Chapter 39
Cole
What am I looking for again? the king bloodvoiced.
Cole stood alone in the empty seating area of the Black Boar tavern. The king had bloodvoiced him, as Kurtz had requested, and Cole had done his best to explain the situation. “We think there’s a secret passage to an underground chamber,” he said.
“I know that.” Nash exited the kitchen, wiping his hands on his trousers. “Not so much as a loose stone in the kitchen.”
“Sorry,” Cole said, lowering his voice. “I wasn’t talking to you. The king’s here. He’s…helping.”
Nash froze mid-motion. “The king of Er’Rets? Here?”
“In the Veil,” Cole said, as if that explained everything.
Nash’s brows shot up. “The Veil? That’s sheer madness.”
Tell him I said all things are possible with Arman, Achan voiced, his tone light.
Cole relayed the message, and Nash squinted at Cole as if he had sprouted a second head. “Really? I’m supposed to believe the king is talking to me?”
Tell him I like his doublet. It looks formal but not uncomfortable.
Cole passed along the compliment, then thought, Could you focus on the task, please, Your Highness?
As long as you stop calling me ‘Your Highness’ when there’s no one to overhear. You’re making me itch.
Cole sighed and forged ahead. We think it’s under the office—or close to it.
Can you carry some lights in there? And the passageway too? I’ll need to see.
Certainly, Cole thought, then said to Nash, “We need to light the office and the passage between it and the kitchen.”
Nash shrugged and headed toward the office. “Why not?”
They had barely finished arranging lanterns when Achan voiced, Found it.
A thrill ran up Cole’s arms. Where? he thought.
In the passageway, about two paces past the kitchen door on that same wall. There’s a latch on the inside, chest high for me. Hold on. Let me come to the other side.
“He’s found it.” Cole led Nash out of the office and into the passage.
Ah, Achan voiced. See if you can fiddle with that big knot in the wood. About the size of a coin and chest high. See it?
“He says there’s a knot in the wood,” Cole told Nash, scanning the grain. His gaze caught on a golden-brown knot, and he pressed it cautiously.
The knot sank into the wall with a soft click, and a hidden door swung inward.
“Well, mark me,” Nash said.
Cole exhaled a long breath and crouched to grab a lantern. “I’m going down.”
“I’ll go with you,” Nash said.
Cole hesitated. That would never do. “Actually, I need you to fetch the guard.”
“Whatever for?”
“In case I don’t come back.”
“You don’t know that these stairs even lead anywhere,” Nash countered. “Besides, you’ve got the king. Apparently.”
Cole gave him a dry smile. “The king doesn’t know his way around Tsaftown. If you come down with me and something happens to us both, there’ll be no one to rescue us.”
“Ah.” Nash tipped his head back, clearly reluctant. “How will I convince them to come?”
“Go to Lytton Hall,” Cole said. “Ask for Jol Quimby or Lovell Dunn. Tell them I’m in trouble and bring them here.”
Nash sighed. “All right. But it’s not my fault if they think I’m mad.”
“They won’t,” Cole said.
“Luck go with you,” Nash said.
Cole raised the lantern as he stepped into a square passage. Narrow stairs started down right away and creaked underfoot as he descended into darkness. The walls closed in, raw and cold, and the smell of damp earth thickened with each step.
At the bottom, he found himself in a storage room. Crates of wine were stacked along one wall, and shelves crammed with various weapons lined another.
Grab a sword, Achan voiced.
Good idea. Cole hadn’t brought his today. He lifted a few, testing their weight, and settled on a short sword with a leather-wrapped hilt that felt balanced in his hand. He threaded it into the ring on his rope belt, grateful Kurtz had insisted such a thing would come in handy.
Opposite the stairs, a gap in the timber frame led to a dirt tunnel.
Cole ducked between the exposed studs, his boots scuffing over the frosty soil.
Wooden beams and braces supported the rough shaft.
Icicles clung to cracks in the ceiling and low-hanging joints like jagged teeth, glinting in the lantern’s light.
How you holding up? Achan bloodvoiced. About Mistel, I mean.
