Zenia had seen far too many bastard children abandoned at the temple gates by unwed mothers who couldn’t care for them to contemplate a simple fling. Even when people took precautions, children often came out of flings. Admittedly, she wouldn’t exist if her mother hadn’t slept with a zyndar man, but her childhood hadn’t been the easiest. She wouldn’t wish that on any children of her own.
“I suspect you could get one more easily now that you’re not wearing that shield of a blue robe that terrifies men at a hundred paces.”
Zenia looked down at her clothing, clothing that felt strange. She’d been so accustomed to wearing her robe that she’d usually even worn it on her days off. When she’d moved out of her room at the temple, leaving the handful of inquisitor robes behind, she’d found precious little casual clothing in the drawers. Today, she wore loose cotton trousers and a long-sleeved tunic with ties on the front, the garments flapping in the breeze as she and Rhi left the boardwalk and ventured onto the beach itself.
Warm sand slid between her feet and her sandals, making her wonder why Jev had dreamed of getting drunk down here. All manner of waterfront pubs with chairs and tables lined the boardwalk. Albeit, they were extremely crowded and noisy now. The first of the three days of holiday following the coronation were upon Korvann, and the whole city was celebrating. People’s boisterousness might be as much due to the end of the war as the crowning of a new king.
“Ah, there’s one now.” Rhi pointed down the beach, past numerous people lounging in bathing clothing to a shirtless figure with a hat pulled over his face. Two brown ceramic jugs—empty or full?—of beer were stuck in the sand beside him, and the sun had already turned his chest pink.
From this distance, Zenia couldn’t see the scars, but she knew they were there. They didn’t detract from the fact that he had a very nice chest. She imagined running her fingers along its muscular contours, and her cheeks flushed as she reminded herself that she wasn’t interested in flings. Besides, if his chest turned any redder, he wouldn’t want it touched for days.
“One what?” Zenia asked.
“Lover. Potential lover. At the least, you can ask him to dinner.”
“He doesn’t appear to be conscious.”
“This is true. Are you sure he invited you to come join him here?”
“Well, he told me where he’d be today.” Zenia had not known if it had been an invitation or if he’d merely offered the information in case she needed to talk to him before they officially started their jobs.
Zenia’s mind still boggled that she’d been hired by the king, that she’d sat down with him for a private breakfast in the castle. She’d always looked down her nose at zyndar and had thought herself indifferent to the pomp around royal celebrations and the royal family, but it had been surreal, nonetheless.
“He shouldn’t mind when we plop down next to him then,” Rhi said. “I’m invited, too, right?”
“I’m not positive I’m invited.”
“You are. Trust me.” Rhi grinned as they picked their way past families having picnics and swimmers drying off on towels. “If he didn’t want you to come see him, he would have said he was busy doing zyndar things at his castle. He’s probably dreaming of you coming up and kissing him right now. Well, perhaps not right now. His flag isn’t at mast.”
“Rhi!”
“What? You lie on your back on the beach in nothing but shorts, and people can see these things.”
“Only people who look at other people’s… special areas.”
“Special areas? I’ll tell him you think that part of him is special. I assure you, he’ll be delighted.”
Founders’ horned heads, how had Zenia ever thought coming to the beach with Rhi would be a good idea?
Since Jev had that broad-brimmed floppy hat pulled over his face, he didn’t see Zenia and Rhi approach. Zenia stopped in the sand beside him, letting herself look him over more openly than she had during that embarrassing search in front of Iridium. She couldn’t lie. Even sunburned with empty beer jugs next to his hand, he looked…
“Scrumptious.” Rhi slapped the end of her bo against one of his bare feet. “I approve of this man for you, former Inquisitor Cham.”
Jev jerked, yanking his hat off and peering up at them. He looked like he’d been startled awake, and Zenia slapped Rhi on the arm. After so many years in Taziira, he probably envisioned elven attackers invading camp whenever he woke with a start.
“Sorry about that, Jev,” Zenia said. “That’s how monks greet people. By beating them with a big stick.”
Jev recovered his equilibrium, set the hat aside, and propped himself on his elbows. “Oh?”
“Yes, I believe it’s in the Old Codex of the Monk.”
“Nah, weapons handling is covered in the New Codex,” Rhi said.
“What is covered in the Old Codex?” Zenia tried to remember if Rhi or any other monk she’d worked with had referenced it.
“Being pious and celibate so best to serve the founders. Also, the importance of knowing your daily fortune and acting according to it so as best to ensure success.”
“That’s it?”
“Just about. The Old Codex was more of a pamphlet carved onto stone tablets than a book. There were a lot of pictures. People didn’t read that well back then, and paper hadn’t gotten trendy yet.”
People still didn’t read well, at least when it came to the general population. Those who worked for the Orders were all educated. It occurred to Zenia that, even though she hadn’t gotten the position of archmage and influencer over the way of the Water Order that she’d hoped for, she might one day come to know the king well enough to have some influence on him. The rumors said Targyon loved science and books of all kinds. Maybe a simple suggestion would be all it took for him to render education mandatory in the kingdom.
“You’re celibate?” Jev asked Rhi.
They hadn’t conversed often but apparently often enough for him to guess that Rhi’s midnight poetry-reading activities weren’t as sedate as she suggested.
