The Cumerian Unraveling Trilogy (Scars of Ambition, Vendetta Clause, Cycles of Power)

by Jason Letts

  The pants were just as tight, limiting his ability to walk, but Taylor would have to put up with it. He sat on the squeaky bed for a moment and put his head down to collect his thoughts. The whole reason he was there was to disarm and distract the Hockleys. If he had to be his mother’s whipping boy, at least it would make for a good distraction.

  Returning to Danby and the hall, Taylor followed the butler down another flight of stairs to a parlor room. Considering the people he’d fought and killed, meeting with his mother shouldn’t have precipitated any serious apprehension, but family members had other means of fighting than with fists.

  Danby opened the door and announced his entrance, leading Taylor in to a comfortable space of long couches, large windows, and a table for cards. Melody Hockley looked up from her spot in a chair by the window, set down a book, and leveled a stern look at him.

  “Look who finally decided to come home,” she said, crossing her arms over her stomach.

  “A pleasure to see you again,” Taylor’s uncle Rhyne said from the card table, where he was scribbling something on a sheet of paper. Rhyne, who had spent time in the Guard as all Hockley men did, had the kind of muscly build that could push over a tree. His shaggy dark hair and deep set eyes added to a sense that this man would’ve been a better guess for his father than Lowell. Taylor had long known so many of his genes came from his mother’s side. Despite Rhyne’s words, his countenance displayed anything but pleasure.

  “I’ll let you bask in this joyous family embrace without my interference,” Danby said, chuckling to himself as he closed the door behind him.

  Taylor couldn’t care less how happy they were that he’d come back. Their meager salutations didn’t require a response, not when his mother wasn’t shy about voicing her displeasure. She left her chair and came closer to her uncle. The both of them appeared so serious one might think they’d never laughed in their lives.

  “A fine mess you’ve made, Taylor, and how convenient that you chose to show your face around here in the aftermath,” Melody said. “I told you to return immediately following the end of your Guard training, but instead you took it upon yourself to abuse your position and push this country off the edge.”

  “I didn’t kill the chancellor,” Taylor countered. Who held the knife was a minor point, but after all of the time he’d spent with Aggart, it brought him a small measure of satisfaction that he hadn’t done the deed.

  “You don’t think I know what my son has done?” she asked. “I know exactly what you did and didn’t do, and in this case so does the rest of the country. Believe me, whether the chancellor’s heart is beating or not is of little consequence to any of us, but what you did was a pigheaded move for a completely different reason.”

  Melody clutched the sleeves of her unflattering purple dress and trailed off, looking away. Rhyne tapped his fingers on the table for a moment before appraising Taylor.

  “The only material consequence of the chancellor’s death is what it’s meant for monetary circulation in Cumeria. Our currency is dropping in value as rampant inflation reduces the Cumerian count to worthless coins. That means the entirety of our holdings and those of our clients are at substantial risk if things don’t rebound quickly. Normally even this wouldn’t be a problem, but the drying up of credit has forced the bank to…”

  “Pucker tighter than a guy’s anus in the Guard showers,” Melody said.

  Rhyne cleared his throat, nodded, and shrugged.

  “With our accounts at a fraction of their worth, and the credit squeeze severely limiting the flow of capital in the country, Hockley Bank & Holdings is finding its two primary sources of influence radically diminished,” Rhyne said.

  Although Taylor was probably the least financially literate person in either the Hockley or Bracken families, he knew enough to grasp that the freeze in the economy would amount to a kind of paralysis that would keep anyone in the country from recovering. Surely Ralph Fiori must’ve known something about this when he put the Hockleys in the line of fire, but he hadn’t said anything about it to Taylor or Randall.

  “There’s got to be a way to get the country’s cash flow going again,” Taylor said.

  “Not as long as we’re at risk of losing even more money if people can’t pay it back,” Rhyne said.

  His stark pronouncement that the Hockleys would simply be hoarding their cash reserves brought a patronizing smile to his mother’s pale face. She set her hand on his shoulder and picked at a tear developing in his thin shirt.

  “Do you see what you’ve really done now, Taylor? You’ve caused quite a problem for us here, and there are those in the family who won’t have it in them to be nearly as forgiving as we’re being. But it does beg the question, why did you come back? If you were content with throwing us to the dogs so that you could cavort with the pitiful Brackens, what on Iyne are you doing here at the Vault?”

  Taylor struggled to formulate an answer, knowing that successfully conjuring a lie would require more finesse and forethought then he had time for. His first impulse was to say something about how he was ready to accept his Hockley heritage, but his mother would never buy something so positive.

  “The Brackens have nothing,” he said, wishing it wasn’t so true. “They have so few supporters, money, or control. There’s no way it’s going to end well for them.”

  Melody nodded slightly and looked into his eyes. If he had to guess, he thought she was proud of his willingness to speak harshly about the Brackens.

  “Now you know why I left,” she said.

  Rhyne rose and sighed deeply.

  “Much the same has been apparent to me for some time. The Brackens just never had the clout they thought they did. Once the gas stopped running, they had no justifiable place among the premier families in Cumeria. Taking out the chancellor is reckless and misguided unless you’re able to immediately exert control over much of the country. It won’t be long until someone makes a play for the Spiral,” he said, going to the window and looking out over the hills. In the very distance the outline of Ristle was visible.

  “So what are we going to do?”

  Melody glanced at her brother and nodded together, which was enough for Taylor to grasp the answer himself. The Hockley’s tried and true maxim would yet again lead them through adversity.

