“As far as we know,” Yelena said. “The Cartel moved all the Councilors to the Greenblade garrison.”
“The Cartel?”
“I’ll explain in a bit, but first, did you discover who was working with Bavol?”
“I saw them. They came for a brief visit soon after I arrived. Bavol told me to hide in the hothouse. I peeked out. I recognized one of them.” She hunched down as if afraid of getting caught.
“Who is it?” Yelena asked.
Nutty bit her lower lip.
“We need to know.” Yelena’s tone held patience.
Janco, in contrast, had to suppress the desire to shake the name from the girl.
“Will he get in trouble?” Nutty asked.
“It depends on whether he knowingly helped the Cartel, or if he was tricked.”
“It’s Oran,” she blurted. “One of our clan’s elders.”
Yelena clutched her tunic in distress. There could be more members of her clan involved with the Master Gardener, and that would throw suspicion on her entire family.
“Shouldn’t be too big a surprise,” Esau said. “He has the knowledge and could arrange the transport of the plants without trouble. Hell, even I’ve discussed these plants with him many times.”
Nutty pressed her hands over her heart. “Have I done something wrong?”
“No,” Yelena said. “You were helping Bavol. You had no idea what he was doing with the information.”
Nutty didn’t relax. “What about Oran? Should I have reported him?”
“To who?” Janco asked, but he didn’t wait for an answer, “Bavol’s your clan leader, and the Council is under the Cartel’s influence. If you said something to them, you could have been arrested or conscripted or killed.”
“And Oran could just be helping Bavol, as well,” Mara offered. “We’re jumping to conclusions. He might not be the Master Gardener. Esau, didn’t you think it might be someone from the Greenblade Clan?”
“Yes. They have a few experts with the knowledge and skills, as well,” Esau said.
“Have you met Oran Cinchona Zaltana?” Yelena asked Janco.
“Not that I can recall,” he said.
“Hold on,” Esau said. He pulled a notebook and a thin piece of charcoal from his pack. Drawing a quick sketch of an older man, Esau turned the page to face Janco. “Is this the man you saw in the Greenblade hothouse?”
“Yes! But why does he look so familiar?”
“You’ve met Bavol, correct?”
“Yes...” Janco wasn’t sure where this was going.
Esau drew a picture of Bavol next to Oran. “They are half brothers.”
Ah! Finally, they had a name and a face for the Master Gardener. Except the Ixians were the only ones who looked happy about it. Nutty wilted, and Yelena fidgeted with the fabric of her tunic.
“What about the other person with Oran?” Onora asked Nutty.
“Can you describe him?” Esau asked.
“Her,” she corrected him. Then, sounding doubtful, she said, “I can try.”
“It’s just like when you’re clinging to the very top of a tree when on expedition with me,” he said. “Just describe the parts, and I’ll work on putting it together.”
“Okay.”
As she worked with Esau, Ari leaned close to Janco. “I hope she’s better at description than you are.”
Janco made a rude noise. “Forgive me for not being perfect at everything.”
When they finished, Esau showed them the picture. The woman had blond hair and large oval eyes. Pretty and pale like an Ixian, she appeared to be in her late thirties. Janco didn’t recognize her.
Yelena cursed. “That’s Selene Moon.”
“Who’s Selene?” Janco asked.
“Owen’s wife. She was born in the Greenblade Clan but took his clan’s name when they married. I don’t remember her file saying anything about her being good with plants,” Yelena mused.
Oh. “Hasn’t she been incarcerated in Dawnwood prison for her role in Leif’s kidnapping a few years ago?”
“Obviously not anymore.” Yelena fisted her hands and pressed them into her lap. “She’s a powerful magician. That’s bad enough, but now I’m wondering who else Owen rescued from prison.”
Janco groaned at the prospect of dozens of murderers and criminals helping Bruns and company. Bad enough that they had magicians on their side. Oh, yeah. This just kept getting better and better.
16
YELENA
My heart twisted at the thought of Owen rescuing his wife, Selene, and other criminals from the Sitian prisons. With close to four years to pick and choose who to release, and with Loris’s and Cilly’s magic to help alter the correctional officers’ memories and implant new false ones, he could have recruited a small army of professional delinquents. If Owen hadn’t rescued his brother from Wirral’s maximum security wing, we might never have discovered he was still alive. Good thing Owen made mistakes. Those would, hopefully, lead to his defeat.
We all sat around the campfire, lost in our own thoughts. The logs snapped and crackled as the flames licked at them with greedy orange tongues.