The Cadet of Tildor

CHAPTER 39





No Alec, no Seventh, and King Lysian’s impending arrival hung over Catar like a menacing fog. Only for Diam’s sake did Renee stop herself from punching the wall. The boy sat beside the window, gazing left and right as if expecting his brother to stroll down the cobblestones below.

Instead, a fine-cloth merchant across the alleyway was boarding up his windows while his sons hauled crates of goods into an awaiting wagon. A few doors down, a crowd gathered around the armorer’s shop, purchasing new weapons or sharpening used ones. Renee had gotten a new sword there herself just a week ago.

It had been thus for days, ever since news of the Crown’s intentions to ride to Catar had reached the city. Whispers in the inn’s common room had grown into currents of unease. Guests who could, paid their fees and packed. Few wished front-seat viewing should a confrontation between King Lysian and the Madam erupt.

Khavi whined and nosed the door. Nodding, Diam climbed down from his perch and, without saying a word, left with his wolf. Renee stared at the closed door, then took down Savoy’s sword and ran a sharpening stone along its edge. He’d like his weapon cared for.

The knock startled her. Letting the blade hang at her side, she called out a challenge and frowned at the familiar voice. “Lord Palan.” She stepped aside to let him in and hoped her voice betrayed none of the sudden dread that washed over her. “To what do I owe the honor?”

“Lady Renee.” He bowed, small eyes and self-satisfied smile the same as ever. “If I may impose on your hospitality?”

You already have. “Of course.”

“You still do not trust me, I see.” Lord Palan seemed pleased. “My nephew picks his friends well.”

“I don’t believe Savoy counts you among them.”

The smile vanished. Palan glanced at a jug of water and, at Renee’s polite bow, poured himself a glass. “Korish still wore swaddle cloths when his parents fled to hide among mercenaries.” He settled into a chair. “When the boy started at the Academy, he took a dislike to me. Telling him the truth would not have served his interests. Or mine.”

She took a chair opposite him. The man did not visit for his health. She must have something he wanted. What in the bloody hells was it? Renee crossed her legs. “How did Verin learn the truth of Savoy’s bloodlines?”

“From me.” Palan’s lips pressed together. “The boy would not accept a position with me even while locked in the dungeons. I did what I had to do to ensure his future.”

“I don’t understand.”

Palan frowned. “I agreed the Family would not interfere in Academy affairs or sell veesi leaf on the grounds. In return, Verin was to assure Savoy’s career. There is no way to say it more plainly.”

Renee paused. Verin fostered Savoy at Palan’s bidding? It helped explain the heavy hand the headmaster used in raising him, if the alternative was turning a gifted Crown-trained fighter back over to the Family. “Forgive my indiscretion,” Renee said at last, “but I fail to see your advantage in such a deal.”

Palan’s eyes flashed. “I care for my family, whether estranged or not.”

“And does Tanil share your . . . enthusiasm for relatives?” Renee held her breath. If she was right about Tanil’s involvement in Diam’s kidnapping, the fat lord had a problem on his hands. “It seems your young foster wishes you dead. You and his cousins both.”

Palan’s lips pressed together again and his dark eyes narrowed on Renee’s.

Her heart hastened under his calculating gaze. It was as if he were assessing the value of her continued existence. She would do well to remember whom she spoke to.

Palan shook himself and inclined his head, like a fighter acknowledging the other’s score. “Tanil knows nothing of the Savoys’ relation to the family. He simply fell into a combination of debt and sloth, which he sought to remedy by pitting his teacher against me.” He finished his water and interlaced his fingers over his belly. “The boy thought that if Commander Savoy and I were busy with each other, he’d be free of harsh training and financial oversight both. It worked out poorly for him.”

Renee swallowed, suddenly perceiving the reason behind Palan’s visit and courtship of her. “You want Diam.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “With one nephew a traitor to your blood and another facing death, Diam is the closest kin you have left.” But why not simply snatch the boy from the streets? Why all the effort at befriending Renee? The answer echoed from the lord’s own words. She smiled, leaning toward him. “You wish for my help in endearing him to you, for fear that he’d otherwise reject you, like Savoy did.”

Palan bowed from his seat. “I am Diam’s next of kin, my lady.”

“His parents—”

“Died several weeks ago, while guarding a merchant foolish enough to deal near the Devmani boarder.”

A high-pitched wail cut the air.

Blood drained from Renee’s face. She twisted, searching for the source of the cry. It echoed from the hallway. She opened the door and the aghast eavesdropper stumbled inside, bewildered eyes darting from one face to another. “Diam . . . ” Renee reached for him, but Khavi blocked her path. When she tried again, he growled, showing his teeth. Renee pulled back.

Diam’s small rib cage expanded with drawn air. “It’s not true!” he shouted, louder than Renee thought possible. “You’re lying! You’re all lying!” The wails increased in pitch until they morphed into sobs. The boy fell to the ground, a small shaking ball.

