“I know very little about helium.”
“You don’t look old enough to know much about anything.”
Maybe Yanko shouldn’t have shaved his beard. “I’m good with bees and plants,” he murmured.
The old man didn’t seem to know what to say about that, so Yanko concentrated on the panel. He heard a shout from above, followed by the clang of steel. Maybe that meant Dak had opened the armoire. If so, he might be busy for a minute.
A firearm rang out from the deck above, and the old man’s eyebrows twitched.
The magic in the panel wasn’t familiar. The captain had been Kendorian, and Yanko knew little about the magic studied there. He let his mind sink into the molecules of the metal and detected how the magic had been woven into the chain, reinforcing it. More than that, he sensed a booby trap of sorts. Tiny explosive elements integrated into the links of the chain. They had the power to injure someone attempting to cut the metal.
Yanko decided that rather than cutting the bonds, he would heat the metal of the shackles to the melting point. He could free the man while leaving the booby traps in place.
The sounds of fighting died down as he worked. The old man gasped, drawing back as Yanko borrowed heat from the furnace outside the room and channeled it into the metal. He created shields of compressed air to protect his skin, then melted the bindings away from the chains. As footsteps sounded on the stairs, the shackles slumped to the deck in formless lumps.
The old man struggled to rise—he must have been locked in that spot for weeks. Months?
Yanko helped him up as Dak appeared in the open doorway.
“Professor Hawkcrest?” Dak gripped the jamb, his mouth dangling open.
The man squinted at him, then nodded.
When Dak recovered and continued speaking, he switched to Turgonian.
The old man—the professor?—staggered forward, still using the wall for support, and gripped Dak’s forearm with one hand. Dak returned the clasp carefully. He frowned up and down at the professor, no doubt noting his frailness and the torn uniform, a uniform that hadn’t been washed for a long time. He hadn’t been washed for a long time. Or fed much, from what Yanko could tell.
Dak started to lead the man toward the stairs but paused when the professor asked a question.
“No,” Dak said, switching to Nurian. “You have Yanko to thank.” He waved at Yanko. “And Consul Tynlee. I’ll introduce you to her. They were the ones who diverted. I merely poked holes in some pirates once we got close enough.”
“A noble pastime, nonetheless. I wish I’d had the opportunity to do it myself.” The professor swallowed, pausing to gaze into the smoky darkness. “I could do little after they threw most of the crew overboard. I was never a great warrior hero, but it is disappointing to find that your body has more limitations than it once did.”
“Your designs are the stuff of legend. You’ve been a hero in other ways.” Dak nodded and guided the man away.
Yanko trailed after them, though they switched back to Turgonian, and he didn’t get any more clues about who they had rescued. But he was relieved they had rescued people and that Tynlee had been right about the pirates.
He dreaded the idea of what would happen if he and Dak ran into Turgonian soldiers following a mission, and that mission put Nurians in danger. They wouldn’t be on the same side then. Yanko hoped that day never came.
9
After Yanko rounded up the loot-seeking Lakeo, they levitated over to the Nurian ship. He found Tynlee in a cabin with the captain, most of their group, and several cots loaded with injured Nurians. He’d seen others on the deck with blankets pulled over them and feared that as many had died as had been injured.
Yanko was glad they had sailed over to help but wished they had arrived fifteen minutes sooner. This ship was even more damaged than the airship, with holes perforating the hull and the vessel listing to one side. The rasps of saws and bangs of hammers announced the crew was already at work with repairs.
Professor Hawkcrest was finishing telling his tale when Yanko entered, with Lakeo trailing after him. Fortunately, he spoke in Nurian, so Yanko caught up quickly.
The professor said the airship had been in dock in a small port town on the far southern tip of the Turgonian coast, and he had been working late into the night, overseeing the installation of engine upgrades. Only a few soldiers had been aboard, since the captain had allowed the crew to take leave. The pirates had struck well after dark, using their own captain’s Kendorian magic to take them by surprise. They had ruthlessly killed the soldiers and taken off before dawn, leaving only the professor alive. The pirates had believed a warrior-caste prisoner would be valuable if they needed to barter with Turgonians, and they also hadn’t known how to work the airship and had assumed he would.
