Assassin's Bond (Chains of Honor, Book 3) Read online

But Dak had already gone, disappearing into the shadows almost as silently and effectively as the assassin, Sicarius.

  Yanko tried not to feel stung at being left behind. Dak had asked him to come along on this mission… Yanko told himself this was just for tonight and that he shouldn’t act like some spurned lover. In part because he was a grown man and didn’t need anyone else’s approval. In part because Dak would be an alarming lover. Unless one had Consul Tynlee’s odd tastes.

  “I already asked Minark about Zirabo,” Arayevo said. “He doesn’t know anything. I don’t know why Dak thinks he would get more out of Minark than I would.”

  “Maybe he’s just starting there and plans to question other captains too.” Yanko wasn’t surprised that Dak believed his interrogation methods would be more effective than Arayevo’s friendly questions, but he understood why the idea miffed her. “How about we find out Zirabo’s location without his help?”

  “Do you have any ideas?”

  “I’d like to question that man who was trying to get passage on Minark’s ship. Did you hear any of their conversation?”

  “No, I was talking with some of my old friends.”

  The sound of a conversation drifted to Yanko’s ears. The watchmen were questioning the crew of a nearby ship. With them distracted, it would be a good time to sneak away. And figure out where the young man had gone. Could Yanko find him via the signature of the artifact he’d carried? Dare he reach out with his senses, or would even that simple bit of magic trigger that device?

  “Let’s get off this ship and away from the dock,” he whispered.

  “Follow me.” Arayevo led the way, not back to the dock, but to the railing, where she sprang off and onto the next ship.

  They took that circuitous route from one vessel to the next and reached the beach without being detected. Or so Yanko thought. A dark shape stood on the pebbles and seemed to be looking in his direction.

  Yanko risked stretching out with his senses. It was the young man with the Made artifact. It looked like a magical dagger, perhaps some family heirloom.

  Yanko lifted a hand toward him and trotted down the beach, but the young man didn’t wait. He hurried toward the road. Yanko shifted from a trot to a run. He almost called out telepathically to ask him to wait, but he didn’t know what the range was on that magic detector.

  The young man glanced back and picked up speed. He sprinted across the waterfront street, not far from where Gramon had been imprisoned, and ran toward an alley.

  Yanko was on the verge of giving up and letting him go—it wasn’t as if he truly expected someone younger than he to be tracking Prince Zirabo’s whereabouts—but another figure stepped into view at the other end of the alley. The young man halted abruptly and would not have crashed into the newcomer… except that the newcomer punched him in the nose.

  The young man reeled back as he jerked a hand to his face.

  Yanko reached for his scimitar, thinking this was some mugger and that he needed to help. Then he recognized the aura of the puncher.

  “Lakeo?” he called.

  Lakeo waved, then pointed at the young man. “You’re welcome, Yanko.”

  “Er.”

  The young man, sodden clothes hugging his narrow frame, long hair fallen from his topknot, looked more like a whipped dog than a threat. But he realized that he was trapped, with Lakeo blocking the exit of the alley and Yanko and Arayevo coming in from the other end, and he yanked out his magical dagger and put his back to the wall.

  “You’re not taking me,” he snarled, alternately pointing the weapon at Lakeo and Yanko.

  Yanko slowed down, lifting his hands. “I don’t want to take you anywhere.”

  “Me either,” Lakeo said. “Just give back whatever you took from my friends.”

  “I didn’t take anything,” the young man snarled. “I’ve never seen them before.”

  Yanko patted the air apologetically. “It’s true. I was following him because I wanted to talk to him. Sorry, uhm, Honored Traveler.” He took a guess that the young man was moksu and that a respectful greeting would be proper. Though it might be too late for propriety after punching someone.

  The young man did not lower his dagger. He frowned as he looked back and forth, not seeming to believe them.

  Yanko met Lakeo’s gaze in the shadows and tilted his head toward the youth, hoping she would also apologize.

  “What?” she asked. “I’m not sorry. Someone sprinting down an alley is shifty. How was I supposed to know you were chasing him for no good reason?”

