The Acuna mouthpiece had said that the Babachenko could see farther and better than any man alive. In his mind’s eye, Alexander compared the colors of Mage Jalal and the Babachenko to confirm his suspicion and his fear. While Jalal was a good man and the Babachenko was not, they shared the same calling: divination. Both specialized in magic that provided information.
Alexander knew he wasn’t immune to magical sight … Phane had spied on him often enough. The inescapable conclusion that sent icy chills up his spine was that the Babachenko knew who he was and where he was. Reason demanded it, yet he hadn’t been dragged off with the others-why?
“Alexander?” a voice whispered from the shadows.
He didn’t turn, but instead reached out with his all around sight to identify the source before confirming his identity.
“Hello, Anja, it’s good to see you.”
She raced out of the shadows and hugged him. “I’ve done like you said. I’ve obeyed even though I want to eat some of these people.”
“Good. I’m proud of you.”
“They know we’re here,” she whispered urgently. “They just told us that you killed the crown princess and they’re looking for you.”
“They’re lying,” Alexander said, focusing on his all around sight, looking for any sign of magic or people before continuing. “They know exactly where I am.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I can only guess that they want the Stone and they know I don’t have it, so they’re trying to flush me out, force me to make a move.”
“Wouldn’t they just torture you?”
“If the Babachenko is what I think he is, then he probably knows why he can’t find the Stone, and he also knows that torture wouldn’t work.”
“So what do we do?”
“Nothing. Just be ready. When it’s time to move, we’ll have to be quick about it.”
“I’m ready right now.”
“I know. Oh, and thank you.” He kissed her on the forehead.
“For what?”
“For getting me reassigned to the stables.”
“But I didn’t. I wanted to say something to Lady Grant but I was afraid it would draw attention.”
“Huh, that’s interesting. One more thing to think about.”
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Anja said. “Jack will be singing for Lady Grant tomorrow evening. He seems to be making a name for himself.”
Alexander chuckled. “Why doesn’t that surprise me. Let him know we need to talk, and keep doing what you’ve been doing.”
She stood on her toes to kiss him on the cheek before melting back into the shadows. He waited for a few minutes longer, leaning against the railing, trying to decide how to proceed, when two men came into view behind him, crouching behind the bushes that bordered the little balcony. He slowed his breathing and focused on the threat, waiting for them to make a move. Their colors were calm and steady, eager even, those of men accustomed to violence, though thankfully, neither showed any trace of magic.
They started to move, very slowly, never rustling the bushes any more than the occasional breeze might have. One of the two wrapped a length of rope around each hand as he crept up behind Alexander. The second stopped ten feet away, waiting for his companion to strike. Alexander inventoried the nearest man’s weapons: sword, dagger, boot knife. He studied his colors and scrutinized his face without providing even a hint that he was aware of him. The moment seemed to slow as the enemy drew near, and then he saw the attack unfold in his mind’s eye … in that timeless place where his magic lived, Alexander watched the man loop the rope around his neck and pull him over backward.
When the man moved, Alexander ducked under the rope, grabbing it with one hand while lunging into the man’s midsection with his shoulder, quickly removing the dagger from his belt before grabbing him by the legs and tossing him over the wall. The second man was so surprised by the sudden turn of events that Alexander had him flat on his back with the dagger to his throat before he could react.
“Who sent you?” Alexander whispered.
The man stared back in blank surprise, still too shocked to process what had just happened. Alexander pressed the flat of the blade to his throat.
“Tyr … Lord Tyr sent us.”
“What were your orders?”
“To capture you alive and bring you to him.”
“Where is he?”
“Here, in the city.”
“Do the Andalians know he’s here?”
“Yes, he’s an ally of the king. He has a house just down the road.”
“What were you supposed to do if anyone caught you?”
“Kill them. Leave no trace.”
“Good. Get up,” Alexander said, hauling the man to his feet and walking him toward the balcony wall with the blade still to his throat. The man’s eyes went wider until he was staring at Alexander with nothing but the fear of death. When he reached the wall, Alexander grabbed the man by the belt and tossed him over without a moment’s hesitation. He considered keeping the dagger but decided it was too great a risk, so he threw it over as well.
He returned to his room and went to bed as if nothing was out of the ordinary, deciding to wait until he talked to Jack before he chose his first target. He wanted to make a move against the king, but he knew he would have a far better chance if he could use all of his magic to plan his attack first, and that would take some time-time spent without the slave collar.
That left the mine.
“Chloe?”
“I’m here, My Love.”
“Can you go to the mine for me?”
“Of course,” she said. Several minutes later she touched his mind again. “I’m here, My Love.”
Alexander looked through her eyes down the tunnel. Black scorch marks marred the wall, but it remained intact. Three magical circles had been inlaid in silver into a slab of stone laid near the wall. Each circle overlapped equally, creating a space within the center that was protected by all three. Around the three was another circle. Alexander had never seen magical circles arranged in such a way, each lending strength to the others. Six overseers stood guard at the entrance to the tunnel, but otherwise it was empty.
“Looks like they’ve been busy,” Alexander said.
“And yet, they haven’t gained entry,” Chloe said. “Maybe they won’t be able to get in.”
“From the looks of those circles, I bet they break through tomorrow.”
Chapter 11
Alexander had just started his work the following morning when Grant entered the stables with Tyr and his wizard.
“I have many fine horses, Lord Tyr,” Grant said. “For the right price, I would consider selling any of them.”
Tyr scanned the room, locking eyes with Alexander, rage boiling in his colors. He tried to remain calm, struggled to contain his anger, but it seeped through into his voice and bearing.
“I’ll take those two,” Tyr said, stabbing his finger toward two horses without really even looking at them. “And I’d like to buy a slave to care for them. He’ll do.” Tyr pointed at Alexander like he was aiming a weapon.
“Come now, Lord Tyr, you know as well as I do that the slave trade belongs to the Babachenko. Records must be kept, fees must be paid.”
“Formalities,” Tyr said. “I’ll give you gold.”
Grant held up his hands in a helpless gesture, shaking his head. “Lord Tyr, again, you know as well as I do that all transactions must take place with Andalian silver crowns. Gold is strictly forbidden.”
“Don’t play with me, Grant,” Tyr nearly growled.
“I mean no offense, but our laws are dear to me,” Grant said. “Only through the careful order of Andalian society can all be assured equality and prosperity.”
Tyr’s bald head started to turn red. Alexander went about his work, pretending to ignore them while watching the exchange with his all around sight. Tyr walked away, breathing deeply and deliberately, then turned back and stalked up to Grant, his hand resting on the hilt of the Thinblade.