Rhi frowned, looking like she intended another round of surly grousing.
“Do you promise, Zyndar, not to use the weapon on us or attempt to escape?” Zenia asked.
Jev suspected she was only attempting to extract his word to make her friend happy, but it made him pause. He wouldn’t have used the rifle on them, regardless, but the addition of the words attempt to escape bothered him. He had fully intended to return with her, both to gather more information and so he wouldn’t bring down the wrath of the Water Order on his family, but that had been before he’d known an entire underworld guild was hunting for him. Not just that, they were willing to kill him, even though he didn’t have what they were looking for.
He wanted to go back to the castle and question everyone about Corvel’s disappearance. He was positive the path to the artifact, if Vastiun had ever truly had it, started back at home with their old butler, not anywhere in the city.
“I won’t use the weapon on you,” Jev said, choosing his words carefully, “and I won’t attempt to escape until we’ve made it back to your temple and talked to your archmage.” A person who likely had more information than Zenia, information that might help him search for that path.
Besides, he didn’t have much choice.
“Good enough for me,” Zenia said, surprising him by not objecting to his wording.
Rhi scowled. “You’re not alarmed that it took him a long time to answer?”
“I would be alarmed if he’d answered right away and just said yes. He may actually mean to keep his word.”
“Actually?” Jev rocked forward on the balls of his feet, affronted by her insinuation. “I always keep my word.”
What had he done to make her doubt it? Was she blaming him for Lornysh’s attack? Even if he had been responsible, it wasn’t as if he’d given her his word back before it happened.
“We’ll see, Zyndar,” Zenia said, her eyes cool and challenging.
8
Zenia let the glow of her dragon tear fade, worried the light would act as a beacon. Her interrogation of the Fifth Dragon brute hadn’t yielded the exact number of guild people outside the city hunting for the artifact, but he’d believed it was a lot. That made Zenia uneasy. She hadn’t expected competition, competition that was willing—if not eager—to shoot the only person who might know where the artifact was located.
She looked toward that person. Full darkness had fallen, and without her light, she couldn’t see much, but she sensed Jevlain hadn’t moved. He was leaning against a tree trunk, his newly acquired rifle in hand as he gazed into the night, listening to the frogs croaking near the river and the cicadas whining in the branches.
He had helped her drag the three prisoners together, and they’d crafted makeshift bindings from torn strips of the men’s clothing, using it to tie their ankles and wrists. A couple of her new prisoners were awake now, but they weren’t making a fuss yet. They probably wanted her to believe them unconscious, so they could find a way to take advantage.
That wouldn’t happen.
“What made you decide to become an inquisitor?” Jevlain asked, startling her.
Nobody ever asked her that. They just assumed… well, she supposed she didn’t know what people assumed. That she’d sought power, perhaps. She didn’t know anyone among the Orders who had chosen the career for that. Most people wanted to help whatever Order they belonged to and to ensure justice was fairly dispensed.
“Why do you ask?” she replied, not wanting to discuss her past with a prisoner, nor where the guild thugs could hear.
“Curiosity. And a desire to pass the time while we wait for your monk friend to come back.”
“The time can pass just fine in silence.”
Zenia wondered if she’d made a mistake in not simply marching him out to the highway with Rhi and heading straight back to town. They would have risked being shot at again, yes, but getting him back to the temple was her priority. The reason she’d been sent out this morning. If she brought these other three back, they would likely disappear from the dungeon via some bribe or extradition agreement the temple had with the Fifth Dragon. It was unfortunate and unacceptable in Zenia’s eyes, but the guilds had a lot of power, men, and even some magic, so the Orders didn’t court trouble with them. Sometimes, her colleagues looked the other way. That grated on Zenia, even if the watch was known to do the same thing.
Choose your battles, Sazshen had once told her. And choose them carefully for when the end result matters the most.
“Are you this affable and cozy with all your prisoners?” Jevlain asked.
“You were expecting coziness from an inquisitor?”
“I suppose not, but I was open to being surprised.”
Zenia shook her head and didn’t answer. She thought he might fall silent, but he seemed to decide that her disinterest in talking about her career meant that he should talk about his.
“I didn’t choose to be a soldier. You probably know that the eldest able sons were all supposed to recruit men from their lands and go off to fight in the war. The king—the old king—issued a decree. Some of the zyndar families protested, paid bribes, or found lawyers to argue why their children shouldn’t be drafted, but not my father. He was eager to get rid of me. Oh, not because I was trouble or offended him, at least not so far as I know, but because he believed in serving the king loyally and without question. I also think… Well, he hates the Taziir. He always has. There are some rumors around the castle that my mother left him to go off with an elf. I don’t think that’s true—I suspect people were just trying to make sense of her disappearance and his subsequent vocal hatred of elves. But I remember her from when I was a kid, and how they were together as a couple. He was as distant with her as he always was with me and my brother. It was an arranged marriage, you see. Damn, I wonder if he’ll start trying to arrange something for me now that I’m back?”
He lapsed into silence, perhaps taken aback by that last thought.
