by Ann Denton
Mala glanced at Neid’s face. The other girl raised her eyebrows but kept her mouth shut. Her expression clearly stated she didn’t like idea of human sacrifice. I wouldn’t, either.
“Ein,” Tier grinned, “to quote your charge here, ‘You’re just a pair of lips.’ Don’t get in the way.” He stood, causing everyone else to rise and stand at attention. “Okay, that about sums it up. You have two weeks to research and prep. Mala, you are to melt into General Keptiker and stay in his form. Any other questions?”
Mala had a million questions buzzing in her head, battling with the butterflies flittering through her stomach. But it was Lowe who spoke.
“What’s the expected timeframe at the king’s bunker?”
Tier raised an eyebrow. “Once you arrive, three days. But you’ll have to infiltrate Wilde, kill Keptiker, and replace him with Mala before that. We estimate a week total. So get moving.” He gestured to Fell. The two of them left the room without another sound.
Silently, everyone sank back into their seats.
Neid was the first to speak. “Did that really just happen?”
Lowe nodded. “Well, let’s talk assignments. Ein, I want you get ahold of any maps or videos of the king’s compound. Figure out at least forty exit strategies. It’s complicated because of the rubble moat he built, blowing up all those buildings around his compound. There are mountains of rubble outside that place. There’s no way we’re depending on an extraction team alone. Neid, you’d better research the king’s … preferences. For slaves and their training. Figure out his weaknesses, figure out how to stroke his ego. You’ll need both.” He didn’t say, “to survive,” but those words hung in the air, unspoken and sour.
Lowe turned his blue eyes solemnly to Mala. His face was stern, jaw tight. Mala could read the fear in his expression. “Mala, you need to melt. You have four days with Ges, getting in the General’s head. Then Verrukter will take over. And you will learn to fight like him.”
Mala sat back in her chair and ran her fingers through her hair, overwhelmed. “I still don’t understand why they’re giving us this assignment. No offense, Neid, but you and I don’t rank high enough for this.”
There was a moment of silence. It was Ein, rather than Lowe who responded. “The President’s desperate. Too many high-visibility raids. That one with the kids that nobody wants to mention. It’s pretty public. And Tier, though he’d love to get rid of us, is also somewhat practical. Of the Kreis available, most have gone on over four missions. That gives them a forty-eight-percent chance of being recognized by someone the moment they step into Troe’s compound because he rotates his staff through different villages. Paranoia—doesn’t want anyone there too long. Tier and Fell want better odds.”
Everyone turned to stare. Ein steepled his fingers, relaxing into lecture mode. “Neid’s highly trained, even if she hasn’t been on a mission. She’s got years of combat, weapons, and espionage to support her. And a new face. Even if it breaks protocol. They’ve been itching to use Mala since she stepped onto a sub. I’m included by default here, obviously. And Lowe … I’m guessing Fell chose you because you’ll do anything to ensure Mala survives.”
“Not that I happen to be good at what I do or anything,” Lowe smirked.
Ein cocked his head. “If you were as good of a spy as you think you are, you would’ve already figured out the most likely mole.”
Lowe’s eyes blazed. “Oh really? Who?”
“It’s obvious. Which Kreis has managed to stay here for months on end, creating the perfect cover to ferret out information? No guesses? Ok, this Kreis has a very special relationship with a Kreis who’s officially gone missing.”
“There are like six of those,” Lowe shot back.
Ein rolled his eyes. “Ok. This Kreis used to be the very pinnacle of training but recently has withered …”
A warning buzz sounded in the back of Mala’s brain. Something Ein said triggered a realization, but she was still too overwhelmed by the thought of impending death to sort through his words.
“Oh come on, that clue was obvious. Remind me never to pick any of you as partners on game night. If we survive long enough to see one.”
It was Neid who ultimately answered. Her rosy lips dropped in surprise when she connected the dots. “Are you saying it’s Alba?”
Holy mucking shit. Mala’s brain clicked into overdrive. All those times she almost melted. She wasn’t trying to melt. She was trying not to.
But Lowe scoffed. “Okay, genius. How has she been communicating to him all this time?”
