Rise of the Gryphon (Belador #4)(14)

Evalle debated admitting she didn’t know what Imogenia referenced, but the minute Evalle left this venue she lost her best shot at intel. Go strong or go home. She raked a hand over her head. “ABC?”

“You don’t know?” Imogenia enjoyed a smug moment. “The Achilles Beast Championship.”

“Championship fights. Where? When?”

Time slid by as Imogenia debated something. “Tomorrow night. Cumberland Island.”

Three hundred plus miles away, just off the southeast corner of Georgia, but Evalle would gain more information by sounding unfamiliar with the area. “Where’s that? We’ve just arrived from Brazil a couple days ago.”

Imogenia nodded and seemed to relax. “I was wondering why I hadn’t heard about you . . . or him around the beast fights. Can’t be too careful these days.” She explained about accessing Cumberland Island by ferry from a town called St. Marys at the farthest southeast corner of Georgia on the Atlantic coast.

Evalle cast a look over at Storm but spoke to Imogenia.

“Is that what the Domjon meant by the big game?”

“Yes.”

“What’s the buy-in for the ABC?”

“They want strong competition. Sponsors of dual forms and Alterants need a Volonte as buy-in, but any Alterant without a sponsor gets in for free. All others negotiate at the door.”

“What’s a Volonte?”

“I didn’t agree to be your private tutor on all things powerful.”

Evalle let silence fill in the next moment until Imogenia made a noise in her throat that sounded like rocks being ground. “Volonte are bones from the grave of the sorcier Guillory.”

“And,” Evalle prompted before she strangled the witch for feeding out information in tiny pieces, “who was this sorcerer?”

Imogenia made a dramatic show of “whatever” with her hands. “Guillory died in France in the tenth century. When his followers stole his body and reburied him, many thought it nothing more than grave robbers who were after the spell-casting rings he wore on his hands. That was until just over a year ago, when an archaeological dig uncovered his grave and identified him by the rings bearing the Guillory crest. Then his body disappeared again several weeks back. Those of us who are informed know his body was stolen for the bones.”

Those of us meant dark witches. Evalle turned to Storm, who drew in a slow breath, then nodded. “She’s telling the truth.” But he clearly didn’t trust her. “What makes these bones valuable?”

Imogenia looked to Evalle, who shoved the look right back at her. “Answer his question.”

No doubt surprised at being addressed by someone the witch considered nothing more than a glorified slave, Imogenia shrugged it off. “Any of his bones have power, but the ones from Guillory’s hands still carry his power. In the hands of a skilled owner, a Volonte provides power over spirits and demons. For example, if I wanted to speak to the dead, the bones of his index finger would give me the power of necromancy. Guillory delivered kingdoms to kings . . . until he slept with a ruler’s favorite mistress.”

Imogenia sliced a finger across her neck. “Heads roll when that sort of thing happens. Guillory’s body was found headless.”

Evalle didn’t care about a sorcerer who couldn’t keep his pants zipped, tied or whatever they did back then. “How many of those bones could be floating around?”

“Not many, since they’re illegal to trade.”

“Then they can’t be expecting a high turnout at the ABC.”

“Oh, but they are.” Imogenia preened at being the one in the know. “With the Medb making a show and cutting deals prior to the matches, they expect a very high turnout.”

If not for the excitement buzzing in Imogenia’s voice, that would be great news about finally locating a concentrated group of Alterants.

“What’s the payoff for an Alterant sponsor?”

“Plenty if my Alterant makes it to the final round.”

This was going to take all night. “The more specific you are and the quicker you answer my questions, the better chance you’ll have of leaving with Bernie.”

Behind Imogenia’s mask, her eyes flared with anger, and her fingers curled again, as if she had claws, which she didn’t. She stretched her neck and gave her shoulders a little shake, then lifted her fingers to toy with the sparkling fire-opal pendant caught in the valley between her breasts. After taking a breath, she finally started rattling off specifics.

“Stakes are highest for the Alterant matches. If your Alterant dies, you’re out of the competition, but the last five to survive the finale Elite rounds earn the sponsor a chance to negotiate a trade with the Medb.”

Imogenia didn’t have to spell it out any better.

Every dark witch on the planet salivated at the idea of gaining Noirre majik knowledge from the Medb. Handing over Noirre spells to five black witches powerful enough to have acquired Alterants would be like trading the plans for a nuclear bomb to the top five terrorists in the human world, and supplying the uranium.

Right before the Medb captured Tristan, he told Evalle the Medb were hunting Alterants to use in a plan against the Beladors. What a brilliant way to capture the Alterants. Let everyone else do their work by holding a competition with high stakes.