Rise of the Falsemarked (Spies of Dragon and Chalk Book 2)

by Samuel Gately

  He swirled the glass, letting the wine breathe, and took a long drink without breaking eye contact with Aaron. “Aaron Lorne,” he finally said.

  “Hideon Bray,” Aaron replied. He looked around at the falsemarked ranged out around them. Aaron was definitely in the wolf’s den now. Intel was scarce on the falsemarked Bray kept closest to him. Every one of them met Aaron’s eyes, unflinching. They all wanted a shot at him. A chance to prove their loyalty to Bray, to be rewarded. Aaron could produce a group of Corvale as dangerous as these, but his ranks would run thin far before Bray’s would.

  Bray gestured broadly around the tavern. “An interesting choice. I hope you aren’t under the false impression that any of these noble sons of the courts would interfere if I killed you right now.”

  Aaron shrugged. “Might hurt your reputation as a legitimate businessman. Something tells me you are still attached to that image.”

  “Possibly. Maybe less than you think.” Bray leaned forward slowly, right into Aaron’s face. He stared, eyes only inches from Aaron’s, then slowly raised a large hand and flicked a finger hard into Aaron’s pixie eye. Aaron tried to avoid flinching, but it wasn’t easy as the thick finger whacked hard into his cheek. His face reddened. Twice he’d had hands on his face in the past few hours, this time less pleasant than the last. Was this an Eostre thing or did he just choose overly expressive companions?

  Bray laughed. His men followed suit. He leaned back again, looked up at the ceiling. “Your actions today puzzle me, Corvale. I don’t spend much time in the courts. I’d rather be under the open sky with my dragons. It seemed a trivial location for our first meeting, boring even. If I want honey, I send a beekeeper to get it. I don’t stick my bare hand into the hive.”

  “Maybe I wanted to meet the queen.”

  Bray’s face grew dark. “Don’t get me wrong, Aaron Lorne. I’m glad to see you so close at hand. Any time I want, I could chase you out of any city on this continent, send you running back to New Wyelin with your tail between your legs, but it is made so much easier when you bring yourself right under my thumb. And you look so lonely. Your noble traveling companion couldn’t make it? Needed a long rest? Too stiff to get out of bed this morning?”

  Bray leaned in. “Since you’ve been here I’ve lost two warehouses to fire. One in particular troubles me. It held something precious, the store of ink I use to mark my men. The ink is rare, difficult to acquire for one who is not a member of the order of mark masters. Even rarer is a mark master who can apply the ink and will do so as I say. I had one such man, but he hung himself last night. Know anything about that?”

  Aaron kept quiet.

  “You think you are a mystery? You are not. Does the SDC really think turning Aaron Lorne into a saboteur is the key to winning this war? You are little more than an inconvenience. If I didn’t have other priorities I’d be drinking wine from your skull already, sending dragons east with your body. Maybe leave it somewhere at the foot of the Frome Mountains for Conners Toren to weep over.”

  There was a long pause. Bray finished his wine and looked at Aaron. “Why are you here?”

  “Maybe I wanted to meet the Prisoner.”

  Bray slowly shook his head. He appeared not at all surprised to hear his old identity resurface. “Far too late for that. I left that behind years ago. Now I’m all Hideon Bray. Any scars your pathetic people left on me have faded. Even the Chalk couldn’t hold me. All that remains of the Prisoner is a whim and a whisper. Not even a promise or a purpose. Just a whim and whisper. My whim is that I should destroy what remains of the Vylass and Corvale tribes. I could do it for profit, I could do it for revenge, but I choose to do it because of a whim. A shadow of the person I once was, a ghost, whispering to me, asking me for one last favor.

  “Do you know how lucky you are, Aaron Lorne? Do you ever hear the whispers? Do they ever tell you how lucky you are? Do they ever ask you what you would have been if the Chalk hadn’t slaughtered your people? Do they ever tell you that you should be thanking the Chalk? Do they ever tell you that the Chalk gave you the greatest service anyone ever could? They cleared the way for you. The only difference between you and me is that your people got out of your way. Mine asked me to stand in line, to stand behind smaller and weaker men and wait my turn. You never had to wait. You grew strong because there was no competition. I grew strong despite it. Now you lead the greatest army and corporation in the east. I lead the greatest in the west. It was high time we met and showed the world which way produces stronger metal. I’ve no doubts about the outcome.”