Ein didn’t have an answer for that. But Mala did. She took a deep breath and turned to Lowe. “This morning, on the surface … Alba was drunk. When I put her to bed, she told me her recruiter Blut had given her a two-way radio. They used to talk all the time.”
Lowe’s eyes widened. “That’s against protocol.”
“Yeah and traitors who turn Erlender are really stuck on protocol,” Ein sneered.
Silence spread through the room like fog across the surface of water. It hung thick in the air.
Lowe stood, breaking the tension. “You all have your assignments. We’ll meet daily at 6:00 p.m. for dinner and status updates.”
“You’re welcome,” Ein called as Lowe walked to the door. His voice took on a slightly manic tone. “Glad I could do your thinking for you. I’ll just stay here and make out with your girlfriend while you go get your suspect.”
Lowe didn’t respond. His back didn’t even tense. He simply walked through the door and didn’t look back.
Ein turned to the girls and clapped his hands with mock cheerfulness. “Alright. Who’s ready to get this death sentence started?”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Mala sat with Ges, rubbing her eyes as they watched the millionth video of the day. Another whole day of this tomorrow? I’m going to die of boredom before we even go. It turned out, most of the video cameras planted by their spy operations captured endless footage of the dull grey squabbling of Erlender peasants.
She watched Keptiker solve another petty dispute between two villagers whose legs were wrapped in scraps of cloth, the poorest of the poor. They’d been fighting over a pair of scissors. He took out the screw, and handed half back to each, telling them they’d have to make do with a knife. “First one ta stab de other, gets tha’ scissors.” The villagers glanced at each other, bowed, and quickly retreated. “Too bad,” Keptiker sighed.
Another petitioner stepped forward. The general leaned on his hand, stroking the scar that ran just under his left eye. Mala mirrored him.
“No!” Ges cried out, grabbing at her hand. “Look at your wrist. It’s way too girly. See how he keeps his stiffer?” He molded her wrist to his liking. “He might play for my team, but he’s not girly.”
“What?”
Ges winked. “Didn’t they tell you? Should at least make recovery from your meltdowns easier—on you. Maybe not on Ein.” He laughed and paused the video. “Okay, now repeat what he said.”
Mala sighed. “First one ta stab de other, gets tha’ scissors.” The Erlenders spoke the same language as Senebals, but had a drawl. It took practice. Mala hadn’t grown up talking to them, she’d grown up watching their corpses grow cold as she and her mother had picked their way through battlefields to help injured Senebals. Talking like them was completely unnatural. As was the THING.
The THING was what she’d come to call it, and though she didn’t mention it to Ges, it really bothered her. She had to sit differently. She had to walk funny. And she’d avoided going to the bathroom if at all possible. She’d been ordered to stay in the General’s form, and everyone knew it, so it wasn’t like she could easily melt back. Ein would only laugh if I asked him for help, she thought bitterly. But the stupid THING itches! And it gets in the way. Not to mention the other problem … I’ll have to tell somebody. I’ll have to talk to Lowe, I guess. Mala sighed. I wish someone else could do this. I wish it wasn’t me.
She shook he
rself mentally. Shut up. You don’t mean that. You made a vow. Now focus. She tried to ignore the THING. She tried to ignore the scratchy Erlender wool shirt that had been rubbing her skin raw for days now. She tried to ignore the fact that the General’s left-hand dominance kept confusing her. Mala delivered the lines for Ges and then turned her attention back to the video. She saw the General slouch a bit and spread his legs wide. She imitated that.
“Okay, let’s take a break, I think you’re starting to glaze over,” Ges pressed the stop button. “Let’s talk about the general and King Troe’s relationship again.”
“First cousins,” Mala recited. “General Keptiker was born to the old King’s sister. They grew up together. Same tutors. But Keptiker left to take over his father’s village and assume the role of general—aka mayor—there. They see each other once a year for tax delivery. Not close, because Keptiker isn’t as idiotic and superstitious as Troe.”
“You think he’s idiotic?” Ges interrupted.
