guard watched Tauran in a careless, cocky manner, making Tauran’s hackles rise. He resisted the urge to punch the guy’s teeth in. Now wouldn’t be a good time to start a fight.
“Oh well,” Catria said, and offered Tauran a fake smile. “Always busy. Maybe I’ll catch you later?”
“Sure,” Tauran said. All these theatrics grated on his nerves. “My door’s open.”
The guards followed Catria back to Clover Road. The request from Falka was clearly fake, meant to keep them from discussing whatever Catria had been about to say. Once she and the guards were out of sight, Tauran retreated deeper into the shadows. He turned a few random corners, sliding down to sit on the ground next to a particularly stinky trash can. Once he was sure no more guards were coming snooping, he pulled the note from his jacket and unfolded it.
S302-E002
Answers?
Tauran frowned. The few letters were written in Emilian’s slanting, immaculate handwriting.
Tauran felt out of his depth, wrapped up in something he couldn’t remember agreeing to.
Were Emilian and Catria both operating behind Falka’s back? Was Roric? Roric’s promotion was impressive. Maybe a little too impressive. Emilian was a general, equal in rank to Falka. Tauran couldn’t imagine Falka being a threat to him.
Tauran thought about their visit to the bakery, about the box of pills Catria had delivered to her father. If Falka kept Kalai dependent on doroxian in order to control him, why would he do the same to Catria’s father?
It was Catria he wanted to control. So Falka must already suspect her of working against him. That seemed only enforced by the guards’ eagerness to keep them from talking privately.
Tauran felt suddenly dizzy. He drew a hand through his hair, pulling several strands free from their band. Albinus. The old archivist. Emilian. Catria. Three of the four were some of the best people Tauran knew. Were they all rebels? Was he? Or was Falka losing his mind, declaring everyone his enemy? Falka seemed so level-headed and reasonable whenever Tauran spoke to him. Falka was the perfect image of control. Tauran hadn’t even considered if Falka might have suffered from the battle, like Tauran and Emilian so clearly had. Had it made him paranoid?
Tauran realized he didn’t even know what it would take to unseat a sky general from his post. The city council had a right to interfere if they thought a guard general was acting out of line, but they were in a state of crisis since several of their members had turned up dead. Falka had blamed the rebels, but what if that was a lie, too? The thought alone filled him with revulsion. When it came down to it, Tauran had little proof of Falka breaking any laws. All he had was a mysterious drug no one seemed to truly understand and a homeless messenger boy who’d say anything for a gold scale, claiming he’d witnessed a murder. These were traitorous thoughts.
Tauran glanced back at the note. S302-E002 were coordinates. Bracing a hand against the dusty wall, he stood with a groan. He needed a map. And he damn well needed answers.
CHAPTER 27
The Terror Marshes.
Tauran rested his elbows on the table, head in his hands as he stared at the map.
He’d rushed to the Sunrise Tower as fast as he’d been able, ignored a recruit’s request to speak with him, and hurried up the stairs to the floor where the weather scholars resided, the one place always littered with maps of both ground and sky. He had torn one off a board on the wall and slapped it onto the desk.
The coordinates on the note, without question, pointed to a spot right in the center of the Terror Marshes.
The Terror Marshes was a perilous wetland south of Kykaros, stretching almost a thousand miles in any direction. Mysterious predators lurked in pools filled with muck designed to drag you under the crust of the land and drown you. Other pools emanated toxic gasses that would burn through your windpipe in seconds. There were no villages or settlements in the Terror Marshes, and all trade routes from the south sea curved around it.
According to history, when the first Kykarosi made land on this new continent, tired and ill from their long journey, they had done so at the shores of the Terror Marshes. They’d been forced to brave a thousand miles of land that wanted them dead and lost nearly two-thirds of their flock in the process. No doubt, they all thought they would perish, that