She relaxed slightly. “No. I needed to be close to the person.”
Devlen squeezed her shoulder, giving her moral support.
“And Quinn’s a good kid,” Leif said. “He smells like the sea—fresh and honest.”
“You mentioned being sick for a day. What were the symptoms?” Devlen asked.
I explained about my extreme swings in temperature.
Devlen almost sloshed his tea on Opal’s head. “I know what it is!”
15
VALEK
Valek was pleased with the morning’s matches. Ari and Janco once again proved why they were his seconds-in-command and Onora revealed quite a bit about herself. Gerik hadn’t been lying when he claimed to be good at fighting. He hadn’t won a match, but, then again, he’d been fighting the best in Valek’s corps. And he’d picked the wrong weapons against those two. Next time, Valek would suggest Gerik choose the bo staff against Ari and hand to hand against Janco.
What impressed him the most about Gerik was the man kept his cool during both bouts. Something Onora struggled with. He’d also confirmed that the two of them at least knew each other. Ah, the plot thickened. And more reasons to take a trip to MD-2.
According to the Commander’s detail, they’d followed security protocol to the letter the night Onora attacked and Gerik had not been on duty. Valek was certain the intel Gerik provided to Onora helped her avoid the sweeps.
No. The real problem lay in the protocol and why the security team hadn’t noticed the gaps. Valek had read it that morning and spotted the lapses right away. Alarming, since Maren had written the new protocols while Valek had been in Sitia.
And he didn’t like where his thoughts led. Perhaps Maren had done it on purpose because of the Commander’s request. Perhaps this had all been a test, including Onora’s timely arrival. All of which Valek had failed.
As for the reason for the test, the Commander might be feeling vulnerable. Maybe Onora sneaked into the Commander’s suite before Valek had returned and they’d worked out a deal.
Regardless of why the Commander had tested him, Valek would not let anyone else write the protocols or assign members to the Commander’s detail again. He’d start fresh with a new group. Although he’d still like to talk to Maren. Where was she?
He returned to his office to finish a few things before his trip north. Reviewing personnel files and writing instructions on how to patrol a castle failed to keep Valek’s mind from wandering. There had been no clue as to what mission Maren had been given and that irked him. Was finding Maren another test?
Valek was very familiar with tests. When he had moved from hand-to-hand combat to dueling with weapons at Hedda’s school, the older students and instructors had tested his new skills at random intervals. He’d learned to sleep with a weapon in each of his hands.
He’d learned how to fight with different types of swords, bo staffs and a number of other sharp implements and nasty-looking devices, but fighting with a knife was his favorite. He loved getting up close and personal with his opponent, despite the drawbacks, like finding out Arbon sprinkled too much garlic in his food. And he loved how the blade was a deadly extension of his hand. Soon no one could beat him in a knife fight.
Hedda’s threat hadn’t been serious. No way he could master all the weapons within ten days. That would have been impossible. It was closer to ten months, and during that time Valek had turned fourteen.
Near the end of the ten-month span and at the start of the heating season, Hedda led him into a room. Weapons hung on the walls and a mat covered the floor. An unarmed man stood in the center. He wore the same clothes as Hedda, a light green tunic and loose pants. No boots.
Valek turned to her. “Another test?”
She smiled. “Yes.” Hedda gestured to the assortment of weapons. “Use as many as you like. The goal is simple. If you can draw Jorin’s blood, you win.”
Sounded easy enough. Valek pulled two knives from the wall and tucked a couple of daggers into his belt. He faced Jorin. The man remained relaxed with his arms at his sides. Still unarmed. Hedda watched from the doorway.
“Whenever you’re ready, Valek,” she said.
He suspected a trick and that he was about to get trounced by this man. A lesson in how weapons made you lazy and gave you false confidence. Or something like that.
Valek nodded to the man and assumed a fighting stance. He shuffled close and attacked, slashing at the man’s throat with his left hand and stabbing at his stomach with his right. Jorin twisted, grabbed both Valek’s wrists and yanked him forward, ramming Valek with his knee before tossing him aside.
Valek scrambled to his feet as pain radiated from his ribs. No doubt Jorin had more training and experience than Valek. Determined, Valek rushed him again and ended up on his back again.
New strategy. Valek flipped his knives over, grabbed the blades and threw one a second after the other. A stickiness brushed his skin as both knives veered, missing Jorin by inches.
Interesting. Valek yanked a sword from the wall. Best to keep away from this guy. He approached and encountered a heavy thickness as if he’d walked into an invisible spiderweb. Odd. But not as odd as the surprise on Jorin’s face as Valek lunged with his sword. What else did he expect? It wasn’t like Valek hid the weapon behind his back.
Jorin countered in time, but he scrambled to keep ahead of Valek’s strikes, which had slowed because of that strange sticky pressure. Too bad his blade couldn’t cut through the invisible strands.