The Cadet of Tildor

CHAPTER 26





Back at Hunter’s Inn, Renee leaned against the wall, arms crossed over the front of her blood-soaked dress. The bureau on which Savoy liked to sit was empty. His sword hung by the door. Outside, it had started to rain, the drops pounding the window.

“We could speak to the governor.” Alec stared at his hands, which glowed and dimmed like flickering candles. Renee lacked energy to ask that he stop. “Tell him about the tunnels and—”

Seaborn shook his head, his gaze never wavering from the stormy window. “The governor bows to the Vipers. Korish would not survive if the Madam discovered his identity. Official help must come from Atham and the Seventh.”

Renee caught the hesitation in his voice, glanced at Diam, and knew he had heard it too. The Seventh would uproot the world to retrieve Savoy. But they could not bring back the dead.

“Korish is gonna come back for his sword.” Diam scrubbed his sleeve across his dirty face and limped to where his brother’s weapon hung on the wall.

Seaborn took down the sword and squatted next to Diam. “I think someone should take care of this for him.”

Diam grasped the hilt and wrestled the shining weapon into ready position. Savoy took care of his tools. “It’s heavy.” The blade’s tip brushed the floor. Diam’s lips pressed together. Then, jerking his chin up, he thrust the hilt toward Renee. “You take it.”

She looked over her shoulder at Seaborn. “When can you leave for Atham, sir?”

“In the morning.” His eyes narrowed. “I thought you wished to pledge to King Lysian, Renee. If you returned, given the circumstance, perhaps . . . ”

She took the sword from Diam, slid it into its sheath, and adjusted the buckle at her hip. If Savoy was alive, she would free him. And if he wasn’t, she would bring his captors to Crown’s justice. King Lysian had called on his champions to guard Tildor’s heart. She did not need a uniform to do that.

* * *

At dawn, Seaborn decided to kill himself. He was riding to the Academy, and he was doing it mounted on Savoy’s horse.

“I don’t have time to hike to Atham,” he said, clipping Kye into the crossties and ignoring all pleas for sanity. His hand narrowly escaped Kye’s snapping teeth; undeterred, the stallion laid his ears back and awaited the next opportunity.

They had agreed to let Diam stay in Catar, for now. Theoretically, this was to allow Seaborn faster travel and because returning the boy to the place from which he had already been abducted once was arguably a bad idea. Privately, Renee feared Diam would simply run off if they tried. The speed with which Seaborn agreed to the plan suggested he had similar worries.

“Great gods.” Renee stepped back as a hoof flick caught Seaborn’s thigh. He grunted, his face pale and sweaty, set his jaw, and picked up the bit.

Never mind the beast’s pastime of destroying people who weren’t afraid of riding.

“Find nobles who bet on Predators.” Seaborn’s fingers fumbled a simple girth knot. “If Korish is alive . . . he’s prime for the cages. Hells, the lunatic might actually enjoy it.”

She forced a chuckle. “How long until you have news?”

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “With clear weather and a mount, I’ll be in Atham in two days. I’ll need a day or two after that.”

Renee nodded, adding another two days for the messenger to return. Under a week, then. Better than she dared hoped. “Get the Seventh here, sir. I’ll find Savoy.”

Seaborn returned the nod, as if he believed her, then stepped back from the horse, who now stood ready for the journey. Provided the rider managed to mount. “I don’t wish an audience,” Seaborn said quietly.

“Gods’ luck.” Renee bowed her farewell and withdrew inside the stable. Her ears strained for signs of trouble as she leaned against the wooden wall. Savoy’s sword, too big for her, weighed down both her hip and heart. In a week’s time, her world had morphed from theory to reality. Just months ago she cringed at push-ups, agonized over rebuke-filled glances, and sobbed over strikes from a wooden practice blade. They are but bruises, Savoy had told her at Rock Lake, but only now did she understand his words. A hill feels like a mountain until the real thing laughs in your face.

Renee reconvened with Alec and Diam in their Hunter’s Inn room. The adjacent chamber, where Seaborn and Savoy had been staying, now housed other guests. Her impulse to return to the underground entrance at Duke Leon’s estate met with raised brows from Alec.

