Chapter 7

7

Pull one weed in the garden, and ten more sprout forth.

~ Grandma Korbian

Kaylina took Grittor’s money, retrieved his requested strawberry mead, and joined him at a table in the courtyard behind the kitchen. The afternoon sun warmed the spot pleasantly. Clanks floated out a nearby window, Frayvar unpacking the honey and organizing the pantry, but Kaylina and Grittor were ostensibly alone. Though the sentinel hadn’t grown any vines to menace Levitke, she remained outside the courtyard walls, heading toward the river for a drink, the last Kaylina had seen.

“How else can I help you?” Kaylina waved to indicate the freshly poured goblet, but she immediately regretted opening herself up for requests. Last time, Grittor had tried to recruit her to help all the Virts, and she didn’t want to get involved with them.

“I was wondering if you could satisfy my curiosity.”

“That’ll cost you more than five liviti,” she said, certain this would come around to him wanting her to use her druidic power on the behalf of the Virts.

“Ten?” Grittor smiled, pulled out another bill, and waved it in the air.

Kaylina snorted and pointed for him to put it away. “I don’t know if I can answer whatever questions you have, but go ahead and ask.”

“Okay.” He looked toward the back gate—there wasn’t anyone in sight—and also toward the open kitchen window. Then, in a low voice, he said, “Spymaster Sabor is dead.”

“I’ve heard that.” Kaylina raised her eyebrows to suggest it was old news—old news she didn’t want to talk about. She’d expected him to bring up the king’s death.

“There are some rumors that, when he was killed, he had sword wounds but also claw marks on his body.”

“Huh.” Kaylina laced her fingers together on the table, trying not to give anything away.

She was tempted to ask if he’d spoken to Jana Bloomlong, but if he had, and she had shared everything she’d seen from her window overlooking the alley, Grittor would know exactly how Sabor had ended up with claw and sword wounds.

“A lot of people have died with claw marks on them this summer,” he continued. “People in the city, where such things are rare.”

“It’s been an eventful summer.”

A soft clink floated out the window, followed by, “Oh, I forgot we had fresh oregano.” Frayvar was close enough to listen to the conversation but possibly too distracted to do so.

“Yeah. We know.” Grittor waved at his chest and also vaguely toward the city. To indicate the Virts in general? “We know there’s a beast in the area that attacks humans, but we also know the Kar’ruk were behind some of those earlier deaths, making it look like a beast had done it.” He curled his fingers in the air to mimic claws raking at someone. “Maybe they were behind all the deaths, at least during that time period.”

“That’s right.”

Kaylina didn’t mention the role she’d played in unearthing the Kar’ruk scheme. The last time Grittor had come, he’d implied he’d known she had found the press being used for the rogue newspaper the Virts had been publishing—and that she’d led the rangers to it. Targon had ordered it shoved off a cliff in the mountains so it couldn’t be used again.

Grittor opened his mouth for his next question, but the back gate rattled. Levitke’s snout appeared, bumping the bars. The taybarri looked at Kaylina, then toward the front of the castle, then back.

“Trouble?” Kaylina guessed.

Levitke swished her tail in agitation.

“More trouble than that Frayvar didn’t bring you seconds?” Kaylina willed her magic to let her understand the taybarri. It had worked a few times before.

The brand on the back of her hand warmed slightly.

Levitke’s voice sounded in her mind: Human law. Rulers.

Kaylina looked toward the front of the castle again. Was that the clatter of horse hooves on cobblestones? The city was so quiet today that she had no trouble hearing noise through the courtyard walls.

Grittor was watching her. She didn’t think she’d done anything that would indicate she was drawing on her druidic power, but he glanced at her hand, as if he somehow knew. The brand wasn’t glowing, as it had done before, but maybe she scrunched up her face oddly when using magic.

“She is troubled that she only received one meal,” Kaylina said lightly.

“She’s a big animal. I imagine she needs lots of food.”

Despite her agitation about whoever was coming, Levitke whuffed in blatant agreement.

