Chapter 8

8

A favor done today may be returned tenfold in the future.

~ Winter Moon Priest Dazibaru

“I wonder if Sergeant Zhani knows of any plants or concoctions to dodge the effects of kafdari root,” Kaylina said when Spymaster Milnor and the guards were gone.

Levitke, her only audience, nosed her pocket again.

“I’m out of honey drops, but I’ll go inside and get some. Afterward, will you take me to ranger headquarters? I’m worried about Vlerion and need to check on him.”

Levitke whuffed, apparently over her trauma from the earthquake.

Kaylina patted the taybarri and headed for the gate.

Grittor stood in the courtyard, a few steps from the open kitchen door. Kaylina paused. She’d forgotten he was in the castle and wondered if he’d listened in on the conversation.

A few clunks, clanks, and a grunt wafted out from the kitchen. Either the earthquake had wreaked havoc on the pantry organization project, or Frayvar had been so into it that he hadn’t noticed the earthquake. Either was possible.

“The new spymaster sounds like a lovely fellow,” Grittor said.

“Oh, yeah. I adored him instantly.”

“After listening to you two chat—sorry, but I couldn’t help but overhear…”

“Uh-huh.” As a practiced eavesdropper herself, Kaylina didn’t know if she could blame him for listening. Not without being hypocritical.

“Well, it was what wasn’t said, wasn’t it?” Grittor asked.

Kaylina folded her arms over her chest. What did he want?

“We’d already figured some of that out. That’s partially why I came.” Grittor lowered his voice. “We knew Spymaster Sabor was behind a lot of our troubles. We’ve been fighting, like I told you, to get better working conditions, and we’ve done a little sabotage here and there to try to make our points, but until this spring, we hadn’t tried… Well, nobody was talking about assassinations or killing people as a solution to our problems. We always worried about what the ramifications would be to our loved ones. And the hangings—those weren’t the first hangings. But a while back, Sabor started talking with Cougar and a couple of the other leaders. I’m not important enough to know all that was going on, but… I do wonder. I think Sabor was as much to blame as some of our people. Like he might have been egging our leaders on, you know? Trying to get the Virts to escalate the situation so he could take advantage of the chaos or use it as an excuse to assert his authority.”

Kaylina shrugged. She sympathized with the Virts, especially if Sabor had been messing with them too, but she wanted to check on Vlerion, not speculate on what the spymaster’s motivations had been.

“Some say he even was behind the murdering of the nobles,” Grittor continued. “The tax collectors and finance lords who were killed this spring. We got blamed for that. But I never thought those murders made any sense, even for Cougar.”

“Sabor proved himself manipulative and ruthless,” Kaylina said.

“Yes. I think… Well, what I came to ask is if we owe you a favor.” Grittor gazed frankly at her. “For getting rid of him.”

“You don’t owe me anything. Except liviti bills when you come for mead.” She smiled, hoping he would accept the answer and drop it. All these people wanting to know if she’d been behind Sabor’s death were making her nervous.

Grittor hesitated. “Do we owe Lord Vlerion a favor?”

Was that his way of asking if Vlerion had killed Sabor? And implying he knew all about the beast? The real story about the beast, not the stuff the Virts had been printing?

Kaylina remembered the journal she’d found by the press, the article that had been about to be published. It had detailed specifics about Vlerion being the beast. By finding and destroying the press, she and the rangers had kept it from being printed, but they’d never learned which of the Virts had been penning the original articles.

Since Vlerion might already be in a position where he needed assistance, she hesitated to dismiss the idea of the Virts owing him a favor. They might not have the power to do anything to help, but they were a big organization with a lot of ears. Who knew how much influence they truly had?

“I wasn’t going to bring up Jana Bloomlong again,” Grittor said when she didn’t answer. “I already told you she was trying to get some of our people to sabotage your grand opening, and I dissuaded them from accepting the dubious work.”

Kaylina nodded.

“It seemed like the right thing to do, and I wasn’t looking for a reward for it. But now…” Grittor cocked his head as he considered her. “Now I wonder if the moon gods have let us know that was the correct choice because of the choice you made. You and him? If you and Lord Vlerion were responsible for Sabor’s death, we do owe you.”