Cole’s jaw tightened as he trudged through the darkness. He saw no reason to think his replies and answered aloud. “I’d rather not talk about it.”
Achan’s tone softened. She means a lot to you, doesn’t she?
The silence stretched out. Cole’s throat grew tight, his mind a twist of dark possibilities of where Mistel might be this very moment. Finally, he said, “I’m afraid for her. But more than that…I love her.”
His words seemed so much louder, spoken into the dark void of the tunnel.
Have you told her?
Cole frowned. “No.”
All the more reason to find her quickly, Achan voiced. Those words are far more important to women than they tend to be to us men.
“Really?”
Oh yes. I learned that the hard way, so be sure and tell her as soon as you can.
“All right, I will.”
Achan chuckled. Vrell will be delight—
The pressure abruptly left Cole’s head.
Cole spun around. “Your Highness?”
The silence pressed in, heavy and suffocating.
Cole raised the lantern higher, but the tunnel was empty.
As the light spilled over the walls, he noticed something painted there.
He stretched his arm out, bringing the lantern closer.
White markings, their shapes jagged and illegible, shimmered faintly in the light.
His skin prickled.
Runes.
Just like the ones on the gates of Ice Island.
On a whim, Cole backtracked a few steps toward the Black Boar, then called out, “Your Highness?”
Here! Achan’s voice returned, the sharp twist at Cole’s temples a relief. I lost sight of you. Where’d you go?
“There are runes painted on the wall.”
Show me.
Cole inched closer to the markings, careful to stay on the southern side of them, and lifted the light close.
Achan was silent for a moment. They look Magosian. Never thought I’d see runes used so far north.
“They’re the same ones that keep bloodvoicing magic out of Ice Island,” Cole said. “Did you know about those?”
Not until Kurtz told me. Seems I’m learning all sorts of dark magics lately. First, the effigy killing. Then the cursed smoke around the Magosian camp. Now this. I don’t like it.
“What shall I do?” Cole really didn’t want to go on without the king’s company.
Wait here a moment.
Alone with nothing but the faint crackle of the lantern flame, Cole’s thoughts turned to Mistel. Was she cold? Hurt? Frightened? The images that flickered through his mind were sharper than he wanted, and his chest ached at the thought of anyone causing her harm. Arman, keep her safe. Please.
Straight above us is a road. Achan’s voice came like a firm hand on Cole’s shoulder.
We’ve come about two blocks north of that tavern and appear to be heading toward the harbor.
My guess is this tunnel leads to one of the warehouses.
I’ll bloodvoice Lord Livna and have him send a squadron to the waterfront.
When you reach the end, come outside. I’ll be watching the area for you.
Look for the runes, Cole thought. If you see any, that’s likely the place.
Will do, Achan said. Keep your shields down. I’ll keep trying to voice you.
Cole exhaled slowly, letting the plan steel his resolve. “All right.”
Arman be with you, Cole. Now, get going.
“Yes, sir.”
Lifting the lantern high, Cole walked past the runes again. The hairs on his neck tickled as he continued into the unknown.
He walked for what felt like an eternity.
The tunnel narrowed and widened unpredictably, until suddenly the walls fell away entirely, and Cole found himself in the bowels of a building.
A forest of wooden beams and posts supported a low ceiling.
The faint smell of mildew and animal musk filled the air.
His lantern light revealed crates stacked haphazardly against the walls.
He heard the occasional rustle of movement—rats or perhaps something larger.
Nearby, a low grunt echoed, unmistakably animal.
He came to a staircase and climbed cautiously.
At the top, he emerged into a warehouse, its vast interior shadowed and cluttered.
Crates of varying sizes formed mazelike rows, and the occasional glint of glass hinted at bottles or jars.
A pair of goats in a cage beside a stack of barrels chewed idly, their eyes reflecting the lantern light with an eerie gleam.
This wasn’t the warehouse they’d searched before.
Cole moved slowly, heading toward the wall in hopes of finding an exit. As he neared it, he spotted a door. A guard stood there, his stance casual but alert.
Blazes! Cole ducked behind a stack of crates and turned the lantern flame so low it was almost out. Hopefully, it would still be lit if he needed to come back for it.