“Are you telling me all this in the hope that I’ll start to like you and be more lenient toward you during your interrogation?” Zenia asked.
A lot of prisoners were simply surly and despondent with her, saying nothing as she took them in to the temple, but she’d definitely met others who attempted the amiable route, trying to humanize themselves to her. She didn’t know why they bothered. It wasn’t as if she would go against the Order or the archmage to free them. She’d taken vows long ago, and the Order had given her everything she had today. She owed the organization and the people much.
“Sure,” Jevlain said. “Is it working?”
“No.”
“So, there’s no hope of leniency, and I should start clipping my nails now so your fingernail gripper won’t have much luck taking hold to pull them off?”
“Do you have nail clippers with you?”
“No. I suppose I’d have to try to grind them down on something raspy and blunt. One of these fellow’s heads, perhaps.”
She snorted, then immediately regretted it. Whatever he was scheming, she shouldn’t respond to it—to him—in any way.
Zenia clamped her mouth shut and resolved not to speak again. It wasn’t hard. As the minutes trickled past, she started to worry, and that occupied her thoughts. They hadn’t run far into the mangroves, so it shouldn’t have taken Rhi long to ride to the village, check on its status, and return, especially on horseback.
“Come with me, Dharrow.” Zenia leaned over and groped in the air until she located his arm. She gripped his sleeve and tugged him away from the tree.
Had he wanted to be difficult, he could have resisted her pull—he had the size and mass to resist most people’s pull, and he could have likely slipped away into the night by now if he’d wished. Earlier, she’d seen him deal with those two thugs without taking so much as a fist to the chin himself, so she would have known not to underestimate him even if she knew nothing of his military career. But she believed him when he’d given his word not to attempt to esca
pe, so she wasn’t worried about it now. As huffy as he got when she questioned his word, it had to mean something to him.
“Are we going off for a tryst?” Jevlain shifted to avoid stepping on one of the prisoners they were necessarily leaving tied on the ground.
“Do you think that’s likely?”
“Not after all the jokes your monk friend made about my travel-inspired aroma.”
“Good. Delusional men are difficult to work with.” She lowered her voice, leading him in the direction of the highway. At least, she hoped she was heading in the right direction. They were too far from the sea to use its roar as a guide, nor could she hear the running of the wide Jade River any longer.
She wished she hadn’t lost her horse since they had better night vision than humans. But the gunshots had alarmed the old girl, and she’d taken off at the first opportunity. It was just as well. Zenia wouldn’t have wanted to ride double with Jevlain, and she would have felt strange riding while he walked. There was probably some rule against making zyndar prisoners travel on foot.
“You’re worried about your friend?” Jevlain asked quietly. “Rhi?”
“Yes.” Zenia wasn’t sure why it surprised her that he had taken note of her name. Because so few zyndar bothered to learn the names of commoners?
She also wasn’t sure she liked having him identify Rhi as her friend instead of her monk or bodyguard. It suggested he knew they were closer than that, that he’d been paying attention when they’d bantered. That probably wouldn’t matter, but she had dealt with criminals in countless capacities, including blackmail attempts. They had few qualms about using a friendship against an inquisitor or other law enforcer.
Not that she was positive Jevlain was a criminal. Archmage Sazshen had implied that, but Zenia was starting to believe Jevlain was as in the dark as she when it came to the artifact.
Unfortunately, that didn’t help anything. It would have been easier all around if he had been able to pick it up at Dharrow Castle. But when she wore her dragon tear, Zenia could sense magic on others, and she knew he wasn’t carrying any powerful artifacts. If he had been, she would have had him stripped and searched before loading him onto that wagon. She wondered if the rest of him was as grimy as his hands and face. Rhi, she was certain, wouldn’t mind checking, despite all her comments about his so-called travel-inspired aroma.
“She should have easily made it back by now,” Jevlain said from right behind her.
Zenia jumped. Even though she’d stopped and wouldn’t have expected him to be anywhere else, it startled her to hear his voice so close. If he proved her wrong and didn’t keep his word… Well, she would be a fool to make it easy for him to club her in the back of the head.
“Yes,” she said and took several quick paces to put some space between them.
She almost ran into a tree. Four founders, it was dark in these mangroves. Fortunately, she spotted a break in them ahead, the grassy land between the forest and the highway.
“Did you learn anything about the golems when you interrogated that man?” Jevlain asked.
“He didn’t expect them specifically, but he was told there would be opportunities for him and his guildmates to jump you.”
“I thought that was a trap right away. Hm.”
Yes, he had, hadn’t he? Zenia felt a twinge of irritation that it had taken her a few seconds longer to figure out that something strange was happening. Oh, she’d known the appearance of rock golems wasn’t a random occurrence, but she had believed Jevlain’s allies responsible, not someone else.
“Would this Fifth Dragon guild have dwarven allies?” Jevlain asked as they reached the edge of the trees. “I don’t know of another race with the power to conjure rock golems. The elves have a sort of tree golem, though they call it something else on their continent, but the one time I encountered rock golems, I knew our whole company was in trouble. The dwarves and the elves living in that valley put aside their centuries-old racial animosity toward each other to fight what they considered a greater common enemy. Us.”
