In the Claws of the Tiger

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“Janik Martell?”

Not looking at the black-haired man beside him, Janik stared at the Blackcap Mountains far below the airship. He had watched the man since the voyage began, having pegged him as one of the Royal Eyes of Aundair. He gave a slight nod even as his left hand moved to the hilt of his short sword at his belt.

“I’d like to ask you a few questions.” The man’s voice was low and heavy. “In the name of Queen Aurala of Aundair.”

Janik pushed a wayward strand of tawny hair over his right ear and lifted his eyes toward the horizon, where the mountains sank down into hills and flowed into the plains and vineyards of Aundair. “We’re not across the border yet.”

“And it’s my job to make sure you don’t get across the border if I don’t like your answers.”

Janik looked at the other spy, studying him. He was shorter than Janik by a hand’s breadth, and his hair was cut short. He wore a midnight blue coat open in front, revealing light armor—and the hilt of his sword—underneath. The two eyed each other for a moment, then Janik turned back to look down at the mountains again. “So ask,” he said.

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