Sands of Aggar: Amazons of Aggar Book 3 (5 page)

Aalim seemed unsure, his head tilted to one side as he considered the veracity of Jacquin’s claims. Khalisa’s eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, the steadiness and certainty in her expression finally swaying Aalim’s opinion. “What can we do?”

“The Council needs to be on the lookout for an attack, and we need to alert the city proper. As long as they guard the gates, we won’t be safe unless everyone in Oasis is on alert.”

“Why would they trust us?”

“You have contacts with the desertmen of Oasis,” Khalisa argued. “Let them present the information to their governor.”

“Tell them a dancing seer known for her fake card readings has seen a changling in the desert? Almost an entire continent away from their raiding grounds?”

Khalisa’s eyes darkened and she rose up to her full height, defending her younger sister without words. Aalim visibly shrank beneath her lethal presence. “You tell them a changling has been seen. You leave my sister out of it.”

“They won’t believe me.”

“They will when they’re gored by glass daggers,” Jacquin hissed.

Aalim grunted, shifting uncomfortably, but finally nodding. Khalisa growled. “First thing in the morning.”

Aalim nodded, the beads in his hair clacking together as he tried to distance himself from Khalisa. “Fine. First thing in the morning.”

Aalim disappeared back into his cabin, closing and locking his door behind his back. Khalisa crossed her arms tight over her chest.

Jacquin took her arm, leading her away from the wagon, her body rigid with frustration. “Thank you. He wouldn’t have listened to me without you,” Jacquin muttered.

“He’s a good man. Too good sometimes. But he had no right to question your abilities, Jacquin.”

Jacquin shrugged gently. “I’m used to it.”

“It’s absurd. Seers built our Tribe. To talk about them like that…” Khalisa trembled in anger.

“It doesn’t help that I fake visions to steal from merchants.”

“Everyone steals from merchants. Aalim is prejudiced.”

“But will he warn Oasis?”

“Yes. He gave his word.”

“Good.”

Khalisa slung her arm around Jacquin’s shoulders, holding her possessively. “You deserve better, Jaci.”

Jacquin leaned against her sister’s shoulder, drawing warmth and comfort from the touch as they walked back to Khalisa’s wagon. “Can I stay with you tonight?”

Khalisa kissed the top of her head. “Always.”

They returned to Khalisa’s cabin and Khalisa busied herself making tea, pouring her frustration into the preparation. Jacquin stood in the back of the wagon, running her fingers through a short curtain of Khalisa’s necklaces, hanging from hooks off the wall. The cool metal, the weight of the chains, was oddly comforting. She paused on a carved wooden pendant of a scorpion, rocking her thumb over the tip of its spiked tail.

“This will help.” Jacquin turned as Khalisa offered her a cup of amber-colored tea, a concoction designed to help her sleep.

Khalisa’s voice was heavy with unanswered questions, but Jacquin carefully avoided giving her an easy way to broach them. After a long silence, Khalisa finally asked, “I’ve never seen you like this. What did you see tonight, Jaci? I can tell you had a vision. Something besides the changling has shaken you.”

Jacquin sat slowly, taking a long sip of her sister’s tea, letting the hot liquid slide down her throat and warm her belly. “Not just tonight. Every day for almost three tenmoons. I touch people – tribe, merchant, desertman – and I watch them die. And more than a few have been killed with glass swords and arrows. Changling weaponry. If we don’t do something, the changlings will attack Oasis. It will be a massacre.”

Khalisa’s dark skin paled. “Three tenmoons? You’ve been suffering like this for three tenmoons and you never told me?”

Jacquin looked guiltily into the depths of her teacup, her eyes making shapes and designs out of the tea leaves at the bottom of the cup. “It’s hard to talk about.”

“You can trust me.”

Jacquin pulled her sister into a tight hug, holding her close. The motion startled Khalisa, her muscles rippling tight for a moment beneath Jacquin’s embrace before loosening in worry. “Thank you,” Jacquin muttered against Khalisa’s shoulder. “Thank you for always believing me.”

Khalisa held Jacquin for a long moment, contemplating her answer. “Many have trouble believing a beautiful woman with an extraordinary gift.”

