Interesting how the man mentioned the delegation as if routine. It was only eight years ago that the border had been sealed tight. No one in or out.
“Do you know why the Sitians are visiting?” Valek asked, wondering if the delegation was the reason the Commander had ordered him back a few days early.
“No, sir.”
Ah. He’d have to wait. “Anything else?”
The captain smiled. “Adviser Janco informed us that a Sitian spy would attempt to cross this checkpoint today. He claimed this spy would be disguised as you and ordered us to attack first and ask questions later.”
Valek suppressed his ire—he needed to have a little chat with Janco. “And why didn’t you follow Adviser Janco’s orders?”
“I was in basic training with the...er...Adviser, sir.”
“My condolences, Captain.”
The captain’s soldiers all grinned at his deep laugh. “His pranks were endless, but he taught me more than our instructor.”
Interesting and not that surprising. “You showed excellent judgment today. While being attacked by six skilled opponents would have been good practice for me, I preferred the friendly welcome.”
They parted, letting Onyx through.
“Sir?” the captain called.
Valek turned.
“Papers, please.”
Ah. Now the soldiers surrounded the horse. Smart move. Valek pulled a folded sheet from one of his cloak’s inner pockets and handed it to the captain. “The Commander’s orders.”
Valek waited as the man scanned the fake document.
The pleasant expression dropped from the captain’s face. His right hand slid to grasp his sword’s hilt. Following his cue, his men tensed and grabbed the hilts of their weapons.
“This is a forgery,” the captain said.
Valek noted he didn’t say sir. “Just testing you, Captain.”
“Dismount now.”
Valek tsked. “What happened to your manners, Captain?”
The captain drew his sword in answer.
Good. The man followed proper protocol. If Valek didn’t dismount soon, they’d rush him, yank him from the saddle and unarm him. How far should he push it? Not far. The Commander was waiting for him, after all.
Pulling the real orders from his sleeve, Valek held up his hands. The captain gestured to one of the guards who approached slowly, then snatched the parchment from Valek with one quick motion. The guard delivered it to the captain. So far, so good.
Peering at the letter, the captain relaxed. “This one is real. It was a test.”
“And you passed. What is your name, Captain?”
“Broghan, sir.”
“I’ll make sure to mention this to your commanding officer, Captain Broghan.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Pleased with the border guard’s actions, Valek urged Onyx north. They would reach the Commander’s castle by late afternoon. Dirty, hard-packed snow covered the well-used trail. The surrounding forest showed no signs of green—all bare branches and bleak even with the sunlight streaming to the ground. Buds already coated the Sitian trees, and the southern half of the Avibian Plains would be lush with plant life and warm breezes by now.
Not that he missed the south—not at all. Just one specific southerner. Valek scanned the surrounding area seeking signs of an ambush. Memories swirled of the times he’d used the cover of the forest to hide his actions. Valek glanced up. Yelena had also exploited the Snake Forest’s tree canopy to escape the Commander’s men during a training exercise. It had been the day he learned she was far smarter than he’d thought. And more dangerous, too.
If only the Commander allowed magicians to live in Ixia, then she’d be working with him instead of being the Liaison. Valek had argued about the benefits of having a magician on staff with the Commander for years, but he remained stubborn. Perhaps Ambrose had changed his mind about magic after Kade’s demonstration. Valek had heard the Stormdancer had traveled north during this past cold season to harvest the energy from one of the blizzards that blew down from the northern ice pack. Kade’s magic had transformed the killer storm into a regular old snowstorm. The Commander let Kade stay for the rest of the season, but Valek hadn’t heard if Kade and his group of Stormdancers would be invited back next year. One thing was for sure: Valek and Commander Ambrose had a lot to catch up on.
When he arrived at the castle complex, Valek stopped at the southern gate. An immense stone wall completely surrounded the castle, barracks, stable and other support buildings.
Once again, he presented his fake orders and was pleased that these guards also followed the proper protocol.
After they allowed him entrance, Onyx automatically headed to the stables near the west gate and next to the dog kennels. Halfway there, they were stopped by a messenger.
“Adviser Valek, the Commander would like to see you in his war room right now. I’ll take your horse to the stable and see that your bags are delivered to your rooms, sir.”
He’d hoped to wash the travel grime off, but one didn’t tell the Commander to wait. Dismounting, he handed the reins to the boy and followed the path to the western entrance.
The only thing impressive about the castle was its sheer size. With four tall towers anchoring the corners of the rectangular base, the palace spanned a half a mile in width. Other than that, the odd layers of squares, triangles, cylinders and whatnot perched atop the base looked ridiculous. Even after all these years, Valek still didn’t know why the King had agreed to build a structure that resembled an uncreative child’s tower of blocks.
Perhaps the first King of Ixia had thought the asymmetrical design would hinder assassins. It would only confuse the stupid ones. Valek had infiltrated the castle without trouble by posing as a hairdresser for Queen Jewel.
Picking up his pace, Valek cut through the servant corridors to save time. He arrived at the Commander’s war room just as the kitchen servers left. They held empty trays. Ah, supper. His stomach growled in anticipation.
Located in the northwest tower, the circular war room was ringed by slender floor-to-ceiling stained-glass windows that spanned three-quarters of the wall. When the afternoon sunlight shone, a rainbow of colors streaked the large wooden table that occupied the center.
Lanterns had been lit, sending sparks of colors in different directions from the windows. Ari and Janco shoveled food onto their plates and the Commander sat at the head of the table, waiting as his food taster slurped and sipped his supper. A small stack of files had been piled next to the Commander’s plate.
The food taster, a skittish young man, shot Valek a nasty glare as he slipped past. Valek actually missed the old taster, Star, but she’d been too difficult to work with and keeping track of all her schemes had grown tiresome. So he’d slipped a dose of My Love into the Commander’s drink to test her poison tasting skills. Star’d failed the test and paid for that error with her life.
The Commander crinkled his nose at his messy plate, but didn’t comment as he speared a piece of beef.
“Well, look who decided to show up—the Ghost Warrior,” Janco said. “Have any trouble at the border?” He smirked.
Valek stared at Janco with the promise of retribution.
Unaffected, Janco elbowed his partner, Ari. “See? I told you he’d get through.”
While Janco was all lean wiry muscles, barrel-chested and broad-shouldered Ari was solid muscle. About a foot taller and wider than Janco, Ari also had more common sense.
“He told me about it later, Valek,” Ari said. “Nothing I could do at that point.” His long-suffering tone said more than his words.
“Your prank failed to work.” Valek ladled stew into a deep bowl.
“Oh?” Janco didn’t sound convinced.
“Captain Broghan recognized you from your basic-training days.”
Janco stabbed his fork into the air. “I knew he looked familiar, didn’t I, Ari?”
“You said he resembled your second cousin.”
“Close enough. So Broghan made captain.” Janco tapped the fork against his teeth.
“Is he worth looking into for my corps?” Valek sat on the opposite side of the table from the power twins—Ari and Janco’s nickname.
“He’s smart and a fast learner, but he has no finesse.”
“Not everyone can be a drama queen like you, Janco,” Ari said.
“I’m insulted.” Janco pouted, proving Ari’s point.
“Go on,” Valek ordered. “No finesse?”
“Yeah, no spark...imagination. He’ll follow orders and protocol, but if a situation goes well beyond the protocols, he’ll be stymied.”
“Stymied? Who uses that word?” Ari teased.
“Those who know what it means. Please excuse Ari. His vocabulary is limited to fifty words—most of them curse words.”
Ari drew breath to counter, but the Commander leaned forward and stopped the banter with a hard gaze from his gold, almond-shaped eyes. Time for business.