The Rogue Retrieval (14 page)

God help us.

Chaudri had been quiet since they saw Holt; now she spoke for the first time. “It occurs to me that if there's one magician in Valteron City, there might well be others.”

Logan drew in a sharp breath. “If he tries some of that sleight of hand stuff on a real magician . . .”

“Let's hope he didn't,” Kiara said.

“We can hope that, but I'm telling you. It's his go-­to move,” Logan said. “To be fair, that's why you brought him in the first place.”

“I brought him to help avoid altercations with ­people
other
than real magicians. I can't imagine how an encounter
with
one would go down.”

Logan glanced at Chaudri. “What would happen if he did?”

“You know the law as well as I do.”

Logan shook his head. “It was a mistake to bring him.”

“What's done is done,” Kiara said. “The only thing we know for certain is that Holt doesn't have him.”

“Let's go back to the east gate,” Logan said. “I think I saw something.”

They returned to the east entrance to the plaza, where Bradley had been posted. Right out in the middle of the plaza, Logan found what he'd glanced before: a red-­backed playing card stuck in the mud. “Got something,” he said. He picked it up. “Ace of spades.”

“Here's another one,” Kiara said. She plucked it from the mud. “Ace of clubs.”

“Got one, no, make that two,” Chaudri said. She plucked them from the wheel ruts that crisscrossed the plaza. “Both eights. Clubs and spades.”

They searched for a few minutes, but found no more cards.

“Not much of a trail,” Kiara said.

“I think it's a message,” Logan said. “Aces and eights.”

Chaudri looked at him, her eyes questioning.

“Dead man's hand,” he said.

K
iara found a lonely section of the plaza to talk strategy. Their watchers hovered nearby, visible but out of earshot.

“We need to regroup,” Kiara said. “Let's get back to the inn, and figure out a different way to grab Holt.”

“A different way?” Logan asked. He jerked a thumb toward the palace. “Last I heard, we were told to get out of town.”

“Of course he wants us gone. He considers us a threat.”

“What about the part where he jumps Alissian technology ahead by about five hundred years?” Logan asked. “Or tells them about the gateway?”

“He was bluffing.”

“I don't know,” Chaudri said. “Something's different about him. I'm not sure what he might be willing to do.”

“If we get him out clean, he won't have a chance,” Kiara said.

“Don't see how we're going to do that, Lieutenant,” Logan said. “The palace is a fortress, and he's got ­people shadowing us. If there's a magician with them, all bets are off. Holt has every advantage here.”

She paused. “Maybe we should think about removing him from the equation.”

“How?” Logan asked. “We can't get anywhere near him.”

“We might be able to intercept some of the supplies going to the palace,” Kiara said. “Food, in particular.”

Son of a bitch. “You brought R-­117, didn't you?” Logan asked.

Kiara didn't deny it.

“What's R-­117?” Chaudri asked.

“A bioweapon,” Logan said. “Tuned to one person's DNA.”

Chaudri was aghast.

“Damn it, Logan, she's not cleared for this,” Kiara said.

“She'd have to know, if you were serious. Which I hope you're not.” Surely even she wouldn't be that coldhearted.

“I want no part in this,” Chaudri said.

“Neither do I. It's cowardly.”

“It's efficient,” Kiara said.

“We can find another way, Lieutenant.”

Kiara clenched her jaw. Logan knew how she felt; he hated a failed mission. But sometimes you had to cut your losses, and move on to the next one. He'd carry her out of the square bodily if it came to that.

A soft, persistent beeping noise saved Logan from looming insubordination charges. It came from the comm unit strapped to Kiara's wrist, the one disguised as a wide metal bracer.

“Thank God. Command is up,” she said. Relief flooded her face. But it was short-­lived. The stiffness came back.

“What's wrong?” Logan asked.

“There's been another breach at the facility. A team of gunmen has infiltrated the gateway.”

“Into Alissia?” Chaudri asked.

