Broken Veil (Harbinger #5)(9)

“You carry it with you?” Rand asked, looking at it.

“Every poisoner does,” she replied. Did they also use it in the kishion training? That surprised her. “Let me see your hand.”

His nose wrinkled, the only sign of his discomfort, but she felt the throbbing pain pulsing from his mind. The cut was a deep slice through the middle of his palm. She knew all the muscles and nerves of the hand. It wasn’t fatal, of course, but it was painful. She gently pressed the Everoot into the wound and watched it close before her eyes, the blood absorbing into the mosslike plant.

“Ah,” Rand said with a sigh. The sensations of being cured by Everoot were so extraordinary, she almost envied him his cut. She dabbed the root against his palm and, after it shriveled slightly, returned it to the waterproof pouch. After stowing it again, she examined his hand, making sure the injury had completely healed. He didn’t attempt to pull back. And that was when she felt the shape of the invisible ring on his finger.

He jerked his hand away, flexing his fingers. “I’m fine now. Thank you.”

Before he could quell it, she felt his alarm. He’d not meant for her to know about the ring he wore.



The Arsine warehouse appeared to be abandoned. Or perhaps it had only been made to look that way. Neither of them thought it a good idea to make a direct approach, and so they’d bribed another carriage driver to bring their carriage to the gate of the warehouse. They’d instructed the driver to ask if it was the Arsine warehouse and to inform the guards that a young couple would be coming later to talk to the manager about picking up supplies.

They both knelt on the street, concealed behind the carriage of the man they’d hired, their clothes spattered with muck. They watched as the driver arrived at the gate and called out to the guards. Cettie began to tremble, from anticipation and from cold, and Rand pulled her close.

As they huddled together, Cettie heard the sound of boots approaching the gate from inside. Four night guards emerged. She wasn’t close enough to hear what was said, but after the driver addressed the guards, one of them raised a pistol and shot him in the chest.

She flinched. The others yanked open the doors of the carriage, pistols drawn, and there was a moment of confusion as they realized there were no passengers.

“They killed him,” Cettie whispered.

“They knew we were coming,” Rand answered darkly.

“But how?”

He shook his head and then breathed out. “My guess is it’s another test. They know we’re coming for the tempest. They’re not going to just let us take it.”

“But why would they do this?” Cettie said. “I thought the mission was important.”

He turned her to face him. “What’s more important is knowing if we can be trusted.” He pursed his lips, and she felt him throb with excitement, trepidation, and . . . attraction? The danger they were in thrilled him. But he was also feeling something for her at this moment, being so near her, so close he could smell her hair.

The horses were spooked from the pistol shot, neighing and rearing up, so one of the guards took the reins and began dragging both horses and the carriage inside. A second guard hefted the dead driver, who had fallen off the seat, over his shoulder as if he were no more than a sack of grain. She felt a little pinch of guilt, which she immediately tamped down, something she’d learned to do often at the school. Life, she’d come to learn, could end abruptly.

There were still two at the gate, and they made no sign of leaving.

“What do we do now?” Cettie wondered.

Rand lifted his arquebus. “We do what we were sent to do. We’re taking that tempest when it arrives. They weren’t going to make it easy.”

He slid the tip of his arquebus through the spokes of the wagon wheel. “Only four at the gate. That’s foolish.”

“Won’t they hear the report?” Cettie asked.

“Not from this distance. This isn’t one of their rifles, Cettie. It’s one of ours.”

She heard the familiar zip as a bullet flew from the shaft. No explosion, no flash of fire. One of the guards crumpled. Rand pulled a lever, loading another ball into the chamber, and a second guard went down an instant later.

“The gate is still open,” Rand said. He gave her a little smile. “Go. I will cover you. Between the two of us, you are the more dangerous. I can feel their fear already. Can’t you?”

His eyes were starting to glow. And he was right. She could.





CHAPTER FOUR

THE RAGE



Cettie crossed the threshold of the gate, her eyes fixed on the darkness. The carriage and horses had been led over to the wall, and the mounts were becoming even more skittish. Even though the kystrel now hung around Rand’s neck, it allowed her to feel the presence of those left to defend the warehouse. Her senses were heightened in a way that she’d not experienced before. She could feel each quivering heart, each swallow of apprehension. Invoking the kystrel’s power, she amplified the guards’ fear, summoning her memories of the Fear Liath in the streets of the Fells.

One of the men broke cover from behind the carriage and fled. She sensed him abandon his weapon, his mind so frantic he didn’t think. She heard the familiar zip of the arquebus—not through her ears, but through Rand’s. The guard crumpled. She experienced a little thrill—Was it hers?—as she watched it happen. The interior of the courtyard was a mess of barrels and crates, which appeared to be empty. A tall wooden door barred the path to the warehouse, and a smaller door to the left seemed to lead to an office of sorts. She walked across the inner courtyard, sensing the huddled bodies hidden throughout. The guards could hear her footsteps, and they were terrified. Good. It would keep them from attacking her.