Page 62 of Kingdom of Dance

Alonse had said that the informants hung out at an old warehouse to the west of the markets, which meant she’d have to pass right through them. An unappealing prospect. Keeping to the edge of the area, she moved as quickly as she could, trying not to catch anyone’s eye. She was almost to the other side before she ran into trouble. She was hurrying down an apparently abandoned alley, no one in sight but a disheveled-looking man sprawled across a doorstep, asleep or unconscious.

Zinnia paid him little mind, eager to get to a more populated area. To her dismay, as she passed him, he suddenly sprang to life, his arm flashing out and grasping hold of her ankle. She crashed painfully to the ground, barely getting her arms out in time to prevent her face smashing onto the pavement. Before she could get her feet under her, the man’s whole weight was on her legs, rough hands pinning her arms down.

“Fine cloak like that, I reckon you’ll have some gold in your pockets, my lad,” he slurred.

Zinnia’s heart raced, and she knew she had very little time to act. As soon as the man shifted his hand toward her cloak, releasing one arm, she reached desperately for her belt, whipping out the short blade concealed there. She jabbed it backward, her stomach lurching unpleasantly as it sank into what seemed to be her attacker’s arm.

He shouted, his grip slackening, and Zinnia struggled up onto her knees. But she didn’t move quickly enough. The man’s cry of pain turned to one of rage. Her hood had slipped down in the scuffle, and he seized her hair, yanking her back. She let out an involuntary yell of her own, and the man stilled.

“You’re not a lad at all, are you?” he breathed, his rancid breath warm next to her ear. “Even better.”

A thrill of terror passed over Zinnia, lending her new strength. Bringing her arm forward, she threw her elbow back into his midriff with enough force to make him exhale sharply. This time she managed to get to her feet, and she took off with as much speed as she could muster.

“Little vixen!” he yelled, and her breath caught at how close behind her he was. She wouldn’t be able to outrun him.

Suddenly, there was a startled shout behind her, and a loud clang. Zinnia didn’t slow, afraid he’d be on her any moment. But when she rounded a corner, she found to her horror that she’d reached a dead end. Turning around, she held her blade before her, bracing herself.

But no angry figure appeared around the corner. After a tense few moments, she crept forward, peering back the way she’d come. The man lay prone in the street, clearly out cold. Zinnia stared at him for one bewildered moment, then dashed down the far street, away from the dead end. She ran until her lungs were bursting, then sank down behind a dustbin, crossing her arms over her knees and burying her face in them.

Shudders rocked her body, the terror of her near miss washing over her in wave after wave. She had no idea how she’d been saved—perhaps the man had been more inebriated than he’d seemed and had fallen when he tried to chase her. Whatever the cause, she knew she’d been incredibly lucky.

It took a long time for her breathing to slow enough for her to proceed. What was she thinking? She didn’t have the training for this. She wasn’t a spy, or a soldier. At the thought her mind flew involuntarily to Obsidian, and she was surprised by the fleeting wish that passed over her, that he could have been at her side in this venture. But it was a foolish thought. If she asked him to accompany her, he would report the whole thing to Basil, and there would be an end to her investigations. No, she had to do this herself.

She forced herself to her feet, ignoring the way everything in her longed to turn toward the safety of the castle. Her reluctance had already caused her to put it off for a week. The last thing she wanted was to have to come back again on a different night. She would follow Alonse’s lead now or never.

The warehouse in question wasn’t difficult to find. It sat just beyond the markets, a number of unsavory looking people coming and going from it. Enough people, in fact, that it occurred to Zinnia that she might have difficulty identifying the so-called informants. She hung back almost a block away, scanning the area and deciding that her best option was to do some surveillance.

With the use of a crumbling windowsill, a partially detached drainpipe, and years of practice clambering over the cliffs, she made her way onto the roof of a nearby building. The area between the markets and the warehouse was made up primarily of rundown shopfronts with dwellings above them, and she was able to move from rooftop to rooftop all the way to the building in question.

Zinnia crept as quietly as she could across the roof of the warehouse. She got a brief glimpse inside a large room as she went over some broken tiles. It appeared to be a storage area, probably for stolen goods. Another gap showed her a workshop, but she didn’t want to know what illegal items were being made in there. That wasn’t her concern.

As she moved farther across the building, keeping low so as to avoid the notice of any passersby down on the street, it occurred to her that she would be lucky to identify what actually was her concern. What was she looking for? A group of miscreants who had the look of informants about them? How could she possibly know which people were the ones she wanted? They were unlikely to be meeting with an enchanter she recognized right at this moment.

But fortune was with her. She’d made it to about the center of the large structure when she heard a man’s voice, so confident that she stopped at once. Having grown up in a castle, she knew innately how to recognize who held the authority in any given group. Whoever was speaking most definitely considered himself in control.

She stretched out on her stomach, running her hands over the roof and looking for the gap that must surely be there in order for the sound to be reaching her. Her efforts were rewarded with a sharp pain as her finger was sliced on a broken tile. As quietly as she could, she pulled at the surrounding tiles, finding any that were loose. Soon she had a sizable stack beside her, and she could see a small patch of room through the rotting rafters. She pulled a piece of cloth from the pocket of her cloak, winding it around her face to be on the safe side. The last thing she wanted was for one of the men in the room below to look up and see the kingdom’s eldest princess listening to their conversation.

“Do you have something useful for me, or not?” the man was saying. “I’m not going to be giving you the benefit of my magic for a dead lead.”

Zinnia’s eyes found the speaker, and she barely refrained from gasping aloud. From above, she had an excellent view of the man’s terribly cut hair. She knew who he was. Not that she had any idea of his name. But there could be no doubt that she’d stumbled upon the escaped criminal from Fernedell’s magic prison. No wonder his voice rang with authority. He was a powerful enchanter, and one who had proved that he was willing to use his magic for violence. Not to mention he’d managed to evade capture where most of the fugitives had failed.

“We gave you what you asked for,” another man responded in a surly tone. “You wanted to know who the missing enchanter had associated with, and we told you.”

The fugitive made a dismissive noise in his throat. “I’ve followed up every single associate you mentioned. All anyone could tell me was the rumor that other enchanters had been given extra power by some unknown benefactor—nothing I didn’t already know.”

“Seems to me like that’s your problem,Master EnchanterLorne,” responded a third man. The way he sneered over the title showed what he really thought of the criminal’s status. “We had a deal, and we’ve fulfilled our end of it.”

“You’ve fulfilled nothing,” said Lorne coldly. “You’re supposed to have a finger on the pulse of the Enchanters’ Guild. You should know anything they know. You’re telling me they don’t even have an inkling who’s behind these power gifts?”

“If they do, they’re keeping mighty tight-lipped about it,” said one of the local men. “The only one who ever gave a hint of it was the one who’s gone.”

His companion grunted. “Likely they did away with him for talking. They’re all probably in on it. If they pulled together, they’d have enough power to do all these super enchantments we’ve heard tell of. Mayhapthey’rethe ones you want.”

“You’re a fool,” said Lorne contemptuously. “You expect me to pay you for information, when you know considerably less than I do?”

“What are you saying?” scoffed the man. “That you already know who’s giving out the magic? If you did, you wouldn’t be coming to us.”

“I know it’s not Entolia’s oh-so-upstanding Enchanters’ Guild,” said Lorne disdainfully. “Your guesses are so far from the mark, they betray your utter uselessness.”

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