The Cadet of Tildor

CHAPTER 43





“Renee.”

The coolness of stone seeped through the back of her shirt.

“Renee,” the voice repeated. “Renee!”

She dared a breath. A blaze of pain exploded behind her eyes.

“That’s good.” Alec spoke with a gentleness he usually reserved for hurt animals. “Take another.”

She obeyed while his fingers explored her scalp. Something soft and damp pressed against her temple. “How . . .” She strained to catch words and thoughts that kept slipping beyond her reach. Alec had bowed out, hadn’t he? “How are you here, Alec? You foreswore the Crown.”

“News of fire spreads fast. Once I heard where . . . ” He drew a deep breath. “Friends need not like each other’s choices to guard each other’s backs, right?” He brushed her cheek. “Do you remember what happened?”

She forced her eyes open but did not attempt a nod. Alec crouched beside her, a blue light around his neck illuminating the creases in his forehead. “The Madam struck me,” she whispered. “Went west. With Jasper.” She had to catch them. “Can you help me?”

“Others will come soon,” said Alec. “Savoy saw you run into the passage. He will bring you to a real Healer. I am certain of it.”

“No.” She pushed herself up on her arms, head spinning. “I must stay in the fight. As must he. Heal me?”

Alec smoothed the hair from her face. “I came to keep you safe, not help your cause. You’ll be safer above ground.”

She sniffled blood. “Get away from me, then.” Grinding her teeth, Renee pulled herself to her feet. The floor swam beneath her. She focused on a point on the wall, and stepped forward.

Alec caught her mid-fall. His body was warm and tense. “All right. I’ll do it.” His voice was resigned and seemed a bit deeper than Renee remembered. “I’ll try to, anyway. Don’t fight.”

“I trust you.” She fingered his necklace. “You charged your amulet. Your aunt would be proud.”

“Mmm.” His glowing hand hovered beside her head. “Don’t look,” he whispered.

She closed her eyes and felt him touch her forehead. Then his energy penetrated deeper, pierced the Keraldi Barrier, and sought out the throbbing. She focused on her breath, on the way her lungs expanded and squeezed. Breath by breath, the worst of the pain dulled. When Alec pulled away, sweat matted his hair and both their chests heaved with exertion.

Renee touched her temple. The pain was still there, but it was different, tame. She laid her palm against his cheek. “Thank you.”

He pulled off his amulet and hung it around her neck. “The Crown’s fighters will come soon. Gods’ strength keep you, Renee.”

She touched his sleeve. “Will you wait with me?”

“I must go.” He lowered his face, his voice soft. “I . . . The Crown’s fighters are coming.” Leaning close, he kissed her cheek and retreated into the darkness.

“Alec,” she shouted.

No answer came.

“Alec!” Tears mixed with blood and snaked across her lips. She would find him after this was over. He would be at Zev’s or in the mages’ tavern. They would sit cross-legged on the bed and argue about the theatrics of the day, of Madam and Jasper and the fire. She would say . . .

“Renee!” A familiar voice echoed from the walls. The voice repeated her name and she heard herself answer Savoy’s call. By the time the commander reached her, she had found her feet and her weapon, if not stillness for her thoughts.

Savoy paused beside her to ensure that she could walk unaided, then moved past to peer through the now open door. “What happened here?” he asked over his shoulder.

“Jasper’s mother is the Viper Madam.” Renee covered the crack in her voice with a cough. “They both went forward.”

He glanced at her face and turned back, giving no sign of having noted anything amiss.

She bit her lip in gratitude. “Why aren’t you with the Seventh?”

“They are set to their task.” He cursed as pounding feet and labored breathing announced a new arrival. “The streets crawl with the Crown’s soldiers. Shortly, we shall have enough help to trip one another.”

Renee called a challenge to the newcomer.

“Fisker!” a baritone voice answered. A moment later the man himself appeared, a sheathed blade hanging at his hip. His jaw tightened when he saw Savoy.

Savoy blocked the man’s path.

Fisker sighed but held out his hands. Professionalism in his voice battled disdain. “I shall follow your lead, Sav—Commander. For this operation.”

The thought of Fisker guarding her back gave Renee a foul taste. There was no help for it, though. Nodding to Fisker, Savoy advanced into the passage. Renee jogged to take up position behind him.

Lights, both mage-made and lantern, shone bright. Woven tapestries dressed the stone walls. The scent of fresh bread mixed with the musk of underground air. All was quiet. Then a pair of guards posted at a doorway ahead saw them and drew blades.

“I have the rear,” Fisker called.

Savoy, armed with a knife, lowered himself to a crouch.

Renee pulled her sword and engaged the rightmost guard, her blade meeting his in a dance of steel. The guard’s short sword suited the tight space. Renee buried her headache. She focused on the tip of her blade, relying on speed and precision to make her cuts. When the guard’s too-hard swing pulled him off balance, her sword found its opening and plunged into his chest.

