The Cadet of Tildor

CHAPTER 12





Tanil breathed shallowly. Southwest stank.

The man calling himself Vert leaned against the dirty stone building on the right side of the alley. Ignoring Tanil’s approach, Vert inspected a box of finely rolled Devmani tobacco sticks that Tanil knew were only available in Tildor from a rare handful of Atham smugglers. “One box costs as much as a good riding horse,” Vert said without looking up, “and they’re bloody painful to find. But Madam likes what she likes.” He smiled and secured the parcel inside his vest, the viper tattooed on his biceps dancing with the movement. “And she gets what she likes, don’t she?” Vert raised his gaze, cocked his head.

Tanil wiped slick palms on his trousers. Vert was a lowly, stupid peon, nothing more. “Cover up that snake.”

The man smiled and pulled his sleeve over the tattoo. “Better?”

Tanil’s information had been good, hadn’t it? It had to have been. He’d heard his uncle whining about the corn. Tanil gathered his voice. “What did you need, Vert?”

“Oh, Madam sends her compliments. Says your credit’s good again. Pleasure doin’ business. Come again. Can get you better odds if you place bets early. All that.”

Blood rushed to Tanil’s face. The moron risked a meeting to toy with him? He opened his mouth to detail Vert’s parental lineage, but caught himself. There was nothing gained in angering the man. “Thank you, Vert.” He glanced at the dimming sun and collected himself. “Now, excuse me. Uncle awaits with dinner.” And Tanil turned and walked away, ignoring the soft chuckle the Viper directed at his back.

Gutter manners notwithstanding, the Vipers understood something dear Uncle Palan’s Family did not. Power needed exercise to grow. While Palan pranced around the capital petitioning—petitioning!—the Crown, the Madam took direct action. The Queen’s Day assault stood proof to that, as did the charcoaled remains of the mage registration post.

It was a disgrace that Palan, head of the Family, the wealthiest man in Tildor, didn’t acknowledge the truth publicly, always insulating himself from his orders and never dirtying his own hands. The man liked playing the mere noble, even when most everyone knew otherwise. The Vipers’ Madam was different. She didn’t inherit her throne as Palan had, she ripped it away from the old management, from the very Viper lord who had trained her as his assassin. And she was no coward denying her station. Madam didn’t bribe people’s silence; she took their tongues. Personally. How many mages stood on Palan’s payroll? Three dozen? Four? The Vipers hid hundreds. Tanil snorted. Fear controlled Palan. Vipers controlled fear.

Back in the chandeliered dining room of Palan’s estate, the sizzling aroma of steak filled Tanil’s nose. He fidgeted, waiting for his uncle’s sizable rear to get comfortable in the cushioned chair. The comfort-seeking rear end took its time. Palan savored such pleasures. One would think he’d show a little respect for Tanil, considering the deficit in kin.

Of the three Family brothers, the oldest had changed his name and disappeared decades ago with a band of mercenaries. The youngest, Tanil’s father, fell into the Servants’ hands and kept to the Family code of silence throughout prison and, ultimately, his execution. His sacrifice left the middle brother, Palan, in charge and with patronage of Tanil, however grudgingly the idiot gave it.

Just as Tanil reached for his fork, the room’s heavy door swung open. A tall figure in a hooded cloak looked in from the hallway.

“An unexpected pleasure, Yus.” Palan smiled. He drank deeply from a silver water chalice and daintily replaced the cup before speaking again. “News on our corn merchants? A single attack may have been accidental, but two . . . ”

Yus nodded. “The Vipers learned our route, my lord. I have redirected the remaining veesi to other networks.”

Tanil’s stomach churned. Who knew the man would obsess over losses so petty? Plus, it was Palan’s own greed at fault—if he’d granted his nephew a sustainable allowance, Tanil would not have been forced into alternatives.

The fat man frowned. “Keep at it, Yus.”

Tanil ground his teeth. This obsession was breaching all bounds. Good gods, Palan likely expended more coin on the search than he had lost in product. Uncle needed something else to worry about.

“What else?” Palan asked Yus.

“More Vipers are slithering into Atham. I have men in place to thin their numbers.”

Palan drank more water and pursed his lips. “No. They target the Crown, as the attack last week proved. So long as they stay off our assets, let them shake Lysian. They push hard enough and he shall welcome us with open arms and closed eyes. Or better yet, he’ll send troops against the Madam’s stronghold in Catar and it will cost us nothing.” Palan smiled again. “The young king does not yet realize his error in so antagonizing the Madam. Once he does, he will be desperate.”

Yus bowed low. “Yes, my lord. Might other matters impose on my lord’s attention?” His eyes shifted between Tanil and his uncle, and Tanil relished the man’s discomfort. The lieutenant was, after all, interrupting the dinner of two very important people.

“Excuse yourself.” Palan’s words singed the air.

Tanil began to smile before realizing that the order concerned him. Anger and embarrassment heated his blood. Him, the head’s next of kin, discarded like a lackey! He glared at both men, but suppressed a futile protest. Watch your step, Uncle, he thought before pulling the heavy door closed behind him.

The serving girl appeared a half hour later to tell him that his uncle wished the pleasure of his company. Tanil’s stomach growled. The steak would be cold by now. Forcing an appropriately humble expression onto his face, he reentered the dining hall. The cause of his recent exile had departed. “I wish you would permit me to remain and learn from you, Uncle.”

“You have other duties, my boy. What of your classes?”

Tanil wanted to roll his eyes. The Academy was another of the coward’s roundabout schemes. Servants of the Crown traditionally rose to prestigious posts, and Lord Palan wished to have his man fill such a role. “Savoy is a brainless sadist.”

“Who won’t flinch to fail you.” The words carried no sympathy. The cowardly lord wasn’t the one spending his evenings sore and bruised. “Do not trifle with the man.”

You want a Servant on the Family books, not me. You deal with it. “He is a risk to our work, Uncle. I want to dispense with him.”

“Out of the question.”

“I didn’t know the Family now fears Servants.” Let his uncle explain his way out of that one.

Palan tented his fingertips and laid them atop the tablecloth. “Permit me to clear your misconceptions, boy. Your task, your only task, is to enter the Service of the Crown. Should you fail in that, I will no longer have need of your . . . labors.”

Ice gripped the lining of Tanil’s stomach. “But Savoy—”

“I don’t care whether you polish the man’s boots or train until the Seven Hells freeze over. Either way, you will pass and you will graduate. And, for once in your existence, you will fulfill this task independently. The Family needs leaders, not cripples who use my influence as a crutch.” He rang for the servant girl. “Mari, pack Master Tanil’s gear. He will be returning to the Academy early.”

Tanil stared in a combination of disbelief and humiliation. Blood raced through his heart, heating and speeding. So, dear Uncle liked Savoy, did he? And to dare imply that Tanil did not work independently? That hunk of lard, chasing his tail about a sorry bushel of corn, didn’t begin to know the connections Tanil maintained.

He fingered a key in his pocket, a gift from the gods found on the opening day of school. The key would ensure his success at practical exams, but that, Tanil knew now, would not be enough to regain peace in his life. He had no intention of spending the rest of the year suffering indignities from Palan or Savoy. Those two needed to occupy themselves—and each other—elsewhere. Yes, that was it . . . Let Savoy shift his sights to the dear lord coward. Tanil just needed to figure out a way of handling the bloody dog. One bite at Rock Lake had been quite enough.

He found a smile for his uncle and pushed back the chair.