“Look, I’m not unsympathetic to your cause, and I don’t think Vlerion ever has been either, but we didn’t…”

Should Kaylina lie? When Grittor already seemed to know?

His eyebrows rose.

“I’ll just say…” She chose her words carefully. “Vlerion has no regrets about Sabor’s death.”

That was the truth, at least.

Grittor grunted softly. “Is that your way of saying he’s on our side?”

“I wouldn’t go so far as to claim that, but, given the choice, he wouldn’t oppose you and what you’re trying to achieve. As long as laws weren’t being broken, laws he’s sworn to uphold as a ranger, he probably wouldn’t object to you protesting the working conditions.” Kaylina shrugged, not wanting to commit Vlerion to anything. Besides, the Virts, whether influenced by Sabor or not, had been breaking laws left and right. For all she knew, they were behind the king dying of natural causes .

“I think I see what you’re saying.” Grittor nodded.

Kaylina hoped he hadn’t taken more from her words than she’d intended.

“Did you or your people have anything to do with the king’s death?” Kaylina realized Targon might appreciate it if she could get that information. She especially wanted it if Milnor was setting Vlerion up to appear responsible.

“Not that I’m aware of.” Grittor’s words and shrug seemed genuine. “The king was old. It might have been his time.”

“Yeah.”

“If the prince dies of natural causes too, then it might be suspicious.”

“I would assume so, yes.” Kaylina pointed to the kitchen. “I need to help my brother clean up.” That wasn’t exactly what she meant to do, but she hoped Grittor would take the hint and leave.

“I understand.” He nodded toward her. “Thanks for the drink and… perhaps more. If we can help you with anything, let me know.”

She lifted a hand, though she didn’t intend to ask the Virts for assistance.

After Grittor walked away, Kaylina jogged inside, intending to grab her sword and some honey drops, then head to ranger headquarters.

But a pulse of energy flowed over her. Originating from the sentinel, she had no doubt.

Frayvar stuck his head out of the pantry. “Did you feel something?”

“I think the plant wants to have a chat,” she said before wondering if he’d been asking about the earthquake. He often didn’t sense magic the way she did.

He grimaced. “Just with you, right?”

“Probably. You know your job is to haul me away from the magic if it knocks me out.”

“You think that’s going to happen again ?”

“I hope not.”

It had become a distressingly regular occurrence.

“Levitke is outside if you need to send her for the doctor and his smelling salts,” Kaylina added.

“I asked her to do that before, and she got Vlerion instead.”

“Vlerion doesn’t have smelling salts. He would have to wake me with a kiss.”

“Ew.” Frayvar’s comment came out as one of their staff, Sevarli, walked into the kitchen.

“Hi.” She waved brightly at Kaylina and Frayvar. At sixteen, she seemed delighted with the job, the tips, and everything about life in general. “Did you feel the earthquake? It was epic .”

“Earthquake?” Frayvar scratched his head, then picked up a box that had fallen to the flagstone floor. “I thought I bumped the shelves.”

Maybe Kaylina had been right not to assume that he’d noticed it.

“Oh, Frayvar. A messenger from the royal castle came last night. He delivered a letter for you. For both of you, I think.” Sevarli hurried to a drawer in the kitchen and pulled out a fancy envelope with three wax stamps sealing it closed.

“The royal castle?” Kaylina couldn’t help but pause.

“A letter for me ?” Frayvar pounced on it. “Maybe the royal chef heard about my exquisite lamb dish—Professora Vesimoor promised she would write it up even though she came to critique the mead. Oh, maybe the chef wants my recipe.” Even more excitement infused his voice, and he hopped a couple of times as he added, “Or to invite me to the castle to prepare it.”

“I’m sure that’s it,” Kaylina said. “Their own culinary staff is surely incapable of serving an adequate meal for the king’s funeral.”

Frayvar nodded eagerly, missing her sarcasm.

