Dragon Tear (Agents of the Crown Book 5) Read online

  “I didn’t do it.”

  Rhi gave her a disbelieving look.

  “My dragon tear did,” Zenia said, hurrying around a corner and not looking back, though she could hear the indignant girls shouting to the watchman. “It’s linked to the soul of a dragon, remember?” A few days ago, she wouldn’t have admitted that the gem had a mind of its own, as she’d been afraid people would think it—and her—odd, but now that Princess Yesleva had explained the link in front of Rhi and Jev, there was little point in hiding it.

  “A dragon two thousand miles away is making trouble for you?” Rhi asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And we’re going off to rescue it from imprisonment?”

  “You were there for the princess’s explanation. You know as much as I do.”

  “That’s alarming since you’re my boss and the one with the dragon tear. What happens after we free it? Assuming we can get past all those unpleasantries the senior and most crusty Hydal mentioned.”

  “I’m not sure.” Zenia imagined a dragon flying over the capital city, igniting the dresses of zyndari women throughout the streets. As appealing as that might be, she could easily see the entire watch and castle guard coming out to shoot at such a visitor. As far as she knew, dragons didn’t show up in populated areas unless they meant to hunt people down for dinner.

  “You’re not sure? And yet, I’m going along with you on this quest anyway?”

  “You must be a good friend,” Zenia said.

  “Oh, that’s a certainty.” A whistle blew, and Rhi glanced back. “We should run.”

  “We are His Majesty’s Crown Agents. Running from the watch would be unseemly.”

  “What about ducking into that eating house so they don’t see us?”

  Zenia hesitated as a whistle blew again, the noise closer this time. “It is well into the dinner hour.”

  They hustled for the door, and Zenia tried not to dwell on the very valid concerns Rhi had brought up. If they actually found this young and impulsive—and incineration-loving—dragon, what then?

  2

  When the steam carriage arrived at the docks, two porters appeared and removed Jev’s bags as soon as he stepped out. Even though all the luggage packed in the back was to go onto the ship Targyon had arranged for this expedition, the men made a point of rooting through it all to first grab the bags with the Dharrow emblem embossed on the sides. Rhi, who stood at Jev’s side, folded her arms and watched this preferential treatment with a dour expression on her face.

  Hydal climbed out of the carriage after them. He cocked an eyebrow as the porters took Jev’s luggage toward the gangplank of the passenger steamer docked a few dozen yards away, and pulled his own bags off the rack without a word. Cutter hopped out, his sizable pack already strapped to his back, and jostled a few people with it as they walked past along the boardwalk. With a magical hammer hanging from his broad leather belt, a sharp hook replacing his right hand, and a broad face that always looked grumpy behind the beard, nobody said anything.

  Zenia, the last of their little party, slid out of the carriage, and Jev smiled at her.

  She wore rugged travel clothing, but she managed to look lovely with her black hair pulled back from her high cheekbones and divided into two braids. Her chin had the familiar upward tilt, and her green eyes gleamed with determination. Her dragon tear lay atop her button-down ivory shirt, the necklace Jev had made for it gleaming warmly in the early-morning sun.

  He’d gathered from her handful of words on the ride down from the castle that Zenia viewed this upcoming adventure with trepidation, but he looked forward to it. While they’d been preparing for the trip, they had caught up with the piles of work in the office, and it had only taken Jev a couple of days, sitting in his hard chair with a pen clenched between his fingers, to long for something more active. He had no doubt this expedition would be dangerous, but it sounded so much more appealing than reading reports and signing paperwork.

  “Good morning, my lady Captain,” he said, lifting an arm in offering.

  Jev wanted to ask her what was on her mind, since her face held a pensive expression, but he would wait until they could find a moment alone. They’d been wedged into the carriage like stuffed gort leaves in a casserole dish, the interior extra cramped because of Cutter’s pack, which he’d refused to add to the luggage rack with the others. Jev had ridden down with his friend’s hammer jammed into his hip.