Jacquin held her older sister tighter. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Always, Jaci.” Khalisa pulled away and smiled gently, the expression full of love and concern. “Now come. Changlings or no, you need sleep if you’re wandering into the desert alone at night.”

Jacquin chuckled softly, leaning forward against Khalisa’s shoulder. She had no doubt sleep would elude her, but perhaps with her sister near she’d find a moment’s rest.

Adrian slid down the peaked roof, her feet skimming over sleek tiles, her cloak billowing back behind her to cut her speed. She traveled by feel, judging weights and balances in the pads of her feet, moving through the darkness with ease despite being unfamiliar with her surroundings.

She hadn’t learned the name of the town, a ramshackle mining settlement built up around a massive coal deposit deep in the brushland just north of the Great Desert. The brushlands were dotted with towns like these, thrown together and eventually abandoned when the mines had been depleted. The workers barely survived, living in the shadow of a wealthy foreman or handful of wealthy sponsors.

She glanced over the roof’s ledge to the street below, lit by a series of covered lanterns and torches, casting deep shadows along ever corner. Her eyes narrowed as she watched two black-cloaked travelers pause before a run-down tavern. Circle members had been trickling into the town all day, coming in small parties to keep from arousing suspicion. Someone with moderate intelligence had to be leading them, but they couldn’t fool Adrian. She would know anyone from the Core on sight.

Adrian’s lips curled back in a snarl. Too many men had entered the town for the group to be a splinter of the Circle. She couldn’t tell if they planned to attack the village or just rest on their way to their next destination. She clenched her jaw. There was a time she could have just looked at them and known their intention, but not anymore. She let out a deep breath. It was the only time she ever regretted giving up her empathic abilities.

Adrian crouched down, sitting along the edge of the roof, careful to remain in the shadows. There were too many of them to attack directly and she couldn’t kill any of them publicly without drawing the attention of the others. She would have to be more subtle.

She pulled a small, wax paper bundle from a pouch at her waist. She unwrapped the paper, revealing a leaf-wrapped bundle, still soft from cooking earlier in the day. Without taking her eyes off the Circle’s men, she nibbled at the
boko
, the stuffing, now chilled, made of a few rabbits she’d snared and a collection of root vegetables she collected while traveling.

The scent of her food attracted a raven, who fluttered to the roof and sat along the edge beside her. Adrian instinctively ripped a hunk of her meal free and placed it on the roof before the bird. She watched him tear at the meat paste with mild interest, lingering on the way his feathers ruffled and spasmed with each motion. There was something about the way he moved that betrayed his hunger. He wasn’t particularly skinny or desperate, but there was a sense about him, an ache that made Adrian’s stomach rumble, hollow and empty.

A bottle broke on the street below and the bird arched up in surprise, catching Adrian’s eye. Adrian felt as if she’d been punched in the face, pain exploding behind her eyes and rippling down the muscles of her neck and spine. Her stomach rolled and burned, a mix of unstable, clashing magics warring for control over her heart and mind.

She scrambled backward, her palms scraping across rough tile and her leather boot sliding across shallow, standing water from recent storms. She forced her eyes closed, a gasp exploding from her chest as if coming up for air. She heard the bird flee, its wings wildly flipping through the air to get away from Adrian’s gaze.

She slowly opened her eyes again as her stomach started to settle. Her hands spasmed and trembled. She balled her hands into tight fists, waiting to regain control. She glanced down, catching her own reflection in a small pool of rain water, the light of the torches from the streets casting her face in deep shadow. Even in the darkness she could make out shocking, ice-blue eyes.

She immediately turned away, clenching her jaw tight in frustration, a flash of hot anger and guilt burning just under her skin. She’d been so shaken by the forced connection with the raven even her most intricate illusions had been shattered. She knew better than to catch an innocent eye. She’d been able to eradicate her Blue Sight urges in most humans, but every now and then she’d look into the eyes of a truly innocent beast and the magic would overcome her.

She held her hand palm up before her face and focused on creating a dark flame. Her palm tingled, but she couldn’t summon the destructive fire that normally came so naturally to her. She continued to focus with ruthless intensity, sweat sprouting across her brow, her muscles aching from the effort. Finally, a weak flame burst to life in her hand and the warmth, the connection she’d felt to the raven, disappeared.

