The Cadet of Tildor

CHAPTER 33





Renee already had the Administrative Building in her line of sight when labored breathing alerted her to an approaching presence.

Turning to see who accosted her, Renee found herself looking at a well-dressed, sweaty-faced man. Dark eyes set deep in a fleshy face sparkled with intelligence. Her shoulders tensed as she bowed to the man who she had spoken much about, but never before spoken to. “Lord Palan. Good afternoon.”

“My lady.” Lord Palan fell in step beside Renee as if they had known each other for years. He gestured at the gathering clouds, but what he spoke of had little to do with weather. “Is the phrase ‘The enemy of my enemy is my ally’ familiar to you?”

She squinted at the graying sky. The leader of a major crime group did not approach sixteen-year-old ex-cadets with talk of alliances unless said ex-cadets had something he wanted. Renee rubbed the scar on her palm. Whatever she had was not for sale to her mother’s killer. “Your Family murdered mine, my lord. Are those words familiar to you?”

He blinked. “Yes, quite so. But they are not accurate in your case.” Palan rubbed his chins. “We’ve had no dealings with the de Winter estate besides collections for the road guards.”

Renee frowned. If the man was feigning surprise at the charge, he was doing it well. “My father spoke otherwise.”

“Hmm. When tragedy strikes, peace of mind is sometimes gained by believing an accident to be the work of evil. Although . . . ” Palan squinted in thought and unbuttoned the top of his jacket. The material was plain, but Renee could see the expensive tailoring and cut. The lord cared for his looks. “Before her death, did not the de Winter lands belong wholly to your lady mother?” He waved his hand as if casually accusing Lord Tamath de Winter of murder was nothing of consequence. Perhaps, to the leader of the Family, it wasn’t. “Forgive me. That implication was offensive and, I’m sure, baseless.” Reaching into his coat, he pulled out a folded sheet of parchment. “Now, a gesture of good faith.”

The shift in conversation shoved Renee off balance once more. Better to keep her mouth shut until the ground settled.

Palan made a show of adjusting his ring. “For the past year, your lord father has petitioned me for a contract for sale of wool and goat cheese. You know enough of my organization, I think, to predict that a contract with me has very little chance of failing to generate profits.”

She nodded. The nominal wool and cheese loads would carry veesi or perform another service for the Family. In either case, Lord Tamath would collect coin even if every de Winter goat died of colic. Renee found her father’s intentions disgusting, but, unfortunately, not surprising. “Why do you tell me of this?”

“I wish to give you veto power over the contract.”

She blinked. “Veto?”

He raised the folded paper. “I’ve signed the deal from my side, opposite your father’s hand. If you find the arrangement disagreeable, tear up the parchment. Otherwise, pass it to him. As you see, I offer no imposition. Only choice.”

Renee drew a breath. Despite herself, she had to bow at the man’s skill. She wished no gifts from the Family, but he had given her a gift of knowledge and choice—a gift impossible to reject or return. “Why the generosity, my lord?”

“Not generosity. Only a show of good faith, like I stated before.” His smile said he’d say no more. With a small bow, Palan slipped the folded parchment and another, smaller piece of paper, into her pocket and turned away.

Renee stared at the receding back. “Why did you want Savoy recalled to the Academy?” she called out.

The large back paused, silence filling the air for several heartbeats. “Because it was Diam’s first year here,” Palan said finally, and, tugging down his waistcoat, strolled away.

Renee shut her eyes. Why would the brothers’ reunion matter to him? And how did Palan expect to benefit from befriending her? She felt the answer scratching the corner of her mind but could not drag it out. Her hand touched her pocket, extracting the small paper scrap. A tavern name and a time. Nothing more. For an instant, she considered turning about and chasing down the conniving lord, demanding that he explain himself. Even as the thought sprinted through her, she knew it was foolish. She could not intimidate Palan into divulging more than he wished any more than she could muscle a sword into the skull of a stronger opponent. And Savoy had already taught her the fallacy of that.

Savoy. Sasha’s news had distracted Renee for a time, but the simmering panic now returned. She needed Verin and the Seventh, and she needed them fast. Praying that Savoy’s men were stationed nearby, she hurried to see the headmaster—and High Constable.

* * *

Verin’s office smelled of jasmine tea. On instinct, Renee came to attention in front of his desk before remembering that military courtesies were no longer hers to follow. She inclined her head instead.