  Of course, Jev’s weapon might have been poking Cutter in the hip too. In a newly made scabbard, Jev wore the magical elven sword he’d acquired when battling one of the elf wardens that had come to town to assassinate his friend Lornysh. Master Grindmor had tinkered with the long blade, using her dwarven gem-working ability to alter the magic imbued in the sword, magic that usually would only respond to an elf. As a favor to her apprentice Cutter—she’d quickly and frequently pointed out that she was only doing it for his sake—she’d spent many hours with the blade, painstakingly making it so its command word would work for Jev, a mere human. He hadn’t expected to ever have access to the sword’s power, but he’d been delighted the first time he’d spoken its command word—the elven term for ice—and its silvery glow had sprung to life.

  Zenia touched Jev’s side, a fleeting smile crossing her face, then headed to the rack.

  Jev had been offering and hoping for a hug, but he lowered his arm, not that surprised that she wouldn’t jump into his embrace on a crowded boardwalk of friends and strangers. Jev was no longer engaged to another woman, so it wouldn’t be scandalous—other than for the fact that he was zyndar and she was not—but it wasn’t as if his father had condoned a marriage to Zenia, so she might not feel that much had changed.

  All she’d uttered was a single, “Ah” when he’d explained that the old man was still forbidding Jev from marrying a commoner. Jev had hurried to explain that he planned to propose to her, regardless, once their lives were calmer and he had a chance to arrange everything just right. But she’d seemed reserved rather than delighted. He chose to believe it had to do with the impending mission rather than reservations about him.

  “There are porters that can get that,” Jev said when she reached for one of her packs.

  As soon as the words came out, he realized she wouldn’t want to burden someone else with her belongings, so he rushed forward to grab her bags himself. He’d caught her washing her own laundry the other day, even though such domestic services were included with their rooms in Alderoth Castle, and wondered what the staff at Dharrow Castle would think of her after they married and she insisted on doing all her own chores. He hoped they would find her a refreshing change. His aunts and his father weren’t ones to overly burden the staff, but they also didn’t insist on clearing their own dishes at the dinner table.

  “I don’t mind carrying them,” Zenia said, a hand up. She seemed more startled than delighted by Jev rushing past to shoulder her bags.

  “It’s my desire to make your life easier, my intelligent and beautiful lady Captain,” Jev said, smiling and bowing.

  “I may vomit,” Rhi said.

  “He never used to say things like that in the army,” Cutter said.

  “Never,” Hydal agreed.

  “Because Zenia wasn’t there,” Jev said.

  A hint of pink warmed Zenia’s cheeks. Jev feared he was embarrassing her instead of tickling her with what were meant to be thoughtful courting gestures. He needed to work at this.

  “Maybe if you’d told Captain Krox such things,” Hydal said, “he wouldn’t have been so gruff all the time.”

  “He’s not intelligent or beautiful.” Jev headed toward the gangplank, hoping Zenia would walk beside him.

  “I can’t disagree with that,” Cutter said.

  Zenia hesitated, then caught up with Jev. He beamed a smile at her.

  “You seem very perky this morning,” she said. “Is it because you’re pleased to go on an adventure with me or that Sevy will be responsible for all your paperw
ork while we’re gone?”

  “Yes,” he said fervently.

  For the first time, she smiled. It warmed his heart.

  “I’m pleased you’re coming,” she said quietly. “I… You didn’t have to. This is my quest, my responsibility.”

  “As if I’d miss out on an opportunity to escape the office.” Jev wanted to hold her hand—it would have been difficult with his arms full of her bags, but he could have managed. He settled for nudging her shoulder gently with his.

  “The office you’ve spent three days in during your first thirty days at the job?”

  “They were arduous days.” That wasn’t exactly true, especially since Zenia had helped him keep all those reports tidily wrangled, but he felt ill-suited for desk work. Fieldwork appealed to him far more. Maybe one day he would suggest to Targyon that he make Zenia the sole captain and assign him to work for her. Though he supposed there were times it was useful for one of the Crown Agent captains to have zyndar in his name to throw around. “Also, I’m not sure you’ve been there that much more than I have.”

