The Prophecy Con (Rogues of the Republic) (28 page)

Nystin met his stare. “No. This is . . . Loch has enemies in high places. They want her down.”

Hex pursed his lips in thought. “She actually dangerous?”

“Dangerous enough. She and her team dodged us twice now.”

Hex snorted. “Means she’s good, not dangerous.” He lowered his voice. “We’ve got corpses rising and killing Republic soldiers on the Imperial border, sir. There’s a necromancer out there who needs killing, and we should be the ones doing it. You tell me this is just politics, sir, and we’re going to have a situation.”

Nystin remembered the meeting with the Learned voyants, the expensive drinks and the dim candlelight. He remembered the knee slapping, the delighted laughter at the stories they’d asked him to tell. He remembered being told how expensive
yvkefer
armor and silver crossbow bolts were, and how the vote was going to be close. Those things were true enough to make up the weight on anything he shaded.

“It’s not just politics, Hex. If she doesn’t die, a lot of sons and daughters will.”

Hex held his stare for a long moment.

Then, finally, the old knight nodded. “As you say, sir.”

“We take her down at Jershel’s Nest,” Nystin said firmly, “and then we move our asses to the border and find that necromancer.”

Hex nodded curtly, then limped back to where the rest of the knights were resting or training; Nystin leaned against the railing. When he was sure he was alone, he slid the message crystal from its case, snapped it in half, and let the pieces fall from the railing.

Loch went down the stairs slowly. The inn was small and quaint, a place for merchants to get a hot meal and rest rather than get rowdy and celebrate. Oil lamps glowed softly as she came down to the ground floor and into the common room, where merchants and traders ate while a harpist played something gentle and calm over by the fire.

“Back room,” Kail said behind her, and Loch crossed to a closed door and turned the latch.

The room likely saw some gambling. The lights were lower, and members of her team sat around one large table with drinks in front of them—except for Ululenia—who lay half-curled in the corner of the room in her natural form, glowing faintly, flowers blooming around her.

“. . . is more aware of the unintended consequences of my magic than I am,” Hessler was saying, pointing at Icy with his free hand.

“Well,
I
might be.” Tern sipped her fruity drink. Her shoulder was bandaged, and her arm was in a sling, but judging by the color in her cheeks, she was doing all right.

Hessler looked over at Tern, face taut. “I’m sorry.”

“You said that already, baby. A lot. You don’t have to impress anyone with your magic. You just—” Tern stopped as Loch stepped in.

“All right,” Loch said. “Thank you for waiting for me to wake up. Kail tells me I owe some of you for the healing as well.”

It was the least we could do, Little One,
Ululenia said, and Desidora smiled and nodded as well, raising a fluted glass of white wine in Loch’s direction.

Icy’s tea sat unfinished in front of him, steeped until specks marred the bottom of the cup. Hessler looked like he hadn’t slept in a few days, and Tern, for all her rosy flush, had lost some weight.

Still, there was her team, just about everyone in the world she let herself care about, except for Pyvic. And it was unfair of her to expect him here, anyway.

She’d planned to put it as a question, give them the option of an out. Icy might want to get back to the Empire if the war heated up, and most of them had family somewhere. But looking at them, Loch realized that that would hardly be fair. It smacked of the kind of manipulation her pretty baroness sister would do.

“So,” she said, “this was a viable job when we had a target. Irrethelathlialann’s back in the Elflands now, or near enough, and the book is with him.”

“Yeah, since you threw it at him,” Tern said, and sipped her fruity drink again.

“If you could avoid returning the stolen objects to their owners, the operation would go much more smoothly,” Icy added.

“Noted,” Loch said, shooting Icy a flat look. “What matters now is—”

“Our elven friend Ethel has passage booked into the Elflands tomorrow afternoon on a giant elven luxury treeship called . . .” Kail trailed off and picked up a mug of beer from the table. “Help?”

“No,” said Tern. “You’re the one who started calling the airship
Iofegemet
. That puts you in charge of all stupid names we encounter on this job.”

“Wow, I really don’t see how that follows at all.”

The elven ship’s name translates as ‘the way the vixen’s ears prick up when she catches her mate’s scent as she approaches her burrow after a night devoid of good hunting.’

“Oh, well, that’s much easier to say.” Kail sipped his beer.

“We’re not going to hit the ship,” Loch said, stepping forward and putting her hands on the table.

“Of course we’re not,” Tern said, and held her glass out to Hessler. “Drink me.”

“It’d be crazy to try to get all of us aboard,” he agreed as he took the glass. “The treeship has living wards that set off alerts if anyone whose aura hasn’t been altered with a guest frequency boards the vessel.”

“Now, I can see the aura of the wards, but I can’t alter anyone’s auras to match.” Desidora finished off the rest of her wine and held out her glass as Hessler went by. “While you’re up? Thank you,” she said as he took it from her. “The wards run from a central station deep in lower hold, so we’ll need to get someone inside there to disable them at the source.”

“That’s after we figure out the tickets,” Tern added. “Some kind of rare natural leaf with golden ink. I can copy the ink, but the leaves are going to be . . .” She trailed off as a pale green leaf shaped like a diamond fluttered slowly down to the table. “Oh. All right, then.”

Nature magic.
Ululenia shifted back into human form, her horn flaring as she smiled. “They are also printed with specific numbers, are they not?”

“Yeah, I doubt just scrawling ‘Please Let Me Aboard’ on a leaf will cut it.” Kail sidestepped Hessler and went to the bar, then looked over his shoulder at Loch. “Red or white?”

