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

  Aware of Tynlee regarding him thoughtfully, her arms crossed over her journal, Yanko asked, “Is the bathrobe still available, Honored, uhm, Consul is it?”

  “And the bath,” Lakeo said.

  Tynlee smiled. “Yes, certainly. It will take some time for the ambassador to talk to his contacts and corroborate your story. Of course, he could simply ask for my assistance, but he does forget that I have a few talents. Perhaps because I’m so busy with my research and writing.”

  “Are you a mind mage?” Yanko guessed the assistance she referred to would involve reading his thoughts to see if he was telling the truth.

  He would volunteer for such treatment if it would clear his name—or at least help explain what had happened—but could he trust her? He’d heard of interrogations where the mages, blinded by their own thoughts and desires, misconstrued what had happened in a person’s memory.

  “Indeed, I am. And a professor of sociology and cultural studies. I research extensively and write textbooks. Perhaps you’re familiar with my work? Tynlee Blue Heron. My early text Quantifying and Modeling Demographic Trends in Nuria is taught to second-year sociology students at many universities back home.”

  She smiled brightly, and Yanko felt bad that he couldn’t claim familiarity with the work. “Sorry, no. One of my tutors had me read Kas Par’s Understanding the Diverse Societies of the World. But we didn’t go on to more advanced books on the subject due to my…” Er, lack of interest might not be a good thing to admit to someone who had a passion for the subject—and was the only person in the consulate talking to him. “I originally studied the earth sciences and was more interested in texts on nature and biology.”

  She sat in the chair Silver Wolf had vacated and slapped her thigh. “It’s not your fault, boy. Kas Par is dryer than a stale cracker. He’s—”

  “Cracker,” came an unexpected call from the foyer.

  Tynlee blinked in surprise when Kei swooped into the room. Yanko braced himself for the inevitable talons in his shoulder, but the parrot landed on the back of the sofa.

  “I thought he settled down to sleep in that tree in the courtyard,” Arayevo said.

  “Maybe he got lonely,” Lakeo said.

  “Jorrat, jorrat,” Kei announced. “Cracker!”

  “Or hungry,” Lakeo amended.

  “There aren’t any Turgonians here, Kei,” Yanko said, hoping Tynlee wouldn’t be offended at hearing the racial slur. At least it wasn’t a Nurian one.

  “Are you sure?” Lakeo muttered, glancing in the direction of the courtyard. “Maybe he’s warning us.”

  Tynlee rose to her feet. “There is a Turgonian walking up to the front door. How did he get past the door alarms?”

  “Cracker?” Kei said.

  Tynlee gave the parrot a curious look.

  “He expects to be rewarded when he helps me,” Yanko explained and plucked a cookie off the tea tray. Nobody had touched the treats earlier. “And also at other times.”

  “All times,” Lakeo said.

  Kei squawked with delight and leaned forward to snatch the cookie out of Yanko’s hand.

  A quiet but firm knock sounded at the front door.

  Yanko stretched out with his senses. He assumed it would be another soldier, or perhaps that Captain Aiken coming to demand his extrication, so he twitched with surprise when he brushed against a far more familiar aura.

  “It’s Dak,” he said.

  “Think he’s here to drag you off to his superiors?” Arayevo asked.

  Yanko slumped back into the couch. On the ironclad, Dak had been granted prisoner status by that admiral, but perhaps his former colleagues at the Imperial Intelligence Headquarters had treated him differently. Or maybe he was being given an opportunity to clear doubt from his name by bringing Yanko back.

  “I fear he may be,” Yanko said softly.

  Maybe he would get lucky, and the Nurians would leave Dak standing outside, as they’d done with the soldiers. Except that he’d already gotten into the courtyard somehow.

  “Dak? Colonel Daksaron Starcrest?” Tynlee tilted her head. “Oh yes, I do recognize his aura. It’s been years since I saw him last. When he was stationed in the city, we met occasionally to play the age-old game of gathering information while not giving any away. He is crafty, and far better at hiding his thoughts than most Turgonians, so it was a challenge.” A smile—a fond smile?—crossed her face, but she shook her head and washed it away. “Never mind. I will inform the ambassador that he is here. Honli will wish to take charge of speaking with him to see what intelligence can be gleaned tonight. Though I dare say that I’m better at such things.”

