The Cadet of Tildor

by Alex Lidell

  “Me. I take care of them. Feeding, vet care, all that. I keep the trainer in check too, you know, or else he’d run the poor pups into the ground. If not for me, Den would’ve killed the newest one.”

  “Amazing,” she managed. A thunderstorm after a week of drought. Gods, she should have considered Predator fights days ago. “That’s, well, unbelievable.”

  “It’s true,” Jasper continued eagerly. “The new one, Cat, he won’t stop thanking me. Den’s hard on him, but that’s the trainer’s job, too, to be hard. I ensure it keeps under rein of reason.”

  She cleared her throat. “Is Cat the blond-haired one? I wished to see him fight. He’s . . . pretty.”

  “He is, isn’t he?” Jasper gleamed as if discussing a prized horse. “He’s fighting now, though, if you wish to hurry down to the pit.”

  Renee pointed to Diam and turned up her palms. “I wish.” She took a breath. Nothing to lose. “Jasper? Do you think I could meet him, the pretty one? Can you do that?”

  The boy smiled. “I can do most anything here. Take the wee man home and meet me here after the fight.”

  Jasper wasn’t there when she returned. She waited. A quarter hour after the last of the spectators left the arena, a large man calling himself Den appeared at her side. He weighed her with his eyes, but beckoned her to follow.

  “Did Cat win his fight?” Renee asked her escort.

  “Yes,” he grunted, and said no more.

  They walked down past the arena, through a door on the right, and into a corridor she recognized from her foray underground. At a juncture where she and Savoy had once headed east to find Diam—the stones where Renee first took a life were forever branded in her mind—they now turned west. A few more turns brought them to a closed door. Renee sketched the map in her mind.

  “In there.” Den pushed the handle.

  She faked a smile and moved past him. Then stopped. The thick rug on the floor and a bench with scented candles said the small room was meant for visitors who paid to enjoy the fighter’s company. Inside, Savoy knelt on the floor, his hands tied uncomfortably high to a ring in the wall. He was still shirtless from the fight, with drawstring pants hanging on his hips. Green eyes betrayed no sign of recognition. Den loosened the ropes—enough to give Savoy some movement while permitting Renee to step out of his reach, should she wish to.

  “I promise not to damage him,” she told Den, glancing pointedly from him to the door. Her heart pounded in her ears. “Will you untie him for me?”

  A hint of surprise flickered across Den’s face, but he schooled it away and complied. “Call out if you need anything.”

  Savoy massaged his shoulders and stared at the man’s receding back until the door closed with a click. His eyes flowed to Renee. She thought she caught a momentary warmth in his gaze, but if it was there, it disappeared in a blink. He did not smile.

  “Commander—”

  He put a finger to his lips, cutting her off. “Cat. And you shouldn’t be here.”

  She hugged her arms to her chest and lowered her voice to match his. “Neither should you.” It wasn’t the reception she’d imagined. She took a step toward him, and Savoy stood. Exhaustion shadowed his face and he favored his right knee when rising, likely a souvenir from his fight. It had to be bad if he let her see it. She avoided looking down, pretending not to notice the limp. She could not, however, ignore the leather bands on his wrists or the fading welts covering his back and shoulders, crisscrossing the ones Verin’s old discipline had left. Her hand reached out toward him but she stayed its course, sensing he did not wish to be touched. She could do that much for a friend. “Are you well, then?”

  Savoy followed her gaze and turned to hide his back from view. “Not my first beating. Nor last.” He sighed. “That is a hazard of being me. I also happen to be alive, which trumps other details. Agreed?”

  She nodded. “How do we get you out of here?”

  “You don’t.” He braced his hand on the wall beside her head and bore down with his gaze. “You stay clear. Understood?”

  “You are in a poor position to issue orders.”

  He grasped her shoulders and twisted her roughly toward the western wall. “That way are cells they call barracks. Is that where you wish to be? Or do you imagine Vipers make use only of boys and men?” He looked pointedly at the candles and rug.

  She stepped away and turned to him. Her life was hers to risk, but there was no reason to add more weight to his conscience. She would do what she must. “No, of course not. A captured rescuer would be of little help.”

  His brows tightened in suspicion.