“I believe I have her covered,” came a voice from behind her, and she turned to see Pyvic holding a pair of wineglasses, one of them held up her way.

Loch stood up, blinking, and swallowed despite herself. She took the wineglass as Pyvic came over to stand beside her. “Thank you.”

“Hey, don’t thank us. We’re charging all this to your room.” Kail refilled his beer and shot her a grin.

“Good to know.” Loch looked at the room, at her crew. “The ship leaves tomorrow? That doesn’t give us a lot
of time.”

“Tomorrow
afternoon
,” Kail said, waving absently. “Tern makes the ink tonight, someone hits the ticket office in the morning while you run a cat-bell on Ethel, then Tern writes everything during lunch.”

“Wait, I don’t get lunch?”

“I’ll bring back something for you,” Hessler said, and then winced as Tern kicked him in the shins.

“Well, as long as we’ve got a plan.” Loch nodded and took a larger gulp of wine than was probably wise on an empty stomach. “Captain Pyvic can brief me on the specifics.”

He smiled a little and followed as she left the room, passed through the bar, and stepped out onto the twilight.

She wiped her eyes then, since nobody but Pyvic was around. His arm came to rest around her shoulder, warm and smelling of leather and in all ways right, and she took a deep breath, then sighed.

“You’ve got a good team.”

“Damn right I do,” she said.

“Kail told you about the dead marching out of the Empire?”

“He did. Bet that’s helping keep the peace.”

“The talks ended yesterday. The Imperials deny raising an army of the dead and insist that the Republic caused them to rise by misusing ancient magic.”

“That’s convenient.”

Pyvic grinned. Loch wasn’t looking at him, but she could feel the muscles in his face move as she leaned against him. “Share,” he said.

“Kail said the dead came out of the water. Now, granted, I’ve never had an undead army at my command . . .” she started.

“Didn’t Desidora raise a zombie for you one time?” Pyvic cut in.

“Isolated incident. We just needed his aura to crack a safe.”

“Oh,
well
, then.” Pyvic chuckled, and his arm tightened around her. More quietly, he added, “She’s having trouble, you know? Trying to find her place without her powers.”

“She figured out how to deal with death magic. I’m sure she’ll figure out how to deal without it.” Loch filed the concern away for later thought, though. “Anyway, I’ve never had an undead army at my command, beyond one
specific isolated incident
, but they’re slow and clumsy. If I was going to surprise the Republic with them, I wouldn’t march them through water on
my
side.”

“You’d march them on land until you were close to the Republic border, and
then
march them underwater.”

“Right. You’d catch the Republic with its pants down, instead of tipping off the scouts and starting an ugly fight on the border.” Loch finished off the last of her wine. “So, frame-up?”

“Looks that way. No idea who’s behind it, though.”

Loch nodded. “Think we can still end it if we get the book?”

“I don’t see anything else that will.” Pyvic turned her around gently and gave her a cautious look. “Just don’t get stabbed anymore.”

“Kail said something very much like that,” Loch said.

“Kail has sporadic but verifiable moments of genuine wisdom.”

She uncrossed her arms and leaned in close, letting him enfold her in a circle of warmth. “Thanks for coming.”

“Not a problem.” He bent his head, and she moved to meet his kiss.

That was when the crossbow bolt cracked into the wall next to their heads.

Nystin signaled, and Rib smashed the door open.

Glass threw the smoke bag even as Rib dove in, crossbow coming up to cover the screaming patrons, and Nystin darted past them both, his own crossbow up and ready, strafing the stairwell with a shot ready. A serving maid at the top of the stairs froze, towels in her hand, and Nystin knew she wasn’t the death priestess or the unicorn even as his finger pulled the trigger. It caught her cleanly in the chest, and she gasped, coughed, and went down.

Glass pounded past Nystin, covering even as Nystin dropped his crossbow and unslung his mace.

Rib was beside him, but stopped at the serving maid. “What—”

“Cultist,” Nystin snapped. “Went for a knife.” He darted past Rib, who was strong as an ox but had demonstrated some trouble dealing with the realities of war, and met Glass, who was ready by the door.

He kicked hard, got the sweet spot, and popped the cheap knob clean off the frame as the door snapped in. Glass moved in and fired at the bed.

Had Loch been in it, it would’ve been a perfect head shot.

She wasn’t in it.

Less than a minute had passed.

Nystin flung the drapes aside and glared down at the street, where Grid’s team was covering any attempt at escape, and signaled failure.

Grid looked confused, then checked corners and flung back a signal of her own.

“Outside! Move!” Nystin shoved past the two recruits and ran for the stairs, mace and dagger both out now.

The serving maid was still on the ground at the top of the stairs. She reached for Nystin as he came her way. She was going to say something, and Nystin didn’t have time for Rib or Glass to get confused.

His dagger came up, then came down.

A slim, tan-skinned hand caught his wrist.

“I do not believe she needs to be involved in this confrontation,” said Loch’s Imperial acrobat as the dagger twisted from Nystin’s grip.

Nystin lunged forward, shoving the Imperial back, and lashed out with his mace. The Imperial ducked, spun, and slid under the blow, and then Nystin remembered the man’s priorities and swung down at the fallen serving maid instead. The Imperial darted in and caught the blow mid-swing, and this time, Nystin smashed a fist into the man’s jaw. He went down on top of the girl he’d tried to protect, and Nystin raised his mace again.