  Yanko held back a grimace. It didn’t sound like Dak would be ignored or turned away. Worse, Silver Wolf might try to get more details about Yanko and his crimes from Dak. And who better to speak of them? Dak had been at Yanko’s side since the beginning. It didn’t matter that he’d helped free the prisoners at Red Sky. He was Turgonian. He was supposed to be a thorn in Nuria’s side. But Yanko… By the badger goddess, he wished he hadn’t made so many mistakes along the way. Would even Zirabo forgive him for those who had died?

  Tynlee turned toward the doorway and raised her voice. “Sor Yen? Are you still awake?”

  “Yes, Honored Consul,” came a call from the foyer.

  “Come show Yanko and his friends to the bathing rooms and find them some fresh clothing.”

  The young man who’d brought their tea returned, bowed politely to Tynlee, and waved for Yanko, Arayevo, and Lakeo to follow him.

  Yanko doubted that someone telling Dak he was busy bathing would keep Dak from hauling him out of the consulate by his ear, but he followed his escort. If nothing else, maybe he would have time to don some new clothes first. It was hard to feel manly being dragged off by a hulking Turgonian while wearing nothing but one’s drawers.

  4

  Yanko stepped out of the warm sunken bath and grabbed a towel to wrap around his waist. For the tenth time, he glanced toward the door, still expecting Dak to barge in and haul him away, but nobody had disturbed him since the ambassador’s assistant pointed him toward one door and Lakeo and Arayevo toward another. His bath was a large, steaming pool—rather than the tub he was accustomed to back home—and he wondered if theirs was as spacious. There were all manner of brushes, sponges, and strigils in buckets alongside the pool, as well as a pile of heated rocks in the corner. A pitcher next to it held cool water that one could pour atop the rocks to create steam. The building and courtyard might be of Nurian design, but these were definitely Turgonian baths.

  In front of a sink with a mirror, he found a strop and clean razor, along with a variety of shaving soaps and lotions. He sniffed the various options, wrinkling his nose at concoctions designed to make him smell like a tree or Autumn Fest spices, and found something only faintly scented to use.

  He removed the beard—all right, it was more of a tuft—that had grown in while he’d been in the brig. Though he doubted he would ever have a thick, full beard such as was typical of Turgonian men, he certainly had more than the three chin hairs that Lakeo kept teasing him about.

  A knock sounded at the door, and his senses told him that Consul Tynlee stood outside.

  Yanko hurried to towel off and grabbed the stack of clothing that had been left for him. The door opened before he’d done more than unfold a green tunic and gray trousers.

  “Young White Fox?” Tynlee asked without coming in. “Are you decent?”

  “I’m… naked.”

  “Is that a no?”

  “I think so,” he said, not certain what to make of her humor.

  “Please dress and come out. The ambassador has agreed that I must interview you.”

  Yanko had been in the process of tugging the tunic over his head, but he froze, abruptly nervous. He swallowed and finished pulling down the tunic, telling himself that this was a good thing. His own thoughts might not be able to exonerate him, but they should verify his story and show that he�
��d never had anything except the best of intentions.

  “Logical, so why are you nervous?” he muttered, tying the string on the trousers.

  And where was Dak? Yanko assumed the Nurians had let him in. Had they refused to hand over Yanko? If so, he was surprised. Silver Wolf didn’t seem like he would care if Yanko landed in some Turgonian torture cell in the basement of their Intelligence Headquarters.

  “This way, please,” Tynlee said when he walked out. “To the special room for interviews.” She winked at him.

  He wasn’t sure what to make of that. “Are there whips and chains?”

  “You’re thinking of Turgonian special interview rooms.”

  “They have been on my mind lately,” he murmured.

  “I spruced up ours when I arrived, as I did many of the rooms in the consulate. There are plants. And a fountain. Comfortable chairs.”

  “Does the ambassador approve?”

