Night Study

Pain pulsed from Leif’s right leg despite the healing ointment. His raw skin oozed and his throat burned. He felt like a pig who’d been tied to a spit and roasted over a fire. Leif would never eat pork again. Well... At least not for a couple days.

“Are we still going to check those other hothouses?” Devlen asked.

“No. I can’t stop a magical booby trap, and anything could be the trigger.” Leif considered. “I’ll message the locations to Irys tomorrow. Only she or Bain has the power to remove the trap without springing it.”

Disappointment panged. He’d been hoping to discover a clue to Owen’s whereabouts. Now it would be at least half a season before one of the Masters arrived.

“You think Owen had time to rig all ten?”

The magician had a six-day head start. “It’s possible. Best to assume they’re all disasters waiting to happen.” And if Owen had enough time for that, then he probably destroyed anything that would indicate his escape plans. Damn.

“What if one of the locals decides to investigate?”

“We can message the various security forces to keep everyone away until one of the Master Magicians clears it.”

* * *

The next morning, Leif sent Devlen to dispatch the messages to the towns near the glass houses while he communicated with Irys via his super messenger. He tapped into the vast magic stored within the black diamond that had been encased in glass. Using the extra power boost, he connected his thoughts to her thoughts. When she dropped her protective barrier, Leif explained about the booby traps.

I’m not sure when one of us can leave, Irys said. The Council is still reeling from the news the Commander may have Curare.

Annoyance colored his thoughts. He has Curare. It’s not a guess.

I know, but there’s no proof.

Outraged, Leif countered, We’ve seen the factory and the vines growing. Owen boasted to Yelena that he made a deal with the Commander to produce it. What more do they need?

Evidence, Leif. Not hearsay.

Hearsay? They doubt Yelena’s word? Anger flared.

Yelena’s been dealing with the loss of her magic and a number of assassination attempts. The Council needs to hear the story directly from her. But she’s gone to Ixia instead. Don’t you see how that compromises her report?

Unfortunately, he understood the Council’s position. They wouldn’t accuse the Commander of anything unless they had verification. And it didn’t help that Ben, Loris and Cilly had been silenced. The knowledge from Owen’s accomplices would have provided plenty of confirmation.

What about the efforts to locate Owen? he asked. Have they coordinated with the Moon Clan’s security forces?

They’re not organizing anything. Aside from Yelena, the people who have allegedly seen Owen alive are all Ixian.

So basically, the Sitian Council has done nothing at all.

They’re discussing how to prepare the army if the Commander does indeed have Curare. The first step has already been decided. They agreed that we need to discover a way to mass-produce Theobroma.

Theobroma neutralized Curare, but the substance removed a regular person’s resistance to magic and stripped a magician of all protective barriers. Using Theobroma wouldn’t be a concern if fighting Ixia. No, the problem would be growing enough of the trees whose pods provided the main ingredient. The tree only thrived in the Illiais Jungle and it required three to five years of growth before it produced pods. Maybe they could grow them in those hothouses. But it would still take years to manufacture enough for an army.

Who is working on the Theobroma problem?

Bavol Cacao Zaltana has volunteered.

No surprise. However, Leif wasn’t sure they could trust his clan’s leader anymore. Without anything more substantial than his gut instinct, he couldn’t accuse the man.

What can I do? he asked instead.

Find proof that Owen is alive and has committed treason, so we can convince the Council to start a manhunt for him.

Easier said than done. How about Owen’s head on a silver platter?

That will work, too.

I’ll sharpen my machete.

Make sure you treat it with Curare and are extremely careful. Owen’s more powerful than you.

Yelena had worried about that as well, which reminded him. Have you heard from Yelena?

Not since she left for Ixia. You?

Worry for his sister squeezed his gut. No.

Let me know if you do.

I will. You, too.

Of course.

Please tell Mara I miss her and hope to be home soon. A pang of longing vibrated in his chest. Miss wasn’t a strong enough word for how he felt.

I will. Keep me posted on your progress.

Yes, sir.

Irys laughed. You’ve been hanging around those Ixians too long.

* * *

Leif and Devlen arrived at the farmhouse two days after he’d spoken with Irys. A young man sat on the steps, but he jumped to his feet when he spotted them and followed them to the stable. When the man approached, Leif rested his hand on the hilt of his machete.

“Are you Leif Liana Zaltana?” the man asked.

“Yes.”

“Finally! This is for you.” The young man shoved a sealed envelope at him then dashed away.

Devlen joined him. “A message?”

“Or another booby trap.” Leif sniffed it, seeking the sender’s intentions. It smelled of impatience and boredom—probably from the messenger. Otherwise, there was no malice or magic.

He ripped it open, read the message and laughed. “It’s a warning to stay away from the glass houses. Seems my sister also triggered a booby trap.”