Renee reached out to gather him in her arms, but met Khavi’s snapping jaws. Palan’s efforts found a similar fate. The wolf paced in circles and whimpered. He maintained his guard until Diam cried himself to stillness.

Then she understood why. Faint wisps of blue flame sparked around the boy’s nail beds and eyes.

Palan studied the sleeping child in silence, then pulled a long breath, and smiled.

* * *

Renee ran to get Zev and Alec, who came at once, walking through the rustling streets as quickly as Zev’s limp allowed. Snippets of conversation, all of a flavor, escaped from loiterers and pedestrians, barmaids and errand-boys. The Crown did nothing for Catar’s people. The Family was behind Lysian’s trip. The king had been bought and paid for. The Vipers shouldn’t—wouldn’t—bend knee. The old spoke of blood spilled a decade past, when the Madam wiped away the Vipers’ last challenger. The young bought knives. Renee hurried ahead, but a look from Alec returned her to Zev’s side.

“It’s not as if you don’t know the way,” she hissed under her breath.

“It’s not as if you’ll do any good without us,” he whispered back.

Zev cleared his throat, a reminder that he was old, not deaf. “The boy’s bonded partner will keep everyone safe enough. I come to offer little heroism.”

He was right. Flames weren’t consuming Hunter’s Inn when they arrived. Diam lay curled in bed, sobbing in his sleep. Hints of blue light pulsated gently at the corners of his closed eyelids.

Zev shuffled past Palan to place his hand over the child’s shoulder. The last scraps of glow died and Diam relaxed. “His body feels the energy, but cannot Control it yet.” Zev smiled a sorrowful smile. “The energy leaks. It’s calm now.”

“I don’t understand,” she whispered, and stroked Diam’s hair. “Isn’t he too young?”

Zev nodded. “Stress does strange things to the body. And he is sensitive. Very sensitive.”

Renee glanced at Khavi, wondering if the sensitivity had anything to do with how the pair had found each other. Perhaps the wolf would help buffer the energy currents until the boy’s mind caught up to his body.

“Will he be strong?” Lord Palan asked, something lurking behind his eyes.

Zev shrugged. “I’d imagine so.”

Lord Palan smiled again, and Renee didn’t like it. Her hand tightened around Diam’s shoulder. While Savoy remained alive, the child would stay right where he was. As would his secret.

No one said much. The sun dimmed and Palan took his leave. When a bell somewhere outside tolled the late hour, Zev rose painfully from a chair, laid a glowing hand on Diam for another moment, and made his bows. While he labored his way down the inn’s stairs, Alec gathered their jackets. Renee stared at her friend, her heart growing heavier each moment. The night had been about neither Savoy nor politics nor the Crown. Maybe he only planned to walk Zev to the Mage Quarter and return. She chewed her lip. “Where are you going?”

“Home.” He shrugged into his coat and paused. “Did you need something?”

She shook her head and stared at the door long after he departed.

* * *

King Lysian arrived in Catar three days later, and with him Connor Seaborn.

Renee met Seaborn outside the governor’s manor where the Crown’s advisors and royal court took up residence. “The Yellow Rose’s next Predator competition will run in two days’ time. I may not know what I’ll do, but I’ll do something,” Renee told Seaborn.

He sighed. “If peace holds that long.” Seaborn shook his head, the circles beneath his eyes dark despite the bright day. He’d lost weight since they first left Atham a month ago, and his clothes hung looser. “The Madam and King Lysian harden their positions each day, Renee. She wants the release of the Viper lords and a pledge for the Crown to keep clear of Viper affairs. He wants a complete, immediate cession of all illegal activities and a surrender of the group’s senior members. With factions rallying to both leaders, soon neither will be in a position to compromise even if he or she wishes to. And then . . . ” He trailed off.

And then it was war. Renee crossed her arms, thinking of the underground network and Atham’s children marooned in it. “What if the victory was symbolic? If King Lysian won something precious to him while assaulting something the Vipers hold sacred, but without actually destroying much infrastructure or Viper troops?”

“Such as?” Seaborn ran a hand through his hair and continued, “The Madam is too well-protected, we don’t know the whereabouts of the Crown’s cousin, and there is precious little as important to the Crown right now, besides. King Lysian is unwilling to wait.” Seaborn frowned at her. “Is there something you know, Renee?”

“Perhaps.” She turned away before he could stop her. She needed to think.

* * *

“I have an idea,” Renee told Diam as she stepped into their room.

The boy, sitting again on the windowsill, refused to turn.

“What are you watching for?”

He pressed his face against the glass. “The Seventh.”

Renee sighed. There was little to say. “They—”

Diam shrieked and bounced from his perch. Dodging Renee’s hands, he scampered out of the room, his footsteps banging down the steps.

She chased after him to the landing, but it was no use. He was already gone.

Renee had just picked up a pen and her sketches of the Vipers’ underground passages when voices rumbled in the hallway. Familiar voices. “Gods,” she whispered, the pen falling to the floor.

“Good evening,” Cory said, leaning his elbow on the frame of the doorway. “We heard you had a wee problem.”