“Based on what you told me. You said the guy eats jewels when he’s sick. I don’t know everything my mother knew, but eating rocks? Not because he thinks they’re magic either—he thinks that somehow, scratching up his organs internally is going to help,” Mala scoffed. “And he’s a shut-in, not a warrior. He’s into a ton of rituals. He puts dead rats in the window to ward off evil spirits. He keeps his own hair and burns it so other people can’t use it against him. Bizarre things. I mean, I really get why people here scoff at magic so much. I don’t get why Keptiker hasn’t made a play for the throne. Why does everyone follow this guy? The paranoid recluse?”
“You think this is boring?” Ges motioned to the paused video. “Imagine instead of a thousand peasants, you oversaw forty thousand. And they all expect to be fed. Not everyone’s into management.”
Mala stuck out her tongue. Ges laughed. “I definitely think you’re gonna have to cut down on the tongue thing at the Erlender compound. Unless you want it to get cut off.”
He pulled out a different video clip. Mala sighed.
“I saved this one for last today. I thought it might keep you interested after hours of work.” Ges pressed play.
Verrat appeared on the screen. Her face was battered but still recognizable. No. Mala leaned forward, her heart pumping hard in shock. “She’s still alive? She’s tougher than I thought.” It was a minute before Mala could focus on anything other than the violet-eyed warrior woman. When she did look around, she realized Verrat had been chained in a corner of the General’s office. She knelt on the concrete floor, gravel spread beneath her knees to ensure that every moment was torture. Her hands were chained to a ring in the floor. It looked like her shoulder had been dislocated.
Mala watched Keptiker enter his makeshift office, noticing the puff of his chest, and the direct line of his gaze as he marched a set of files over to the desk. He dropped them there and turned, reclining against the battered desktop, to regard his prisoner.
“So disappointin’,” he said aloud. “You had so much potential. Straighten up now.”
“Yes sir.” Verrat kept her eyes downcast but straightened so that her weight pushed forward onto her knees, forcing the gravel farther into her skin. The pain registered on her face, but she remained silent.
“I hate this guy,” Mala said.
“Actually, Mala, he’s pretty merciful. Most other generals would have sliced and diced her by now, to see what intel they could have gotten.” Ges commented.
Mala cocked her head at this. “Why hasn’t he?”
“Keptiker’s known for the long game. Rumors are he once waited seven years to get back at a general who’d stolen a slave girl from him. When the guy’s village was attacked, Wilde was called in to reinforce. Keptiker followed orders. He reinforced, but in the village—not at the general’s compound. One of the President’s regular divisions took out that general in under three hours. Couldn’t take the town, though.”
“So he’s got a reputation as dangerous.” That’s good for me, right? People won’t mess with me.
“You mucking idiot!” A bellow echoed behind them. Mala turned to see what the drama was all about. Unfortunately, it appeared to be all about her. Ein stood in the doorway, quivering in rage, his gaze scorching.
“Ges, excuse us, but I have to take this ingrate she-man up to her hut immediately. Turns out she’s a thief.”
Mala’s blood ran cold. Crap. Her mind flashed to all the items she’d ferreted away. It was all sitting in a nice little pile, tucked into the corner of her hut, like a squirrel’s stash of nuts. But I didn’t take anything important … her mind scrolled through the list of the things she’d taken while Ein dragged her by the scruff of her neck to the sub docks. Even when she was a man, he towered over her.
Ein shoved her into the first waiting submarine and started the ascent without speaking another word. She could feel the anger rolling off of him. She decided not to break the silence. Better give him time to calm down.
When they’d almost reached the surface, he finally spoke. “Why would you do it again? I told you last time it was suicide.”
“What?” But Mala barely had time to sputter the question before Ein shoved her. The shove didn’t have as big an impact on her Keptiker’s body as it would have on her own. She didn’t fly across the sub. But she got the point: the question had been rhetorical. Ein didn’t want her to speak.
Ein docked the sub and pointed at the hatch. Mala opened it and led the way to her hut, deciding that crying wouldn’t evoke any pity while she was stuck in this man’s body. She pulled open the door to her hut and ducked inside.
