince Zirabo?” Yanko asked.
“They do. Apparently, we—Intelligence—don’t have any more idea where he is than your people do. Rias is worried he might be dead or that if he’s alive, he’ll be used by one of the rebel factions in a bid for the dais.”
“Why does the Turgonian president care?” Jhali asked, speaking for the first time.
Yanko was surprised she cared enough to ask. Did it matter to the mage-hunter sects which faction came out on top or if the Great Chief and all his kin were wiped out? He’d always assumed they were apolitical and merely worked for the highest bidder.
“They’ve known each other since long before Rias became president,” Dak said.
Yanko raised his eyebrows, expecting more of an explanation, since that didn’t seem reason enough to risk sending a spy into a warring nation. Especially a spy who was a close relative.
Dak didn’t explain further.
“Wait, you have new orders?” Yanko asked. “Aren’t you, uh—”
He glanced at Grek again. As recently as last night, it had sounded like Dak was more or less confined to the Headquarters building to do paperwork.
Dak smiled wolfishly. “These orders were written before Ravencrest made his report, a report that just left on the train this morning. These orders also arrived this morning.” He waved at Sicarius and Amaranthe.
“So… you can’t be sent off to some Turgonian jail if you’re on another mission for the president?” Yanko asked.
“I can when I return, but for now, Grek can’t hold me.” Dak waved the paper.
Grek didn’t look that upset about it. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to imprison the president’s nephew to start with.
“What about your, uhm, electric wire message thing?” Yanko had forgotten the Turgonian word for it, but it had sounded like it allowed for near instantaneous message transmission, almost like a communications orb.
“Top-secret transmissions aren’t sent over it,” Grek said, meeting Dak’s eye. They shared nods.
Yanko suspected Dak had an ally in Grek, and he found himself pleased. Especially if… “Does this mean—er, why are you telling me all this, Dak?”
Grek raised his eyebrows, as if he also wondered.
“You also want to find Zirabo,” Dak said. It wasn’t a question. “And you have power that nobody in this room—nobody in this city—has.”
Yanko thought of Tynlee and doubted that was true, but this sounded like a chance for him to get back to Nuria, so he nodded and leaned forward on the balls of his feet.
“I believe you would be useful to have along,” Dak finished.
Grek pressed his lips together and shook his head. But he didn’t say anything. Maybe he and Dak had already argued about it, and Dak had come out on top.
“As your prisoner?” Yanko asked. “Or will you be reprising the role of my bodyguard?”
Grek’s eyebrows flew up. Sicarius didn’t react, but Amaranthe brought a fist to her mouth, and her eyes gleamed with amusement as she looked Dak up and down. Yanko knew warrior-caste Turgonians didn’t sign up to protect Nurian mages that often.
Dak appeared dour—more dour than usual at the reminder—but all he said was, “We can assess our cover story as the situation requires it and assume whatever role is most likely to lead to success.”
“So, sometimes you’ll be a prisoner,” Lakeo whispered.
Dak faced Sicarius and Amaranthe. “You will travel with us?”
Yanko almost blurted a, “What?”
He didn’t want strange Turgonian agents along on his mission. He knew Dak and what to expect from him, but he didn’t know these new people at all. Did “agents” from the Turgonian Intelligence Service outrank an army colonel? They hadn’t been introduced with military rank. Was Dak in their chain of command? Or vice versa?
“For the ocean crossing. We have been given another mission in Nuria.” Sicarius’s cool gaze flicked toward Yanko, and he said nothing more.
Erg, what mission? How many Turgonian agents were being sent to poke around in Nuria, and why?
Dak didn’t ask for details, not in front of Yanko.
Grek said something long in Turgonian.
“Thank the badger goddess,” Arayevo whispered.
Yanko turned toward her for an explanation.
Dak translated first. “Fleet Admiral Ravencrest and his ships have already sailed, so we can’t ride with him.”
“Darn,” Lakeo said.
The corner of Dak’s mouth quirked. Maybe he wasn’t eager to travel with the admiral again either.
“We’ll find passage another way,” he said.
“You may have to throw your name around,” Grek said. “I wasn’t exaggerating when we spoke yesterday. It’s known to be an erupting volcano over there right now, so no merchant or military ships are sailing to Nuria, not out of our ports.”
“I think Dak would have more success throwing his fists around,” Lakeo said.
“Or money,” Arayevo said. “Maybe we could hire a smuggler.”
Yanko grimaced, hoping that didn’t mean Captain Minark and his ship were around.
“There aren’t any known smugglers in port right now,” Grek said with certainty.
Yanko wondered what all the Turgonian Intelligence people monitored. A lot, it seemed.
He cleared his throat. “Perhaps the Nurian ambassador has a ship.”
Yanko couldn’t imagine Honli Silver Wolf doing him any favors, but if the Turgonians negotiated with him, Yanko wouldn’t mind riding on a Nurian ship. It would make him feel like he had an advantage. The Turgonian agents would be guests on his people’s ship, and the captain would be loyal to—
“We’re not asking the Nurians for any favors,” Grek growled.
Dak nodded in agreement. “Besides, they wouldn’t wish to give us a ride over to spy on their country.”
“I thought we were just going to find Zirabo?” Yanko raised his eyebrows and glanced at Sicarius and Amaranthe.
They didn’t give away anything. Even the more expressive Amaranthe said nothing.
“I wouldn’t be a good Intelligence officer if I didn’t take notes along the way,” Dak said.