  Bray gripped the table. The wood groaned under his hands, squealing as he made as if to tear it in half. “When the ghosts whisper to me, in the dark of night, they ask me a favor. They ask for the death of the Vylass and Corvale. And make no mistake. I will do it. I will bring you death. I will kill the remains of your broken people, make what the Chalk did to them look humane. Tell Conners Toren. Tell him I am coming. Tell him he will be dragged from his hall in New Wyelin and torn into five pieces high above it.”

  Aaron said, “I thought you always asked your enemies where they wanted to be dropped.”

  “Not you. And not Conners. You will both be killed where I decide. Only I’ll blind you so you don’t know where you fall. It might be Delhonne, might be Wyelin. Might just be a dark grave, full of other forgotten heroes, other fools who stood in my way.”

  Bray stood and finished his wine. “I’m not impressed, Aaron Lorne. You are as predictable as the movements of the sun. All your secrets are already bare to the world or will be soon. Your weapons may appear sharp to others but they look small and inadequate to me. The only reason you and Conners Toren still draw air is that geography has placed other obstacles in my path. But my way is nearly clear and you are right to assume I am looking east. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have another meeting to get to. Hopefully it won’t be as disappointing as this one.”

  Bray turned to leave, his entourage carelessly shoving chairs aside as they stood. When the group had left, Aaron rose. Rather than wait around to see what orders the undercover NEST men had, he headed for the kitchen. As he passed the swinging doors, he pulled them shut behind him and hit the locks. He passed a few staring kitchen workers, then was out the back door. Jardere was waiting to hand Aaron a ragged cloak to disguise his clothes. Aaron threw it over his head and let Jardere lead him into the crowd. In moments the men were nowhere to be seen.

  Chapter 18. Severing the Fifth Arm

  Shale Kormet strode purposefully through Ellis’ crowded streets. Her hood hid her face. A thick cloak masked the slender shape of her body. Though the sun warmed the crowd, her modesty was not unique. Law and order had taken on a different flavor in Ellis over the past few months since NEST had begun openly taking what they wanted. Women embraced modesty to avoid unwanted attention. Men too, especially those with reason to avoid NEST’s ire. Given that NEST riders themselves refrained from exposing their marked skin, the fashion of Ellis was to cover as much of one’s self as possible.

  To the untrained eye, Shale Kormet walked alone. As she crossed into the neighborhood of Seven Streets, however, a perceptive observer might be able to detect a subtle shift in the postures of several nearby men and women. A line had been crossed. One anonymous security detail of men and women relaxed, having safely delivered the most wanted woman in Ellis to the edge of their neighborhood. Another detail straightened up, now on the clock. Her safety was now their concern. Rebellion in Eostre was not for the unprepared.

  The Eostre Uprising was fond of taking liberties with Shale Kormet’s story, turning it into a tool for recruitment and propaganda. The official version had her as the only daughter of a caravan driver. Her father had been slain for defying NEST. At the funeral on the outskirts of Ellis, attended by many of her father’s compatriots, one of the NEST officials had shown up. Eager to rub the caravan drivers’ faces in their loss and taken with the beautiful Shale, he had approached her. When he tried to force himself upon her
in front of the crowd, several men rushed to her aid. That aid was unneeded, however, as she tossed the NEST man to the ground. Then she took his life with a small knife her father had given her to use in her defense during his long trips away from her. The story usually ended with Shale making some sort of dramatic speech about justice and virtue.

  The story worked well, especially among Ellis’ women. It sold the image of Shale starting from some place just like them. It told them Eostre Uprising could be trusted. It was local, came from a known place. It hinted at a horrible fate that awaited them if and when they caught NEST’s eye. But at that time, they could find the strength within themselves to rise up and toss off the shackles NEST had forced upon them and avenge whatever particular injustice they faced. The rebellion needed the support of the women, needed them to be okay with their husbands and sons fighting NEST, tossing aside the gold NEST offered, rolling the dice with the rebellion. Many women joined themselves. Eostre Uprising’s ranks were filled with capable and valuable women, a pool completely untapped by NEST, who didn’t have a single known female member of their organization.