Pulling her blade free, Renee found that Fisker had killed a latecomer and Savoy was standing over his own prone foe. Savoy pressed the bloody tip of the guard’s own sword against the man’s throat. “Where is the Madam?”

The captive eyed the blade. “She took the girl and left.”

“Define girl and left,” said Savoy.

“The Crown’s girl. Little. Maybe two.” He pointed with his head toward the door he had been guarding. “Was locked up in a cage.”

Savoy held his position. “De Winter.”

Renee ran to the chamber. A constellation of mage lights illuminated a four-poster bed standing on a thick carpet. A gold-rimmed looking glass hung beside the bed. On the other side of the room, Renee saw a barred alcove. Restraining herself, Renee checked the bed and closet first, ensuring all was clear before approaching the cage.

A woolen blanket covered the jail cell floor. Another blanket lay folded in a trundle bed alongside abandoned wooden toys. For reasons of her own, the Madam had treated her hostage gently. Thinking of Jasper, Renee doubted the motivation arose from maternal instinct.

“The bed chamber is consistent with the man’s claim,” Renee said, returning to Savoy and Fisker.

Fisker pointed to the prisoner. “He claims there is an exit at the end of this corridor.”

Savoy searched the guard. “Will this open the doors?” he asked, pulling an amulet from the man’s pocket. He bounced the diamond in his palm.

The man’s gaze caught Savoy’s wristbands and collar. “Open doors, charge lights, and restrain unruly pups. Seems I reached for the wrong weapon.” His bitter chuckle turned into a grunt of pain.

“The mistake saved your life.” Savoy withdrew. “Restrain him,” he told Fisker, and moved on down the passage.

Renee stayed by Savoy’s side. Behind them, the guard screamed. Renee raised a brow. Continued interrogation had not been part of Fisker’s orders.

“If he kills the man, I will deal with him later. We move faster than a woman carrying a toddler, but not enough to spare the time.”

Even when that time means a life. Renee swallowed but kept moving.

Fisker caught up to them several minutes later and reported nothing. She considered questioning the man but thought better of it. He either killed the prisoner or he did not. No argument would change that.

The tunnel they now walked through differed from the others. Barely a pace wide, it had no off-shoots, no lights, and seemingly no end. Logical, for an emergency route to a covert exit. Renee took the lead, letting Alec’s necklace light the way.

The passage turned and the floor dropped from under her feet. Renee fell. She shouted a warning to the others as her knees banged the stone floor. Glancing back, she realized she had fallen down a tall step into a room that lay a span lower than the tunnel floor had been.

“That is far enough, all of you.”

Renee turned toward the speaker. Her heart pounded.

The Madam stood at the far end of the barren chamber, a bound and gagged toddler balanced on her hip. Beside them, a metal ladder rose to a trapdoor in the ceiling. The woman’s wrist flicked, smoothly releasing a blade from her sleeve into her palm. She rested the knife against Claire’s throat and met the eyes of Savoy, Renee, and Fisker in turn.

Renee drew a sharp breath. The girl was struggling against her binds, her little wrists rubbed raw on the rope and long lashes damp with tears. A few paces away, Jasper rocked over a deformed ankle, likely another victim of the devious entrance. Renee pushed aside their pain to focus on their lives.

Renee, Savoy, and Fisker kept still, their blades at the ready.

“Jasper.” The Madam’s voice dripped disdain. “Quit whimpering, climb up the ladder, and open the door.”

Renee shifted her weight.

The woman pressed the knife into Claire’s neck until a trickle of blood ran free, dripping to stain the Madam’s loose shirtsleeve. The child bucked wildly, a wail escaping around the gag.

Renee froze.

Jasper struggled upright. Face contorted and pale, he brought his healthy foot under him, rocked once, twice, and tried to rise. The injury took his weight and he cried out, falling to the floor. “I can’t.”

The Madam snorted and weighed the ladder with her gaze. Without Jasper to climb first, she would have to open the trapdoor herself. A simple act except for the squirming toddler in her arms and the necessity of leaving her son behind. The latter must offend her sense of security if not morality.

Savoy cleared his throat. “Take your time, Madam. I’ve nowhere to be.”

“Cat, if I recall?” The Madam smiled, flashing white teeth against red lips.

“Commander Savoy.”

“So I’ve heard. ’Tis a shame we lacked earlier introduction.” She shifted her stance. “I hope my offspring has not damaged you beyond repair?”

On the floor, Jasper’s head sank into his shoulders.

“Draw your blade and test me yourself,” said Savoy.

She chuckled. “A professional curiosity I may satisfy later. I fear I’m an assassin, not dualist, by trade.” Circling the ladder such that she could watch her opponents while she climbed, the Madam gripped the bars and climbed up. Claire’s dangling feet banged against the metal steps.

“Mother!” Jasper reached up toward the woman.

The Madam, now by the ceiling, looked down at her son. Her face still, she released the toddler into the empty air, in the same motion throwing the knife in her hand at Jasper.