Dark Dealings (10 page)

Heyerdar pressed a hand to the dirty stone and closed his eyes. “It’s been twisted, manipulated. Reist needs to get one of his mages down to fix this.” He stalked over to one of the guards in the doorway that led up into the gate tower. The thin man gave a belated salute, his eyes wide, a nervous tick jumping in his temple. Whatever Heyerdar said, he jerked a nod and scuttled away. Heyerdar rubbed his hands together as he strode back. “To the Treasury.”

“Wards are inviolate.” Ava’s gut was a knot. Her world was shifting, the fixed facts she knew falling away. “What kind of magic could do this?”

“I don’t know.” Heyerdar fixed his narrowed gaze on the seemingly blank wall, the pattern of the ward buried within it. He frowned. “A different magic.”

Heyerdar was as old as some of the Higher Mages and had a wealth of knowledge, and he didn’t know? Ava fixed her mind on the only lead they had. “Are we being pointed to the Treasury? It’s too...convenient.”

Heyerdar paused and stared over her head. The palace and its supporting civil service lay in that direction. “They want us there. Let’s find out why.”

Chapter Nine

Ava stuffed the last of the wrap into her month, licking the slide of blood from her fingers, aware that Heyerdar watched her.

He nodded to the young guard at the entrance to the Civil Halls. “Are you ever full?” Light edged the arches that curved their way into the central courtyard. Dark-robed civil servants scurried past, most loaded with scrolls of varying thicknesses and leather-bound books. They gave Heyerdar a wide berth. “And I
know
I fed you.”

“I need to know more about thieves.”

“You’re a thief.”

Heyerdar was being deliberately obtuse.

“Mostly I know what the mages have wanted me to know.” A smile touched her mouth with a little hint of her thief nature. “Dorien spat on your warrant.”

“Yes.” His voice was flat, but she could almost taste the anger in it. “Protocol can go fuck itself. We need those books. I’ll get them myself.”

There was that to admire about Captain Heyerdar. He had none of Reist’s considered carefulness, the diplomacy which masked his ambition. Heyerdar saw a problem and he solved it.

They crossed the courtyard to the archway that led to the vast doors of the Civil Hall itself. Black-robed men scuttled up to him, darting nervous glances back to her. Had word spread that the Left Hand had a thief trailing after him? The civil servants had always been queasy about her. The deaths in the city wouldn’t help. Heyerdar barked low words and at least one of the cowled men greyed.

“She’s seconded to the Left Hand. To me.” Heyerdar’s low growl reached her and her gut twisted. The possession in his voice was unnerving. An eyebrow lifted as he towered over the scrawny civil servant. “Are you going to deny
me
entrance into your Hall?”

“No...no, of course not, Captain Heyerdar.” The man’s voice came out on a squeak. “But she’s a
thief.
” He darted a look at her, fear thick around him, and Ava smiled in return. He swallowed, his throat working hard. “We are not mages or guards, able to defend ourselves, protect our flesh, our souls. From her.”

“You have my word you’re safe.” He leaned in close to the man, who stiffened. “But if she wanted to devour you whole, render your soul and wear your skin, even
I
couldn’t stop her.”

Ava swore under her breath. When everything settled, her relationship with the men and women in the Hall would be fucked. She wrapped her darkness around her growing anger and let the thin chill calm her. Heyerdar was forcing out too many emotions, and her nature—worn thin by Reist—was having trouble keeping her focused. She was meant to be a professional. Still, she’d like to sink her teeth into the good captain and have him retract his words.

He glanced at her and again he knew her thoughts. It was there in the slight pull of his lips. Knowing her. That skill was the most disconcerting.

“Is Intendant Palban ready for us?”

“It’s noon, the Intendant is—”

Heyerdar manhandled the servant through the doors and gave him a light push. The man stumbled, flailed and caught himself. “The answer to that is ‘Yes, he is, Captain Heyerdar.’”

“You enjoyed that,” Ava muttered.

Heyerdar grunted. “Civil servants annoy me.”

He strode away, his boots clacking in a rhythm with the slap of his sheathed sword against his thigh. Ava hurried to catch up with him as his strides ate up the vast space of the lobby. Light moved across him from the windows set high in the dome. The air was fusty and dry, and the lack of magic itched at her. Her visits to the Civil Hall were rare—would be rarer now after Heyerdar—and she had to trust that he knew where he was going.

Shadows enfolded her and her breathing eased. Sconces cast thin light, the tiny lick of magic taunting her as she passed them.

“Never sated.”