  “I’ve been there at least twice as much as you have.”

  “So, six days out of thirty?”

  “Maybe seven.” She smiled, a more genuine one than the distracted one from earlier, and bumped her shoulder against his.

  The return gesture delighted him.

  A man wearing a captain’s hat walked off the steamer as they were about to walk up the gangplank. “Zyndar Dharrow?”

  “That’s me.” Jev stopped, smirking when he noticed Hydal carrying his own bags and also Rhi’s.

  She whistled cheerfully as she walked at his side, her bo balanced on her shoulder. She’d added a rifle to her arsenal and carried it on a strap across her back, with a dagger and ammo pouch on a belt at her waist.

  Hydal’s face was red, and he hunched under the combined weight of all the bags. He was a wiry and strong man, but not a large one. Jev feared the load weighed as much as he did, and he regretted that the porters had focused only on his bags, especially since they hadn’t yet returned. Were they turning down the comforter on his bed and filling a jar with honeyed nuts?

  Rhi’s fingers twitched when Hydal paused to readjust his load, and she offered to take her bags. Hydal shook his red head and kept walking.

  “I’m Captain Yug.” The man stuck out his hand. “Are you in charge of the mission, Zyndar?”

  “Actually, this is Captain Cham’s mission.” Jev tilted his head toward Zenia. “I’m here to carry her bags.”

  The captain blinked and lowered his hand as he seemed to realize Jev would have to rearrange everything to grip it. “Er, is it Zyndari Captain Cham?”

  “No, it is not,” Zenia said firmly, her chin inching higher.

  Jev grinned, though he was fairly certain only he heard the hint of distaste in her voice.

  “We thank you for agreeing to take us to Izstara, Captain,” Zenia went on.

  “The king ordered it.” The captain stepped off the gangplank so Hydal could take his load of bags aboard. He looked curiously at Cutter and glanced at Rhi’s bo, an out-of-place weapon for someone not wearing one of the colored gis of the religious Orders.

  Jev decided the captain was confused by his odd group of passengers.

  “We’ve already thanked him,” Zenia said dryly, which was true.

  Jev remembered how surprised and effusive with her gratitude she had been when Targyon offered the use of one of his vessels. She’d already been planning a journey that included booking passage on multiple freighters and trade ships to ultimately reach their destination.

  “We’re relieved you’ll take us straight to Izstara,” Zenia added.

  “I’ve been ordered to do so, and I will, but I hope you know that Tika, one of the few cities there where humans aren’t shot on sight, is a dangerous place, even if it supposedly fosters free trade among all the races.”

  “We’re aware it will be a dangerous trip,” Zenia said, “but we’re hoping the trouble won’t start until we disembark and that your ship won’t be at risk.”

  “I hope that too.” Captain Yug grimaced. “We’re supposed to wait there for you. I wasn’t told how long that will be. Do you know, by chance? We’ve loaded extra ordnance for the cannons, and there’s a rifle for every crew member, but…” He extended a hand, appearing helpless and concerned.

  Jev had never been to Tika or any other city in Izstara, so he couldn’t say the captain’s concerns were unfounded. But since they had run into hostile trolls right here at home, he was inclined to dismiss the stated dangers as nothing worse than he’d faced in the capital of late.

  “I’m not sure how long it will take.” Zenia glanced at Jev, but he could only shrug. “I wasn’t given the exact location of our destination, but I assure you, we won’t dawdle.”

  The captain’s grimace deepened as he no doubt imagined being stuck in a hostile harbor for weeks or months.

  “Don’t worry,” Jev said. “Zenia has powerful magic that will locate that which we seek.”

  The dragon tear on her chest flared a bright blue, startling Jev. The captain stepped back, lifting a hand defensively before he seemed to realize the gem wouldn’t do more than glow.

  Zenia wrapped her hand around it, and Jev could tell from the concerned look in her eyes that she hadn’t intended for it to create a display.