“In daylight?” He shook his head. “That’s crazy, Renee, even for you. Plus, Diam needs a Healer. Seaborn gave me a name.”

She crossed her arms, looking from Diam to the forest of stone buildings that hid the estate from view. That Alec was right did little to soothe her stomach. Each moment they waited worked against them.

“Wait for sundown.” He touched her shoulder and steered her toward Diam. “Then we’ll go.”

Despite matching Seaborn’s descriptions, the old, cracked streets and sad-looking buildings did nothing to inspire confidence. People scurried about the slushy roads, sharp eyes full of scrutiny and warning. Even the sun shone more dimly, as if the clouds conspired against the neighborhood. Renee pulled her coat tighter. “Alec, you sure about this?”

He nodded, guiding her around a pile of dog excrement on the sidewalk. At least she hoped the excrement came from a dog. “Scouted this morning and made inquiries on top of that.” A hint of excitement fueled Alec’s voice. “I don’t know how Seaborn knows old Zev, but the word on him is . . . reverent.”

Beside her, Diam struggled to keep up with Alec’s too-fast stride.

“Slow down,” she told Alec for the third time and frowned at Diam. Despite gripping his left side, the boy gazed around all too curiously. Renee fought down burbling panic. Neither his brother nor the Academy instructors had been able to contain Diam’s wanderings through Atham. How were she and Alec to manage him in Catar? The weight of the world gained several stone.

Old Zev lived in the basement of a run-down shack, which threatened to collapse under a bout of hard wind. The bald, sagging old man who cracked open the door refused to let them inside until hearing a whisper of Seaborn’s name. Even with that he hesitated, yellow eyes piercing each newcomer until his gaze found Khavi and his pupils widened.

“A unique pleasure,” Zev murmured, letting the quartet inside.

The mage’s apartment smelled of sweet herbs. Piles of wide pillows lay on the tattered carpet in the center of the room, where Renee expected a couch. Zev settled himself on one of the pillow piles and crossed his arms, his eyes growing hard as he stared at her. “You don’t belong here.” He shook his head. “Not like Connor to forgo warning.”

“Our apologies.” Kneeling on a pillow next to the little man, Renee sketched the story of Diam’s abduction. “Will you help him?” she asked upon concluding the tale.

Zev smiled. “Which one? The little lad with the hurt side or the big one without a rein on his power?”

Her eyes darted to Alec in time to see him startle and hide a blue-glowing hand behind his back.

Zev’s grin grew. “Young idiots. You think Connor sent you here for a few bruises when you have a brewing disaster walking among you?” A scowl replaced self-content mirth, and he glared at Alec. “Stupid, careless boy. You will kill someone. What in gods’ realm possessed you to hide your head in the sand?”

Alec stuffed his hands in his pockets and said nothing.

“He didn’t hide.” Renee stepped in for him. “He chose. Chose to become a fighter Servant for the Crown.”

“He does not get to choose!”

“Registration—” Alec began, but Zev cut him off.

“Is a Crown-forged set of whips and shackles. And it still exists because of self-centered hooligans like you.”

Zev’s accusation ushered in silence. Renee glanced at her friend, but saw no more comprehension on his face than she felt.

The old man climbed to his feet and fed a log into the fire. “Young mages speak of choices,” he said quietly. “But the energy we feel grows like this flame. If we fail to control it, it will consume us. And the house. And everyone inside.” He turned, pinning Alec with his eyes. “Learning to rein in the energy flows takes years. And years more to make something useful of your skills. Unschooled mages harbor disasters. As long as those like you think they have a right to forgo training, neither I, nor Connor, nor anyone else battling registration has a leg to stand on.” He shook his head.

Several seconds passed before Renee remembered to breathe. To her left, Alec’s sad eyes watched the fire, his head bowed. Old Zev limped over to Diam and said something into the boy’s ear before laying a blue glowing hand on him. The boy cried out, fresh tears leaking down his cheeks, but quieted quickly, and the room returned to silence.

Khavi curled at the boy’s feet.

“We should get back,” Renee said, placing a hand on Alec’s shoulder.

He ignored her touch. “May I stay here a little longer, Master Zev?”

The old man nodded and, that evening, Hunter’s Inn was emptier still.