“What if one of the locals decides to investigate?”
“We can message the various security forces to keep everyone away until one of the Master Magicians clears it.”
* * *
The next morning, Leif sent Devlen to dispatch the messages to the towns near the glass houses while he communicated with Irys via his super messenger. He tapped into the vast magic stored within the black diamond that had been encased in glass. Using the extra power boost, he connected his thoughts to her thoughts. When she dropped her protective barrier, Leif explained about the booby traps.
I’m not sure when one of us can leave, Irys said. The Council is still reeling from the news the Commander may have Curare.
Annoyance colored his thoughts. He has Curare. It’s not a guess.
I know, but there’s no proof.
Outraged, Leif countered, We’ve seen the factory and the vines growing. Owen boasted to Yelena that he made a deal with the Commander to produce it. What more do they need?
Evidence, Leif. Not hearsay.
Hearsay? They doubt Yelena’s word? Anger flared.
Yelena’s been dealing with the loss of her magic and a number of assassination attempts. The Council needs to hear the story directly from her. But she’s gone to Ixia instead. Don’t you see how that compromises her report?
Unfortunately, he understood the Council’s position. They wouldn’t accuse the Commander of anything unless they had verification. And it didn’t help that Ben, Loris and Cilly had been silenced. The knowledge from Owen’s accomplices would have provided plenty of confirmation.
What about the efforts to locate Owen? he asked. Have they coordinated with the Moon Clan’s security forces?
They’re not organizing anything. Aside from Yelena, the people who have allegedly seen Owen alive are all Ixian.
So basically, the Sitian Council has done nothing at all.
They’re discussing how to prepare the army if the Commander does indeed have Curare. The first step has already been decided. They agreed that we need to discover a way to mass-produce Theobroma.
Theobroma neutralized Curare, but the substance removed a regular person’s resistance to magic and stripped a magician of all protective barriers. Using Theobroma wouldn’t be a concern if fighting Ixia. No, the problem would be growing enough of the trees whose pods provided the main ingredient. The tree only thrived in the Illiais Jungle and it required three to five years of growth before it produced pods. Maybe they could grow them in those hothouses. But it would still take years to manufacture enough for an army.
Who is working on the Theobroma problem?
Bavol Cacao Zaltana has volunteered.
No surprise. However, Leif wasn’t sure they could trust his clan’s leader anymore. Without anything more substantial than his gut instinct, he couldn’t accuse the man.
What can I do? he asked instead.
Find proof that Owen is alive and has committed treason, so we can convince the Council to start a manhunt for him.
Easier said than done. How about Owen’s head on a silver platter?
That will work, too.
I’ll sharpen my machete.
Make sure you treat it with Curare and are extremely careful. Owen’s more powerful than you.
Yelena had worried about that as well, which reminded him. Have you heard from Yelena?
Not since she left for Ixia. You?
Worry for his sister squeezed his gut. No.
Let me know if you do.
I will. You, too.
Of course.
Please tell Mara I miss her and hope to be home soon. A pang of longing vibrated in his chest. Miss wasn’t a strong enough word for how he felt.
I will. Keep me posted on your progress.
Yes, sir.
Irys laughed. You’ve been hanging around those Ixians too long.
* * *
Leif and Devlen arrived at the farmhouse two days after he’d spoken with Irys. A young man sat on the steps, but he jumped to his feet when he spotted them and followed them to the stable. When the man approached, Leif rested his hand on the hilt of his machete.
“Are you Leif Liana Zaltana?” the man asked.
“Yes.”
“Finally! This is for you.” The young man shoved a sealed envelope at him then dashed away.
Devlen joined him. “A message?”
“Or another booby trap.” Leif sniffed it, seeking the sender’s intentions. It smelled of impatience and boredom—probably from the messenger. Otherwise, there was no malice or magic.
He ripped it open, read the message and laughed. “It’s a warning to stay away from the glass houses. Seems my sister also triggered a booby trap.”
“Was anyone hurt?” Concern laced Devlen’s voice.
“Cuts only. Nothing serious.” In comparison to her experience, the fire didn’t seem as terrible. Better than razor-sharp glass flying toward your head.
