Also guarded by magical creatures, she remembered, peering between the skeletal trees. Would they still be about? Or would the old ambassador have taken them with him? Or dismissed them to whatever magical place from whence they had been conjured?
“I think they’re gone,” Jev said, noticing her gaze. “But maybe your dragon tear can sense whether there’s any magic around.”
“It probably can,” she agreed, clasping the gem. The last time she’d been here, she hadn’t been as aware of the variety of its powers as she was now.
The gem warmed in her grip, and her vision seemed to change, a strange blue tint coming to it. That hadn’t happened before, and she almost let go. But then she saw bright spots in the blue, and it reminded her of the time in the marsh when she’d asked the gem to show her the locations of life all around them. This time, she realized, it was showing her magic. A few dark blue dots appeared on the ground or in the trunks of trees, but they were dwarfed by a whitish-blue glow around the entire cylindrical shape of the tower.
“Zenia?” Jev touched her arm.
The indicators of magic faded, her vision returned to normal, and she lowered her hand. “Yes?”
“You got glassy-eyed there. I wanted to make sure you’re all right.” He glanced at her chest, where her dragon tear glowed with blue inner light. “I assumed you weren’t thinking of me naked.”
“No.” She looked at him. “Do women often get glassy-eyed when they do that?”
Jev released her arm. “They do look distracted. And drool a little.”
“Would you be offended if I said I was perplexed about why so many women want to marry you?”
He grinned. “Nah. I’m positive you’re the only one that would be interested if I wasn’t Heber Dharrow’s heir.”
Zenia wasn’t so sure about that. Even though she’d teased him, he was handsome. And considerate. And a good kisser. It was only his humor that some might find questionable.
“Is it wrong of me to wish you weren’t?” she asked.
“I don’t think so. I’ve wished it from time to time myself. Life would be simpler.”
“The guards wouldn’t nod at you when you pass through the gate if you weren’t zyndar.”
He snorted. “How distressing that would be.”
Zenia wondered what it said about her that she longed for what he barely noticed. Maybe if he’d been born common, he would see the world differently. No, that wasn’t a maybe. He definitely would. But having been born into the nobility, he was like a fish born in the sea. He had no idea the water around him even existed.
Jev started walking again toward the door.
“The tower is either full of magic,” Zenia said, matching his steps, “or it’s magic itself.”
“I’m not surprised. I don’t think we have to worry about magical booby traps. I sneaked in through a window once before and wasn’t incinerated by incendiary caltrops.”
She hadn’t been imagining that would be a problem, but now she did. “I’ll see if I can get my dragon tear to pinpoint magical items once we’re inside. Maybe the elves left some interesting artifacts behind.”
“Ah. Good idea.” Jev reached for the latch but hesitated. The door was already ajar.
“Do you want me to go first?” Zenia knew her dragon tear could create a barrier around her to protect her.
“It’s unmanly to hide behind a woman. The Zyndar Code of Honor forbids cowardice.”
“That didn’t answer my question.” She tapped the gem to let him know why she was offering.
Her reasoning might have been logical, but he still stepped inside first. Zenia stuck close to him as they entered the shadowy foyer, the only light bleeding in through shuttered windows. A set of stairs spiraled upward along the wall, and two doors stood open on the far side of the foyer.
The hairs on the backs of Zenia’s arms rose, and she shivered. It was at least twenty degrees cooler inside than under the early summer sun outside, but that wasn’t the reason for her chill.
Thanks to her link with the dragon tear, she sensed magic all around them. It emanated from the walls of the tower and seemed to float in the air itself. It did not feel like friendly magic. Maybe it was her imagination, but the tower seemed to know they were non-elven intruders and had decided they weren’t welcome.
“Do you know where the ambassador’s office is?” Zenia asked as her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. She wanted to finish this task as quickly as possible and get out.
“I didn’t get the full tour last time.” Jev headed for the stairs. “I was busy chasing that elven scientist.” He paused at the base of the stairs and peered through the closest door. “That looks like an office, but I want to check and see if Lornysh is here before snooping. He’s probably moved out, but if not, he might know where the juicy stuff is. You can start poking around in that desk in there if you want. I’ll be right back.”
Zenia shook her head, still very aware of the magic all around them. “I’ll stay with you.”
“Because you’ll feel safe standing next to my fierce virile manliness? Or because you think I might get myself in trouble without you and your dragon tear to keep an eye on me?”
“Whichever one your ego wants to believe.”
“Definitely the first thing, then.” Jev flashed a grin over his shoulder as he climbed.
They ascended several levels, the stairs going round and round along the tower wall. There were only a couple of doors on each landing, all of them closed. Fortunately, Zenia’s unease and certainty that unfriendly magic had surrounded them in the foyer faded as they climbed higher. Whatever it was, it seemed to be centered down below.
Zenia lost track of the levels. Jev stopped on a landing and veered toward an open door, but he paused before going inside and looked at the jamb. In the poor light, Zenia almost missed the splintered wood. Someone had forced the door open.
“That’s Lornysh’s room?” Zenia asked.
“Yes.”