Yanko wasn’t sure whether to feel pleased or insulted that he openly admitted such things to him. Did they not see him as a threat? As someone who would report back to his people? Or did they not care if the Nurians knew they were spying? Yanko supposed his people wouldn’t be surprised. Ambassador Silver Wolf undoubtedly had agents who did some spying here in Turgonia.
“Are there any Kyattese ships in the harbor?” Dak asked Grek.
“I believe so.” Grek pulled a folder off a shelf and leafed through it. “The Kylooalooi,” he said, grimacing around the pronunciation of all the vowels. “A merchant ship on its way from Kendor back to their islands.”
“I’ll talk to the captain,” Dak said.
“Nuria isn’t on the way to the Kyatt Islands,” Grek said.
“I’m more inclined to ask the Kyattese for a favor than the Nurians. If they grant it, I’m positive the price tag will be lower.”
Grek checked his folder again. “They are scheduled to leave tomorrow morning.”
“Good,” Dak said.
Since Yanko had been pursued by the Kyattese police when he had been there, he wasn’t excited by the prospect. Would his status have changed now that Sun Dragon was gone? Or would the Kyattese consider him a criminal because of his role in the man’s death? Then there was the matter of Lakeo and the books she had taken from the Kyattese University library.
Yanko rubbed his face.
“We’ll talk to them and hopefully board their ship today,” Dak said. “Grek, can you supply Yanko and his friends with basic supplies?”
“You’re taking all of them with you?” Grek frowned at them, that frown lingering on Jhali.
“What, you want to keep the women in jail to entertain your men?”
Grek gave him a humorless look. “Send them back to their consulate for Silver Wolf to deal with.”
“And report on who we’re sending to Nuria?” Dak didn’t look at Sicarius, but Yanko, thinking of Jhali’s warning about the man, did. Was it possible he was being sent to eliminate some of the rebel faction leaders, to ensure a candidate Turgonia opposed didn’t end up on top?
Sicarius remained as expressionless as ever.
Yanko was relieved that he was about to head back to Nuria, and that his mission aligned with Dak’s, but he worried that the Turgonians didn’t have his people’s best interests in mind.
Arayevo nudged Yanko. “There’s steam coming out of your ears,” she whispered.
“What?” Yanko touched his head—his topknot was a mess, dangling off to one side.
“Because you’re thinking so hard,” she clarified.
“Oh.”
Yanko shook his head. He would share his thoughts later when they were alone. For now, he wondered if he owed it to his people to find a way to warn them about the Turgonian spies. But who would he warn? Silver Wolf? The man had wanted to condemn him to scrubbing toilets. Not that Yanko should let that sway him. This went far beyond personal relationships.
Maybe Tynlee would be the one to talk to. She’d been far more open-minded, and she was smart and educated. She might have sound advice for him.
Grek left his desk and walked past Yanko to the door. He opened it and waved his soldiers back in. “Put these four back in their cell for now. They’ve proven they can get in a lot of trouble in a few hours.”
“Yes, sir.”
Yanko looked at Dak, hoping he would object.
“It won’t take long to gather supplies,” Dak told him.
Yanko held back a sigh, reminding himself this was a far better outcome than he’d expected when they had been steaming toward Turgonia.
But as the soldiers led them back to the lower level of the building, he envisioned Tynlee’s face in his mind. Could he speak telepathically to someone more than a mile away? He’d communicated with Kei across such distances before.
Picturing the consulate in his mind and Tynlee within it, he reached out. Honored Consul?
A prompt and somewhat bemused reply came. Yanko?
Yes, Honored Consul.
Where are you?
The Turgonian Intelligence Headquarters.
Oh, dear. Did they kidnap you?
Not sure how much time he had, he shared everything he knew with Tynlee.
I see, she finally said.
What do you think we should do?
I must consider this information.
Was she disapproving? Surprised? Yanko didn’t get either sense from her.
Thank you for giving it to me, Tynlee added.
You’re welcome, Honored Consul. He sensed her withdrawing, breaking the telepathic contact.
Yanko wasn’t sure what he had expected, but he was left wondering if he’d done the right thing in sharing everything with her. Or if he’d just betrayed Dak.
7
Yanko, Lakeo, Arayevo, and Jhali, escorted by Dak, Sicarius, and Amaranthe, arrived at the waterfront in time to see the Kyattese ship sailing away. Kei chirped in inquiry.
Dak stopped at the head of the pier and stared at the ship’s wake. He asked Sicarius a question in Turgonian. Sicarius gave a simple, “Yes.” Yanko recognized that word and guessed Dak had been asking for confirmation that Colonel Grek had said the Kyattese were supposed to be in port until the following morning.
“Is that our ship?” Lakeo whispered.
“I don’t think anything had been arranged yet,” Yanko whispered back.
Dak rotated to face him, his single eye squinting. “Do you know anything about that?” He pointed at the departing ship.
“Me?” Yanko shook his head. “I’ve been in your cell for the last three hours.”
He was going to continue his protest, especially since he truly knew nothing about this, but Dak’s glare shifted over his shoulder, and his expression grew even more suspicious.
Consul Tynlee exited a nearby steam carriage, one of the young Nurian men from the consulate holding the door for her. Two armed, athletic-looking young men in blue silks slid out, taking up positions to either side of her. A servant appeared, hefting a trunk over one shoulder.
Assassin’s Bond: Chains of Honor, Book 3 Page 10
