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“Could he be an impostor?”
“Impossible. He must’ve devoted himself to study from early childhood. I have seen scores of young aspirants, and this man has put in the work.”
If Prysen Ol was a true scholar, that made him less likely to be an assassin. Not impossible, but not as likely.
Right now, my money was on Nycati. But then there was also Lady Wexyn, who had a unique grasp of ancient philosophy, “moved well,” and warranted a visit from Caldenia.
And Ellenda, who was now wearing mourning paint possibly because she knew she was about to murder Kosandion and would not survive the aftermath. The candidates were promised to have a one-on-one date with the Sovereign, but it was not a guarantee. A candidate could be eliminated before their turn for the date ever came about. Ellenda was lagging in the rankings, so she put on the mourning paint, knowing Kosandion would recognize it and react. Now she would have her date and the perfect opportunity to target him…
We reached the new quarters I had just made. I opened the door. A comfortable room waited for us, not too large, not too small, its walls lined with tree branches offering convenient perches. Three house-nests protruded from the walls in a triangle around the central shallow pool. The middle nest was larger than the others and decorated with colorful pebbles. Three windows, each with an individual perch, flooded the room with sunshine. Two other smaller rooms branched off to the sides, one a bathroom and the other a study.
“Wonderful,” the First Scholar murmured. He waved his wings at his assistants.
They closed in. One of them gingerly pulled several large pins from the First Scholar’s feathers, the other grasped the headdress and plucked it from his head.
The older koo-ko sighed in relief, sat at the edge of the pool, and dipped his taloned feet into the water. His feathers fluffed up, puffing him to twice his normal girth.
I opened my mouth to wish him a good stay.
The inn chimed in my head. Someone was trying to open a communication channel from Baha-char.
The inn sprouted a screen for me, and I took the call. A woman appeared, wrapped in a shawl, so only a small sliver of her face was visible. Her skin was variegated, a color pattern you normally saw on a brindled dog or a tortoise cat, and dotted with tiny diamond-shaped protrusions. No, not protrusions, thin scales. She was clearly a type of human, and yet she had scaled skin. I had never seen anything like it.
“Are you the innkeeper?” she whispered, her voice urgent.
“Yes.”
“The Sovereign is in danger. One of the candidates is not who they claim to be. Meet me at the glass stall on Curved Street. I will wait for half an hour. No males.”
The screen went dark.
I marched through the inn in my travel robe, a nondescript gray garment, worn and slightly tattered. Sean marched next to me, looking like a thundercloud about to erupt with lightning.
“It’s not safe.”
“I’m bringing my energy whip and my broom.”
The broom, reshaped into a staff for ease of carrying, was in a Velcro sheath on my back. The energy whip was on my belt under my robe. Squeezing it would release a seven-foot-long filament that could cut a human’s head off the body, instantly cauterizing the wound. I’d been practicing with it, and I’d gotten good enough to not need the glove that I used to wear with it. The glove was the only thing the whip wouldn’t cut, but it also hurt my hand when I wore it.
Sean’s face turned into a harsh mask. “That’s not enough. I’ll go instead.”
“You’ll go and nothing will happen. She said no males.”
“I don’t care what she said.”
“I’m getting that.”
“You are the only female innkeeper here. If they wanted to isolate you, this is the perfect way to do it. Send a woman who pretends to be scared, so there is no possible way you would bring backup.”
“I am bringing backup.”
The door in front of me swung open, and I walked out onto the terrace where Karat, Gaston, and Dagorkun were drinking tea and watching Cookie chase a yellow butterfly in the orchard. It felt like the beginning of a joke. A knight, a warrior, and a spy walk into a bar…
“And here come our lovely hosts,” Gaston said. “Uh-oh. I don’t like those expressions.”
The two fighters came alert like sharks sensing blood in the water.
“Is there trouble?” Dagorkun asked. “Please let there be trouble. I have a lot of pent-up frustration to release.”
“Lady Karat,” I said. “Would you fancy a short trip?”
Karat’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of trip? Would it require primed weapons?”
“Probably.”
She jumped up. “Let’s go! I’ll get my sword.”
Karat ducked inside, into the common room, and jogged to her quarters.
“See?” I told Sean. “Backup.”