“A pleasure seeing you once more, my lady.” Verin diplomatically failed to notice her misstep and rose. He invited her to take a worn leather chair and waited until she sat before doing so himself. “The loss of your company is a great one to both the Crown and the Academy.” His voice was unexpectedly genuine. “How can I be of service?”

She leaned forward. “The Vipers—” The words rushed to her lips and she drew a breath to rein them, and herself, in. “The Vipers hold Commander Savoy captive in an underground Predator lair in Catar City.”

He didn’t even blink. Renee tensed. Waited. Then she felt her eyes go wide with realization.

He knew.

“Is a rescue mission—”

Verin shook his head, cutting her off. “There will be no rescue mission.” He interlaced his fingers and laid them atop his desk. “Your words pain me, but the Crown never authorized Commander Savoy to abandon his post and ride off to his brother’s rescue. A Servant taking independent action is not entitled to the Crown’s army any more than a royal account keeper with personal debts is entitled to the Crown’s coffers.”

Renee stared at him. Her voice failed for several seconds before she forced it to work. “You are Savoy’s family,” she said quietly. “You raised him, taught him to fight, guided his life. He will die, sir, and you can stop it.”

Verin lowered his face, his lips pressed together. When he looked up, a play of the window’s light glistened in his gaze. “I am a High Constable in the Crown’s army.” He voice was low. “I advise King Lysian on military strategy while overseeing the education of all his champions. The position does not permit the luxury of sentiment.”

He would not do it. Good gods. Verin would let Savoy die for the sake of . . . what? Administrative purity that had already been fouled by the Family’s agreement with the king? Renee drew a breath. “I know Savoy was recalled at Lord Palan’s request. And that Lord Palan controls the Family, for all that he tries to keep his hands clean. With all respect, sir, the Crown has already shown . . . flexibility . . . in regards to Savoy. Could you at least address the matter with King Lysian?”

This time, Verin’s brows rose. Tilting his head, he studied her in silence. “I see you are well informed,” he said at last, just when Renee began to expect a denial. “Bending to criminals’ demands, no matter how enticing the apparent rewards, is always a mistake. I have already spoken to King Lysian. We will not do it again.”

She frowned in confusion. “But no criminals are demanding Savoy’s rescue, sir. How would it be a boon to them?”

“An assault on Catar helps the Family.” Verin chuckled without humor. “Do you not see, my lady? When the Crown refused Lord Palan’s petition to attack the Vipers, he arranged for Commander Savoy’s recall from the field. Then, miraculously, Savoy became captive in the heart of Catar’s Viper layer. It is not a coincidence. Lord Palan is using the Seventh’s leader and High Constable’s foster son as bait. The guilt and affection you tried to stir in me moments ago is what the Family wishes of us.”

Renee rubbed her temple. Had Palan ordered Diam kidnapped and given to the Vipers so his older brother would follow? No, Verin’s theory felt wrong. Her fingernails dug into her thighs. “I disagree, sir. This isn’t a Family ploy. Diam’s kidnapper wished Palan himself dead.”

“Surely you realize such demand is a jest!” Verin tilted his head. “Very well. Who do you believe behind the events?”

“Tanil.”

The headmaster smiled. “Which brings us back to the Family, does it not?” He shook his head, his voice hardening. “I believe I am correct, my lady, and I cannot permit Tildor to continue bowing its head to the Family’s strong-arming. Not even for Korish Savoy.”

Renee’s fingers dug into the leather pads of her chair. “King Lysian owes Savoy his life!”

Verin’s palm slammed the table. “That will do, Lady Renee.” His voice froze her to the seat. “In light of your separation from the Academy, this audience is a privilege you and I extend to each other. I am certain neither of us wishes to jeopardize the possibility of enjoying the other’s company in the future. Have I made myself clear?”

Quite clear. Renee left the meeting in a temper to match the growing gale. Verin was wrong and would do nothing. Curse the man. Curse Seaborn and his duties. Curse the entire city. Hunching shoulders against the rain, she went outside, her hands seeking her pockets. Rough paper bent under her fingertips. It was the note from Palan. Taking shelter beneath a tree, she read it again. Greasy Pig. One hour past dusk. Why in the Seven Hells not?