  Renee hurried on. Better to keep her words confined to truths. “I will go to Atham and inform Verin of your exact location. Seaborn’s already there, laying the groundwork.” Although gods know what’s keeping him. “Is there something else I might do?”

  Approaching footsteps echoed down the corridor. Savoy looked at the door and spoke quickly. “Diam?”

  “Healthy. He misses you. He’ll be safe with Alec while I’m gone.”

  The steps grew louder. Savoy nodded. “The man who brought you here is named Den. If I had to trust someone here, it would be him. Not yet, though. If—”

  The door swung open to admit Jasper. The boy’s smile dissolved to alarm. “Gods, how did he get loose? Are you all right, Renee?” He came up beside her and extended his hand toward Savoy.

  Savoy retreated. His shoulders hunched defensively and Renee’s heart squeezed at the sudden paleness of his face. A blue glow sparked at the tips of Jasper’s fingers and Savoy’s wrists twisted behind his head, as if the leather bracelets overpowered twisting muscle.

  Something felt very wrong, like a bow straining in the distance, arrow poised. “Jasper?” Renee touched the boy’s shoulder, hoping her voice betrayed nothing of her thumping pulse. “I . . . I want to leave. Will you lead me out, please?”

  For an instant she feared he’d refuse and the bow would loose its arrow, but he nodded at her and held open the door. Her shoulders relaxed and she preceded him out. Just before the door closed, Jasper paused to bid Savoy farewell.

  And Savoy flinched.

  * * *

  After the arena, Renee stopped at Hunter’s Inn only long enough to check on Diam. She needed Alec, and there was no point in looking for him at the inn anymore. She hugged Diam and, by silent agreement, said nothing about his brother’s fate.

  “A message came for you,” Diam said, unburying himself from her shoulder. He extended a strip of paper he’d been clutching, unabashed at having read Renee’s mail.

  She unrolled the strip and read its single word. Palan. Written in Sasha’s hand. Renee’s skin crawled.

  Diam slid down and peered at the ink. “What about Uncle Palan?”

  “I asked Sasha to discover who was responsible for your brother’s assignment to the Academy this year.” She tossed the paper into the fire. “Why do you call him Uncle, Diam?”

  The boy shrugged. “’Cause he asked me to.”

  Renee frowned. Why in the Seven Hells would the head of the Family do that? She shook her head. Time enough to worry about it later. For now, she had to be off to Zev’s.

  Renee pounded the door with more abuse than the aging wood warranted.

  The door opened. Letting her inside, Alec marked his place in a book with his finger and looked over his shoulder. “Sorry, Master Zev, no more visitors, I promise.”

  “Mmm,” Zev grumbled, sparing a nod for Renee before frowning at Alec. “Did you pick up the tea, boy, as I asked?”

  Alec winced. “No, sir. Renee and I can go now, though.”

  Renee stiffened.

  Zev waved his hand and limped out. “Never you mind. I will buy it myself.”

  Instead of sighing in relief, Alec blushed and frowned at the closing door. “He’s just saying that. We should fetch it.”

  Enough. She stepped into his line of sight. “Quit worrying about tea. Jasper . . . ” She stopped. The words she
expected to pour out refused to do so. She had never seen Savoy afraid. “Your friend Jasper, he’s—he’s a Viper.”

  Alec leaned against the wall. “Yes, I know.”

  Her eyes widened.

  “I thought you knew. Most everyone in Catar is a Viper.” He rubbed his face. “Did something happen?”

  “I found Savoy.”

  Alec froze, then sat on the floor, pulling her down beside him. The scent of sweet spice, like Zev’s, drifted from his shirt.

  Leaning against him, she started at the beginning. The words tumbled out now, detailing the arena, the fights, the meeting in the carpeted room. “I think Jasper is hurting him,” she said at last, resting her forearms against her knees. “I cannot explain it otherwise.”

  An impatient sigh rose beside her. “Being a mage doesn’t make him evil, Renee,” Alec bit out. “Just because you can’t do something doesn’t mean those who can are diseased. You said it yourself—the man had welts. That isn’t mage work.”

