He sensed it wasn’t an idle question, so he considered the problem carefully. More air would work, but his lungs only held so much and he doubted he could generate more force. A longer pipe would help improve aim, but again the amount of air remained the same. Then he remembered how his father rigged the water pipes coming into the tannery so the water pressure increased as the diameter of the pipe decreased.
“A longer blowpipe with a smaller exit hole,” he said.
“Arbon, does that sound right to you?”
“Uh...I’m not sure, sir.”
“Sounds like you need to do some experimentation. See if you can make his suggestion work in hitting the target from a hundred feet.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Valek, come with me.” Hedda strode from the room.
Valek followed, staying a step behind.
“You passed the first test. Let’s see how you do with the second.” She led him to the main building and up to the first floor, which was a wide-open area filled with mats and people sparring with and without weapons.
Excitement built deep inside him, but he was careful not to let it show on his face.
“You’ll start with self-defense techniques and basic moves. When you have mastered them, you will learn how to use a weapon. Tamequintin will be your instructor. If Tamequintin isn’t happy, I’m not happy. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
She called a young man over. He appeared to be in his early twenties. Tamequintin’s long black hair had been braided into a single rope down his muscular back. He wore a pair of short black pants and nothing else.
Valek noticed his smooth gait. It reminded him of a snow cat about to pounce. Unfortunately, since he’d lived near the northern ice sheet, he’d seen plenty of snow cats.
Hedda introduced them and left.
Tamequintin studied Valek for a moment. “So you’re the wannabe King Killer, eh? Hedda must be getting desperate for recruits.”
Valek refused to rise to the bait. Instead, he waited.
The man grunted. “Call me T-quin. Everyone does except for Hedda and only because she earned the right.” He scanned Valek from head to toe. “Do you know how to fight?”
“No.”
T-quin grunted again. “You will, or...” He shrugged. “You won’t. And then you’ll be shown the exit. Be careful. That first step’s a killer.”
Valek remembered T-quin’s black sense of humor. Of course, he hadn’t appreciated it when T-quin had beaten him over and over for weeks. Too bad Tamequintin had refused to join Valek’s corps after the takeover. And when he’d gone after Yelena, Valek had to kill him.
Reading through the dossier of Ixian assassins, Valek found only one potential suspect. And that was his old friend Arbon. And Arbon still owed him that favor.
10
JANCO
Boots pounded on the floor of the warehouse. Janco pressed against the side of the shipping crate, considering his chances of getting away. Five of them to one of him and they knew he hid somewhere inside.
Not liking his odds, Janco scanned the area. Stacks of crates loomed behind him and the two stacks in front of him blocked him from view. But not for long. He glanced at the metal stairs across an open expanse a few yards away. Should he risk it? One of the men raced up the steps to search the offices. He liked the odds way better against one opponent than five.
“Here,” a voice called from the right. Stepping around the crate, the man pulled his sword and advanced on Janco.
The stairs it is. He moved left until another man slid between Janco and escape. The new guy called for someone named Stig, and the guy who’d just been on the second floor clattered back down.
“Come on, buddy,” Stig said. “You’re surrounded. Put down your sword and let’s have a chat.”
Janco glanced over his shoulder. Big Brute had joined his friend. If Big Brute was here, then where was Ari? When he turned back to Stig, Funky Mustache stood with the others. Lovely. Come on, Ari. Where are you?
He tightened his grip for a moment, then sighed. Sheathing his weapon, he palmed a couple of glass balls. Janco leaned against the crate and crossed his arms. “What would you like to chat about?”
“Why you broke into our warehouse,” Stig said.
“Oh that?” Janco waved a hand. “Just testing your security, gents. And I must say it sucks.”
“Uh-huh. And why are you so interested in our cigars?”
“I like a good smoke from time to time. Just wanted to make sure the merchandise is genuine.”
“He’s lying,” Big Brute said. “He’s that Franco sneak from the castle. Kill him now or he’ll report us to Valek.”