“She’s as celibate as she is pious,” Zenia offered.
Rhi smiled. Piously.
“I’m going to go establish law and order among those shirtless gentlemen playing with the ball down by the water.” Rhi pointed at two teams of bare-chested brawny young men whose physiques suggested they worked hard at jobs involving intense labor. They played hard too. Rhi wasn’t the only woman gazing in their direction.
“Are they being disorderly?” Jev asked.
“Not yet, but it’s only a matter of time. I may have to beat one of them with my bo.” She winked at them and wandered off.
“To think, I was the one kicked out of the temple,” Zenia said.
Jev scooted over on the blanket he’d brought out and patted the spot next to him. “Will your new position take the sting out of that? I know you lost more than just a job.”
Zenia settled cross-legged next to him. She noticed a couple of young women on nearby towels scowling at her. Had they been ogling Jev with speculation? She would think the ball-playing men more entertaining subjects, at least at the moment, but if one wanted someone more mature, someone a little scarred, Jev did have appeal.
“It’ll take a while to get used to it,” Zenia said, “but I’m looking forward to it. And I’m eager to start on our first case.”
“I am too. I’m worried about Targyon, and I’m glad we’ll be close in case he needs advice. Or a protector.” His eyes grew steely with determination. He was quick to grin and make sarcastic comments, but he clearly had a serious side.
Zenia looked forward to seeing more of his sides.
“But I’m determined to enjoy my day off first.” Jev smiled, the steeliness fading. He pulled one of the jugs out of the sand and offered it to her. “Drink?”
“Inquisitors don’t dull their senses by imbibing alcohol.”
“But you’re not an inquisitor anymore.”
“I wouldn’t think crown agents should
dull their senses either.”
“Are you sure? I haven’t seen the handbook yet.”
“Is there a handbook?” Zenia asked.
“I don’t know.”
“If there’s not, we could write one. A collaborative project.”
Jev wrinkled his nose. “Will you be offended if I hope there’s already one in the office?”
“I’m amenable to following an existing handbook, so long as it’s cohesive and well-organized.”
“I can see working with you will be a wild experience.”
“I doubt the new king wants wildness in his spy network. He seems like the type to approve of organization and handbooks.”
“I know that’s true.”
“Excellent.” Zenia beamed approval at him.
Jev shook his head and tilted the jug back for a drink. But he paused before it touched his lips, his eyebrows arching as he looked past Zenia’s shoulder.
A sturdy bearded figure in coveralls, boots, and a leather apron strode across the beach. A few other sets of eyebrows rose as Master Arkura Grindmor approached Jev and Zenia with a determined set to her jaw.
“She doesn’t look like she found her tools, does she?” Zenia asked, disappointed. She’d hoped she might have helped the dwarf—and also cleverly deduced Iridium’s hiding spot.
“She looks like she ate a tool for lunch and has indigestion.”
Zenia rose to her feet, dusting off sand, so she could bow her head respectfully.
“Look at this.” Arkura said without preamble, pulling a hammer out of her belt, the shaft made from some black material and the head glinting in the sunlight like a jewel. Or a diamond?
“You found them?” Jev sounded surprised.
“One of them.” Arkura jammed the hammer back through her belt. “Lying in saltwater like a discarded sardine tin. If my tools could rust, they’d be covered in the stuff. I’m going to knock that woman’s head off the next time I see her.”
“Iridium?” Zenia asked.
“Yes. After I get the location of the rest of my tools from her. I only found the hammer because some clod let it fall out, then didn’t notice.”
“Was it in one of the pumping stations?”
“Yes, you guessed right. And I’d thank you for that, but I’m so frustrated I could shave a bearded dragon. The tools had been there. You could tell. There was a rusty mark on the ground in the shape of my toolbox. It’s not made of diamond, you see. It can rust. Now, I’ll have to build a new one. When I get the rest of my tools back.” She glowered at Zenia, then propped her fists on her hips and shifted the glower to Jev.
“You’re saying I should send my friend Cutter to your workshop to start searching for them?” Jev asked mildly.
“I’m appalled he’s not already there.” Arkura looked at the position of the sun in the sky. She didn’t point out that Jev—and Zenia—owed her a favor, but she didn’t need to.
“I’ll go look for him now.” Jev stood so he could shake sand off his blanket and fold it up. “And if he has any trouble with the quest, I should be able to help from my new position.”
“I don’t care what position you assume, but I want my tools back.” Arkura whirled and stomped back the way she had come.
“Since she was kind enough to rescue us, I’m not going to point out what a grump she is,” Jev said.
“Or that she didn’t address you as Zyndar Dharrow and bow obsequiously?”
“I’m just happy she didn’t point out that my beard is even farther from my balls now than it was when she first met me.”
A young woman who happened to be walking past as he made that comment threw Jev a startled look.
“If I were still an inquisitor, I could fine you for talking about your reproductive anatomy in public,” Zenia said.
“I know there’s not a law about that.”
“You’ve been gone for ten years. The law evolves over time.”
He squinted at her. “I haven’t yet learned how to tell when you’re joking and when you’re being serious.”
“Working together should be interesting then.”
“Of that I have no doubt.”
THE END
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Lindsay Buroker, Eye of Truth
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