“Someone representing law enforcement is coming,” Kaylina said, the hoofbeats drawing closer and halting. It sounded like the horses were outside the front gate. “You might want to go.”

“I haven’t finished my mead.” Grittor held up the goblet.

She wagered what he really meant was that he hadn’t finished asking her questions. She wouldn’t mind if he never did that but waved to the kitchen door. “Wait inside, then.” A clang sounded, someone throwing open the front gate. “And tell my brother to have his heavy frying pan ready.”

That prompted Grittor to wrinkle his brow, but he did go into the kitchen.

Kaylina was tempted to hide inside as well. Instead, she walked through the courtyard and rounded a front tower as a man lifted a fist to knock on the door.

Two armed guards in gray uniforms with blue trim stood there, handcuffs dangling from their belts along with swords and pistols. Had they come to arrest her?

Behind them, a middle-aged man stood dressed in rich blues and blacks, including a beaver-fur hat. Two pistols hung from holsters on his belt, along with a dagger long enough to excavate an elephant’s trunk. He had a neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper mustache and beard.

Two more guards waited behind him, and stallions stamped and pawed at the cobblestones out front. A few of them looked nervously at the castle—or maybe the tower.

Kaylina stopped underneath its window in case the sentinel had the urge to toss vines out to protect her. She didn’t know who her visitor was but trusted Levitke’s assessment that he represented trouble. He didn’t look like a mead aficionado.

“Ms. Kaylina Korbian,” the man said in a deadpan voice as he looked coolly at her.

Vlerion had a similarly emotionless voice when he was working on keeping his calm. She doubted this was a relative who was cursed to turn into a beast and had to do the same.

“That’s right,” she said. “Do you want to see a tasting menu?”

“My lord,” he stated.

Ah, another one of those.

“Oh, are you? Sorry. You’re not wearing your I’m-an-aristocrat name tag. Do you want to see a tasting menu, my lord? For you and your friends?” Kaylina waved at the guards. “I give half off to the stalwart men and women who work to protect the city and the crown.”

A new policy she’d made up on the spot, but one she would be happy to implement if it kept her from being arrested.

The guards at the door looked wistfully at each other.

“I’d heard from Captain Targon that you are an irreverent commoner,” the man in the hat said.

“Yup, the word gets around. Who might you be?” She pointed at his chest.

“I am Lord Darlintor Milnor, the new spymaster for the crown. I’ve recently replaced the heinously murdered Spymaster Sabor and am seeking details about the events revolving around his dreadful demise.”

Kaylina badly wanted to object to the notion that Sabor had been murdered, heinously or otherwise. At the worst, they’d been trying to kill each other in a fair fight. But since Vlerion had taken the blame, she couldn’t say any of that.

“That sounds like an important job that can stir up a thirst. I’d be happy to extend the half-off discount to you as well. Can I get you a dry mead? You look like the type to eschew sweetness of any kind in your drink.”

And your life, she added silently.

“I have a few questions for you, Ms. Korbian. As part of my inquiry.” Milnor’s gaze lifted to the tower.

With the sun out, the glow remained unnoticeable, but she had no doubt he knew the sentinel resided up there and had heard about its powers.

Kaylina resisted the urge to play dumb. This guy probably was as well informed on everything as Sabor had been. “Okay,” she said and shrugged, as if answering a few questions wouldn’t be a big deal.

Never mind that her heart thumped noticeably in her ears. Why was it so quiet today? Ah, yes. The king’s death.

“I’m attempting to learn precisely how my predecessor died,” Milnor said. “Tell me what happened the last time you saw him.”

“Do you want to know how he died or the events of that whole night, such as how the assassins he hired to kill Lord Vlerion were after me and his mother? They kidnapped us and locked us in a pirate ship to use as bait in a trap.” Kaylina watched his face, trying to guess how much he knew about what Sabor had done. Had he been in the dark as to Sabor’s plans to raise a beast army to help him rule the kingdom? Or had Milnor been in on it?

His face gave away nothing as he gazed steadily at her. “Tell me how he died.”