  “He doesn’t care what the interview room here looks like, as long as he gets the results he wants. I must confess that I’m a little rusty at this. It’s a balance to perform my work here while also doing academic research for articles and books to publish through the university press, so I’m not up on the latest mind-exploration techniques. However, my usual interviewer has returned home to be with his family. There’s quite a lot of strife back in Nuria, as you seem to be aware.”

  “Yes, Honored Consul. I’d like to help with it—help our people.”

  “Would you? How conscientious for a young man.”

  “It’s a matter of honor. I’m trying to redeem my family’s honor in the eyes of the Great Chief.”

  “Your honor is besmirched because of your pirate mother?” Tynlee turned a corner and gestured toward an open door to the left.

  “Yes.”

  “Ah, dear Nuria, the epitome of the shame society. Do you know that suicide is eight times as common there as it is in Turgonia? We teach our children that it’s acceptable to kill themselves to restore or protect honor. I’m a little surprised your father didn’t suggest that you go out and kill your mother to redeem the family name. He didn’t, did he?”

  “No. I think he may still love her. Or love the memory of her.”

  “Ah, complicated then. And of course she’s reputed to be quite powerful. Ah, dear Nuria,” Tynlee repeated and shook her head. “Not that Turgonia doesn’t have its own issues. Just ask your Daksaron.”

  Yanko stumbled on the threshold of the room they were entering. “Did you talk to Dak? Did he come here because he was looking for me?”

  A silly question. What did he think? That Dak visited the Nurian consulate regularly because the tea and biscuits were outstanding?

  “Yes,” Tynlee said. “He’s waiting for you, pending the outcome of our interview and the ambassador’s communications.”

  “Ah. Is the ambassador talking to people back in Nuria?” Yanko imagined Silver Wolf with rows of communications orbs lined up on his desk, all with different officials’ heads in them, numerous people talking at once.

  “He is.”

  “Is Dak waiting for me with shackles and chains? And a magic-nullifying headband?”

  “I didn’t ask him what he has in his pack.” She smiled and gestured to a chair.

  Yanko found it ominous that Dak had come with a pack, but he headed to the indicated seat. It was one of several plush lounge chairs in the room. As promised, a fountain tinkled in a corner, and the room smelled loamy from the earth of several potted trees and plants lined up by the windows. Yanko would have preferred to do the interview out in the garden, with grass or pine needles under his feet, but it was better than what he imagined an interrogation room to be like.

  He settled into the chair and took a deep breath.

  “Do you consent to a telepathic link followed by mind snooping?” Tynlee asked.

  “Mind snooping? Is that the official term?”

  “Of course not, but official terms are tedious. And tend to put people on edge.”

  Yanko wondered if many people told Tynlee that she was a quirky woman. Since he wasn’t of sufficient age to judge his elders, he kept the thought to himself.

  “I consent,” he said quietly, a little surprised that she had asked.

  “Good.” She sat in the chair next to him, kicked off her slippers, and dragged a furry blanket over her legs. “I like my toes to be warm when I mind snoop,” she informed him.

  “I’m sure that’s important.”

  “Yes. Now, why don’t you tell me the story you started to tell the ambassador before he interrupted you and left in a huff?”

  “All right.”

  “I’m rather intrigued by this jail break in Red Sky that I heard about.” She wriggled her eyebrows at him.

  Yanko flushed. Had she been in the doorway already when he’d been explaining about Captain Minark, the imprisoned crew, and Arayevo to the ambassador? He was positive he hadn’t called it a jail break. An unfortunate accident, surely. He’d only wanted to rescue Arayevo, the woman he’d always cared far too much for…

  “Oh, and I want to hear all about Jaikon Sun Dragon,” Tynlee said. “Did he truly think he had a claim on the dais and the title of Great Chief? Such arrogance.”

  “That’s what he told me.” Yanko touched his temple, thinking of the various encounters he’d had with the mage. He was considering where to start his story when Tynlee spoke again.

  “And don’t leave out the part about the new continent. That seems rather pertinent, don’t you think?”