Jev, his expression grim, stepped inside. He gazed toward a shuttered window, then toward the bed. It was unmade, with the blanket fallen to the floor, and Zenia could make out something thrusting out of the pillow.
As Jev walked further into the room, ceramic shards crunched under his boot. The air smelled of flowers, and Zenia spotted a vase that had been knocked over. Dried petals mingled with the shards on the floor. A desk chair was overturned, one of the legs broken off.
She couldn’t tell how long ago this had happened. The night the elves had been seen here? Or had they returned last night and caught Lornysh here? She didn’t see a body, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t bested him. They could have kidnapped him. Or carried his body away after they killed him.
Zenia did not share the thoughts with Jev. He’d moved closer to the bed and was looking down at it. The hilt of a dagger stuck out of the pillow, the blade embedded deep.
5
Jev poked through the drawers in the old ambassador’s office desk and tried not to think about the signs of a fight that he’d seen in Lornysh’s room. Especially the dagger stuck in his pillow.
He wished he knew where his friend had gone after leaving the embassy. Had that fight happened before or after Lornysh had visited the castle the night before? Jev had no idea.
“There’s a lot of magic in here,” Zenia said quietly. She was examining a bookcase on the wall opposite the desk. “Most of it is built into the tower, but there are a few artifacts around. My dragon tear doesn’t know what they do.”
She held up an elephant carved from jade as an example.
Jev had lit a couple of lanterns so they could snoop more effectively, so he could see that the carving had been made by a highly skilled craftsman. He would have to trust her that it held some magic since he had no way to verify that. Very occasionally, he could sense strong magic, usually when it was about to be used against him, but without a dragon tear, he was just a mundane human. All he had were hunches and intuition. They were unrel
iable, at best.
“Leave the artifacts,” Jev said. “We’re just here for information.”
He was a little surprised that thieves hadn’t risked elven ire—and magical booby traps—to loot the place.
Zenia set the figurine back down. “I can’t read any of these book spines, I’m afraid. They’re all in Elvish.”
“Actually, some are in Preskabroton Dwarf, Jynnish Troll, and Orcish, the ones dealing with magic mostly.” Jev had quickly perused the bookshelf when he first lit the lanterns. “But you’re right that most are written in Elvish. They’re atlases, cultural compendiums, city guides, and other things a world traveler—or traveling ambassador—might find useful.”
Zenia looked at him, and he hoped he hadn’t sounded overly pedantic. Languages were the one thing that had always come easily for him, and he even knew a smattering of many of the ones he hadn’t studied in earnest for the army.
But she smiled, looking pleased with him. “What do orcs write about?”
“The last Orcish text I read was a recipe book that expounded on the differences between cooking wild game meat and cooking the sentient races such as humans and elves. Apparently, elves are stringy and need to be tenderized with an acid. Lemon juice was recommended. Also actual acid.”
Her pleased expression faded. Maybe he should have lied.
“I’m never positive when you’re joking and when you’re being serious, Jev.”
“Maybe it’s for the best that you don’t know in this instance.” He pushed another drawer shut. So far, he’d found numerous papers and journals that had been left but nothing Targyon would consider useful information. Or information the Crown Agents office didn’t already have in its filing cabinets.
Zenia came over to the desk and started lifting books and bins and looking under them. The elven ambassador hadn’t been much more organized than Jev was, and the desk was a mess. He noticed a few envelopes in a bin and pulled them out. One was addressed to an Ormaleshon, and Jev froze. He recognized the name, having intercepted a few military correspondences to the elf.
“That’s King Yvelon’s secretary. The elven equivalent to a secretary, rather. The position involves being a spiritual and magical advisor as well as handling communications from representatives from other elven communities. And from elven diplomats stationed around the world, it seems.” Jev grabbed a letter opener and slipped it under the fold.
“Wait.” Zenia leaned across the desk and gripped his wrist. “That has magic in it.”
“Which?” Jev held up the envelope and the letter opener.
She gave him a don’t-be-silly look and pointed at the envelope.
“That’s surprising, actually.” Jev turned it over in his hands. “I don’t think it’s easy to embed magic in paper.”
There was a green wax seal closing the flap, and Zenia pointed at it. “That’s the source.”
Jev recognized the stamp on the seal. He assumed it was the ambassador’s personal or family mark, but he’d seen it before. It took him a moment to realize where.
“Ambassador Shoyalusa’s dragon tear.”
“What?” Zenia asked.
“Remember his dragon tear? We saw it at Targyon’s reception. It was a tree. This is exactly the same. It almost looks like he used the gem to stamp this.” Jev risked touching the edge of the oval embedded in the hardened wax.
“Maybe he did and it conveyed some of his magic.”
“Do you think yours could do that?”
Zenia’s nose wrinkled, and Jev couldn’t tell what the expression meant.
“No?” he asked.
She touched her dragon tear. “I got a sense of… indignation.”
“Ah, being a stamp is beneath it, eh?”
“I think so. I’m going to see if it can render that magic harmless, in case the seal is designed to keep other people from opening the envelope. It’s hard to tell.”