  “I see,” Yug said. “I’ve little choice, but I told the king’s messenger that this isn’t a good idea, especially when…”

  The captain frowned as two big men in sleeveless shirts with large muscular arms jogged up the pier, all manner of weapons on their belts jangling with each step. They stopped at the base of the gangplank and looked expectantly at Jev’s little group. One had long flowing black hair, and one was bald save for an inch-wide tuft of hair on his chin. Despite the differing hair styles, they had the same broad faces with flat noses and dark brown eyes.

  “Zyndar Dharrow?” the bald man asked, holding up an envelope.

  Zenia stirred, eyeing that envelope warily. Was she thinking of the warning she’d received from her anonymous advisor? That message had warned them that death waited in Izstara. There hadn’t been a mention of whose death.

  “Yes?” Jev asked, trusting this envelope related to something different.

  “The king sent us. I’m Bortlok and he’s Horti. You can call me Borti. Everyone else does. They seem to think we should match since we’re twins.” Judging by Borti’s wry expression, he didn’t agree.

  “Are you monks?” Zenia asked. “From the Earth Order?”

  Jev looked curiously at her. They weren’t wearing the typical gis of Temple monks, nor did they carry bos, such as Rhi did.

  “We were monks.” Borti gave his brother a long look, which Horti returned blandly and without comment. “We had a disagreement with our archmage and needed to find new employment. We were going to join the watch, but there were a few problems, due to our unique, ah, passion, and also because my hotheaded brother got into a fight with one of the senior sergeants—”

  Horti banged a fist on his brother’s arm, shook his head vigorously, and pointed at him.

  Borti grinned. “My head might have been slightly hot too.”

  Horti rolled his eyes.

  Unique passion? What did that mean?

  “Anyway, we had a friend at the castle and asked him to get us an interview there,” Borti said. “We were offered employment on a trial basis.”

  Jev was tempted to ask for more details, but the captain shifted from foot to foot impatiently, and a horn blasted from the deck of his ship. It sounded like the steamer was ready to leave.

  “He sent you to come with us?” Jev guessed, accepting the envelope.

  He opened it and held up the page inside so Zenia could read it with him.

  Two well-trained warriors to assist you in your quest. They asked for a chance to prove themselves worthy of serving the king, so this is a test for them, but I believe they will pass and
aid you well. Good luck, be safe, and come back so I’m not stuck with Garlok again as captain.

  ~Targyon

  “As long as they’re not mortal enemies with Rhi, I’ll be happy to take them along,” Zenia said, though she eyed them with a hint of wariness.

  “Is that likely?” Jev wasn’t sure if her wariness stemmed from actual concern that the former monks wouldn’t get along or if she simply disliked taking more people along—risking the lives of more people—on what she considered her quest. Jev didn’t believe this quest was her burden alone to bear, not when Targyon had been the one to give her the dragon tear, but he couldn’t fault her for not wanting to be beholden to anyone or risk the lives of others. “Does she have many mortal enemies?”

  “The various Orders don’t always get along well. And you’ve met her tongue.”

  “It is on the sharp side,” Jev said.

  “Rhi Lin?” Borti asked and elbowed his brother.

  Horti, whom Jev was starting to think might be mute, didn’t say anything, but he rested a palm on his chest and assumed a goofy expression. A smitten expression?

  “Hm, I don’t think Rhi needs to worry.” Jev lowered his voice. “Hydal might need to worry.”

  Zenia’s mouth twisted. She’d probably caught that expression too—she didn’t miss much.

  “I guess it’s good I invited him along,” Jev added, “so he’s here to represent himself if a competitor for her affections has arrived.”

  Horti frowned at the words.

  Jev cleared his throat and waved to the gangplank. “It looks like we have two more, Captain. Do you have room for them?”

  “Room?” Yug asked. “Yes. Food may be another matter. They look like they eat a lot.”

  The twins did tower well over six feet tall. Jev wasn’t used to feeling small next to other men, but he decided having them walking with their party into enemy territory would be a good thing. It couldn’t hurt to have people the size of orcs—if not ogres—to glare intimidatingly into the jungle.