It didn’t always work, but more often than not, it did.
Angelique shook her head as she opened a barrel—and found it empty.
“Considering how far ahead of us the Chosen are, it’s shameful how sloppy and relaxed their bases in Mullberg are.” Even knowing the warehouse workers were halfway across the city, she kept her voice on the quieter side—Quinn would be able to hear her regardless, and there were some sense of caution even experience couldn’t override.
Angelique frowned at the half-packed goods mounded around her. “They should be more alert here than anywhere else given that the Veneno Conclave is here. But considering how we could barely find Chosen camps elsewhere before they’d disappear like smoke, they are ridiculously easy to infiltrate here. Lovelana did say there may be three to five Chosen spies in the Conclave’s ranks. Perhaps that’s why they don’t need to be so careful here—a spy might be directly ordering their movements.”
Angelique’s frown morphed into a scowl as she moved from one row of packed crates to the next and stepped in an icy cold pile of slush.
She held the starfire crystal she’d been using above her head, revealing a hole in the ceiling where snow drifted in. It looked like the workers had tried to temporarily patch it with canvas, but one of the heavier snows from earlier in the season weighed enough to break through it.
Charming.
“It is a curious thing,” Quinn agreed. “But typically a spy would avoid meeting with cohorts to avoid suspicion. Maybe it’s not that these Chosen employees don’t fear the Conclave. Maybe it’s that the royal family isn’t doing much of anything to address the Chosen, much less the monsters that are running around the country. Besides, most of the employees we’ve encountered and boozed up don’t have a lick of magic. To them, it’s just another unsavory job.”
Thinking of the docks and the lack of regulations Mullberg imposed on its ports, Angelique slogged her way down the aisle. “The lack of regulations sounds most probable. All other countries have struggled against the Chosen from the onset. But Mullberg was the only country—besides Zancara, of course—who refused to send a representative to the Summit. That should tell you exactly how in-the-know they are when it comes to the Chosen.”
“Which, I imagine, would eliminate the need to be so discreet,” Quinn said.
“Yeah. You find anything about a mirror in the logbook?” Angelique asked. “Or is it coded?”
“If by coded you mean that it is so spattered with what smells like alcoholic beverages and,” Quinn loudly sniffed, “gravy, I believe, that it is hardly legible, then yes, it is coded in a very unique way that works irritatingly well. But no, they didn’t bother to use a code or anything besides shorthand in their entries,” Quinn reported. “I’ve found nothing about a mirror—or a large caravan.”
“I expected as much. When we started moving east, any mention of that caravan dropped out of the logbooks,” Angelique said.
For the first month together—during the worst weeks of winter—Quinn and Angelique had zig-zagged across the southern-most Chosen encampments. They’d found mentions of the caravan with the mirror and decided to travel north—where Mullberg was less settled and the Chosen had a greater chance of operating unnoticed. But searching those strongholds revealed nothing, so they had then opted to make their way to the east coast.
It seemed like the most plausible direction given that east was away from both the Veneno Conclave and Juwel, the capital of Mullberg and home of Glitzern Palace.
“It seems like they must have dropped Evariste somewhere northwest in the country rather than putting his mirror on a ship as we thought,” Angelique said.
“At least our searches on the coast have not been a total loss,” Quinn said. “We thought they’d come here to put Evariste’s mirror on a ship, given that we’d assumed they had at least a few vessels under their control because they move quickly around the map. From our searches, we found there is not a single ship that belongs to them, and instead that they ship out meager amounts of goods hidden among larger Mullberg merchants so as to not raise attention.”
“Yes.” Angelique studied a harp, which almost certainly would have been ruined from being left out in the damp but icy cold temperatures if not for the preservation spell she could feel that had been cast deep into the old instrument. “Which begs the question—if they don’t have a boat, how are they moving goblins and black mages so easily around the continent? Evariste’s magic isn’t conducive to moving large groups. A portal for a handful of people, certainly. But there’s no charm in the world that would be able to hold enough magic to move armies of goblins.”
“Our search has raised more questions than it has answered,” Quinn lightly said. “But at least we are narrowing down the possible locations Lord Enchanter Evariste could be hidden.”
“Indeed.” Angelique pinched her nose as she passed what looked like a bag of spoiled potatoes—which stunk enough to eclipse the scent of sour alcohol that the place seemed to be infused with.
“I’m finished with the logbook—could you put it back?” Quinn slipped the logbook through the cracked door.
“Sure. I’m done here, so we can leave.” Angelique took the logbook and trotted back to the three-legged, unstable table that was made out of balancing several rough timbers of wood on rickety stools.
She carefully replaced it exactly as she had found it—flipped open to the last page—then retraced her steps to the front door.
“I imagine we’ll head due west, then?” Quinn asked. “Since we’ve searched all the dens on the coastline?”
“Yes. We’ll need to consult our notes, but I think there are two encampments we haven’t searched near Juwel. We’ll go there next.” Angelique paused when she stepped past a sword. It radiated magic, a deep kind that was steeped with bloodlust.
She briefly considered taking it. It’s undoubtedly dangerous, and if they’ve got more war mages like Acri, they can do some terrible things with it. But even the most slovenly worker would realize it was gone, and we don’t want anyone knowing we’ve uncovered so many Mullberg outposts—particularly since Queen Faina of Mullberg keeps ignoring Severin’s request for an audience. Better to let them stay slack so we can catch them when we finally get through to the queen.
Angelique pressed her lips together and made herself leave the sword behind and slip through the door, casually flicking the death spell—black mage magic at its finest—that had been set around the warehouse as a guard, restarting the dangerous trap.
“Everything is set,” Angelique said.
Quinn stepped away from the barrel she’d been casually sitting on. “Excellent. Let’s find our boys, then. We’re leaving as planned, yes?”
“I think it’s still a good idea to leave, even if they are stinking drunk. There’s no point in sticking around, and I’d rather put some distance between us and this city,” Angelique said. “One of the workers had a tiny bit of magic. It’s unlikely, but he may be able to tell that I poked around.”
“Very good,” Quinn tugged at the shoulders of her gray cloak so it settled around her better. “In that case, let’s be off.”