Page 58 of The Study of Poisons
“Then your spy training will have to wait a few weeks.” Valek explained what he needed Trevar to do.
* * *
Valek accompaniedthe six-person clean up team to Sven’s shop. To avoid drawing unwanted attention, they waited until deep into the night. Lanterns hanging on the lamp posts remained lit until dawn and the streets were empty of all but a watch patrol. The people on duty took one look at Valek and his team and decided to find another street to check. Smart. He was in no mood to deal with them.
The team lit their handheld lanterns right outside Sven’s shop. Glass shards crunched under Valek’s boots as he entered. The door had been smashed open and it hung crookedly on its hinges. The displays of the legal kitchen goods lay on their sides. Pieces of broken crockery littered the ground. He scanned the shelves, noting the absence of most of the merchandise—probably stolen.
The damage to the back room matched the front, but it also included broken floorboards and large holes in the walls. Valek wrapped his emotions in cold determination as the team found the stairs. He followed them down.
Splintered wood covered the floor and two bloodied bodies. Sven lay half under a broken crate with red staining the planks. Valek knelt next to his friend and closed Sven’s eyes. He bent his head a moment, silently cursing the man for underestimating the danger. For not assigning more colleagues for protection—Kenda had confirmed that only two other agents worked with Sven. Then Valek went to his other agents and closed their eyes as well. The three of them had served Valek and the Commander loyally and would be honored as heroes.
The clean-up crew went to work, packing the bodies into bags with handles. Valek searched through the wreckage. All the black market items were gone as well. No doubt they now graced the shelves of the other dealers’ showrooms.
Valek grabbed one of the lanterns and returned to the back room. He inspected the holes in the walls and floor. It appeared as if the attackers searched for something hidden. Sven might have misread the danger, but the man wouldn’t have stashed his profits in such obvious hiding places. Back behind a privacy screen, Valek found a chamber pot. Holding his breath, he picked it up and undid the false bottom. A large pouch thudded to the ground with a loud clank. He replaced the bottom and set the pot down before scooping up the heavy leather bag.
Dozens of gold coins shone from inside the purse. One thing Sven hadn’t underestimated was the profits from the operation. Valek sighed. He’d rather have Sven and his two agents alive than a pouch full of gold. All of his corps understood the dangers of their job. All knew it could be fatal. All had heard the stories of other missions that ended badly. What they didn’t know was how much their deaths weighed on Valek. How much he grieved for each one.
After the team carried the bodies toward the castle, Valek lingered in Castletown. He considered his other operation. From her clandestine meetings with Star, Margg had located the woman’s main place of business. No longer content with his agents just watching the building, Valek wanted one of his spies in the upper echelons of Star’s organization. Except that wouldn’t happen any time soon because gaining trust and climbing the ranks took seasons. He wouldn’t make Sven’s mistake and underestimate his enemy. A wait-and-see approach wasn’t enough, Valek needed to know Star’s plansbeforeshe implemented them.
Valek studied Star’s building. Wedged between its neighbors, the four-story wooden structure matched all the others in the row. Nothing about it stood out or showed any indication of the illegal dealings within its walls. He noted the addresses of the two residences bookending Star’s. Then he looped around to the alley behind the row. It was dark. No doubt Star had watchers lurking in the shadows to warn her in case of a raid.
Not wishing to sound an alarm, Valek returned to the castle. The next day he sent an agent to Castletown’s government office to find out who lived in the buildings on either side of Star’s.
* * *
“Which day doyou want to schedule this season’s execution?” Valek asked the Commander. He sipped the peach brandy. It was too sweet for his taste, but Ambrose was determined to find the perfect drink to compliment his evening Criollo. “Horus was on the fifteenth and the one before him was on the twentieth.” They were a week into the cooling season and Valek needed time to contact family members and prepare the prisoner.
“It doesn’t matter, just pick one.” Ambrose relaxed back on the couch in his suite. He’d unbuttoned the top two buttons on his uniform. Unprecedented.
Valek checked his response before the words could escape his lips. Italwaysmattered to the Commander. He eyed the half-filled bowl of Criollo. Brazell’s chef had sent a large shipment of the confection without the promised recipe. The Commander had taken it in stride. Considering how much the man ate on a daily basis, Valek had expected anger or, at least, annoyance over the missing recipe.
“How about the nineteenth?” Valek asked.
“Fine. Take care of it.”
“I normally do,” Valek said slowly.
“I meantallof it.” He yanked an imaginary lever.
Valek had killed for the Commander many times before and would do it again—all part of his job. Yet, the Commander strongly believed in personally executing the prisoners.
Unable to keep silent, Valek said, “You always—”
“I’m not a slave to routine.”
Actually, he was. Once again, Valek bit back his reply. He’d been doing that quite a lot lately.
“I’ve recently decided to delegate more,” continued the Commander. “There are so many details to attend to with running a country, I no longer wish to do everything. You should be happy. You’ve been telling me to hire more staff for years.”
He should. And overseeing the executions would make doing things like switching out prisoners much easier. But the timing of the decision was...off.
The Commander changed the subject and the tension between them dissipated as they discussed more mundane topics.
After the meeting, Valek returned to his apartment. Yelena had gone to bed, and he fought the urge to wake her. Instead, he paced. Which didn’t help. At all. He needed to talk through the problem. Except, he had no one to talk to. And, if he did, would they think he was overreacting? Was he?
The Commander’s change in personality nagged at him. No. Not a change, but a…relaxation. Which should be a good thing. Yet, it alarmed him even though the Commander was being reasonable. It made sense for the man to slow down after decades of hard work and delegate his more onerous tasks. Yet, it didn’t.
It had started after that damn Criollo showed up. Could Valek really blame a dessert? Besides, he had no proof. Nothing except knowing the Commander better than anyone else in Ixia.
