Beyond the Sky: Chapter 15
Rage and Research
King Delvar roared in rage and overturned his desk. Bounding over its spilled contents, he seized Commissar Breval and stared him dead in the eye.
“Who did this?”
“Majesty, truly, we do not know!” the Commissar answered calmly. A pair of domestic slaves stayed close to the wall.
“I have checked every Occupation functionary I could reach,” Warmaster Nellan said. “None know the Princess’ whereabouts.”
“And the agent in her retinue?” Delvar spoke of Toras Gulin now, not caring what the Warmaster might be able to figure out.
Breval glanced his way. “Nothing from him.”
“Killed in the attack?” the King suggested.
“I don’t think so, Your Majesty, I would’ve heard already if he had. Perhaps—and this is a stretch—he found the Princess and got her to safety.”
“Then why not contact us?”
“Any number of reasons. Maybe he couldn’t reach a safehouse, and they're avoiding JNF patrols.”
“Warmaster.” Delvar snapped back to him. “Intensify the search!”
“But, Majesty, any more units and we risk distracting from Home Defense!”
“Just do it!”
The door closed behind him.
“More, Commissar?” asked Delvar.
“Yes, Majesty. An hour ago, soldiers of the Number Ten Rescue Division and Pars Revek occupation command recovered Princess Takji’s Nevi servants.”
“What do they know?”
“Precious little, as seems to be the theme. But the Nevi are adamant about one thing:
“Your daughter was taken by the Black Triangle.”
After a half-day, plus more than a few drinks, Toras finally found the witness: An old Cepic, who walked in to the Blue Tree Bar that evening and took what another drinker described as ‘his’ stool.
Toras took his glass and moved next to him. Right now he was a Trinn from up north, a mercenary here looking for work with the Supreme Leader’s forces—or the JNF, depending on who asked. “I hear you met with the steersmen of the Black Triangle.”
The old-timer regarded Toras with nervousness and suspicion. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Toras pointed to the shelf. “Bartender! Two glasses of the Vintage 33!” He ignored the Cepic’s protestations as the bartender poured. “I’ve taken a keen interest in these stories as of late. You see, I have been from one pole of this world to the other, met and fought all manner of peoples—” not entirely a lie, “—but these rumors are something new.”
He waited for the man to take a drink.
“It was night,” the old Cepic began. “I work at the library in Apardi—outside the city. Thought it was an earthquake at first. But then—”
“It arrived.”
He took another drink and raised his ears. “Landed right outside, by the hill. That’s when they came in.”
Toras leaned in, sheer curiosity breaking through his hangover. “Describe them.”
“Like none of the Eight Peoples I’ve seen before—thinner and taller, long arms and legs, wearing these strange black outfits. They had helmets on, I never saw their faces.” Another sip. “I did get the impression they’d be quite flat.”
“What did they do?”
“The strangest thing. The whole lot—some half-dozen—spread out across the library, pulling down books and going through. I guess I hadn’t been as sneaky as I figured, one saw me.”
“That’s when they made you sleep?”
“I tried to run, they got me in the stairway, hit me with something and before I knew it there I was, waking up on a bench by the desk. They were gone, Black Triangle and all!”
“And you were not harmed?”
The old Cepic lowered his ears. “Even had the doctor check me out! I hear people, saying this is a Malgie craft, preparing for an invasion, but I don’t believe it.”
“Then what do you think it is?”
He polished off the glass. “I haven’t the slightest idea.”
Comments