“I didn’t tell them anything,” Hawkcrest vowed, looking at Dak as if he feared judgment. “But one of them was a former Turgonian soldier who’d been stationed on an airship before, and he figured out how to get it out of dock.”
“I understand, Lord Hawkcrest. It’s unfortunate—and brazen of pirates to attack even a small Turgonian port.” Dak’s jaw tightened, a muscle ticking in his cheek. “We’ll make sure to get you on a ship heading back home so you can officially report,” Dak added, looking toward Amaranthe and Sicarius.
Amaranthe nodded.
Hawkcrest grimaced. “Are you sure you can’t leave me on a beach on one of the Kyatt Islands? I do hate making reports of my failings to the government.”
He hadn’t mentioned a military rank, so Yanko assumed he was a technical advisor.
“If anyone can make a report to Rias without worrying about being reprimanded,” Dak said, “it should be you, my lord. You used to correct his math equations at the university, after all.”
“They rarely needed correcting. And nobody’s a lord anymore.”
“He hasn’t dissolved the warrior-caste system.” Dak frowned. “Has he? I admit I’ve been out of the country for most of the last year.”
“No, but we’re all equal now in the eyes of the law. And when we walk into his office to report bad news.” Hawkcrest sighed and shook his head. As gaunt as the man was after his weeks chained in the airship, Yanko couldn’t imagine anyone going too hard on him.
“I don’t think we’ll be able to make it to Kyatt,” the Nurian captain said. “We’ll have to visit the closest island with a few trees we can use to make repairs.”
“And our yacht is destined for Nuria,” Tynlee said.
Hawkcrest grimaced again. “I’m not inclined to spend time on their beaches.”
“If you come with us, we’ll figure out a way to get you home from there,” Tynlee said. “Our diplomatic headquarters is in the Great City, and I have sway among my colleagues there. Even if your embassy can’t help you right now, we will.”
“I am at your mercy.” Hawkcrest bowed.
The Nurian captain, a middle-aged man in fine silks, though they were now covered with blood and grime, cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t bet on any embassy in Nuria being a safe place right now. Or anywhere in the Great City—or the Great Land—for that matter. That’s why we loaded our ship with all the wealth in our warehouses and headed out for other ports. I was hoping to sell our goods and ride out the storm halfway across the world. I wasn’t expecting a pirate airship to attack, but we did have a few magical baubles worth some coin.” He sighed and shook his head.
Yanko leaned forward. “What’s happening in the Great City? The Great Land?”
Tynlee clasped her hands behind her back. Maybe she’d already heard what he was going to say. Was this what she’d wanted Amaranthe and Sicarius to hear?
The captain glanced at the Turgonians. “Honored Consul, should I speak openly with them here? I’ve already given them everything pertinent to their people.”
“What did you give us?” Dak asked. “I’m sure our agents are already aware of the explosion.”
Explosion? Yanko looked b
ack and forth between them. He couldn’t magically extract information from Dak’s brain, but he was tempted to try to read the captain with more than his eyes.
“I told you that the Turgonian embassy in the Great City had been blown up,” the captain protested. “It only happened a week ago, so I’m certain your people don’t know about it yet. I thought you would value what I offered free of charge.”
“You thought we would value that you’re trying to save your people from a war by reporting an atrocity to ours preemptively?” Dak asked.
Amaranthe gripped her chin, listening intently but not jumping into the discussion.
“I thought that was quite magnanimous of me since I have nothing at stake,” the captain said. “I simply wanted you to know that the bombing wasn’t at the order of the Great Chief. He’s not even in the city. The rebel factions are trying to make trouble, and some idiot thought pissing your people off would be a good idea. Or perhaps it was someone who decided to take revenge for some past wrong when nobody was looking.” The captain raised his hands. “I am hoping you’ll report back to your superiors that the majority of Nurians do not want a war with Turgonia, not now. A lot of people think the Kendorians may have bombed the embassy, hoping to cause further trouble for our nation right now.”
