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  “You said there was news from Perizzi,” she reminded him. He added up one final column of numbers, recorded the result and carefully put the ledger to one side.

  “Yes, Mother.”

  “I’ve heard some disturbing rumours, Bollgar. Are they true?”

  “I’m afraid so. I’ve been informed there are several people watching the orphanages in Perizzi at all times. I believe they’re Guardians.”

  It confirmed her suspicion that something had gone wrong with Brook’s mission to silence Grell. She’d already assumed the worst as there had been no messages from her since then. What a waste. To have used such a unique asset on a minor inconvenience. Now she had no idea what was going on inside Unity Hall as Brook had been her only loyal Guardian. It would take her a long time to cultivate another.

  “What do you want me to do, Mother?”

  “You mentioned there was surplus money for expansion. For the time being I want you to keep your focus here. Since my last attempt at patronage was rejected, I want you to establish at least three new orphanages in the city. Hire someone competent to oversee it all. Get them to look after finding the buildings, hiring staff, everything.”

  It was difficult to tell because Bollgar was always sweating, but she thought he was damper than normal. “That’s going to cost a lot of money,” he offered tentatively, but she waved it away. She could always get more money.

  “Make sure the overseer knows what they are doing. I don’t want any mistakes.”

  “Of course,” he stammered, which made her grimace.

  “And there’s one more thing,” said Akosh, getting to her feet. “Take a bath and open a window in here. It stinks.”

  “Yes, Mother,” he said meekly. His weakness made her despise him just a little bit more. The more she thought about it the more she realised the truth. She had grown too fond of them. They were tools to be used. Nothing more. If Bollgar died because he was fat and lazy she would simply replace him. Two apprentices were being groomed and soon they would assist Bollgar with his duties. She knew he would complain about the intrusion, but her long-term survival was the only thing that mattered, not their happiness.

  As their god and saviour, a certain level of adoration and fawning was expected, but the familial aspect of their praise was making her increasingly uncomfortable. It was something she would have to adjust in the years ahead.

  An hour later she was sitting in what had become her favourite tavern in the city, the Golden Goose. The owner wasn’t one of her children but, once she’d explained what would happen to his family if he refused her requests, he’d become incredibly compliant. He’d even provided her with a private dining room which she used to conduct her meetings.

  Akosh sipped at her glass of wine, delighting in the silky texture on her tongue and the way it clung to the edges of the glass. Her moment of tranquillity was spoiled by a knock on the door and Doggett striding into the room. Today he seemed full of confidence and his disguise was a wealthy merchant of some importance which was utterly at odds with his forgettable face.

  “Mother,” he said, giving her a slight bow.

  “Have you resolved the situation with the orphanage?”

  “As requested. Jille the administrator, and the new member of staff, were both murdered. It was made to look like a crime of passion. I provided the breadcrumbs and the Regent’s first wife asked her new agents to do the rest.”

  She had decided to solve three problems at once. Her incident at the orphanage would soon be forgotten in the wake of a fresh murder, and she could test Selina’s resolve at the same time. It also allowed her to eliminate the agent at the orphanage who had been posing as a member of staff. It didn’t matter who he’d worked for. A blind eye saw nothing and now she was watching for a reaction. She’d soon find out who the agent had been working for.

  “How did Selina perform?”

  “Exactly as I would. She wasn’t squeamish in the slightest.” Doggett sounded impressed, which was a rare compliment from him. “She followed the evidence I’d provided and it led her to an agent from Yerskania. Bloody clothes and the murder weapon were found at his home in a hidden cupboard. Under extreme duress he confessed to being an agent of Queen Morganse. He denied all knowledge of the murders at the orphanage, but he did cough up a few names of other agents before dying.”

  Akosh raised an eyebrow. “He died?”

  “The inquisitor was a little too enthusiastic,” apologised Doggett.

  It didn’t matter. What was one more dead human? This latest mishap had been turned in her favour. Selina’s new spies had proven to be valuable which meant she would rely on them more in the future. Akosh expected she would pass this latest piece of information on to her husband. All rulers in the west knew other nations spied on them. It was to be expected. But they rarely had the name of foreign agents. Now the Regent and Queen Morganse would be focused on playing their games, watching each other’s spies. In the meantime Akosh’s people were one step closer to the Regent and more ingrained in the government than before. With more people in key positions who had proven their worth, it would be easier to steer gently whoever was sitting on the throne.

  “Proceed with caution,” said Akosh. “Continue to prove your worth to Selina. If she wants to play at being a spymaster, then let her. We need to continue poisoning the Regent against Yerskania and their open stance on everything.”

  The Regent had led the way on magic. He’d been the first to ban all Seekers and the first to declare an amnesty and establish a new way of dealing with young children and mages. If all went as planned Akosh intended to gradually move him in the same direction with religion. She was a long way from having a nation of her own, but this was another small step on the right path. Patience, always patience.

  “Don’t let her do anything too rash. Tell her to move slowly and keep me updated.”