  Renee’s eyes narrowed. “You saw Grovener cut an arrow from him, Alec. Savoy isn’t afraid of bruises. You didn’t see . . . ” She shook her head and sat upright. Alec hadn’t seen, and her proof amounted to analyzing pallor. She breathed evenly to douse the fire in her blood. “I never called Control a disease. But it’s not an assurance of virtue either. Will you agree that we each know too little about Jasper to judge his integrity?” She thanked the gods when Alec nodded. “All right. If a mage, some mage, was hurting Savoy, could he shield himself?”

  Alec’s face reclaimed it usual introspection. “Break a mage’s concentration and he’s useless. Pain, fear, distraction, anything like that and, well, you saw Jasper and Ivan in that alley. As for shielding . . . ” His eyes scanned a large bookshelf and returned apologetic. “The Keraldi Barrier provides natural protection, but it’s no better against force than skin against a knife. Not much help there.”

  “Better than nothing.” Renee rested her forehead against her arms.

  “I don’t know. It’s like holding off a sword by gripping the blade with your bare hands; the steel will win anyway, just later and more painfully.”

  The description nauseated her. “If Jasper were registered—”

  “The Crown could ship him off to disarm Devmani mage traps. Or kill him.” Alec’s shoulders tensed. “Good solution.”

  Her temper gave way at last. “If he were registered, the threat of punishment from the Mage Council would keep him from puppeteering people to begin with!”

  Alec rose. “People commit crimes every day, Renee. It’s not fair to single us out for special penalty.”

  Renee looked at him for several heartbeats before shifting her gaze to the fire. “Us used to mean you and me, Alec.”

  Alec said nothing.

  CHAPTER 32

  The stallion Renee had hired for her ride to Atham snorted his discontent as she reined him to a walk on the Academy grounds. Gray clouds dimmed the late afternoon sunlight, washing the color from buildings and people alike. A cool breeze lifted Renee’s sweaty hair and dried the foam hugging the horse’s flanks. Patting the stallion’s neck, Renee yielded him to a stable boy’s care and rubbed her face.

  Palan. Sasha’s message had gnawed at her for the last two days’ ride. So the fat lord was the one behind Savoy’s return to Atham. Who did Palan manipulate to get the leader of a specialty unit pulled from the field? And why? And how? Did Palan’s labors to befriend Diam have anything to do with it? Renee’s skin felt tight. Rubbing her arms, she made her way to the main courtyard. For now, she would focus on the facts she had. She knew where Savoy was. All she needed was Verin’s help to get him out.

  The courtyard rolled out in a crunchy carpet of frozen yellow grass. Renee looked around. It was strange to be back. Stranger still to have cares beyond school walls. Despite having braced herself, the sight of the Academy’s grounds squeezed her chest. She could practically hear the fire crackling in her room, could see Rock Lake’s glass surface, could smell the mix of sand and sweat in the salle. All was the same and yet . . . Renee frowned.

  Something was off.

  The cadets moved faster between buildings, and uniformed guard seemed to have tripled in her fortnight away. It was fortunate she knew most guardsmen by name; their faces suggested they’d have evicted a stranger.

  Seaborn was not to be found, either in his office or his quarters. A sentry guarding the cadets’ barracks, another novelty begun in her absence, hesitated to let her inside.

  “Very well,” she told the young guardsman. “Could you tell Cadet Sasha Jurran that I would welcome her company out here?”

  His gaze dropped to the ground.

  “You know me, Chad.”

  He shook his head. “It is not that, Re—” He cleared his throat. “My lady. It’s . . . ” His voice faltered again. “Sasha will not leave her room. Or let anyone in.”

  Renee jerked straight. “What?”

  “A few days ago . . . She . . . ” The guard took a breath and collected himself. “I was the one who found her. Beaten half conscious and discarded naked at the Academy’s gates. Someone had broken three of her fingers and carved a pair of puncture marks on her neck.”

  Renee’s face went cold, as if doused with ice water. She pushed past the guard to the door.

  His hand gripped her shoulder. “There is more. The following day, King Lysian’s little cousin disappeared. A wee toddler.”

  “Claire?” Renee rubbed her eyes, remembering the giggling girl rocking her chair at the Queen’s Day dinner. It seemed the Vipers were finishing what they started, terrorizing the royal family until King Lysian had no choice but to turn a blind eye to their business. Twisting on her heels, Renee found the guard’s eyes. “Let me by, Chad. The Crown’s cousin cannot spend her life hiding.”