With their luck, the letter was more likely to contain a threat from a chef who resented that he’d made a similar dish and now had it out for Frayvar. Jana Bloomlong’s face floated through Kaylina’s mind.

“The message came before the king’s passing, I believe.” Sevarli tapped her forehead as she ducked her chin in a gesture to pay respect to the dead—and request they not haunt the living.

Frayvar tore open the letter so vigorously that the wax seals flew off, bouncing off the stone of the hearth. One almost hit Kaylina.

“You have more strength than people give you credit for,” she murmured.

“He’s very determined and passionate about his craft.” Sevarli smiled at Frayvar.

He was too busy reading to notice. That seemed typical for most of their interactions. If Kaylina found time, she would attempt to play matchmaker, since Sevarli clearly adored him. Too bad Frayvar’s ew at talk of kissing suggested he might not yet be mature enough to have a girlfriend. Create award-winning dishes that took days to prepare, yes. Talk to women, no.

“Oh, huh.” Frayvar’s shoulders slumped as he deflated.

“Not a request for you to serve the royals lamb?” Kaylina guessed.

“No. It’s good news for the business though.” He forced a smile and nodded to her. “It’s the mead they’re interested in. The head of the kitchen staff in the royal castle heard all about it and has invited us to the castle. Well, me, specifically. Maybe you’re not mentioned because of that poisoning kerfuffle?—”

“The poisoning kerfuffle I had nothing to do with,” Kaylina said.

Ignoring that, Frayvar held up the paper and continued. “I’m invited to bring our five most exquisite meads to the castle as soon as I can prepare them for a tasting. If they live up to expectations, and the wine steward deems them a good match for the menus there, he may be interested in putting in an ongoing order. Oh, that’s good news. What a victory for the business, Kay.”

“That would be amazing.” Kaylina bit her lip to keep from saying it would be a victory over the awful Jana Bloomlong too. As she well remembered, Bloomlong was the current mead supplier to the royal castle. Current or former ? “If the queen allows it.”

She frowned. It was possible the wine steward was in charge of ordering beverages and was making this decision on his own. If the queen found out, would she quash the notion of Kaylina or her business selling mead to the castle? Was it too much to hope that the prince would, after he took the reins of the kingdom, send his mother off to some distant part of Zaldor where she couldn’t meddle?

“Our mead is so good that she’ll have to allow it.” Though usually oblivious to other people’s feelings, Frayvar might have noticed Kaylina’s chagrined expression. “Her tastebuds won’t permit otherwise.”

“You have to admire his optimism,” Sevarli said.

“I’m the pessimistic one in the family,” Kaylina said.

“She is that. Considering I’m the rational, thoughtful, and pragmatic one—and she’s the schemer—you might find that surprising, but her funks mess with her mental facilities.” Frayvar looked at Sevarli while tapping his temple and shaking his head at the woeful state of Kaylina’s mind.

“I do appreciate you discussing my mental health with the staff,” Kaylina said.

“They need to be warned about it in case they come in one day and find you curled up with a book and a blanket and moaning to yourself.”

Sevarli giggled.

The girl even appreciated his wit? Frayvar definitely needed to notice he had an admirer and give her a kiss. Or at least agree to collaborate on a secret sauce with her.

A second pulse of energy flowed into the kitchen, an edge of insistence to it, and Kaylina winced. She shouldn’t have allowed herself to be distracted.

Sevarli lost her smile, gripped the counter, and peered around in confusion. Frayvar also glanced around before looking to Kaylina. They were sensing something too.

“I’ll check on it.” Kaylina pointed in the direction of the tower.

They might not sense as much as she when it came to magic, but those pulses were strong enough that they’d felt something. She jogged up the stairs, hurrying to the tower. She still wanted to get to ranger headquarters to check on Vlerion, but it would be good to ask the sentinel if it knew anything about the sphere she’d touched in the druid ruins. And hear whatever information it had to share.

The chair she used to climb through the hole in the floor to its perch remained where she’d left it, a crate on top of the cushion. She supposed she could rebuild the stairs one day, but it wasn’t as if she had much time between ranger training, making mead, and dodging interrogations from spymasters.