Yanko rubbed the back of his neck. He couldn’t imagine how crazy events in the Great City must have gotten for someone to think blowing up a foreign embassy would be a good idea—or without repercussions. That barricade at the harbor of Red Sky had seemed a riot of anarchy at the time, but to have such open acts of war—or was this an act of sedition?—happening in the Nurian capital itself?
“That is the information I’m willing to give to Turgonia,” the captain said, waving his hands toward the door. “You have my thanks for assisting Consul Tynlee. Please leave us now, so we can speak privately.”
Dak and Sicarius both looked like they might prove obstinate, but Amaranthe murmured something in Turgonian, clasped her hands behind her back and strolled out past Yanko. Dak and Sicarius hesitated but then followed.
Dak met Yanko’s eyes as he passed, but if there was a secret message in the look, Yanko couldn’t decipher it. Maybe he hoped Yanko would later share what he learned. It depended on what it was. Dak might have better luck getting information by putting on an orange shirt and flirting with Tynlee. Though Yanko wasn’t certain he had figured that out yet.
“You travel with strange company, Honored Consul,” the captain murmured.
Tynlee smiled serenely. “My life is terribly predictable and boring when I surround myself only with Nurians. You have news for those of us born under the Great Sun?”
“After you saved my ship and some of my crew, thank the badger goddess, I will give you whatever I can. I…” The captain looked toward the door and lowered his voice. His gaze locked onto Yanko—actually, Yanko’s robe—and he seemed to notice him for the first time. “Ah, forgive me, Honored Warrior Mage. I did not realize—you must have been paramount in the victory. I thank you also.”
“Uh.” Yanko had donned the robe for the magical stamina it gave him, but as Tynlee’s gaze turned toward him, her eyebrows elevated, his cheeks caught fire. He didn’t want to explain to the captain that he hadn’t earned the robe yet. Nor did he want to take credit for the victory. Why hadn’t he thought to remove it before stepping onto a Nurian vessel?
“Yanko is shy,” Tynlee said, “but he was indeed paramount in our victory over the pirates. Thank you for noticing, Captain.”
Yanko bowed, unable to make the movement smooth, for he was a fraud. However inadvertently, he’d just made Tynlee an accomplice to his fraud.
He’s fleeing the nation, Tynlee spoke into his mind. It’s unlikely you’ll meet him again. Perhaps by the time you do, you’ll be a warrior mage in truth.
I would have to reapply to Stargrind and successfully complete the years of training there, and with everything that’s going on at home, I doubt the school will be taking on new applicants soon.
I do not know. Her face grew troubled as she turned back to the captain. “What else is happening in the Great Land, Captain?”
“Chaos, I’m afraid. We were lucky to get out when we did. For a time, the harbor in the Great City was barricaded by the armies and navies of the Great Chief himself, but Admiral Lahtu brought his naval forces in. The Great Chief didn’t have as many people to draw upon as usual because the faction calling itself the Swift Wolves led the roundup of the moksu families, depriving the current rulers of their powerful allies. It was during the battle that we slipped out. Many did. Many are fleeing the nation.”
“Roundup of the moksu families?” Yanko looked at Tynlee.
“It’s been going on for months, from what I understand,” the captain said. “Honored families being captured and put into internment camps. Women and children included. Especially those with family members known to be mages. The Wolves, as they’ve been referring to themselves, want a land where magic doesn’t determine your status, where all Nurians have the right to acquire wealth and an education.”
Tynlee tapped her chin. “I understand why those of lesser means wish for a change, but this is so violent, so destructive. And now someone is trying to involve the Turgonians?”