“He was trying to kill me because I didn’t call him my lord often enough, and Vlerion killed him.”

All right, that wasn’t the exact version of the story she and Vlerion had agreed to give if they were questioned, but it was close.

“His corpse was maligned by both claw and sword marks.”

It seemed everyone knew about that.

“Yup,” Kaylina said. “That’s what you get when you pick a fight with Vlerion.”

The guards behind the spymaster frowned, looking at each other in confusion. The other two were peering through one of the front windows, either because someone had wandered up to the vestibule or they were daydreaming about half-price mead.

Milnor squinted at her, but, unlike the guards, he didn’t appear confused. “There was also what I believe to be cat fur on the legs of his trousers.” His eyes narrowed further. With suspicion? Or was that certainty that she had been involved? Or… responsible?

Kaylina groped for a response. She hadn’t expected anyone to figure out that a stray cat had assisted her. Bloomlong must have had her nose pressed to the window to spot every detail of that battle.

“That’s weird,” she said. “I wouldn’t think Sabor was the type to attract cats.”

“I believe the feline was under the influence of someone with the power to command animals,” Milnor said.

“Really? Sounds kind of farfetched. What would a cat do in a sword fight?”

Milnor held up a finger toward the guards, then walked toward Kaylina. She tensed, wondering if she should have run inside to grab her sword, but what would she do with it? Get in a fight with another spymaster? Kill him?

As Milnor approached, Kaylina retreated several steps, putting her back to the stone wall of the tower. She didn’t look up at the window, but she was tempted to silently call to the sentinel for help. But that might condemn her, prove that she had the power to command plants and animals. Right now, Milnor might not know for certain what she could do—what she had done. If he did, why would he have bothered coming to ask her questions?

He didn’t step close enough to touch her, but he stood close, his back to his men. Surprisingly, they were the same height. He might have been more intimidating if he’d loomed a foot over her, but Sabor hadn’t been that big of a man either, and he’d been a capable fighter. If not for his injuries and that cat’s help, Kaylina never would have bested him.

“Will you be more open with me if there aren’t others to overhear? Or do you wish me to take you inside for questioning under the influence of kafdari root?” Milnor delved into a pocket and pulled out a foil-wrapped ball, holding it up between two fingers.

Kaylina stifled a groan. She hated that stuff. Even if she hadn’t objected to speaking the truth to him, she wouldn’t have wanted to bare her emotions. She would doubtless end up babbling about her feelings for Vlerion, how unfair the curse was, and how hot she was for him. Her face flushed at the prospect of such mortification.

“What do you want to know that you don’t already know?” Kaylina shrugged to feign casualness she didn’t feel. “He was the beast during their fight. I’m sure you know all about his curse. It was probably his hair that you found on Sabor’s clothes.”

“The beast was protecting you?”

“The beast always protects me.”

“With claws. He doesn’t wield a sword in that form.”

Was that a question? Milnor didn’t sound certain, so she assumed he hadn’t seen the beast in action.

“I’m not sure. His paws are hand-like.”

“You were there, and you’re not sure?”

“I’m not sure of the beast’s exact capabilities.”

Milnor fingered the foil-wrapped ball of kafdari root. “The killing blow was made by a sword. I believe you did it, either to help the beast or simply because you wanted Sabor dead.”

I did it to help Vlerion , she wanted to cry. “A lot of people probably wanted him dead, but I’m no murderer. I’ve barely started learning to fight with a sword and only because Captain Targon forcibly recruited me to become a ranger. I’m a mead-maker, not a warrior.”

He looked her up and down, not checking her out as a woman, Kaylina sensed, but assessing her warriorness . “I believe the kafdari root will be necessary. You continue to lie to me.” His eyes narrowed. “Just as Lord Vlerion did.”

Uh-oh. Had he spoken to Vlerion at headquarters already? Kaylina shifted uneasily. What had Milnor learned? What if Vlerion was now in a dungeon?

“Did you question him with the kafdari root?” She doubted the spymaster had. Otherwise, there would be little point in him questioning her.