  He glanced from her to the building he guarded and stepped aside.

  Renee strode down the long corridor of the Academy barracks, each stride a painful echo of the life she’d left behind. She trailed her fingers along the uneven walls and stopped beside the door that once held her name. She knocked.

  “Leave, please,” came a voice from inside.

  “Sasha, it’s me.”

  “Great gods.” Sasha opened the door a crack and stood frozen for a moment before grasping Renee’s hands and pulling her inside. Her left eye was swollen, the purple bruises pushing against her hairline. A bandage swathed her right hand, a silk scarf her neck. Sasha opened her mouth, cringed, and instead of speaking, buried her face in Renee’s shoulder.

  “It’s all right,” Renee said, steering them to the bed. But it wasn’t all right. It was as wrong as having Alec as an opponent instead of an ally. As wrong as seeing Savoy in shackles, flinching from Jasper’s glance. Perhaps worse. Sasha wasn’t a fighter. She reasoned and discussed and debated, and she never hurt anyone. The thought of a Viper—of anyone!—abusing Sasha made the blood heat in Renee’s veins. Nostrils flaring, she smoothed her friend’s hair. “Do you wish to speak of it?”

  “No.” A sob escaped. “The Vipers took Claire.”

  “I know,” Renee whispered.

  “Who’s next?” Sasha’s voice broke. “My aunt? My mother? What if the Vipers get my mother? What if—”

  “It will stop.” Renee pulled back to look Sasha in the face. “Lysian is a good king. He will make it stop.”

  Sasha shook her head, wiping her eyes. “No, Renee, it won’t. The Madam does not have armies, but she has mages. If Lys marches on Catar with too few soldiers, he’ll be impotent. If he brings many, the fighting will turn the whole city to blood. The whole city.” Her words shook. “And then the Family will press for its advantage. And when Tildor’s neighbors in the Devmani Empire find out, they will attack us in our weakness. Tildor will be back at war. And”—Sasha’s words poured faster, each one upsetting the next—“and if Lys does nothing, the Vipers will keep coming after my family.”

  Renee drew a breath. Sasha was likely right. She usually was.
“And will staying locked in the room change any of it? The Vipers want you terrified. Don’t aid their quest.”

  “I’m not like you, Renee,” she whispered. “I can’t just order myself unafraid.”

  “Neither can I. But we can try.”

  Sasha studied the bedspread. “You found Diam,” she said finally, and straightened. “Then you can stay a while, here with me?”

  Renee sighed. “No.” Taking a breath, she described what took place since she left, leaving out only Alec’s mage nature. If the story implied that veesi use spurred his decision to leave, it was the lesser of the evils. As she spoke, the fear in Sasha’s face dampened, and became focused on the dilemma at hand.

  “Seaborn is at the palace,” Sasha said when Renee finished speaking. “Lys has him in chambers with other officials, divining options for the crisis. Perhaps that sheds light on his delay.”

  Renee frowned, opening her mouth to protest Seaborn’s failure to send word, but halted when Sasha sighed.

  “Don’t be angry, Renee. For better or worse, Lys settled the weight of Tildor’s safety on Seaborn’s shoulders.”

  Renee nodded. Seaborn was a Servant on active duty with birdies and connections in Catar, the Vipers’ stronghold. He could not have ignored the Crown’s call at a time like this. “Still, he could have written,” she said.

  “He may have. The couriers have been . . . ” Sasha’s lips pressed together, warding off fresh tears. “We’ve had trouble with messages.”

  Renee sensed it was time to shift the topic. “How did you learn of Palan’s hand in Savoy’s assignment?”

  Sasha forced a smile. “Because Lys had a hand in that too.”

  Renee frowned. “Since when does the king get involved in the field orders of a mere commander, even if it’s one as good as Savoy?”

  “Since the leader of the Family offered to barter said orders for the location of a major Viper veesi shipment.” Sasha leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Verin and Lys had a row over it. Apparently Verin didn’t wish to do it, saying that Palan was manipulating the Crown into attacking the Family’s rival, and that allowing Palan to influence military assignments, no matter how minor, was a dangerous path to start on. Lys argued that removing veesi from Tildor’s streets and gold from a crime group’s purse had to be done, and that one man’s assignment mattered little on the larger scale.”