Yanko barely heard her. All he could think was that this was what may have happened to his family. Maybe their disappearance hadn’t had anything to do with Yanko and his secret mission from Prince Zirabo. Maybe the White Foxes had been rounded up because they had once been a great family, close to the Great Chief. Could whoever was capturing moksu families not have realized the White Foxes were on the disgraced list? Or had they simply wanted to ensure that the Great Chief couldn’t change his mind about that disgrace and call upon them?
“Where are the moksu prisoners being taken?” Yanko asked before he realized he was interrupting another conversation between Tynlee and the captain. “I apologize, Honored Captain, Honored Consul.” He bowed hastily, hands pressed together. “But my family—I believe this may be what happened to my family. Before I left, they disappeared from our homestead.”
“There are numerous camps, but the most important families and thousands of prisoners overall are rumored to be held on an island prison from which there is no escape.”
Thousands? Yanko gripped the wall for support.
“Not Krychek Island, I hope,” Tynlee murmured.
“No, that’s doubtful,” the captain said. “That’s occupied already. And far too close to the Turgonian coast.”
“Krychek?” Yanko hadn’t heard of the place.
“A penal island where the Turgonians send their worst criminals,” Tynlee said. “The Turgonian president spent some time there, I read.”
Yanko wrinkled his nose at the idea. Only in Turgonia could someone go from being a war hero to a criminal to the leader of the nation. He reminded himself that he was considered a criminal right now. He hoped he didn’t end up on some penal island… unless that was where he had to go to find his family.
“What island, Captain?” Yanko asked. “Do you know its name?”
“I don’t. I am not moksu, and it seemed best to stay ignorant on the matter. It’s been a long time since asking questions among strangers could be considered safe. I’m relieved to be on my way away from Nuria.”
Yanko frowned. “Surely, it’s better to stay and help than to flee.”
“Only if you wish to get an arrow in your heart.” The captain looked at Tynlee. “Or have diplomatic immunity.”
“I’m not sure whether diplomatic immunity conveys immunity in your own country,” Tynlee said dryly. “Is there any other news you have that we should know about?”
“Have you heard anything about Prince Zirabo?” Yanko added.
“The Great Chief’s youngest?” the captain asked. “No. He’s a diplomat too, isn’t he? If he’s smart, he’s arranged to be on a mission in another country right now.”
Yanko frowned at the idea that Zirabo would hide
in another country when Nuria most needed wisdom and counsel. He doubted that was true.
“I’m sorry,” the captain said, “but I don’t have anything more to give you. Just know that there’s trouble everywhere back in Nuria. I don’t think the newspapers are even being printed. You’d be wise to find another port for now. Presumably, with your diplomatic immunity, you can go anywhere.” He extended an open palm toward Tynlee. “I wish we had as many options. The rest of the world isn’t going to be eager to accept refugees from Nuria, not when we’ve warred with so many nations.”
“The Kyattese won’t turn you away. And you’ll find more qualified healers than I there.” Tynlee rose from the cot where she had been sitting and bandaging an injured man.
“For a price,” the captain said. “It would be nice if more people with the ability to use magic would do so without charging for it.”
“We’ll stay a little longer, and I’ll help as I can. I regret that my studies in healing were minimal.”
“I’m sorry, Honored Consul. I didn’t mean you. I’m grateful for your help.”
Tynlee wiggled her fingers in acknowledgment and walked out. Yanko didn’t have any further questions for the captain, so he trailed after her with Lakeo following. She’d had so little to say. He wondered if she planned to head off on her own journey once they landed. He supposed it depended on whether she had found any decent booty on the pirate ship.
Tynlee stopped when they had moved away from the door and looked at Yanko. “He spoke the truth in there. I got a few glimpses of things he’d seen in the last weeks he was in Nuria. I’m afraid for our people. And I worry for you on this mission of yours. Since you are moksu and a mage, you’ll need to be very careful traveling through the countryside. I would definitely put that robe away.”
“Yes, Honored Consul. I will. It’s useful in battle, and I forgot to take it off afterward.”
“In a battle I asked you to join, I know.”
Assassin's Bond (Chains of Honor, Book 3) Page 15
