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Chapter Twenty-Eight

H e stood motionless in the Crestek alley, every sense alert to the unseen presence watching him from the shadows. The narrow passage smelled of dank puddles and fetid rot, the close buildings trapping odors that made his nostrils flare in disgust. Water dripped somewhere nearby, a steady plink-plink-plink that marked time as he waited for whoever lurked in the darkness to reveal themselves.

He cursed his temper silently. Had he not been so blinded by rage after his confrontation with Linnea, he would never have wandered into this unfamiliar part of the city alone and unarmed. In the Dothvek village, such a mistake would be inconceivable—their tents arranged in patterns as familiar to him as the markings on his own skin, the open sands offering no hiding places for enemies to lurk, save those that dwelled beneath the surface. Here, the maze of stone passages and buildings so tall they cast long shadows even at midday created countless opportunities for ambush.

The weight of being watched pressed heavier with each heartbeat. Whoever they were, they were skilled at concealment—no scuff of a boot or rustle of fabric betrayed their position.

Patience had never been his strongest virtue. "Show yourself," he called, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "Only cowards hide in shadows."

He shifted his weight to the balls of his feet, adopting the fighting stance that had served him well in the tahadu ritual. Even without weapons, he was far from defenseless. The formal Crestek tunic restricted his movement somewhat, but he could still fight if necessary.

“Just as we expected," a voice said from the darkness, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.

Two figures materialized from recessed doorways on either side of the alley, moving with the practiced stealth of those accustomed to avoiding notice. Both were male Cresteks, their hoods pushed back to reveal faces younger than he'd anticipated. They wore simple clothing, neither the elaborate garments of the elite nor the simpler attire of the lower classes—deliberately unremarkable, the kind of people who could move through crowds without drawing a second glance.

Despite their sudden appearance, his instinctive tension eased slightly. Even though he hadn’t often used his empathic abilities on others since arriving in the city, he sensed no malice from them—only curiosity and a strange mix of hope and caution.

"Who are you?" he demanded, remaining in his defensive stance. "What do you want with me?"

The taller of the two stepped forward, his hands raised to show they were empty. "We are friends," he said, his voice low but clear. "We are members of the resistance."

"The resistance?" He frowned, confused. "The group that fought for peace and reunification between our peoples? That resistance ended when the peace accord was signed."

A bitter smile crossed the shorter male's face. "One resistance ended. Another grows in its place."

He studied them more carefully, noting the way they positioned themselves to keep watch on both directions of the alley. These were not random citizens who had stumbled upon a Dothvek in their midst; he sensed they had been tracking him, waiting for an opportunity to make contact away from prying eyes.

"You must be pleased with the peace, then," he said, deliberately casual as he probed for information. "Your goals were achieved."

The taller male—barely more than a youth, he realized—shook his head. "The peace is fragile. There is a movement growing against it, larger and better organized than you might imagine."

"Some of those who wish to sow dissent are within the Crestek leadership itself," the other added, his voice hardening. "The same council members who smile and toast to unity in public whisper of isolation and war in private."

It confirmed exactly what he had overheard, what Linnea had refused to believe. He kept his expression neutral, unwilling to admit that he already knew the truth of their claims. If these two were indeed part of a resistance network, they might have valuable information—but trust had to be earned, not freely given.

"Why tell me this?" he asked. "I am merely an ambassador."

The taller youth snorted. "You are more than that. You are Kyrana's chosen representative, a warrior who was security chief on the sands, and—" he hesitated, exchanging a glance with his companion, "—you are close to the chancellor."

There was something in the way he said it that made his skin prickle. Did they know about his relationship with Linnea? Or were they merely referring to his diplomatic position? Regardless, they seemed to know a great deal about him.

"You could be in danger," the shorter one continued. "The same elements that wish to unseat the chancellor would not hesitate to eliminate a Dothvek ambassador if it served their purpose. Especially one who threatens their plans."

"And what plans might those be?" he asked, relaxing his stance slightly but remaining alert.

Another meaningful look passed between them. "We're still piecing that together," the taller one admitted. "But we know they intend to force the chancellor into actions that will make her appear tyrannical, eroding support for her leadership and the peace she champions."

It aligned perfectly with what he had overheard. He studied the pair more intently, sensing no deception in them. Either they were telling the truth, or they believed they were.

"If you ever need help," the shorter one said, "you can count on us. Our network extends throughout the city and into the government towers."

Curious. Who in the tower was feeding them such accurate information?

A dark laugh escaped him before he could suppress it. "I need help right now. I seem to have lost my way.”

The tension broke, both youths smiling despite the seriousness of their conversation. "We can lead you back," the taller one offered. "It's not far, though it's easy to get lost in these back streets if you're unfamiliar with them."

As they began walking, they flanked him protectively, their eyes constantly scanning their surroundings. The shorter one moved slightly ahead, checking each intersection before signaling it was safe to proceed.

"You mentioned a network," he said as they navigated the twisting passageways. "How extensive is it?"

"More extensive than the chancellor's advisors would believe," the taller youth replied with a hint of pride. "We have sympathizers in every quarter of the city, including within the government itself."

"Spies, you mean."

"We prefer to call them allies," the shorter one said over his shoulder. "Their goal is the same as ours—preserving the peace, protecting the chancellor from those who would undermine her."

The idea of a shadow network operating within the Crestek city both unsettled and intrigued him. If what they said was true, Linnea had allies she didn't even know existed—Cresteks working to protect her from threats she refused to acknowledge.

"And what do you want from me?" he asked, never one to believe in altruism without purpose. Not from Cresteks.

The taller youth's expression grew serious. "Be vigilant. Watch the council members closely, especially Vellen and Taal. And..." he hesitated, "...protect the chancellor. She is more isolated than she realizes."

He almost stumbled at the mention of the exact advisors he had overheard plotting. Either these Cresteks had allies uncomfortably close to the traitors, or they were part of an elaborate deception he couldn't yet fathom.

The sound of voices reached them as they approached an alley that opened onto what appeared to be the edge of the market square. Sunlight spilled into the narrow passage, a welcome contrast to the dim corridors they'd been traversing.

"How do I find you if I need your help?" he asked quickly, sensing their time was short.

"Our members nearest the chancellors will make themselves known to you," the shorter one replied.

The cryptic answer raised more questions than it answered. Before he could ask, both Cresteks tensed, their heads turning toward the sound of hurried footsteps approaching from a passageway.

“Remember," the taller one whispered as they began backing away, "not all who smile at you wish you well, and not all who hide in shadows are your enemies."

With that enigmatic warning, they melted into the darkness of an alley, their forms disappearing so completely it was as if they had never been there at all.

He turned toward the passageway just as two cloaked figures appeared at the entrance, silhouetted against the brighter light beyond. One was quicker, moving with the precise efficiency he recognized immediately as belonging to K’Nar. The other...

"Zexx?" A familiar voice called, tentative yet urgent.

His heart gave a traitorous leap of recognition. Even muffled by the hood pulled low over her face, he would know Linnea's voice anywhere.

She had come looking for him.