Before she poked her head through the floor, a vine flopped down, twitching toward her.

“Just when I think you’re getting less creepy,” Kaylina said to the great pot that held the magical tangle of vines and branches that called itself the sentinel. “Though I wouldn’t have minded if you’d dropped that out the window to strangle the new spymaster.”

No, that wasn’t true, and she shouldn’t encourage the plant. As she’d been thinking earlier, she would be in even more trouble if her actions resulted in the death of a second spymaster.

“Do you think it would be pointless to hope that Prince Enrikon, or whoever ends up in charge, will be a good and strong leader who doesn’t let his spymasters run amok?”

The plant pulsed energy, an impatient vibe attached this time, and lifted the vine toward her forehead. She grimaced, knowing it wanted to communicate with visions that it would share once it touched her, but there was a chance she hadn’t been joking with her brother and that the experience would leave her unconscious.

“Okay, but I need to go soon, so don’t knock me out, please.”

Kaylina swung up through the hole and knelt on the floorboards, noticing the lack of dead leaves on them. A week earlier, when she’d been up delivering the honey-water fertilizer that the sentinel enjoyed, she’d swept and dusted the room. No new leaves had fallen, and the plant continued to glow purple instead of the ominous red that it had before she’d started feeding it. As she’d feared more than once, she might be making it more powerful by trying to keep it healthy and happy, but it pleased her to know something she was fertilizing was doing better.

The cool tendril that had been poised shifted in, a few leaves rustling, and touched her temple. She braced herself for the visions.

Her own memories were what the touch dredged up. The previous day’s exploration in the ruins and finding and touching the sphere. The sentinel slowed the replay of her memories at that point and seemed to study the pedestal that held that item—the artifact , as the mountain men had called it.

Ah . The word floated faintly through her mind.

Let me guess, she thought, trusting it would understand her silent words. You felt the call that I accidentally made.

Yes.

Not expanding, the sentinel continued to root through her memories, including her being knocked out—always something delightful to linger on—and waking up with Vlerion at her side.

He’s still faithfully protecting me, Kaylina said, though the plant hadn’t asked.

She wanted to make sure it didn’t misunderstand anything and revoke its invitation to Vlerion. Well, not exactly an invitation, but the sentinel had said he could visit her in the castle, in his human form, and it wouldn’t attack him. They hadn’t tested that yet, but she hoped they could soon.

You’ve the ability to command him with your power.

That’s not why he’s protecting me, she protested.

He is drawn to you. The plant showed her another memory, one it had shared before of spying on her and Vlerion kissing and embracing in the courtyard.

Her cheeks flamed. He’d helped save her from kidnappers right before then, so it had been natural to kiss him. Ardently.

Yeah, yeah, she said. His beast is drawn to my anrokk and vice versa. We know all about it.

In his human form, he is not a danger to you.

She reined in further snark since the plant was agreeing with her. Do you know what that sphere thing is? Is that what you called me up to ask about?

Not that it had asked anything. It was presumptuously sifting through her mind without asking.

I sought clarification.

And you’re all clarified now? Like a fine butter?

Other sentinels have been roused, the plant said, ignoring her snark.

What does that mean?

You are coming into your powers. The world has been waiting.

Uhm, what?

Change comes.

Look, I just want to meet my father and talk to him. And find a way to lift Vlerion’s curse. That’s what I was seeking in the ruins, not to change anything. Or rouse anything.

Craters of the moon, did the world need more plant sentinels? She had her hands full dealing with one, one that had killed countless humans in the centuries since it’d been left to watch over the castle. No, it had been left to watch over the whole city. She remembered it showing her the vine that it could grow up through the tower roof to spy on Port Jirador and the countryside. Keeping an eye on the pesky humans who’d once dared hunt in the protected druid preserve.

Maybe you can tell the other sentinels that they can go back to sleep, she added when the plant didn’t respond.

Change comes, it repeated, drawing its vine back from Kaylina’s temple. It had gotten what it wanted.

“Great,” she muttered.