Heyerdar’s words reached back to her, and the warm promise in them pricked her skin. She was not connecting him and sex. Not until the day was over. They had business to transact. Her heart tightened and she ignored the quick jump in her belly. He was business, not pleasure. Reist was the man she wanted, the man she loved. Once Heyerdar...used her, her body was for Reist. Not the captain. Why was it so hard to remember that stark fact?

“His worship has agreed to see you in here.” The man Heyerdar had almost shoved over pushed open a double set of doors onto a long room. Candles thickened the air with smoke, narrow windows offering only a thin cut of white-gold to add to the flickering lights. Scrolls, books and ledgers piled on shelves blackened by soot.

Candles? Ava frowned. Why did a man who was an Intendant, one of the more senior men in the Civil Service, not have mage-light in this office?

Scuttling forward, the robed man bowed low before Palban. The Intendant’s vast lunch littered the table at which he sat. “The Left Hand and the Right Hand’s thief wish an audience.”

A low growl burned from Heyerdar, echoing in the vaulted hall.

“Captain Heyerdar.” Palban waved a chicken leg, indicating the two stools that shadowy figures were scurrying to place before the wide table. The odor of strong spices and well-cooked meat twisted Ava’s stomach. Palban picked up a corked bottle. “Wine?”

Heyerdar gave a brief shake of his head. “Information was sent to you yesterday. You need to add Madam Lunete to the list.”

“Ah, the luscious Mairin.” Palban lifted his eyebrows, his temples wrinkling. Small, dark eyes drilled her. She held his gaze. Was she meant to be intimidated? With a half smirk, he threw the chicken bone onto his platter, wiped the shine of animal grease from his chin and hands with a white napkin, and clicked his fingers. “Clay!”

Another body scuttled out of the shadows and handed sheaves of paper to Palban. Without looking at them, the Intendant passed the papers to Heyerdar. He gave a heavy shrug. “There is nothing connecting these men, besides the Crown leasing them some diseased hovel in which to drag up their broods.”

Heyerdar tensed, and the spark of power thickened around him. Palban didn’t notice Heyerdar’s sudden shift, but the servants removing the platter and Clay hovering at Palban’s rounded shoulder hurriedly stepped back. Clay almost disappeared into the heavy shadows.

“Clay.” And there he was again, his thin face caught in candlelight. His hands knotted and he stooped before his superior. “Find the good captain more information on the holdings, the lease, the transactions of the always hospitable Madam Lunete.”

“Of course, Your Worship.” The shadows swallowed Clay again.

Heyerdar was frowning. “This is all you have on the lives of these five men?”

“These are little men, Captain.” Palban waved his hands. Rings gleamed. “Their press on the world is infinitesimal.”

Heyerdar stood, his stool scraping back over the flagstones. Palban blinked. “Have whatever you can find sent to my office.” His frown deepened. “These men are your priority. Understand that fact. Dig deeper.”

He turned away, his jaw set, and paused. “Why candles?”

So Heyerdar had noticed it too. Palban pulled a face, his jowls wobbling. “The Institute has yet to offer its services to explain why mage-light never burns bright in my modest office. I’ve sent numerous missives, have I not, Clay? They’ve ignored every one. For too long,
months,
I’ve been choked with candle soot like a commoner.”

Heyerdar muttered something under his breath and in a few strides was almost out the door. Ava stared after him, before getting to her feet, weathering Palban’s smirk and running to catch up.

Heyerdar was cursing as she drew level with him. He gave her a chilled smile and power crackled around him. “On to the mage library.”

“Heyerdar...” What was she doing? Warning him? What did she care if he went head-to-head with Dorien? The old shit deserved it, and it wasn’t as if any of the mages could really
harm
the elemental. No, she wasn’t worried about him. It was all for Reist. The Left Hand didn’t encroach on the territory of the Right.

“What?” He marched out through the double doors and into the light of the courtyard. His shoulders lifted and he took a deep breath, tilting his chin up to the sun. Golden energy swept over him. “Fuck, I wanted to stick my hand in his chest and yank out his heart.”

“You wouldn’t have found it.” One of his eyes opened. She smirked at him. “And his diet? His offal wouldn’t make good eating.”

“No. Still, cracking him open. It has its merits.” He tugged at his tunic, straightening it. “The library.”

Ava led the way through the twists and turns that wound throughout the palace into the Institute, the scurry of civil servants replaced with the slow strut of the mages. She belonged in neither place and had always been grateful for the shadows to hide that fact. With Heyerdar beside her, it was less easy to hide. But then the captain didn’t belong either. He simply didn’t care about it. She was not admiring that about him either.

The library sat at the end of a long, wide corridor in the north wing of the Institute. Heyerdar traced over the insignia of the Highest Mage’s office cut into the surface of the heavy wooden door. The whisper of magic burned in the air, igniting against his fingertips.

