“About six weeks ago. She had to dodge the guards on the way out, and I’m sure they’ve set up an ambush for her when she returns.” Reema’s pretty face creased in concern, and she bit her lip.
“I trained your mother. She’ll spot that ambush without trouble.”
Reema relaxed for about an instant. “What about my dad and uncle?”
Valek considered. “Have you made friends with the street rats still here?”
“Yup.”
“Will they be willing to help us?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“That’s a step in the right direction. Do you have any null shield pendants?”
“Yes, Fisk’s people left a couple here for us, but we buried them because of the sweeps.”
“You know where they are?”
“Yup.”
“Good. Now tell me everything you’ve learned while living here.”
“Everything? Even the boring day-to-day stuff?”
“Especially the mundane stuff. That’s where we’ll find the golden opportunity.”
* * *
In the gray light before dawn, Valek stopped the wagon at the Moon garrison’s gate. The officer in charge peered at him in suspicion. He resisted the urge to scratch his fake nose or sweep his now dirty blond hair from his eyes. Would the man notice that Onyx and Devlen’s horse, Sunfire, weren’t the typical breeds used to pull wagons? It hadn’t been hard for Valek to convince the manager at Sunfire’s stables that Devlen had approved Valek’s request to borrow the horse.
“Where’s Phil?” the guard asked.
“Broke his ankle,” Valek said in a deep baritone. “I’m just filling in. He’ll be back next week.”
“And you are?”
“Orrick.”
“Got any proof?”
Valek grunted and handed him a paper. “The boss said you’d ask for this.” He kept his bored expression even when magic brushed him. Then he thought of Phil and his bloody broken ankle and the damn inconvenience to him. Valek kept up a running litany of gripes until the guard returned the parchment and waved him on. He avoided thinking about how he had arranged Phil’s “accident” in order to take over his delivery route. Phil’s boss had been thrilled to find a cheaper replacement so quickly.
Once Valek was far enough away from the magician at the gate, he raised his mental shields. He could have borrowed one of Reema’s pendants, but if he’d worn a null shield, he would have been spotted at the gate. Good thing he preferred knowing when magic was aimed at him. So far his mental barrier has been effective in keeping other magicians from getting too far into his thoughts.
Valek guided the horses to the kitchen. Not many soldiers stirred at this early hour of the morning. Of those, most headed to prepare breakfast for the garrison. He unloaded the crates of fresh meats and cheeses and carried them down into the cold cellar. Then he piled the burlap bags of garbage waiting to be hauled away onto his wagon. Valek kept a slow pace, despite the risk of discovery, taking as much time as possible. However, no one bothered him or looked at him twice. When he left the garrison, the guard at the gate poked a few of the garbage bags with his sword and checked under the wagon.
Not bad for a dry run. The next day, he repeated the routine. By the end of the week, the gatekeepers waved him through both ways without a second glance.
On day four, Reema appeared while Valek unloaded boxes of bananas. “Did you confirm their location?” he asked without otherwise acknowledging her.
“Yeah.”
Her dejected tone drew his attention. “I warned you they might be brainwashed.”
“It’s not that.” She bit her lower lip. “My dad...doesn’t look good. He’s got bruises and cuts. And there are extra guards hiding inside the stockade.”
Valek cursed under his breath. He’d bet all the coins in his pocket the bars had magical alarms. The only thing in their favor was the location of the stockade. Unlike the Krystal garrison, the Moon was a one-story standalone structure, and not in the basement of the administration building.
“Stick close. I need to adjust our plan.” He continued carrying the boxes, letting his mind run through various plans and dismissing most of them as too dangerous or a quick way for them to get caught. It took him about four trips to the cold cellar, but he figured out a possible way to rescue them. They’d have to move fast.
“Have you found all the guards, even the ones hiding?” he asked Reema as he heaved the garbage bags onto the wagon.
“Yes.”
“Can you scrounge guard uniforms for the older kids?”
“For stand-ins?”
He was impressed by how much she knew about subterfuge. “Yes.”
She flashed a grin that Janco would be proud of. “Yes.”
Good thing she was on his side. “Okay. The plan with the doppelganger is still a go.”
“And then?”
“As Janco would say, ‘Hit and git.’”
* * *
The horses’ hooves sounded loud in the predawn air. Valek approached the gate earlier than normal—they’d need every extra second to pull this off. A long list of things that could go wrong repeated in his head, but he suppressed the worries and focused on the job. The guard yawned as he lifted the gate and Valek clicked his tongue, urging the horses into the garrison. Sweat dampened the reins. He wore two layers of clothing. His plain work coveralls covered a Sitian military uniform.