  “Yes, Mother,” said Doggett, giving her another bow before marching out. Reliable. Precise. Someone who followed orders with no fawning. Perhaps she should have made her religion more martial. Then she could have filled her ranks with soldiers. On the other hand they were less flexible and not as good at blending in as her orphans who could hide in plain sight.

  As she was mulling over the future direction of her followers, there was another knock at the door. Akosh took another sip of wine before answering. She wasn’t expecting anyone else today. If it had been the simpering owner she would have heard him shuffling about. Whoever was on the other side of the door wasn’t moving and seemed content to stand and wait. Akosh drew a dagger and kept it out of sight under the table.

  “Enter,” she said.

  A stout Yerskani man with a thick beard and shaven head came into the room. Much to her surprise he bowed deeply. Expecting mockery, she moved the dagger on top of the table. His eyes tracked the motion as he straightened.

  “My name is Bissel. I offer greetings from my Master.”

  “And?”

  “If this is not a convenient time I can come back later,” he offered.

  She was about to ask who he served when she noticed a familiar mannerism. One of his hands strayed to his chest as if nervous but she could see him playing with something under his clothing. The top two buttons of his shirt were unfastened and in addition to a hairy chest she could just see the edge of a black leather cord. There was something around his neck. A religious symbol, perhaps. The last person she’d seen doing the same was Pavel, the former Guardian.

  She hated being in the dark. Without knowing who he served she had no idea as to their motives for this alliance. For all she knew it could be an elaborate trap.

  “Sit,” said Akosh and he was quick to comply.

  “Let me guess. You’re not allowed to tell me who you serve?”

  “Apologies. My Master prefers to remain anonymous at this time. He’s merely being cautious, which I’m sure is something you understand.”

  “You’ve no idea what I understand,” said Akosh. She was t
empted to pin his hand to the table with her dagger and question him until she had some real answers. The last time his Master had sent one of his followers, Akosh had been tested and she was still annoyed. However, the messenger had helped her realise she’d been drifting off course and getting too embroiled with humans and their insignificant problems. That was the danger of living as one for so long. You started to think like them and feel things for them. They were not equals. They were nothing more than ants, crawling around underfoot.

  “As you say. I’m sure I cannot know your mind,” apologised Bissel. “As a show of good faith and commitment from my Master, I’ve been instructed to offer you something.” Akosh was only half listening. She was still contemplating how best to vent her frustration on this lackey. Perhaps if she just cut off a few fingers. That would send a clear message to his Master without killing him.

  “Go on,” she said, choosing which of his hands to start with.

  “Torran Habreel.”

  “What did you just say?” said Akosh, focusing on him fully.

  “I know where he is.”

  All thoughts of dismemberment were pushed aside. “Where?”

  “The Guardians have him in a secure cell inside Unity Hall.”

  It was just as she’d suspected. After everything that Habreel had done he was still a Guardian at his core. He saw himself as a good man and every act he’d taken as necessary to build a better future. His morals could bend, to allow him to commit or give orders that normally went against his beliefs, but he always reverted to form. Such disciplined and rigid men were difficult to control, unless you found their weakness. Habreel’s had been his ambition and his prejudice. He’d been so driven he paid no attention to those closest to him. And now he was back home. Akosh had no doubt he would tell them everything, to unburden his soul and to feel good about himself.

  “I assume he’s cooperating with them.”

  “He’s writing reports and the Khevassar regularly asks him questions.”

  That would only get them so far. Habreel had been kept in the dark on purpose and didn’t know much of her plans. However, if the Guardians kept asking him questions it could reveal some discrepancies surrounding her age, reveal the names of some of her followers and even hint at her unusual “magic.” Habreel needed to be silenced before her brethren took notice. After avoiding the last summons they were already on alert.

  “What is your Master offering?” she asked.

  “To permanently take care of Habreel.”

  Akosh raised an eyebrow. “He can get someone inside Unity Hall?”

  Bissel winced. “I’m afraid I can’t answer that.”

  “Because you don’t know or you’re not allowed to say?” she asked, stroking her dagger.

  “I don’t know. My Master appreciates your frustration and he realised you might want to vent, once my message was delivered.”

  Bissel closed his eyes and calmly awaited his death. Akosh admired the ruthless nature of Bissel’s Master, whoever it was. He had no compunction about sending one of his people to deliver a message, knowing full well the peon might die in the process. The anthill did not collapse with the death of one worker.

  “Is there more to the message?” she asked, still playing with her dagger.

  “I’ve been instructed to say this favour is freely given. My Master expects nothing in return at this time.”

  “At this time,” echoed Akosh, mulling over the words. Just as Selina would come to rely on her new agents, Akosh was aware she might fall afoul of the same trap if not careful. It was the same trick black crystal dealers had been using on addicts for centuries. One free taste and then they were hooked, usually for life. After that they would do or say anything for another fix. However, right now Habreel was a problem that she needed fixing before he caused any more problems.

