selling large quantities of ore from his mine to supposedly second-party dealers—which turned out to be fake. He traced the purchases back to the Ballengers. He knew Jase was up to something, but he wasn’t sure what. When the king began placing large orders for pig iron, he didn’t connect the two. “He claimed he was forging some new plows and farm equipment for his three farms—but I knew he had already sold two of them off. It was a very hushed transaction. No one was supposed to know about the land sales, but one of his foremen came to me asking for work. I thought his purchase of iron for more plows was just more of his spectacular mismanagement, and I was happy to sell him iron he’d never be able to use. I just didn’t put two and two together. I didn’t think he was capable of anything like this.”
“Selling off his holdings was how he paid for the mercenaries?”
“That was only a down payment. He has another payment that’s due soon.”
“So that’s why he needs the revenues from the arena so badly.”
“That’s right. A massive arsenal of weapons is only as good as the army that carries it.”
I shook my head. I still didn’t understand how it could be massive. “Jase told me about the supplies he had ordered. There was only enough for a small war at best, and most of those were used up with experimentation.”
“You really think Beaufort would be honest about anything, including supplies? They weren’t using up the supplies with experiments. They were stockpiling them and shipping them out. How, I don’t know. Or to where. They keep that a closely guarded secret—”
I gasped. The olives! The casks!
They weren’t the nonsensical words of a dying man. I remembered when Phineas had said them, blood sputtering from his lips. That was how they had accumulated such a huge arsenal. For months they had smuggled the explosives back out of Cave’s End in empty casks that once held wine or olives.
“They’re in olive and wine casks,” I said. “Phineas told me.”
“Casks?” he breathed out with wonder. He told me there were a hundred and four warehouses behind the arena and it was a daunting task to search them without arousing suspicion. He’d only been able to search maybe a dozen so far, but he had been searching for crates.
“Seventy-two,” I said. “Is there a warehouse with that number?” I told him about the paper I had nicked from the king.
He nodded. “Back near the paddocks. I’ll check it next.”
He went on, telling me about the ballistae they had created. “They’re even more deadly than the launchers. One shot was all it took to take the temple down. They’re forging more of those now.”
“But sooner or later they’ll run out of ammunition.”
“They claim they’ve only used a fraction of what they have and soon they’ll have more.”
“How is that possible? We destroyed the plans.”
“They have the perfected product in their possession, and they know all the ingredients. It won’t take the chemists he’s hired long to replicate the formula. It’s imminent.”
I remembered Beaufort’s last words to me. It will never be over. Not now. A door has been unlocked.
But somehow we had to close that door again. The king already had Hell’s Mouth under his thumb. The only reason he would need more—
Paxton voiced my thoughts before I could finish them.
“He hasn’t said it outright, but his sights are set on other kingdoms. He wants their wealth to be his.” He had overheard Montegue and Banques talking about what was essentially blackmail—fees for crossing rights in the Cam Lanteux within two hundred miles from Eislandia’s borders. Fees for a lot of things the other kingdoms would have to pay, or else.
The else was going to happen whether they complied or not. Phineas had offered him the universe, and I had seen the fire in Montegue’s eyes. He would settle for nothing less.
“And maybe even more than their wealth,” Paxton continued, “he wants power and respect. He won’t hesitate to use any kingdom who defies him as an example to the others.”
“Like he did with Rybart to make you and Truko jump.”
He sighed. “Yes, just like that.”
“King’s back! Heading out!” a voice bellowed from below. They banged something against a metal pipe in case we didn’t hear. No one kept the king waiting.
On our return to the inn, I rode next to Montegue and Nash at first, but upon hearing I had turned up nothing in my search, the king quickly resumed an animated conversation with Banques. Paxton’s grim warning had come to pass.
The chemists had done it. The formula had been re-created. Production would resume as soon as more supplies arrived. By year’s end, the king hoped to double his already formidable arsenal. The air was suddenly colder. Thinner. More dangerous.
I looked at Lydia, who rode with Banques, and gave her a bare nod. Assurance. Bide your time. This nightmare will soon be over. Even though it was becoming worse by the minute. She looked away, but I saw the veiled fear in her eyes.