  “I had a reason.” Yanko lowered his hands so he wouldn’t appear threatening and faced the young man. “Again, I’m sorry about the misunderstanding. And your nose. My name is Yanko White Fox. I heard you bartering with Captain Minark about something I’d like to know more about. The internment camps.”

  “White Fox? You related to that Snake Heart pirate?”

  Yanko sighed. Was there anyone in all of Nuria who did not know about the disgrace Pey Lu had brought upon his family? “Yes.”

  “It doesn’t matter. They’ll still take you if they find you. You’re still moksu.” The young man glanced up and down the alley, concerned about more than Lakeo’s fist now, Yanko sensed. “This wasn’t a good city to come to. I knew it wouldn’t be, but the Great City is burning. There was no way…”

  “To find passage?” Yanko asked. “You’re trying to get a ride to the island where the moksu are being kept, right? Is your family there?”

  The youth clamped his mouth shut and shook his head.

  Yanko thought about trying to use his mental magic to tease out an answer. He had to be far enough from the watchmen with that device now.

  “Maybe he’ll talk if you offer him passage on our ship,” Lakeo said.

  “You have a ship?” the young man asked.

  “At the dock,” Lakeo offered.

  Yanko frowned at her. They couldn’t barter passage on Consul Tynlee’s yacht, and he doubted it was heading in the right direction, anyway. Tynlee had promised to take the Turgonian professor somewhere safe. The Seventh Skull Island did not sound safe.

  “What’s your name?” Yanko asked, willing the youth to want to talk to him, to answer honestly.

  The dagger wavered as his gaze locked onto Yanko. “Jee Gold Hawk.”

  “You’re not related to Temaris Gold Hawk, are you?” Yanko smiled, not expecting a close relation if there was one. He’d competed against the snobby Gold Hawk during the Stargrind application testing almost a thousand miles to the south.

  But Jee nodded. “That’s my older brother. He’s the one I’m looking for.”

  Yanko rocked back. “Didn’t he get accepted to Stargrind?”

  “Stargrind was attacked. You didn’t know?” Jee squinted, suspicion rising in his thoughts again.

  “We’ve been out of the Great Land,” Yanko said numbly. “What do you mean attacked? By whom? Who would dare?” He couldn’t imagine anyone thinking it was a good idea to attack a tower full of experienced mage instructors. Even the students were talented, those who’d been there for a few years. They were the best of the best in the nation.

  “Them.” Jee curled his lip and spread his arm to encompass the city.

  He still gripped the dagger, and Lakeo warily backed up a step, but he didn’t swipe with it or seem to remember that he had it.

  “The Swift Wolves faction?” Yanko asked.

  “The who-what?” Lakeo asked.

  “Dak and I have been discussing the rebel factions,” he said.

  “Discussing? Is that what you call it when he tells you stuff you don’t know?”

  “Yes. Jee… Could you tell us what happened, please?” Yanko asked. “And then we’ll help you if we can. I don’t know if the person who sailed us to this port is willing to visit that island, but if you talk to her and tell her your problem—is it that your brother was captured?—she could advise you and maybe help.”

  “They destroyed Stargrind through tr
eachery,” Jee said. “Betrayal from an insider. And then they used Turgonian explosives to blow up the tower. After they used a Kyattese substance that knocks everyone unconscious when it’s inhaled. They captured the mages and students that weren’t killed and took them to Seventh Skull Island. They wanted them out of the rebellion because they knew they would lose against such powerful magic wielders. Now my brother and all the others they’ve captured are stuck there, unable to help with the war, and being treated like stray dogs.”

  “How do you know all this?” It was Yanko’s turn to be skeptical. Even if some Nurian rebels had managed to gather such items from around the world, he had a hard time believing gases and bombs would have been enough against the combined might of Stargrind.

  “Temaris was there. He escaped briefly and sent a letter home to warn the family, to tell us to flee, that soldiers loyal to the Swift Wolves would be coming to take them too. Then he was captured, and I haven’t heard from him since. But I’m going to find him. He’s the powerful one in the family. He could do something, make a difference, if I could just free him.”