“Does it say anything about locating Owen?”
“They haven’t seen any signs of him.” And he and Devlen had gotten nowhere with their efforts. Damn. Owen could be anywhere by now.
* * *
Devlen decided to return to Fulgor. “Reema is safe in Ixia, and I can tap into my network.”
“You mean your band of ex-cons?” Leif asked.
“I prefer to call them friends. And they are able to provide information that the security officials cannot. Perhaps they will have a clue that will lead us to Owen.”
“It’s worth trying. Plus you haven’t seen Opal in three weeks.”
Devlen grinned. “Returning home after a long absence is always a delight.”
“I hear you, brother.”
A touch of envy swirled in his chest when Devlen left the next day. Leif had been away for thirty-five long days, with no set time for his return. Reuniting with his wife, Mara, was the best part of traveling. She was always more beautiful than he remembered. Kinder, gentler, patient—perfect. She filled all the hollow spots inside him, making him a better, stronger man.
* * *
Esau arrived three days later. There was no mistaking that the man was Leif’s father. They shared the same broad shoulders and stocky yet muscular build. Almost twins, except wrinkles etched tracks across Esau’s forehead and laugh lines sprouted from the corners of his green eyes. His father’s complexion was also a few shades darker—closer to the color of tea without milk.
As soon as Esau dismounted, he crushed Leif in a bear hug. “So where’s this glass house?”
“Don’t you want to freshen up first?” Leif asked.
A film of dirt covered Esau’s clothes. His shoulder-length gray hair hung in greasy layers.
He waved a hand. “There’s time for that later. I’ve spent the last fifteen days just imagining this invention.”
Leif led his father to the glass structure.
Esau exclaimed over the construction as he circled it. “Amazing. Wish I thought of it. The ability to grow the jungle anywhere. Marvelous.” Then he sobered. “Too bad it was used to grow Curare.” He ducked his head. “Wish I never found that blighted vine.”
Leif suppressed a sigh over the old argument. “The good uses outweigh the bad, Father. You know that.” No matter how many examples Leif and Yelena cited of the drug helping others, their father clung to his guilt like a child clung to a security blanket.
They entered the house.
Esau paused and drew in a deep breath. “It doesn’t quite smell like the jungle. What’s that sweet odor?”
“White coal to keep it hot.”
“Genius!” Esau walked among the plants, naming them aloud.
The Curare vine with its emerald heart-shaped leaves twisted through the greenery. Underneath the bushy canopy, the Theobroma trees grew. Their thin, brownish-gray trunks blended in, along with their long oval leaves. Tiny white flowers clung to the bark. Once pollinated, these blooms would produce pods filled with beans that would be dried, fermented and r
oasted, transforming them into Theobroma.
“Nice to see some medicinal ones in here.” Esau crawled through the brush with his nose close to the ground.
Memories of accompanying his father on one of his jungle expeditions flashed. Hiking through the underbrush, sweating in the humid air, climbing trees, collecting samples, Leif had trailed after his indefatigable father, who questioned him on the uses and names of every bit of greenery they encountered. And Leif had done nothing but complain of being hot and tired while scratching numerous bug bites. What a brat.
Leif had his father to thank for his knowledge of healing recipes. Those teas and poultices had saved lives and helped others. But he wouldn’t tell his father that everyone called Esau’s most prized and useful discovery “wet-dog tea.”
It didn’t take Esau long to find the crossbred plants in the hothouse.
“Odd. Very odd,” Esau muttered. He broke off a leaf, sniffed the sap and nibbled on the end.
“Do you know what plants they combined? What they were trying to do?” Leif asked.
“Not yet. It’s going to take a while.”
“Then I’ll see to the horses and fetch you some food.”
“Yes...yes...fine.” Esau scratched the stem with a fingernail and peered at the wound.
Leaving his father to his investigation, Leif groomed the horses, filled their water and grain buckets and checked the tack for wear. When he returned with a tray of fruit and meats, Esau sat cross-legged in the middle of the house. He stared in shock at the branch in his hands.
Leif rushed to his side. “What’s the matter?”
“This.” His father held it up.
“What about it?”