As Valek warmed up, Arbon pushed his way next to him.
“Will ya look at this crowd,” Arbon said. “I’d call them morbid, but they are training to be assassins or are already cold-blooded killers.” He sounded cheery. “Guess there hasn’t been anyone tossed over the cliff in a while.”
“Your confidence in me is heartwarming.”
Arbon slapped Valek on the shoulder and wished him luck.
Valek stretched his stiff muscles. At least they didn’t ache as much. The rest had done him good.
“Are you ready, Wanna Be? I want to collect my winnings,” T-quin called.
He faced T-quin. The oily blackness inside him had been purged and thrown into the Sunset Ocean. Nothing left but hard silver.
When the match started, T-quin attacked with a series of front kicks. His movements appeared crystal clear to Valek. Rage no longer clouded his vision. He almost felt sorry for T-quin, but sorrow was an emotion. And Valek had taken Hedda’s advice to heart.
Valek blocked a side kick and a punch to his head, staying on the defensive.
“Come on, Wanna Be. Fight back or I might fall asleep,” T-quin said.
The crowd laughed and cheered T-quin on. Valek ignored the noise, focusing on T-quin’s attack pattern, analyzing his strikes for weaknesses. Even though they’d sparred so many times before, Valek learned more about T-quin’s fighting style in these five minutes than in the weeks before.
Valek waited for the perfect opportunity. When T-quin did his favorite shuffle side kick, backhand combo, Valek stepped in close and punched T-quin’s exposed ribs. T-quin grunted and backpedaled.
“Lucky strike, Wanna Be.”
“You wish.”
The fight continued and Valek took advantage of every opening T-quin gave him. After a series of blows to his kidneys, T-quin dropped his guard and swayed on his feet. Valek spun, windmilling him to the ground, and knelt on his shoulders.
“Pinned, Tamequintin,” Valek said.
Stunned silence filled the air until Arbon whooped. “Yes! You owe me two silvers, T-quin.”
The crowd had recovered and dispersed. Valek had flexed his muscles, assessing the damage—a few sore ribs and a tender spot on his biceps.
Hedda had approached. “Not bad, King Killer. I should have given you the ten-day deadline sooner. You do well under pressure. Now let’s see how you do with weapons training.”
“Ten days?”
“Of course.”
A knock on his office door jerked Valek from his memories. “Yes?”
Sergeant Gerik poked his head in. “The Commander has retired for the evening, sir.”
“Thank you.” Before the man could close the door, he called, “Gerik, come in here, please.”
Strain whitened Gerik’s face as he approached Valek’s desk. All the members of the Commander’s guard knew they’d be punished for letting the assassin through, but had no idea what was in store for them. Once Valek had assembled a new team, this team would be reassigned.
“Sir?”
“According to your file, you’re a recent transfer from MD-2. Been here a year. How long did you serve up there?”
“A year, sir.”
“Being assigned to the Commander’s detail is an impressive accomplishment for someone who’s only served a couple years. Most of these guys have ten or more years’ experience. What do you credit for your success?”
Gerik hesitated.
“Feel free to speak frankly.”
“I’m good, sir. Fighting hand to hand, or with weapons, is easy for me. I’ve a natural affinity for sparring.”
“Fair enough. When you were in MD-2, did you know a Captain Timmer?”
The slightest flinch creased Gerick’s face. “I’ve heard of him, sir.”
“And? Again I’m looking for an honest opinion.”
“He has a reputation for cruelty, sir.”
“Cruelty?”
“The officers believe he’s very strict and his troops are the best. No one has ever filed a complaint. It’s just gossip among the enlisted, sir.”
“If his troops are considered the best, why weren’t you promoted to his company?”
Gerik frowned. “I was offered a position, but I turned him down.”
Interesting. “Refused because of gossip?”
“Yes, sir.”
The man was lying. Valek wondered why, but he wasn’t going to push it right now. Some things couldn’t be rushed. “I also wanted to let you know that you’re being reassigned, Private Gerik.”
He straightened. “Yes, sir.” Resignation laced his voice.
“It’s a temporary assignment. If you do well, it might become permanent.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Report to the training yard tomorrow morning after exercise.”
“Yes, sir.” This time surprise tainted his tone.
“You’re dismissed.”
“Yes, sir.” Gerik left in a hurry.
Probably worried Valek would change his mind. Valek read through Captain Timmer’s file, but spotted nothing out of the ordinary. On his way to the Commander’s suite, he visited one of his operatives, assigning the man to deliver a message to Yelena, warning her about Ben Moon.
“You give this directly to her. No one else. Understand?” Valek asked.
“Yes, sir,” the man replied.
The tension in Valek’s shoulders eased as he sent another agent to seek out Arbon and let the assassin know Valek wished to talk to him. Then Valek knocked on the Commander’s door. He’d accomplished more than he’d hoped today.
“Come,” Ambrose called.
Valek entered. A glass of blackberry brandy waited for him by the empty armchair. The Commander already relaxed in his.
“Did our young assassin show up tonight?”
“She did.”
“And how did the boys react?”
“As expected.”
Ambrose laughed. “Bared teeth and raised hackles, eh?”
“Tomorrow morning should be interesting.” Valek explained what they’d learned about the smugglers.
“Good. Anything else?”
He reported about Captain Timmer in MD-2. “I need more information on him.”
“Yes, find out about him. My officers are forbidden to abuse their positions.”
Another reason Ambrose held Valek’s loyalty. His insistence that his army always behave as professionals. No cruelty, no killing for killing’s sake, no drunken brawls and no sexual harassment.
Valek sipped his drink. Molten spices rolled over his tongue, burned down his throat and warmed his stomach. “I’d like to investigate this Timmer personally.”
The Commander stilled. “You’ve only just returned. Why not send an agent?”
“It’s too important. He’s the reason both Onora and Gerik are here and I suspect they’re working together. Besides, an agent would have to infiltrate his squad and earn his trust. Time I’m unwilling to waste at this point.”
“And you believe you can get answers faster?”
“Oh yes.”
The Commander stared into the fire. “What about my safety?”
Good question. What about it? Ever since Onora had appeared in the Commander’s suite, Valek had been mulling it over, viewing the entire night from every possible angle. He’d missed something vital. He’d no idea what, but he’d discover it eventually.
“I will ensure that the gap in security has been plugged, and that you have a new detail before I leave. Besides, if Onora has a change of heart, I’m quite certain you can handle her,” Valek said.
“Quite certain?”
Valek met the Commander’s amused gaze. “I haven’t beaten you yet, old man.”
“Experience trumps youth?”
“For now,” Valek agreed.
“And when it doesn’t?”
Valek laughed. “We team up. I’ll knock him on the head with my cane and you aim for the groin with your bony feet.”
The Commander chuckled and sipped his drink. They sat in companionable silence for a while.
“All right, Valek. Go and take care of this Captain Timmer. You have ten days.”
All humor fled Valek. Ten days. Just like the inside joke between Valek and Hedda all those years ago. He’d never told the Commander or anyone about that. Coincidence? Or had the Commander talked to Hedda? And if so, why?