  Shale’s real story was quite different. She had not slipped sideways into the rebellion game. She had been raised in it. Her father had been a guild organizer for the caravans, one of the heavies involved in both the dark alley negotiations and smoke-filled-room deals that kept the caravans in the black before NEST’s arrival. A former guard with a head for leadership, he was at the point of EU when it was a fledgling idea. NEST killed him during a nighttime raid on one of their warehouses. EU decided to make a martyr of him and appoint his daughter as their nominal head.

  Shale had quickly quelled any who had doubts about her capabilities as a leader. She was the one who’d reorganized the rebellion, given it a new structure. As EU had grown from a pest to a threat, NEST had begun to take greater interest. Shale knew that the ranks of their latest recruits were lousy with spies. NEST was sending men in by the handful. She’d divided the rebellion up into independent cells, eight in total. In an early meeting, she’d drawn a picture of the structure. It was an octopus. Eight arms, three leaders clustered in the center. Shale had said, “If this is an octopus, think of these three as its brain.” When she didn’t name herself as one of the three in the inner circle, the men had been surprised. She explained she wasn’t part of the octopus. She was the person who told it what to do, the one who held the leash.

  Breaking Eostre Uprising into eight cells allowed for heavily centralized leadership. It also prevented a single traitor or spy from access to comprehensive information about the rebellion and its membership. EU’s leadership lived in fear that one of the eight arm leaders would be turned or one of the inner circle or Shale herself captured. But they no longer lived in fear that every operation would be exposed before the time was right, something that had plagued the group earlier. Shale had also found opportunities to disclose different intelligence to each arm to see where the biggest leaks were.

  NEST had adapted quickly, fighting subterfuge with its like. At one point an entire arm had vanished. No word, no sign of where they’d gone or how they’d been penetrated. Shale had gritted her teeth and redistributed the men to form eight arms again. After other incidences had occurred, EU had run out of enough men to viably divide into eight. The octopus was now down to five arms. NEST grew daily as EU shrank.

  NEST’s trickle-down cruelty created new enemies at every turn, which should have brought more allies to EU. But NEST’s reputation for cruelty prevented many from finding the spine to work against them. It was easier to leave Ellis or swallow their pride and join up with NEST. EU had become a shaky organization with which to ally. Only Shale’s careful planning and refusal to give an inch of ground before it was soaked in blood had kept EU from being erased entirely.

  Running EU as a collection of independent cells had its issues though, something Shale was being reminded of today. She’d already been to three meetings and had two more. They were planning an attack on NEST’s eastern landing tonight at sunset. The final details needed to be reviewed with each arm. It was a high risk, high profile operation that required many moving pieces to work in unison.

  From the folds of her hood, Shale noted the positioning of the local security with approval. This was one of the strongest arms, operated out of the Seven Streets. It was run by a local merchant named Murray. Murray had been on the cusp of buying his way into the nobility when NEST became a force in Eostre. He’d backed the wrong wagon trains three times in a row and that was all it took to put him on the brink of bankruptcy with a vendetta against NEST. There were hundreds of stories just like his, victims of the market upheaval that dragons had wrought on Eostre. Murray differed from the masses in his passion for revenge and covert dealings. He took his role with EU far more seriously than his day job. By all appearances, he was having the time of his life.

  Shale was nearing her destination. She pretended to stumble, giving her a chance to quickly check the street. Seeing no unwelcome watchers, she turned into a dark alley. The cobbled space was lined with doors on both sides. She passed the first set. At the second she was joined by Murray. He walked beside her in the narrow alley. Murray was a broad man with a head of thick grey hair, a wisp of a beard that seemed sparse and out-of-place. He wore a sword, Shale noted with disapproval. Most merchants didn’t, especially in the city. He was getting too into his role.