Ein lit the lantern near the door. As soon as his eyes adjusted, he spotted Mala’s pile. “What the sludge is that?” He shuffled through the trinkets, glancing once back at Mala. “You’ve been stealing all this stuff from me?” His anger subsided, shock and bemusement taking its place.
Mala shrugged. “It’s not like I could do anything else to get back at you with Tier around all the time.”
“How’d you get it out?”
“Hid it in my hair.”
Ein chuckled. Mala breathed a sigh of relief. Then he picked up a strange silver gear. “Ah, muck. You had to take this, huh?”
Mala peered at it. “I’m sorry if that’s what got you all riled up. I literally just took whatever I could. I don’t even know what half this stuff is.”
Ein turned to her. “Just a part of the fix for the plumbing I recently implemented. Kind of a key component in my design. Which now I’ll have to fix again, if there’s time before we ….” He pocketed it. “But that’s not what I was looking for. I don’t see it here. Which means it must be on you.” He sighed. “It would be so much more fun if I could make you melt back. But since I can’t: strip.”
“What?” Mala was indignant. No way was she stripping down in front of him. Especially since the THING had decided Ein’s chuckle was cute. Go away, she mentally scolded it, all while backing away from Ein.
“I haven’t been to your lab for days. This is my third day of research with Ges. I’m sure he has video footage of me and I’ve got about a hundred witnesses to prove that whatever you’re mad about, I didn’t do it.”
“You are the only one who’s dumb enough to steal something as dangerous as a clock for a prank—”
“It wasn’t a prank!” Mala yelled before she could help herself. She bit her lip. Idiot. I shouldn’t have said that.
After a very deliberate silence, during which she guessed Ein was calming himself down, he asked, “What do you mean? If it wasn’t a prank, what was it?” His hazel eyes zeroed in on her and she felt small. Tiny. Insignificant. Stupid.
Mala sank to the floor. Do I lie? He knew when I lied before. She chewed her lip and wished she still had her hook necklace. She wanted to trace the lines of the hooks as she searched for the right answer.
Ein sat down cross-legged in front of her. He waited without saying a word, which was odd. He’s always so demanding. But he jus
t sat, waiting, his face expressionless. Maybe it was his unexpected patience, or the fact that she really wanted to validate her theory, or the fact that she was so uncomfortable in this stupid man body that she couldn’t think straight, but something inside prompted Mala to tell him.
“We were performing a ritual. It was something I did the night I first melted.”
Ein’s intake of breath was loud and sudden. She saw him clench his jaw to hold back the volley of insults she knew he wanted to launch.
“You melted the night your mother died, correct?” Ein put on his neutral scientist’s voice.
“Yes,” Mala cringed as memories poked at her like sharpened sticks.
“You melted the night after you’d seen a massacre.”
“Yes.”
“You melted the night after you’d been through some of the most traumatic and fear-inducing moments of your life, moments that would have triggered your amygdala. Moments that would have triggered the amygdala of nearly every person around you. And yet, you still think that some silly—excuse me—some ritual that you dug up from who-knows-where caused your melts?” He arched an eyebrow, superiority seeping from every pore in his body.
Part of Mala’s brain understood his argument. But another, baser part of her growled. “You have no idea what you’re talking about either,” she spat back. “Just because you read something in one of your books, does that make it more true than what I’ve done or seen? What’s more real?”
“Those books are scientific works resulting from experiments—”
She cut Ein off. “So they say. Have you replicated all those experiments? How do you know they’re true? Yeah—Ges told me all about your scientific theory and how it works. You believe in those books.”
“Those books are mucking logical!” Ein shouted.
Good, I’m glad he’s at least as mad as I am. “I’m not some stupid tributary idiot mud-breather,” Mala shot at him. “I had episodes for years, but I never melted before I did that ritual. And yes, all that stuff happened in between. But that’s why I took that damn minute hand. So I could do an experiment—you damned muck head! So I could see if that ritual actually caused me to melt differently than everyone else. If you think the amygdala is the key—then everyone Kreis here’s been through something traumatic. But why are my melts different? You’re so mucking arrogant, sometimes I just want to—”