Milnor pressed his lips together. “As Captain Targon was quick to remind me, those of noble blood may not be questioned using torture or under the influence of drugs. They can be arrested for crimes but not put to death unless it occurs as a result of a mutually agreed upon duel.”

“Vlerion would be happy to duel with you.” Kaylina smiled.

Milnor did not. “I believe you would be happy to duel with me as well.”

“Nope, not interested. Thanks. How about you take a couple of bottles of mead and go? I’ll give you one entirely for free.” The offer galled her, and she hoped he didn’t take her up on it.

“We will stay until my questions are answered.” Milnor started to reach for her, but a couple more horses trotted up to the gate, and he paused.

A high-ranking Castle guard peered inside. “Lord Milnor? The queen wishes you to attend her.”

Irritation sparked in Milnor’s eyes.

“She said it’s about the prince—the succession,” the guard added.

“Tell her I’ll see her shortly.” Milnor jerked his head toward the keep. “Come, let’s sit you down and feed you some truth root.”

Kaylina was on the verge of calling up to the sentinel for help when the ground in the courtyard trembled.

Surprised, she planted her hand against the wall for support. The guards also looked around in surprise, spreading their arms to steady themselves. Milnor squinted at her as the horses outside snorted and stamped in concern.

One took off, hooves thundering down the road, and a guard shouted after it. Distant cries of alarm promised other people in the city were experiencing the same troubles.

The ground continued to tremble, and glass shattered somewhere in the castle. Remembering the chandeliers that had broken when she and Frayvar first moved in—the sentinel letting them know it wasn’t pleased—Kaylina looked up at the tower. Nothing had changed up there, as far as she could tell, and her brand wasn’t warm or tingling.

Levitke roared from behind the castle.

“I need to check on her,” Kaylina blurted and bolted around the corner before Milnor could stop her.

The ground kept trembling as she ran through the back gate and found the taybarri under a tree, her brown eyes huge as she looked around. She snapped at the air, as if an invisible enemy might be responsible for the trouble.

“It’s okay,” Kaylina called, patting the air with her hands. “It’s only a… an earthquake.”

Was that right? Such events didn’t occur in the Vamorka Islands, an area known for hurricanes rather than shaking earth, so she’d never experienced one.

The ground soon stilled, so maybe she’d guessed right. Maybe the earthquake had been natural, and the plant hadn’t been responsible.

That didn’t keep her from projecting her thoughts toward the tower: You weren’t responsible, right?

The sentinel didn’t answer, but that wasn’t surprising. It rarely spoke telepathically to her, instead favoring visions and sometimes a sharing of emotions. Such as indignation. She didn’t get anything now. Since the sentinel had never caused an earthquake before, at least not in the time she’d lived in Stillguard Castle, she doubted it had done anything to spark it.

Kaylina stepped up to Levitke’s side and patted her on the shoulder. “It’s all right.”

The taybarri issued a concerned cluck, then sniffed Kaylina’s pocket.

“You need a honey drop to help you recover from the ordeal?”

Levitke whuffed again and gazed deeply into her eyes.

Obviously , Kaylina translated.

Milnor and two guards rode around the outside of the castle, stopping their horses when they spotted her.

“I may need a honey drop too,” Kaylina muttered, fearing nothing had changed, that they would question her.

The spymaster seemed surprised to find her outside the back gate. What, had he thought she would run off into the wilds at the first opportunity? She sighed wistfully. No, she’d endured being a fugitive before and didn’t want to go through that again.

“I need to see what the queen wants.” Milnor waved at the guard who’d shown up before the earthquake. “I’ll return later to finish your inquiry.” His look of significance promised he would shove the kafdari root down her throat at the beginning of their next chat.

“Can’t wait,” Kaylina muttered.

Milnor squinted at her.

She added a, “My lord,” that might have come out more sarcastic than sincere.

As he rode off, looking coolly back over his shoulder at her, she knew she wouldn’t escape a second encounter with him unscathed.