“You’re the only one I know of around here with a dwarven ally.”
“If that’s true, our people have grown depressingly xenophobic.”
“I think it’s more that the dwarves feel xenophobic toward us.”
“So long as the bearded female master gem cutter still works in town. I promised my friend an introduction.”
Zenia peered toward the village. The fires had dwindled, but lanterns burned here and there on the highway. People out searching for someone? For them?
A few riders without lanterns rode along the highway too.
“Also, my ally doesn’t make golems.” Jevlain stepped up beside her, also looking up and down the highway. “He carves gems and crafts watch fobs.”
“Watch fobs?”
“Not enough gems in the world to keep a dwarf’s bills paid, I’m told. Cutter can engrave guns too. Intricate stuff. I bet he could make a scene of you capturing a criminal and carve it into the ivory handle of your pistol.”
Zenia shifted her weight, wondering when he’d seen her pistol up close for long enough to know of the ivory grip. As chatty as he was, it would be easy to think of him as a blathering fool, but he was clearly observant. When he’d asked what prompted her to become an inquisitor, had he been seeking some thread on her that he could tug on if need be? She made a note not to speak too freely around him or underestimate him.
She stirred again, her shoulder accidentally brushing his. She almost snapped at him for being too close, but she had been the one wiggling around.
“People are hunting you,” Zenia said, uncharacteristically frazzled. “Perhaps it would behoove you to speak less.”
“Perhaps, but how dreary would it be for you if your prisoner never spoke?”
“My prisoners usually don’t speak.”
Typically, they were far too intimidated by her reputation and the reputation of Order inquisitors in general to chat with her. Maybe that was why she was frazzled. He wasn’t acting as expected, and it was throwing her off.
“Not at all?”
“No.”
“Does that mean you find me a delightful change from the norm?”
She almost snorted again, damn it. But she caught herself in time. She was not going to laugh at his jokes.
“No,” she said firmly.
“Ah.”
Two riders walked their horses down the highway in front of them. They wore dark clothing and hoods, not typical garments for the warm Kor climate, especially this time of year. They did not carry lanterns, but Zenia could tell they were looking back and forth, peering into the brush to one side and the grass and mangroves to the other. She also thought…
She gripped her dragon tear and focused on them. Yes, one of them had magic. A dragon tear of his own, likely.
Zenia patted the air, found Jevlain’s hand in the dark, and pulled him behind one of the thick trees, stepping carefully so she didn’t trip over the raised roots. Normally, she would have trusted the darkness of the forest behind them to render them invisible from the highway, but depending on what that man’s profession was and how he’d been trained to use his dragon tear, he could have augmented night vision.
She half-expected Jevlain to make a joke about trysts and handholding, but he must have also sensed the danger they were in, for he stepped wordlessly behind the tree with her.
“If this guild has dwarven allies and dragon tears,” Jevlain whispered, his mouth close to her ear, “then the underworld crime organizations are a lot more powerful and resource-rich than they were ten years ago.”
His breath tickled her ear. For a moment, she found herself noticing the warmth of the back of the hand she still held, the callouses where her fingers brushed his palm.
Frowning, she let go and shook away the awareness.
“In recent years, the Fifth Dragon guild has become one of the two most powerful in the city,” she replied, speaking as softly as he had, doubting she
should be speaking at all. She couldn’t see the riders around the tree, but she didn’t hear the clip clop of hooves and feared they had stopped. “The other is the presumptuously named Future Order. There are many lesser guilds, but those two vie with each other for control over the underworld part of the city. They’re both known to work outside of the city as well and have long reaches. It seems unlikely the rest of the races would care enough about humans to ally themselves with either guild, but they are criminal organizations. They could have stolen artifacts capable of summoning golems from dwarven communities.”
Zenia fell silent. She still hadn’t heard the horsemen ride off. Or was it possible they had slowed down and gone quietly enough that she hadn’t heard the shoed hooves striking the stone highway?
“And this Eye of Truth artifact,” Jevlain whispered, “what would a criminal guild want to use it for?”
She didn’t know. She was almost glad she didn’t know because she might have let an answer slip out before realizing his question hadn’t been as casual as it sounded. He was gathering information, as much as he could. Maybe he hoped to find the artifact before she did and had no intention of returning it.
“Trade, power, influence.” Zenia shrugged. “Who knows?”
He didn’t ask any more questions. They stayed still behind the tree until Zenia started to again question her belief that the riders were still out there. Jevlain must have been questioning the same thing. He slowly leaned his head out from behind the trunk. Then he jerked it back.
“Hells,” he breathed.
The clip clops she had been waiting to hear started up. Afraid the riders were charging off the highway toward them, she looked out.
The riders had taken off at a gallop, heading down the highway toward the city. In the opposite direction they had been going before. To tell someone they had located Jevlain? Or to set an ambush outside the city?
“I don’t think it’s going to be safe to go back on the highway,” Jevlain said.
Eye of Truth Page 10