She closed her hand, extinguishing the flame, and began working on a new illusion. Symbols and ruins formed in her mind, a carefully crafted spell she’d perfected as a child. She whispered ancient words of power under her breath, slipping the last of her magical energy into the spell and, when she opened her eyes a second time and cautiously glanced into the puddle, hazel irises reflected back at her.

She stood carefully, swaying momentarily on her feet before regaining her balance. She stretched, her ropey muscles lengthening and contracting with almost mechanical precision. The physicality of the movements helped recenter her, calming the wrath of the warring Blue Sight and destruction magics flooding her body. Soon all that was left was the ice-cold emptiness she’d developed in childhood.

She leaned her weight over one foot, looming over the street like a gargoyle guarding its perch. The men she’d been watching had disappeared, but it didn’t matter. She knew where the Circle was now. She wouldn’t lose sight of them again.

Her lips curled away from her teeth as anger replaced the empathy she’d felt for the raven. Her mind spun, plotting and strategizing as lightning-fast as a military general. She couldn’t attack anyone outright, but she needed a kill tonight.

She waited for over an hour, weighing the risk of leasing a room for the night in the same inn as the Circle, when two of the Circle’s men exited, stumbling drunkenly into the night.

With a flick of her cloak, Adrian ran for the edge of the shop and leapt to the ground, landing with a thud in a back alley and throwing her weight forward into a somersault to absorb the blow. She rolled to her feet in a single, swift movement. She fixed her hood over her silver hair and continued out onto the street.

She followed the drunken Circle raiders, staying far enough back not to catch their attention, waiting for them to turn down a dark alley or stumble outside city limits. She fingered the hilt of a dagger in her long sleeve, her hands arching to throw it. She grinned as the men tripped to the side, ducking between a closed bakery and a butcher’s shop.

She raced forward, drawing her knife as she rounded the corner after them, keeping close against the wall, using her returning illusion magic to blend in with the shadows. She needed to move completely unseen, silence them before they could cry out,.

One man supported his friend as he vomited on the dirt path. Adrian stalked forward toward the standing marauder, a surge of excitement setting every nerve on fire with each step. She raised her knife, aiming to slit his throat, when the sharp thud of a boot striking stone echoed through the alley.

“You’ve strayed too far from the inn.”

A sharp female voice dripping with disdain reverberated through the alley. Adrian immediately ducked back into the shadows. A small woman strode forward, her hood thrown back behind cropped dark gold curls. She crossed her arms over her chest, her body hugged neck to toe in traveler’s leathers, revealing the lines of a half dozen weapons. Adrian arched a single silver brow, feeling a heat in her stomach she hadn’t felt since beginning her travels.

“You’re not our guardian in town, Rox,” the sick marauder garbled.

“Calder’s orders. Or do you have to be reminded of what happened to Gryert?”

“You said we’re not being followed.”

Rox’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. “There are more threats than assassins.”

The standing marauder helped his friend to his feet. “Like Gryert’s ghost.”

Rox growled low under her breath, the sound more animal than human. “There’s no ghost haunting the Circle.”

“Tell that to Gryert.”

Adrian felt a rush of pleasure at the look of fear in the raider’s eyes. A ghost. It wouldn’t be the first time the comparison had been made, especially as Adrian stood shrouded in shadow. She liked the thought that the Circle was haunted enough by Gryert’s death to fear her even when they were safe from her blade. It would certainly make killing them easier if the deaths were blamed on the supernatural.

Rox stood with her hands on her hips, every inch of her petite frame emanating frustration. “Just get back to the inn.”

The men stumbled out of the alley, Rox traveling behind to guard their rear. Adrian watched them go, her stomach sinking. She wasn’t likely to find more wandering Circle men with Rox keeping them in the inn.

Adrian grunted in frustration, her entire body aching for the kill, for movement, for action. Thinking of Rox, her taut curves hugged with leather, her eyes burning with confidence, only made the ache worse. Her wrist burned and she held it through her sleeve, her vice-like grip extinguishing the sensation.

Adrian swore under her breath and strode back onto to the main street through town, blending in with the handful of villagers still out for the night and the closed merchant stalls. Her head buzzed, the events of the night clouding her thoughts in a haze of desire and magic. She followed Rox and the Circle members back to the inn, careful to remain as unobtrusive and unremarkable as possible.