  Yanko sat up straight, a thought occurring to him. “Yes. Did the ambassador relay the information about it through his communications orb? If the Turgonians have to send a report to their president via a train to their capital, that’s over a thousand miles away, isn’t it? It’ll be delayed. Our people could know about it first and have time to send a fleet.”

  “Perhaps, but Silver Wolf’s contacts are other consuls and ambassadors. The information may take time to get to the Great Chief, especially since he isn’t in the Great City, the last I heard. There was a joint attack undertaken by three of the rebel factions, and he and his immediate family have fallen back to a more defensible position. Even if he gets the news, he may not be in a position to send fleets.”

  Yanko slumped back in the chair. He couldn’t believe the rebellion, or civil war as people were calling it now, had progressed so quickly. He hadn’t been gone that long.

  “In addition, the Turgonians may send along the information more quickly than by train. They’ve recently installed grugaresth lines between the main cities in the empire—the republic.”

  “Gru-what?”

  “They’re able to send messages via electrical signals that go over wires.”

  “That sounds… complicated.”

  “Less so than learning to make Made devices when nobody in your nation believes in magic.”

  “Some of them know magic exists.” Yanko thought of Dak and how they had met, first in the salt mine and later in Red Sky, and how he’d helped Yanko on his mission.

  “A rare few. All right, I think I’ve got what I need.” Tynlee shifted the blanket to the side and swung her feet to the floor, poking around with her toes for her slippers.

  “Pardon?” Yanko asked.

  She flashed him a dimpled grin that made her look closer to twenty than the forty-something he believed her to be.

  A knock sounded at the door, and she walked toward it while Yanko puzzled over what had happened. Had she delved into his thoughts during those brief moments he had been remembering the past? He hadn’t felt her touch, not in the least. He did realize his thoughts had been more thorough than usual. Huh. Had she truly called herself rusty?

  When Tynlee opened the door and asked, “Another one?” Yanko shifted to look.

  He nearly fell out of his chair. Jhali stood there, her white outfit smudged with dirt, the hood pulled back, her black hair mussed as it framed her cheekbones. Honli Silver Wolf and the servant th
at had escorted Yanko to the bathing area stood there, the ambassador wearing a deep frown. Jhali didn’t look pleased to be there. Her face was cool and aloof, as usual, but there was also an atypical hint of wariness in her dark eyes.

  “She claims to be a mage hunter,” Silver Wolf said. “She, too, wishes assistance in returning to the Great Land. She’s agreed, with notable reluctance, to lower her barriers so you may verify her story.”

  Yanko wondered why Jhali had come, why she hadn’t simply stowed away aboard an outgoing ship heading toward Nuria. She’d done that easily enough on Pey Lu’s ship.

  “You two know each other?” Tynlee looked back and forth between Yanko and Jhali. It sounded more like a statement than a question, but Yanko felt compelled to answer.

  “She worked for Sun Dragon,” he said, “and has been trying to assassinate me.”

  Jhali lifted her chin. “I only tried once. You make it sound as if I’ve been failing repeatedly.”

  “You didn’t want to assassinate me back in those lava tubes on Kyatt? I find it hard to believe you were trying to catch up with me to ask me out to dinner.”

  Surprise flickered in her eyes. Apparently, she hadn’t contemplated him as a dinner companion.

  “I have little interest in assisting a mage hunter,” Silver Wolf said with distaste, “but I will allow you to ferret out the details of the situation, Consul Tynlee.”

  “You are so generous, Honored Ambassador,” Tynlee said, bowing deeply. And sarcastically.

  Even though the woman looked Nurian through and through, Yanko suspected she had spent many years outside of the Great Land.

  It does take time to cultivate such un-Nurian irreverence, she informed him silently.

  Yanko stirred, uncomfortable with how easily she read his thoughts, especially since he hadn’t consciously let down his barriers. He might not have the mental walls of a mage hunter, but he should be much harder to read than a mundane person.

  “Should I wake Nee and Nushu to guard her while you work?” Silver Wolf asked.

  “No, no,” Tynlee said, waving for Jhali to come in and sit. “We’ll have a chat, just us ladies. Nobody should wish to assassinate a professor of such fine texts as I’ve written, so I believe I will be safe.”