“Yes.”

“How many combatants?” Logan asked.

“Several. Bravo Team came in after them.”

“Should be over quickly, then.” He'd trained every man on Bravo himself. They were good.

“Maybe not. They've been in pursuit for two days.”

“Where are they headed?”

Kiara's brow furrowed, and she checked her map again. Twice. “Right toward us.”

“How is that possible?”

“I don't know. But they want us to make for Felara to help intercept,” Kiara said.

Before they figure out how big this place is.

“What about Bradley?” Logan asked.

“He'll have to hold out on his own for a while.”

“I don't like leaving him. He's still new to this place.”

“Holt let us go unharmed. That's a good sign,” she said.

“Would be, except that Holt doesn't have him,” Logan said.

“We can monitor the isotope scanner while we head north. That's all we can do.”

Logan frowned, but orders were orders. Bradley had proven himself resourceful so far. A bit of time on his own might be good for the greenhorn. “Covering that distance is going to take some time. And our rations are about spent.”

“Chaudri and I will restock while you get the horses. We'll rendezvous at the base camp in two hours.”

“Will do.”

Kiara and Chaudri headed back toward the plaza, where the first tents from farmers and vendors had already gone up. Valteroni were already mobbing those tents; the cost of food would undoubtedly be enormous were it not for severe laws against price gouging. Logan wondered if Holt would keep those in place; he'd always been fascinated and a bit puzzled by Valteron's peculiar brand of economics.

He worked his way through the city, moving considerably slower since most Valteroni were out in the streets. They seemed to be celebrating their new Prime in a city-­wide revel. Ironically, in this crowd it was easier to pick out the tail, a dark-­haired man in a drab cloak who'd been following him since the square. More than one drunken citizen shouldered Logan hard as he passed, no doubt hoping to pick a fight. He might have indulged a ­couple, if he could have spared the time. He'd barely had a chance to warm up against Holt's men before the magician sewed him up like a stocking. None of the recon teams had ever engaged with a magic user before, and now it seemed that such avoidance had been a good idea. But it had got him riled up—­just as missing Holt with the dart gun had—­and he was definitely itching for some action. It took all of his training not to thrash the next drunk who bumped into him.

An open alleyway was just ahead. Logan knew he could cut over a few hundred yards to a smaller street running north-­south. The next push from a swaggering Valteroni couldn't have come at a better time. He looked like a brawler: heavyset, with a beard and mustache that couldn't quite hide the ugliest nose Logan had ever seen. The thing must have been broken four or five times, and here came this fellow asking for another.

He lurched into Logan in a manner that wasn't quite clumsy enough to be accidental. “What?” he demanded, when Logan looked at him. His breath reeked of
jennah
, the rougher form of hard liquor that sponsored many a poor decision in southern Alissia.

“Do you know that fellow over there, in the gray?” Logan asked.

The bruiser peered in the direction of Logan's tail, who had paused to haggle with a street vendor while waiting for Logan to continue on. “Don't think so. What's it to you?”

“Nothing. He said he knew you.”

“Never seen him in my life.”

Logan shrugged. “He said something about you owing him money.”

“That a fact?”

“You didn't hear it from me,” Logan said. He slipped back into the crowd.

Moments later he heard a scuffle behind him. “You in the gray! Heard you been talking about me!”

Logan sighed contentedly. “Ah, Valteron.” That should be about it for the tail. They were a touchy lot when it came to money. Owing anything to anyone else was a source of shame here.

Briannah's inn was one of the more defensible establishments in the city—­with a high stockade and its own stable—­but that wasn't why Logan had chosen it. He'd been wounded on a raid some years back. Barely made it away from the docks alive. Briannah had found him in the alley behind her stable yard. He was a complete stranger then, bleeding and half-­unconscious, but she had her stable hands carry him inside.

