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“You’re in love with him,” he cried.
“That’s preposterous,” I shouted.
We gaped at each other, too stunned to say anything more.
Then a sweet, nutty aroma reached my nose. Rand, too, sniffed the air. I followed the scent to the oven where I had tossed the mystery beans into the fire. Opening the door, I was greeted by a strong puff of heavenly scent. Criollo.
27
“WHERE DID YOU FIND those beans?” Rand asked. “They’re the missing ingredient to the Criollo recipe. I didn’t think of roasting them to change the flavor.”
“A storeroom downstairs,” I lied. I wasn’t about to tell him that Valek and I had intercepted them on the way to Brazell’s new factory. Which, I now realized, was probably not producing feed but manufacturing Criollo.
“Which storeroom?” Rand asked, a hint of desperation in his voice.
“I don’t remember.”
“Try harder. If I can duplicate Ving’s recipe for Criollo, then maybe I won’t be transferred.”
“Transferred? Where?”
“You mean Valek hasn’t gloated over it by now? He’s wanted to get rid of me since the takeover. I’m being sent to Brazell’s manor house, and Ving will come here. He won’t last a week!” Rand spat the words out with bitter force.
“When?”
“Don’t know. I haven’t gotten my transfer papers yet. So there’s some hope to stop it. If you can find me those beans.”
He thinks we’re still friends, I realized in amazement. Even after admitting to poisoning me and accusing me of loving his enemy, he believes I’ll do it for him. I had no response. I stalled. “I’ll try,” I said, then made a hasty exit.
The first flicker of dawn was cresting the Soul Mountains as I arrived at Valek’s suite unseen. The tall windows in the living area faced east, and in the weak gray light I saw Valek’s profile as he sat on the couch, waiting for me.
“Back so soon?” he asked. “Too bad. I was just about to organize a search for your dead body. What happened when you knocked on the southerner magician’s door to sacrifice yourself? Did they kick you out, thinking you too half-witted to waste their time on?”
I plopped on a chair to wait out Valek’s sarcastic lecture. No excuse I could offer would satisfy him. He was right, going out alone had been a foolish thing to do, but logic and an empty stomach were like oil and water, they didn’t mix.
When he was quiet, I asked, “Are you done?”
“What? No rebuttal?”
I shook my head.
“Then I’m finished.”
“Good,” I said. “Since you’re already in a bad mood, I might as well tell you what happened while I was in the kitchen. Actually two things: one bad, one good. Which would you like to hear first?”
“The bad,” Valek answered. “That allows me the hope that the good will balance things out.”
I braced myself and admitted to revealing his undercover operation. Valek’s face hardened.
“It’s your fault. I was defending you!” I blurted.
He paused. “In protecting my honor, you exposed months of work. I should be flattered?”
“You should,” I said. I wasn’t about to feel guilty. If he hadn’t tested my loyalty with Star and then used me to further his investigation, he wouldn’t be in this situation.
His shoulders drooped as he leaned back on the couch, kneading his temples. “I hadn’t planned on making arrests till later this month. Better implement my cleanup plan before Rand has a chance to alert Star.” Valek rubbed his eyes. “Still, this might be a benefit. I think Star’s becoming suspicious. She hasn’t been conducting any illicit business in her office. If I bring her in now, I might discover who hired her to poison the Sitian’s bottle.”
“Star? How?”
“She has a southern assassin in her employ. He would be the only one with the skill and the opportunity. I’m sure the poisoning wasn’t a result of Star’s personal political views. Her organization would do anything for anybody for the right price. I must find out who would risk so much to compromise the delegation.”
He stood up, energized. “What’s the good news?”
“The mystery beans are an ingredient in making Criollo.”
“Then why did Brazell lie on his permit application? There’s no law against manufacturing a dessert,” Valek said, matching my leap of logic about the true nature of Brazell’s factory.
“Perhaps because the beans are imported from Sitia,” I theorized. “That would be illegal; at least until the trade treaty is finalized. Maybe Brazell’s been using other southern ingredients or equipment as well.”
“Possible. Which is why he was so eager to have a treaty. You’ll have to take a good look around when you visit the factory.”
“What?”
“The Commander has scheduled a trip to MD–5 when the southerners leave. And where the Commander goes, you go.”
“What about you? You’re going too, aren’t you?” The panic welling in my throat made my voice squeak.
“No. I’ve been ordered to stay here.”
“One, and two, and three, four, five. Keep fighting like this and you will die,” Janco sang.
I was pinned against the wall. My bow clattered to the floor as Janco’s staff tapped my temple, emphasizing his point.
“What’s wrong? You’re rarely this easy to beat.” Janco leaned on his bow.
“Too distracted,” I said. It was only a day ago that Valek had informed me of the Commander’s plans.
“Then what are we doing here?” Ari asked. He and Maren had watched the match.
Still uncomfortable about what he might have heard when I was delusional, I had a hard time meeting Ari’s gaze. “Next round, I’ll try harder,” I said as Janco and I caught our breath. Reviewing our fight, I asked Janco, “Why do you rhyme when you fight?”
“It helps keep my rhythm.”
“Don’t the other soldiers give you a hard time about it?”
“Not when I beat them.”
We started another match. I made an effort to concentrate, but was beaten again.
“Now you’re trying too hard. I can see you planning each offensive move,” Janco said. “You’re giving yourself away, and I’m there for the block before you even strike.”
Ari added, “We drill for a reason. Offensive and defensive moves must be instinctive. Let your mind relax, but stay alert. Block out all distractions. Stay focused on your opponent, but not too focused.”
“That’s a contradiction,” I cried in frustration.
“It works,” was all Ari said.
I took a couple of deep breaths and cleared the distressing thoughts of my upcoming trip to Brazell’s district from my mind. Rubbing my hands along the bow, I concentrated instead on the smooth solidness of the weapon. I hefted it in my grip, trying to make a connection, creating an extension of my thoughts through the bow.
A light vibration tingled through my fingertips as I traced the wood grain. My consciousness flowed through the bow, twisting and turning along the grain, and back along my arm. I possessed the bow and my body at the same time.
I moved into the third round with a sense of heightened awareness. Intuitively, I knew what Janco was planning. A spilt second before he moved I had my bow up to block. Instead of scrambling to defend myself, I had more time to counter as well as block. I pushed Janco back. A beat of music pulsed in my mind, and I allowed it to guide my attack.
I won the match.
“Amazing,” Janco shouted. “Did you follow Ari’s advice?”
“To the letter.”
“Can you do it again?” Ari asked.
“Don’t know.”
“Try me.” Ari snatched his bow and assumed a fighting stance.
I rubbed my fingers along the bow’s wooden grain, setting my mind back into its previous mental zone. It was easier the second time.
Ari was a bigger opponent than Janco. What he lacked in speed, he made up f
or in strength. I had to modify my defense by dodging his strikes or he would have knocked me off my feet. Using my smaller size to duck under one of his blows, I swept my bow behind his ankles and yanked. He dropped like a sack of cornmeal. I had won again.
“Unbelievable,” Janco said.
“My turn,” Maren challenged.
Again, I tuned in to that mental zone. Maren’s attacks were panther-quick. She favored the fake jab to the face, which usually lured my guard up and away from protecting my torso, leaving it exposed for a body strike. This time, I was one step ahead of her, ignoring the fake and blocking the blow.