  “How are all these powerful mages being held on an island?” Arayevo asked. “Wouldn’t they be able to levitate over the ocean or at least defeat mundane guards and get a ship?”

  “I’ve seen Temaris levitate,” Yanko said, remembering the way he’d floated through much of the obstacle course. Admittedly, he didn’t know if anyone could float hundreds of miles across an ocean to get to shore. One would get tired eventually.

  “I’m not sure, but you can ask anyone,” Jee said. “That’s what they all say. The moksu are being rounded up and imprisoned. Even the mages. They have some way of nullifying their magic.”

  Yanko thought of the headband the Turgonians had put on him back in Port Morgrant. He assumed such a device was rare, and he couldn’t imagine hundreds of mage prisoners wandering around wearing them. Wouldn’t they simply help each other remove them? Unless they were all chained…

  “I heard the White Foxes were there too,” Jee said.

  Yanko rocked back on his heels. “On that island? How do you know?”

  “Temaris listed some names in his letter. A lot of families from the coastal provinces were taken to that camp. They say it’s impossible to escape or break people out of, but I’m going to—”

  A whistle came from the waterfront, followed by a distant shout of, “They went that way!”

  Jee squawked and ran off, dodging around Lakeo before she could grab him. Yanko didn’t use magic to stop him. He would have offered to join forces with Jee, but it wasn’t as if Yanko had a way to that island.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Arayevo said, waving farther inland.

  She took off, leading the way, and Lakeo followed without hesitation. Her purse jangled as she ran. She must have found someone to buy her loot.

  Yanko trailed after them. He wanted to return to the yacht to find out if Tynlee and Dak had learned anything, but it was too early to expect that. The best thing to do would be to lie low until just before dawn and hope the watch had given up by then.

  He grimaced at the idea of a platoon of watchmen standing guard in front of Tynlee’s yacht. He also grimaced at the thought of Stargrind being destroyed and everyone who had been there killed or captured.

  What if Yanko had passed his exam and been accepted? He could have been there along with Temaris and been hauled off to some island too. Or worse.

  11

  After spending much of the night curled up on benches in a park a mile from the waterfront, Yanko, Arayevo, and Lakeo returned to the dock before dawn. Fishermen were readying their boats and sailing out, taking part in their usual business, as if the Great Land weren’t at war. Fortunately, the watchmen had given up and weren’t in sight. Yanko was still circumspect with his magic and did his best to avoid people on the way to the yacht.

  The captain greeted him with a frown, as if he hadn’t wanted to see Yanko again. Tynlee and Dak, he learned, hadn’t come back that night. Yanko joined the man in pacing and worrying, though Kei berated him for all the walking about—and for not bringing back any biscuits. Professor Hawkcrest also expressed a longing for baked goods, not being a fan of the pickled fish and sticky rice balls that were staples in coastal Nuria—and on the Nurian diplomat’s yacht.

  Dak and Tynlee returned together after dusk, long after the meeting time Dak had suggested. Yanko wondered if Dak had run into trouble, or if Tynlee had needed help with something. Maybe he’d simply decided the dock was too well watched to risk returning during daylight hours.

  “Yanko,” Dak said, leaning into the cabin they shared. It had been just large enough for pacing. “We’re having a meeting.”

  Glad to be invited, Yanko hurried after him.

  Tynlee sat in the captain’s wardroom, though neither he nor the first mate was around. Dak slid into the chair next to her. To Yanko’s surprise, Jhali sat across the table from them. Yanko hadn’t seen her depart the night before, and he hadn’t expected to see her again.

  Yanko took the only remaining empty chair, the one next to her. He eyed her warily, but she didn’t react to his presence. Her fingers were intertwined on the table, and she stared at them, her face a mask.

  “I had a long chat today with my colleague here,” Tynlee said. “In addition to learning that nobody’s buying books about Turgonian spies at the moment, I got the latest political news.”

  “Anything on Zirabo?” Dak asked.

  Yanko slumped in his chair. Dak wouldn’t be asking if he’d managed to learn anything himself. Unfortunately, Yanko also hadn’t had luck questioning people, even when using his mind magic.