  Alliances between her kind were rare for a reason. They only had their own best interests at heart. Their survival did not depend on another’s, only on worship and belief from the mortals. While their goals might currently align, it was inevitable that with time they would drift apart.

  “Thank your Master for this generous gift.”

  “I can leave?” he asked, surprised that she was letting him go. Akosh merely removed her dagger from the table. Bissel glanced at the door and then back at Akosh, as if expecting a knife in the back.

  “Get out before I change my mind,” she snapped.

  With a short bow he scuttled out of the door and disappeared.

  The favour was generous but it was also troubling. It meant Bissel’s Master had eyes and ears in Unity Hall. She had no idea how many people he had, or where they were based. Without knowing his identity it made it impossible to guess what he was after.

  Bissel was just turning the corner when she hurried out of the front door of the tavern. Akosh took a deep breath and then followed him at a sedate pace.

  She needed to find out more about his Master. Her survival hinged on her children and the continued growth of her faith. She doubted he was one of the Elders, which meant he didn’t rely on places of worship. Once she knew his identity it would make it easier to find out what he wanted and how to stab him in the back.

  CHAPTER 17

  The journey had been long and arduous but finally Tianne had made it home to Zecorria.

  She was exhausted from long days in the saddle and a lack of sleep, not to mention in desperate need of a bath and a hot meal. Her last brief wash had been in a brook a few days ago, but it had been cut short when she’d heard riders approaching. Thankfully they’d not been after her, not this time at least. Twice on her journey she’d been forced off the road by a group of bandits. They’d been posing as injured travellers who tried to rob her and then followed her when she fled. She managed to lose them after a few hours but they found her trail the next day. Tianne knew it was her own fault. If she’d not used her magic they would never have come after her.

  After that encounter she didn’t use it again but remained wary of other travellers she met on the road. Her supplies were gone, as was all of her money, but none of that mattered now. She’d made it to the capital city.

  As she rode through the streets of Herakion she expected to feel different. A sense of relief, or an easing of the longing she felt inside, but nothing had changed. As far as everyone else knew she was just another traveller coming to the city. But she had an appointment with the Regent. Tianne knew that first impressions were important and she could not present herself at the palace in her current state.

  With no money in her pocket she was forced to sell her horse. In exchange for a lower price she made the new owner promise to hold onto the animal for at least a week. By then she hoped to be able to buy him back.

  With the money she received Tianne bought some new clothes, rented a room in a modest tavern for the night and scrubbed herself from head to toe in a bath. When the water turned brown she realised why the owner had been wrinkling his nose at her. After she’d dressed in fresh clothes and tied back her hair in a neat ponytail, Tianne treated herself to her first decent meal in days. This time the owner actually smiled and gave her an approving nod when he delivered her food.

  That night, despite the softness of the bed and clean sheets, Tianne had difficulty sleeping. She was nervous about the following morning and rehearsed over and over what to say to the guards at the palace gates.

  Different scenarios ran through her mind where she encountered a problem and tried to think of a suitable answer. The most important thing she focused on was staying calm. She had every right to be there and didn’t want to scare anyone when they found out she was a mage. The last thing she wanted was to cause a panic and be attacked.

  At some point in the early hours she passed out and slept fitfully for a few hours. Morning found her groggy and sandy-eyed, but she rose early, ate a quick breakfast and then joined the line of supplicants outside the palace. By the time she arrived there were already at least thirty people ahead of her an
d she prepared herself for a tedious wait.

  After a couple of hours a palace clerk, accompanied by two guards, walked down the line. Tianne heard him asking each person their name and business before making a brief note in his book. A few people were told their business wasn’t urgent and they were asked to come back the following morning. By now the line behind Tianne stretched down the street and she counted over a hundred people waiting. There simply wasn’t time for all of them to be seen in one day. Being told to come back tomorrow wasn’t a scenario she’d considered and panic began to set in.

  The money she’d received from selling her horse would last for a while, but what happened if he sent her away this morning? What happened if they kept sending her away? Eventually the money would run out. What would she do then? How would she survive?

  “Name,” said the clerk, startling Tianne out of her reverie. He was a short, portly man wearing a stylised grey shirt marked with one red star on the left side of his chest, indicating some kind of rank.

  “Tianne,” she blurted, giving herself a shake. One of the guards raised an eyebrow and she did her best not to look suspicious. Tianne started fidgeting under the woman’s intense stare and couldn’t stop.

  “Your business?” asked the clerk.

  “I’m here because of the amnesty,” she said, keeping her voice low. Those immediately around her could hear, but she didn’t want everyone knowing her business.

  The clerk raised an eyebrow. “The what?”

  “For Zecorran mages,” she said and now both guards were staring at her. One of them slowly moved a hand to rest it on the sword at her waist. The clerk was less impressed.

  “Girl, I’ve no time for games. Go away and bother someone else.”

  “I’m serious,” hissed Tianne, earning a few startled looks from those nearby.