“You are to stay silent.”

Ava pressed her lips together and Heyerdar narrowed his gaze.

“And after this, I fuck you.” His gaze slid over her, hot and molten, and she ignored the little twist of hunger and need in her belly. “I’m more than ready.”

“You’re...” Ava bit back the need to swear. It had been a deliberate taunt. Heyerdar was a complete fuck. “It’s business, Captain.”

“As I said, I kill thieves. I don’t fuck them.” He gave her a sharp smile. “You’ll be the first to be under me. Hot, sweaty, naked and desperate.” His gaze burned. “I promise.”

He shoved open the doors before she could bite out her reply. They slammed back against the smooth stone of the walls, the sudden fierce clank and thud echoing across the silent library. “Master Pio Dorien.” Heyerdar’s voice boomed just as loud. “You and I will have words.”

Ava stared after him, her jaw dropping. He really didn’t give a shit what they thought of him.

“Left Hand!” Dorien banged his hand down against his desk, a thin mist of dust and sand rising. “How dare you—”

“How dare
I?
” His voice dropped to a hard whisper, and the overblown dramatics fell away just as quickly as his booming voice. He closed the distance between them and planted his hands on Dorien’s cluttered desk. “You insulted one of
my
men. Spat on
my
warrant from the emperor. Did you think this would go unnoticed?”

Dorien blinked three times before his spine straightened. “These events are not the concern of the mages.” He lifted his chin. “
Your
man insulted me and this institution. And as for allowing a
thief
access to our most precious books—”

“Thieves broke through your wards. They are in the city.”

“Killing wastrels, I know...”

Heyerdar’s jaw tightened. “They threaten the palace. Anything that threatens the palace is my concern. I need everything you have on thieves.”

Dorien’s beady gaze darted to her. “You have a thief with you. I cannot allow—”

“Scared she’ll find out what she is?” Heyerdar voiced what Dorien seemed reluctant to say. Ava’s gut squeezed. “You keep a thief, you accept what they are. Not whatever the fuck you mages are doing with her.”

“Captain!”

“Get me the books, Dorien.” Heyerdar spread his hands on the desk. The heat of his energy burned in the air and spidered across his skin to bite into the wood. Something in the wood...changed. Ava could almost taste it. A hint of hot sunlight, warm earth and rain and a sense of stretching, growing... The desk creaked. Tendrils sprouted from its surface, catching Dorien’s sandpot, inks, the ancient tomes piled in one corner. Other roots took nothing. Weaving through the air. Hunting.

“Captain!” Dorien’s voice rose to a terrified squeak. He tried to scramble back, but his chair wouldn’t move. “You’re not allowed—”

“The books. Or this desk shows you how much it loves you.”

Ava pressed a hand to her mouth to stop her guffaw. Dorien would hate her forever, but this single moment was worth it. Completely. Utterly.

Mages moved out from the marble and shadows, slow and wary. Not one moved to help Dorien. They were witnessing the power of an elemental. Someone who brimmed with power, someone who used it, not hoarded it like they did. He brought life where there could be none, and it held them transfixed.

Dorien stared at the roots swaying before him. They dipped and wove, catching the dust and the flicker of lamplight, reacting to his every flinch. His breathing quickened and he pressed his arms to his chest. Hands clenched into bloodless fists. Terror held him, broke him because not one flicker of magic pushed out in its usual rhythm from his skin.

“Or would you like me to leave you alone with your desk? It’s eager for you, believe me.” Heyerdar took a step back. “I can hunt out the books myself.”

“Stop this at once. You are the Left Hand. To abuse your power, to abuse
me—
”

Roots wrapped around his arms and chest and lifted him out of the chair. He dangled in the air, his robes flapping.

“Last chance, Dorien.”

The old man swore. “Highest Mage Reist will hear about this.” A root twined around his skinny calf, slithering upwards, and he squeaked. “Gabra, Sanat. Gather the books.”

“And the ones from the special collections.” Heyerdar’s shout followed them as they ran. He returned his attention to Dorien.

“You can’t. With
her.
” Dorien glared at her, his hatred palpable. A root grabbed his other calf and started the slow, dry push up to his thigh. “Yes!” He shrieked the word. The roots stilled. The old man sagged, the roots supporting him, cradling him. “The special collections too.”

Heyerdar took another step back and waved Ava forward. “Feed.”

She stared at him. “What?”

“I bring life. You bring death.”

He wanted her to take the magic from the desk, to return it to its inanimate state. But his way of putting it? The thief in her liked the twist, and the way Dorien had paled. Magic flickered at the edges of his skin now. It was an insult. His fear of Heyerdar had paralyzed him. Her? He could fight back.