  “She hadn’t heard anything specifically pertaining to him,” Tynlee said. “Just that the Great Chief is reputed to have been dead for at least two weeks and that his two eldest sons were killed when they tried to fight and rally troops on their father’s behalf.”

  “Dead?” Yanko gaped. “Killed?”

  Dak nodded, as if this confirmed what he’d already believed. “I assumed from the state of the capital that the Great Chief was no longer a constant in the equation.”

  “I’ve had suspicions too,” Tynlee admitted. “The rest of his heirs—and this likely includes Zirabo—are believed to be in hiding. I could suggest a few possible places, but they would only be guesses. Presumably, those heirs don’t want to be found right now. What I do know and wish to share with you—” Tynlee extended her hand toward Yanko and then Jhali rather than Dak, “—is that the Ghin Sect was attacked and, according to the rumors, destroyed.”

  Jhali looked at her, but her face remained a mask. Tynlee had to be telling her because that was her sect. If Jhali was surprised, she hid it. But maybe she wasn’t surprised? Was it possible she’d heard similar rumors already? She might have also been out in the city the night before, gathering information.

  “I heard a couple of possible reasons why,” Tynlee said. “One is that one of their mage hunters was responsible for assassinating the Great Chief, whose forces then descended on the sect in retaliation. The other is that the leader—Zu Chey—refused to support the Swift Wolves faction when they tried to hire them.”

  “What proof is there that my—that the Ghin were destroyed?” Jhali asked.

  “The Temple of the Carved Canyon, their most recent home and training grounds, was caved in with magic, and there were bodies found amid the rubble. This is only what I was told and what’s been in the newspapers,” Tynlee said, making her voice gentle. “I’m certain there could have been mistakes and that some people may have made it out.”

  “If the Swift Wolves were responsible,” Yanko said, “maybe some of the mage hunters were sent to the various internment camps instead of being killed outright.

  “Their people do seem to be rounding up the whole nation.” Tynlee pinched her lips together.

  “Zu Chey did not make it out,” Jhali said softly, her eyes unfocused as she stared at the whorls in the teak tabletop.<
br />
  “You’ve already heard this information?” Tynlee asked.

  Jhali nodded once.

  “I’m sorry,” Yanko said softly, remembering that she’d said Zu Chey had been important to her. He rested a hand on her shoulder before remembering that she hated him and wouldn’t appreciate the gesture.

  She didn’t jerk away or shove his hand off, but she also didn’t acknowledge it. She continued staring at the table with those unfocused eyes.

  Yanko lowered his hand. “Tynlee, did you hear anything about Stargrind?”

  Tynlee and Dak exchanged long looks. Yanko wondered when they had grown close enough for such looks. Maybe they’d already shared their information with each other.

  “I heard it was destroyed and the students and teachers captured or killed.” Yanko raised his eyebrows.

  He hadn’t had friends there, so it wouldn’t be as devastating to him as the news of the sect must be to Jhali. They didn’t need to worry about his feelings, though he was still numb at the realization that such a thing could have even happened. His entire nation was falling apart all around him. Was there any point in worrying about that continent now? Or even in finding Zirabo? What could Zirabo do if his father was dead and his family no longer held the dais?

  But if Yanko didn’t hunt for Zirabo… what was left for him to do? How else could he help his people? He wanted to find his family, but that wouldn’t change the future of Nuria. And as a member of an honored family, wasn’t it his duty to try to make the future a good one?

  “That is also what I heard,” Dak said. “The people of Yellow Delta are quite proud of it. Those without a talent for magic, that is. Those with talent are presumably being very quiet.”

  “Or they were already carted off,” Yanko said glumly.

  “That seems likely,” Tynlee said. “Carted off or gone into hiding. My friend warned me that this isn’t a safe city for me to be docked in.” She touched her temple. “She suggested Katara or Ru Falls along the coast. If I stay in Nuria. Since I am a mage and also a distant relative to the Great Chief, she thought it would be safer for me to return to Turgonia. How odd my reality has become if that’s true.” She smiled, but her eyes held almost a haunted look.