“It’s Janco, you moron. And Valek already knows all about your operation.”
“He’s bluffing.” Big Brute inched closer. A pair of nasty-looking hatchets hung from his belt.
The smell of ripe meat assaulted Janco’s nostrils. Ugh. Big. Annoying. And smelly. Anytime now, Ari. Janco shrugged. “Go ahead and think what you like. But if I’m not breathing when Valek shows up, he’ll be extremely put out. I’m his favorite sneak.”
“Yeah, sure you are.” Stig strode toward him. “We’ll let the boss decide.” He reached for Janco’s shoulder.
A loud crashed echoed. The men jumped. About time. Janco spiked the two glass balls into the ground. The chemicals inside the balls mixed and formed a thick white fog. Janco scrambled up the stack of crates, keeping above the cloud. He stood on the top and jumped up, grabbing the chains that hung from the ceiling.
Below him voices shouted. Janco swung from chain to chain, heading toward the exit. Ari guarded the broken door with his broadsword in hand. One of the smugglers staggered from the smoke. Before the man could react, Ari stepped in close and knocked the guy out with the hilt of his sword.
When Janco reached another stack of crates, he dropped onto the top, then climbed down, landing within sight of his partner.
“Playtime is over,” Ari said.
Big Brute rushed from the thinning fog.
“Awww, can’t I stay just a little longer?” Janco pulled his sword with a flourish.
Yanking a hatchet from his wide leather belt, Big Brute aimed for Janco.
Janco jigged to the side as the weapon whizzed by his ear. “A hatchet? Really? You’re taking this whole lumberjack thing way too seriously.”
He pulled another, but then stumbled forward with a dart in his neck, collapsing onto the ground.
“Hey, no fair,” Janco said to Ari. “He was mine.”
“Take your pick.” Ari nodded in the opposite direction.
Stig, Funky Mustache and the other man emerged from the dissipating fog. White tendrils of smoke clung to their clothes, and fury burned in their expressions.
“Ooh, I’ll take Funky Mustache and Stig. You get that other dude.” Janco slid his feet into a fighting stance.
Ari sighed. “Here.” He handed Janco a couple of darts.
“You’re no fun.”
“I hurt my shoulder busting the door down.”
Which had given Janco the distraction he needed. “All right. We’ll do it your way this time.”
He aimed the darts and hit Stig in the throat and Funky Mustache in the cheek. Janco backpedaled as the two men continued to charge, ducking Stig’s swing and countering Funky Mustache’s sword thrust. After a few seconds the sleeping juice kicked in. They swayed on their feet, took a few wobbly steps and plopped to the ground.
“What took you so long?” Janco asked Ari.
Ari gave him a sour look. “They were onto us from the very beginning. The big guy lured me away so you would sneak in. Then he picked up some friends and doubled back. I waited to see if you’d give them the slip, but when you didn’t climb out the window, I came in.”
“Guess I should have worn my cap.” He scratched his head. Just thinking about it made his scalp itch. Maybe Dilana could sew him another one with something...nonitchy.
“I don’t think that would have helped. What did you find?”
Janco showed him the cigar boxes and the crates’ false bottoms. “There’s an office upstairs with lots of paperwork. It looked legit, but I’m not an expert.”
“Let’s report back and send a cleanup crew.” Ari pricked the two men he’d knocked unconscious to keep them from reviving before the crew arrived.
Picking up the pieces of the broken door, Ari leaned them against the wall. It had split right down the middle. They searched for supplies to repair it at least temporarily. No sense having the local thieves clean the place out. By the time they’d left the warehouse and headed back to the castle, the sun had set.
One of Ari’s comments nagged at Janco. “How did you know they were onto us from the beginning?”
Ari waited until a group of people passed out of earshot. “I think these guys and that warehouse are all part of the ruse. The smugglers want us to uncover this operation to keep us from finding the real operation.”
“You think they had us marked as soon as we left the castle complex?”
“Yep.”
“We need better disguises.”
“And better intel. Let’s see if Valek’s discovered any new info.”