Jev imagined her occasionally overzealous dragon tear incinerating the envelope, but he held it up obligingly. The wax melted and dripped into a gooey mess on the papers on the desk. And his hand.
Zenia nodded. “Go ahead. The magical bond was destroyed.”
Jev wiped the wax off the back of his hand. “If you say so.”
He opened the envelope, drew out a single piece of paper, and unfolded it.
“It’s not my anonymous advisor,” Zenia said, eyeing the script.
“Did you think the elven ambassador was likely to be that person?”
“No, but I’m looking at every desk and handwriting sample I come across with extra scrutiny right now.”
“Understandable,” Jev mumbled, his eyes locked on the page as he translated it. “This is addressed to the king as well as his secretary, and it’s surprisingly blunt for an elven letter.” There was nothing about orcas. Jev wished there had been.
“What does it say?”
“Lornysh is here.”
Zenia looked at his face. “It mentions him by name?”
“It does. And that’s all it mentions.”
“I didn’t think he was that important. I mean, not to diminish him, but I didn’t realize he was newsworthy to his people. To his king.”
“To be honest, I didn’t either.” Jev lowered the page, wondering why the ambassador hadn’t sent the letter. Maybe it hadn’t been necessary. After all, the elven princess, Yesleva, had seen Lornysh at Dharrow Castle when she’d come for that artifact. The elves had known for a while that Lornysh was here. Was it possible King Yvelon had sent these wardens to avenge those who Lornysh had assassinated over the years?
Jev shivered, feeling the chill of the dim tower. He’d never approved when King Abdor had asked Lornysh to assassinate elves on the army’s behalf, always feeling the tactic dishonorable, even if the elves themselves preferred guerrilla warfare to meeting in the open on a battlefield. But Lornysh had accepted the assignments. If he was now a target of the Taziir, he could only blame himself.
Still, it distressed Jev. He couldn’t help but want to protect his friend.
“What’s that?” Zenia whispered, her gaze toward the floor between the desk and the door.
A grayish blue mist was seeping into the room from under the closed door.
“I don’t know. Is it magic?” Jev stepped around the desk to stand beside her and drew his pistol, though it would do nothing against mist.
Zenia hesitated before responding. Maybe her question had been directed at her dragon tear instead of him.
“Yes,” she finally replied.
“Dangerous?” Jev asked.
“Yes.”
“Let’s get out of here, then.” He stepped toward the door, but hesitated. His pistol would be useless against magic. On a whim, he ran to the bookcase and grabbed the jade elephant. He had no idea what it did, but if nothing else, he could throw it at something.
He expected Zenia to make a joke, but her face was pale, her eyes concerned. Her dragon tear glowed on her chest.
“There’s something in the foyer,” she whispered.
Jev stopped two paces from the door. “Not someone?”
“Two elves, I think, and…” Her eyes grew distant as she gazed at the door. Or through it. “I’m not sure what you would call it. A magical presence.”
“That would be better avoided?”
“Likely.”
Jev ran to one of the shuttered windows, having no compunctions against fleeing trouble, especially since this was Lornysh’s trouble. Unless the elves had seen Jev and Zenia enter the tower and objected to them sniffing around.
The shutters would not open. He didn’t see a latch or lock, but they refused to budge. It was as if several heavy metal bars stretched across them on the outside even though Jev didn’t remember seeing anything like that when he’d visited the tower before.
“More magic?” he asked, trying the second window. Again, the shutters did not budge.
“Yes,” Zenia said. “I—”
The only door flew op
en so hard it banged against the wall. Jev ran and jumped, skidding on a rug as he hurried to put himself between Zenia and whatever force had done that.
He glimpsed shadows moving in the foyer above more of that mist, but he couldn’t see anything solid. Nothing sprang through the doorway at them.
Jev pointed his pistol and advanced slowly. He still gripped the jade elephant in his other hand, and he almost cast it aside. But something moved out there, another dark shadow, and his knuckles tightened around it.
An icy draft whispered across his cheek, almost a caress. His heartbeat thundered in his ears. He didn’t need a dragon tear to tell him magic was all over the place. Malevolent magic.
Gritting his teeth, he continued walking forward. Maybe if he kept whatever it was busy, Zenia and her dragon tear could do something.
Through the shadows in the foyer, the door that led outside was visible. It was shut. And locked?
As Jev stepped across the threshold and into the foyer, a shadowy tendril wrapped around his wrist.
He cursed and tried to yank his arm back. The tendril squeezed, and a blast of pain shot through his body. Something incorporeal tore his pistol out of his grip.
“Shadow golem,” he blurted for Zenia’s sake. He’d seen something like this once during the war, seen his men hurled against trees by the dark magic entity.
More tendrils snaked around him, as intangible as shadows themselves. He kicked and punched, trying to knock them away, but he encountered only air. And yet, the magic wrapped around him like some macabre lover. Then it picked him up and hurled him across the foyer.
Jev tore his dagger out as he flew through the air, and he twisted, trying to land on his feet. His shoulder slammed into the far wall. He snarled as more pain blasted him, but he managed to get his boots under him and landed in a crouch.
Elven Fury (Agents of the Crown Book 4) Page 7
