Page 134 of Heir

Quil

Quil promised himself he wouldn’t brood about Sirsha. She could take care of herself. She had for years.

The moment you kill the Tel Ilessi, get out.Quil’s worry was that he wouldn’t be able to kill the man. That the Tel Ilessi would use his magic to best Quil in battle.

He’d have to strike quickly, mercilessly. Before the bastard could call up his sorcery. First, though, Quil needed to find some sign of him—a glut of guards, a cluster of flags, a pile of skulls…

The war camp was sprawled across the base of a hidden coastal valley, and Quil circled it twice. He noted the smaller Sails landing and taking off from the airfield, as well as transport Sails massive enough to move large numbers of troops and weapons.

It was only on the airfields that the Kegari appeared organized. As Quil entered the camp, slinking from shadow to shadow, his low opinion of the enemy sank further. The place appeared to be divided into smaller camps based on class and internal division, as opposed to the needs of a large army.

The northern quadrant had waterproofed tents, cleared lanes, and soldiers in fine armor. The sprawling southern quadrants had threadbare tents with goats and dogs running between them. The soldiers wore clothes Martials wouldn’t use for rags.

Quil’s skin crawled from the sheer disorganization. He’d spent ages learning about army encampment protocol. Where to corral horses and livestock, where to dig latrines, where to put the infantry versus the cavalry. At one point Quil had rolled his eyes at Elias.

Won’t I have generals to handle this?

Elias had chuckled and then made Quil and the other students spend two weeks putting up a “test” encampment—complete with latrine trenches they had to dig and use themselves. Quil cursed his teacher at the time—even as the rest of Elias’s students cursed Quil.

But now Quil understood why Elias insisted on those lessons. The Martial army could destroy this entire camp with a dozen Masks and a few hundred legionnaires.

Quil moved deeper into the camp, filching a tattered Kegari cloak and blue armband. Up close, he’d fool no one. But from afar, he was just another tired soldier.

He scoured his surroundings for some sign of the Tel Ilessi and had nearly completed a third circuit of the camp when he spotted a flash of color in the finer sector nearest the airfield. A square pavilion with a flag flying outside it: a sun with four beams and a woman in the center. Well hidden. Well guarded. It backed to a low cliff face with heavy wagons on either side, as if to block anyone trying to sneak in.

The tent was well lit and within, a familiar, broad-shouldered shadow moved. A haughty voice drifted out.

The Tel Ilessi.

Quil’s body went taut with anticipation.Finally.Now to get in. His best shot was the side backing to the cliff. Big tents always had a bit of give when up against uneven surfaces. The moon had disappeared behind a bank of clouds, and the torches at the front of the tent left the back in shadow. No one would see him if he timed it right.

Quil watched the patrols and just after one passed, he slipped from his hiding spot and past the large wagon.

The moment he reached the cliff, he realized that in the darkness, the tent only looked as if it backed to the boulder. In fact, the boulder formed one entire wall—the tent had been cut and secured to it. It was impossible to sneak in from the back.

Quil stifled a string of curses, frozen as the clouds cleared and the moon illuminated the camp—including the intruder loitering near the most well-guarded tent in the place.

“Ih! Va tu fi arda!”

For a second, Quil and the Kegari guard twenty feet away simply stared at each other, incredulous.

The prince recovered faster.Suicide mission it is.He drew his scim and ripped through the canvas.

Behind him, a warning cry went up. As he shoved into the tent, Quil sheathed his scim with one hand and drew his bow with the other. In the blink of an eye, three arrows hurtled toward the only person in the room, who sat at a desk facing away from him.

The arrows did not hit their mark.

They stopped midair, inches from the figure’s back. Then they fell to the floor, and Quil felt that strange pressure in the air he’d experienced back in Jibaut. He tried to move but found he could barely breathe.

The Kegari leader stood. He had no blade. No weapons that Quil could see. It was clear he did not need them. When three soldiers rushed into the tent, the Tel Ilessi jerked up his hand.

“Ivashk.”

The soldiers backed away without so much as a glance at each other, bowing their heads.

The Tel Ilessi stepped into the light, even as Quil fought against the invisible bonds holding him in place. The man’s pale skin and sharp features were familiar to Quil from their encounter in Jibaut. As then, the Tel Ilessi was cold-eyed, but instead of disdain, his expression was amused.

“I’d heard you were determined,” he said in perfect Ankanese. “Not witless. I’ll release the wind. I trust you’ll not draw your weapon. Sit down. We have much to discuss.”

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