The inn was bustling with both locals and the Circle, the crowd so thick Adrian could slide into a corner seat near the kitchens without even the innkeeper noticing. The kitchen had been closed for the night, only tankards of ale flowed past the bar as patrons threw dice and told stories beside a small log fire.

The room was coated in grime, coal dust permanently infused in every plank of wood, every stone. It wasn’t an issue of cleanliness. The inn could be scoured hourly and still garner a thick layer of soot within minutes. Adrian was thankful for the residue, which clung to her cloak and coated her gloves. It helped her blend in with the burly workers relaxing with a drink before heading back into the mines.

Adrian leaned back in her chair, her hood pulled up just far enough to hide her hair, and studied her prey. There were just over a dozen Circle members scattered throughout the inn, only a portion of the full party. They had likely splintered into different inns to avoid suspicion.

Adrian’s eyes wandered to Rox, undoubtedly tied to the Circle but her distaste of the raiders obvious even without Blue Sight intuition. A water ferret scurried out of the folds of Rox’s cloak, circling her arms and hands as Rox chased it with her fingers. Adrian couldn’t help but look the smaller woman over and wonder what could bind such a women to the most vicious, deadly party to leave the Core since its inception.

“Anything to drink tonight, traveler?”

Adrian glanced up at a curvaceous blond waitress, her hair rippling past her bare shoulders. She had no connection or knowledge of the Circle or its activities. Adrian smiled slowly, taking in her slightly tanned skin, a permanent mark from the sun that betrayed a genetic connection to the Amazons.

Adrian leaned forward on her elbows, brazenly looking the woman over from head to toe, her face intentionally angled toward the light to reveal her features. She could sense the woman’s interest as she cautiously scanned Adrian’s narrow face, her ropey frame. Adrian grinned lightly. Perhaps there was more Amazon in this woman than just her skin.

“I’m not interested in drinks… what was your name?”

The woman blushed lightly, clasping her hands before her waist, her eyes flashing mischief. “Mary. And you are?”

“Only here for the night.”

Adrian reached out, placing a single hand lightly on Mary’s entwined fingers. Excitement sparked in her stomach, growing as quickly as her restlessness as the touch had no effect on her: no burning skin, no Blue Sight bonding. Mary would be the perfect distraction. “How late do you work tonight,
Min
?”

Mary glanced nervously over her shoulder, scanning the bar and kitchens for who Adrian assumed to be her father. With a swift, inconspicuous motion Mary slid a small key across the table. Adrian immediately rested her hand over it, hiding it from view. “My room’s in the attic. I get off on the hour.”

Mary strode away without another word, mingling with the other patrons in the common room. Adrian leaned back in her chair, her hood falling lower over her face, a triumphant smile turning the corners of her lips. Mary moved with a familiar confidence through the crowd, taking their drunken advances and unintelligible orders with ease. Adrian lingered over the lines of her body, the swells and curves so rare in the women of the north.

She ran her fingers over the lines of Mary’s key, her attention wandering to other corners of the inn, counting every Circle member mingling and drinking around her, oblivious to her presence. She felt bloodlust, hot and all-consuming swelling beneath her skin as she imagined burying her knife in every one of the thugs from the Core. Her cheeks darkened as she imagined how enraged the Twins would be, losing their precious band of vandals and murderers.

Adrian felt a sharp pain at her shin and glanced down in surprise. A sleek water ferret had crawled under the table and nipped her leg just above the cuff of her boot. She scowled and nudged it away, its tiny claws skittering across the stone floor as it fought to stay under the table. Adrian snarled under her breath as she continued to ward off the creature, the tip of her boot bobbing and parrying like a sword as the creature savaged her leather shoe with tiny claws and teeth.

“Fisk!”

The terse command cut through the noise of the inn like a knife. The ferret instantly froze, rearing up onto its hind legs, revealing patches of luminous deep green and aqua scales along its belly. Adrian glanced up at Rox, sitting in the opposite corner with her feet propped on the table, her glare locked on the ferret. She snapped and the creature raced back toward her, scaling her leg, spiraling up her torso and ducking into the folds of her hood like a burrow.