  “Big night tonight,” Murray said. Shale mumbled an inaudible response. She didn’t like speaking about EU affairs in the open. It seemed her life was a constant series of concessions, however. No matter how strictly she enforced the security guidelines, her people always pushed at them. She’d found early on that she had to let minor transgressions go, lest she be viewed as a mere disciplinarian instead of a leader.

  “Are you giving the location yet? I need to get men in place.”

  Shale stopped and turned. She pulled back her hood. She knew which men her beauty would rattle and which men it wouldn’t. Murray rattled. She fixed him with her hardest gaze. “No, Murray, that’s not coming out until right before. You know the rules.” Shale refused to give the specific location of any target any further in advance than needed. If a single arm leaked then NEST could set a trap. The arms hated it, they wanted to know the plan and never felt prepared with the last minute announcements. Speculation was rampant and most of the arm’s leaders relentlessly pressed Shale, like Murray was now. She refused to yield on this. Each arm was convinced they themselves held no spies or leaks. It was always the fault of others.

  “Did you meet with Aaron Lorne? I heard that you did.”

  More problematic. That wouldn’t have come from Matt James. It was probably pure speculation or a leak of the meeting Aaron had at Representative Muller’s place with Shale mistakenly placed there.

  Murray continued without waiting for her answer. “Well, did you tell Aaron Lorne where the operation was?” He looked at her, just the hint of pleading in his eyes.

  Shale started walking again. “You’d think we were already inside to speak so openly.”

  “Bah,” Murray said loudly, “the whole city’s talking about him. We just sound like everybody else. You’re ducking my question.”

  Shale didn’t want to lie. In an organization based on secrecy she tried to provide an example of integrity. They couldn’t fall into a place where no one trusted anyone else. That was what NEST was like. It was a tremendous tactical advantage for EU. So she didn’t want to lie. But she didn’t want to tell the truth. Really, she just didn’t want to answer the question. Murray was usually a bit of a pain in the ass but this seemed beyond his usual griping. Just two more meetings, she told herself. Just two more egos to deal with before the next challenge.

  Murray took her silence as an admission of guilt. “How can you trust an outsider over your own people? The ones who risk everything for you every day?”

  “For me? This isn’t about me, Murray.”

  “Sometimes it seems like
it is. Like you’re just doling out information as a reward for service to you. Lives are on the line. I can’t prepare everything if I don’t know the location.”

  They’d reached the end of the alley. One of Murray’s men lounged near an open door. Shale didn’t feel right about this. Murray trying to use personal guilt to get her to reveal tactical information? She felt exposed with the hood off her head. The sun didn’t reach down to the floor of the alley. There were shadows but none were long or dark enough to hide in. Shale felt like she was stepping into enemy territory. She often was made uncomfortable by some of the EU, but not in Seven Streets. She turned back, hoping to see her personal bodyguard, an old mercenary named Monte. But he would be at the mouth of the alley and couldn’t see this far down it. She was supposed to be safe in Murray’s hands. And she probably was, just not comfortable.

  Murray had stopped at the door, gave every impression that he wanted an answer before they entered. She instead stepped through the doorway into the darkness. She didn’t need to wait for her eyes to adjust but pressed forward. She’d been here many times before. Murray followed, the door shutting behind them.

  The dim outline of a doorway was visible at the end of the hall. She was meant to give the final briefing to a group of Murray’s most trusted. As she walked, listening to her footsteps echo in the darkness, she pondered Murray’s question. Did she trust Aaron Lorne? Had it been a mistake to tell him about the attack on the east landing?

  His presence was certainly a thorn in Hideon Bray’s side, or at least in his foot. Bray took public challenges very seriously and Aaron had issued one clearly heard in the west when he came to Ellis openly. What kind of damage he could do to NEST remained to be seen. At least his motivation was clear. Everything in his past pointed towards him protecting his people. NEST was their enemy. Bray was his enemy. That didn’t mean Aaron would put EU ahead of SDC’s interests, but it seemed unlikely the two would be in conflict. Aaron had come to break things. Shale was happy to see most of Eostre’s existing order broken. She just hoped to be alive to help put the pieces back together. Maybe spit in Bray’s eye before it was done. Or at least Aubrey Narrows’, the one who’d ordered all those children killed at the hospital.