The loss of light heightened his hearing, and every creak of the building, every animal noise, every scuff of his boots on the floor sounded louder than before.
Achan hadn’t bloodvoiced him. The runes, then—they must be painted somewhere on this warehouse, blocking his magic.
Cole peeked around the crates at the guard, the door, the wall until—sure enough—he spotted the runes, painted just above the doorframe, a place they couldn’t be seen from the street.
Well, that explained that.
His pulse quickened. No help was coming. Not until he made it outside.
How was he going to get past that guard? Should he attack the man? Look for a different door? What if he couldn’t get out?
He’d find Mistel and go back through the tunnel to the Black Boar.
Cole left the lantern behind and worked his way around the warehouse, searching for Mistel, for another door. The only thing he found was more guards—five, by his count, stationed in various places, though he couldn’t see that they were guarding anything in particular.
No sign of Mistel.
She could be anywhere. Or she might not be here at all. He didn’t want to waste time wandering. He needed to get outside so Achan could send in Lord Livna’s soldiers. They’d make quick work of this place, subdue the guards, and search it much faster than he could alone.
Doubts clawed at him, twisting in his chest until it was hard to breathe.
Please, Arman, help me get through this.
Thank you for the good in my life, for the king and Kurtz and Mistel and Matthias.
Watch over my father. I pray that Kurtz and Zanna have already found a way to get him out of there. Help me find Mistel. Don’t let me fail.
He returned to where he’d stashed his lantern and studied the door, breath slowing as his racing thoughts settled. This seemed to be his only way out. The guard on duty yawned and shifted his weight but otherwise showed no sign of leaving. Cole thought back to Kurtz’s lessons.
Distract, disable, and don’t overthink it.
How to distract the guard? Create a noise to draw him away? Push the crates on his head? Try and talk his way past, pretending to belong?
All those options would make noise, which might call the attention of the other guards. He needed a silent option.
Cole fingered the rope belt around his waist. If he succeeded, Kurtz would love this.
He withdrew the sword and leaned it beside the lantern.
Then he untied the knot in the rope belt and slipped it from around his waist. He gripped each end loosely, then crept to a position just behind the guard.
The moment the man turned his head, Cole darted forward.
He looped the rope around the guard’s neck and pulled tight.
The guard stumbled, his hands clawing at the thick hemp.
Cole kicked in the backs of the man’s knees, and when the guard collapsed, Cole wrestled him to the floor.
It wasn’t graceful, but it worked. He held tight until the guard went unconscious.
Cole tied the rope back around his waist and started to rise. Pain exploded at the back of his skull. White light spun across his vision, and he fell to his knees. His hands fumbled for his sword, but he only felt air. He’d left it with the lantern.
Another blow—a sharp punch to his temple—sent him sprawling onto his back.
A shadow loomed over him.
Blinking through the haze, Cole recognized the face. Drustan.
“Thanks for coming,” Drustan said. “You saved me the trouble of having to find you.”
Cole pushed up onto one elbow, his head swimming. “Where is Mistel?”
Drustan delivered a sharp kick to Cole’s side. “Stay down,” he growled. “You’re not going anywhere.”
Cole blinked against the pain. “The night watch is coming,” he said. “Nash went after them.”
Drustan laughed, cold and hollow. “Nash is a fool. I doubt he even knows where to find the watch. He still thinks he’s my boss, but I’ve been working with Thusk for over a year now. Soon, everything Nash has will be mine.”
Cole forced his next words out through clenched teeth. “He’s your friend.”
“I don’t have friends.” Drustan motioned to two guards who appeared from the shadows. “Lock him up. We’ll send him out in the morning. I know just the master for him.”
The guards seized Cole’s arms and dragged him to his feet. He yanked one arm free, only to have a fist slam into his ribs and steal his breath. Cole went limp. His head fell forward, and the guards lugged him toward the center of the warehouse, his feet dragging uselessly behind him.
A cold, hollow ache settled in his chest as Mistel’s face swam in his mind. She was out there somewhere, alone, and he was powerless to reach her.