For two weeks she looked after him, until he was well enough to catch a trading vessel bound for New Kestani. Since then he'd visited her whenever he could, paying handsomely for a room he hardly used. Briannah liked to boss him around, but God, she could
cook
. He'd never eaten so well anywhere else in Alissia. More importantly, she knew how to keep her mouth shut. To others, at least. That was a rare thing among innkeepers.

Lem, one of the stable boys, answered almost immediately when he banged on the gate. “Hi, Logan!”

“Hi, Lem.” Logan made sure no one in the alleys or street was watching him, and then entered the tiny stable yard. “Keeping out of trouble?”

“Mostly.”

“Mostly, eh?” Logan went to ruffle his hair; the boy ducked nimbly out of the way. Most of those Briannah took in were orphans. She fed them, kept them reasonably clean, and gave them a safe place to sleep in this rough port city. Lem had come a long way under her care. For the first ­couple of years that Logan had known him, the boy hadn't spoken. Gods knew what kind of horrors he'd seen.

“Briannah told us to keep a lookout for you. She wants a word.”

“Just one?”

The boy giggled. Logan wanted to check the horses, but thought it better to see Briannah first. He found her in the kitchen making a kettle of fish stew. The spicy kind, his favorite.

“It's about time you got back,” she said. “Here I was thinking you were in the bay with your throat cut.”

He couldn't help smiling. “Aw, you were worried about me.”

She glanced away from her cooking long enough to note his disheveled condition. “What happened to you?” she demanded. “Picking fights with the locals again?”

“Wasn't my fault, I promise,” Logan said. He kissed her once on the cheek and took a whiff of the stew. “Smells good.” He reached for the spoon and got a hand smacked for his trouble.

“It's not ready yet, and your hands are filthy.”

Logan went to the sink and washed up; there was no point in arguing with her. She added something else to the kettle that looked suspiciously like a lump of butter.

A serving girl came in and began slicing bread. She was young, perhaps twelve, nearly as old as Logan's eldest daughter. Seeing her made him think of home.

“Lessa, put another log on the hearth in the common room.”

“I just added one,” she protested.

“Lessa!”

The girl left, but not without rolling her eyes in the most condescending way possible.
Where do teenage girls learn that one?

“Someone tried to steal your horses this afternoon,” Briannah said.

“Again?”

“I warned you about bringing animals that fine to these stables. You're not the only one with eyes for them. And ­people talk around here.”

“Do I need to go out to the stable and count them?”

She
tsked
at him. “Of course not. We're even more careful when you're here.”

“And the saddlebags?”

“I had the boys lock them in your room. I know how particular you are about those,” she said.

That was a relief. Logan wouldn't have wanted to write that particular report on lost equipment. With everything they'd brought for the retrieval mission, the executives would have had a fit.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Don't thank me, thank the boys. They've been keeping watches, whenever you're around.”

“I didn't ask them to.”

“They did it on their own. They look up to you, though I can't say why.”

“Maybe because you treat
me
like a stable boy.”

“Ha! Well, you owe them this time. They ran off the thieves before I could even get out there with a wooden spoon.”

“Good lads.” All of the company mounts were thoroughbreds, all descended from championship horses. They were incredibly useful to take in the field, but there simply was no hiding their quality.

“Where's that handsome friend of yours?” she asked.

“Huh?”

“The new fellow? About half your size but a much nicer smile.”

“Oh,” Logan said. Bradley's charm apparently knew no bounds. “We got separated, after the announcement.”

“You should bring him to the common room for a spell. Might be nice looking at a face other than yours. Just keep him away from my serving girls!”

“What makes you think he's single?” Logan asked.

“I can always tell. Just like I pegged you as a man raising daughters.”

He still hadn't figured out how she guessed that one. “Well, you don't have to worry about him. If you see him, though, tell him I've headed back north, will you? I'll bring his horse, just in case.”

She looked up from the kettle, frowned. “You're leaving already?”

“Wish I could stay longer. There's an urgent situation.”