  “Why Taylor, the Hockleys will do the same thing we’ll always do. We’ll let the losers lose, and we’ll profit from the winners, who’ll be oblivious that the ones with the real power are holding the purse strings. Now go put on something a little less ridiculous. I believe it’s about time we meet the others for dinner. Danby!”

  To Taylor’s surprise, Danby must’ve been waiting right outside the door the entire time, because he instantly entered to escort them to the dining room. Not budging, Taylor stopped Melody and Rhyne from leaving.

  “But don’t you think that’s inhumane? By hoarding all this cash and leaving people without the ability to buy anything, you’re doing as much damage as the armies roaming around Cumeria.”

  Saying such a thing directly to his mother was far from ingratiating, but after seeing so much devastation in the country, he had to bring it up.

  “Inhumane?” Melody flinched as if someone had put a pile of horse shit under her nose. “It’s not our fault no one else knows how to be financially responsible. And you have no idea how much I do for the country’s wretched commoners.”

  Danby cleared his throat and cut in with a question about dinner.

  “Excuse me, sir, have you developed any dietary restrictions or preferences we should be aware of?”

  “No, I’m not a vegetarian,” he replied, but Melody wasn’t finished defending herself.

  “I’m a humanitarian!” she said, an enflamed look in her eyes.

  “I’ll let the chefs know,” Danby said.

  If meeting with his mother and uncle proved to be uncomfortable, it was nothing compared to dinner with twenty relatives on his mother’s side and even more serving
them. They all grilled him about his reasons for coming and his plans as if he were applying for a loan, but as long as he circled around to how destitute the Brackens were they gave him a pass.

  Being around so many Hockleys had the added effect of making Taylor realize how few Brackens there were and how that contributed to their plight. His great uncle had died right before Randall won his Grand Council seat, and his grandparents had departed long before that. If Taylor remembered right, Lowell lost a brother when he was young as well. The whole situation might’ve been vastly different if a dozen more Brackens, bound by blood, were pulling together across the vast Cumerian economy. But that wasn’t meant to be, and as the Hockleys were about to find out, it took only one relative with fuzzy loyalties to bring it all down.

  Cycles passed, the sun set, and Taylor became concerned that something had diverted the Illiams from their visit. Taylor’s relatives were already starting to tutor him on some of the bank’s operations with an eye that he’d be given a position there, albeit one with little real responsibility and even less decision-making ability. But abandoning Randall to spend his life with the Hockleys was not part of the plan, and Taylor decided that it would serve him best to make a hasty exit.

  But before he did so, there were a few things around the Vault that could prove seriously useful back in Toine. The particular item he had in mind was an account ledger that would give them a clear picture of the other premier families’ wealth, and Taylor snuck out of bed late one cycle to see if he could access it and depart.

  Between hazy memories of exploring the lower levels of the Vault as a child and the shadowy layout of the building before him, it took Taylor much longer than he expected to make it to the hidden staircase behind a fake section of wall in the library. Once he was behind that curtain, he felt comfortable turning on some lights, but it didn’t do much for his progress except remove the threat of bumping into things.

  The bare cement passageways cut deep into the building’s stone table foundation were dotted with nondescript iron doors ceiling away the most precious treasures in the Hockleys’ possession. Each door had a lock of a completely unique design, meaning that no two safe rooms could be broken into the same way. Taylor struggled to recall which door led to the Vault overseer’s room, which he’d been brought into several times as a child. It would contain the ledger.

  Taylor continued down the hall to the end and took a left, where he spotted something on a door that jogged his memory. Even though there was nothing there now, he remembered a bloody mark on the door when he’d long ago cut his hand and been brought down here so that his mother could procure some special salve. He crouched down to take a closer look at the lock, which had a pad with a number of tiny holes.

  Staring intently, he tried to remember what the holes were for. Making a mistake would set off an alarm, and after that no amount of trashing the Brackens would get him off the hook. He searched his clothing for a pin, thinking that sliding it into the holes in the proper order would do the trick, but remembering the combination would be an entirely different challenge.

  But his clothes didn’t have anything close to a pin, and he wasn’t certain his mother had ever used one anyway. No, there was something about this lock that was much more personal. It made sure that only one of the Hockleys could enter. Running his hand through his hair as he racked his brain to recall what he needed to do, he noticed that one of his hairs had come out in his hand.

  It was hair that went in the holes, but the real question was if whatever the lock did to scan the hairs would identify him as a Hockley. He had the blood, or at least half of it. There was still a risk of that alarm going off, but Taylor was willing to take the chance.

  Gingerly holding the hair between forefinger and thumb, he prepared to thread it into the first hole when he heard footsteps coming down the hall around the corner. Glancing quickly, he saw there was nowhere to hide. The only option was to get inside the room and close the door before he was caught.

  Sliding the hair into the first hole, it brought an instant’s relief when no alarm went off. Apparently he was Hockley enough. Next he found himself ripping hair out of his head and hurriedly jamming it into the other holes. The footsteps became louder, and Taylor gritted his teeth when he realized there wouldn’t be enough time. Now he couldn’t even run for it. Brushing the hair away from the lock, he stood up to face the music.

  When uncle Rhyne came around the corner, he immediately lowered his eyes at Taylor. There was no doubt he knew what Taylor was standing next to and what he was trying to do.

  “What are you doing down here so late in the cycle?” he asked. Feeling the heat, Taylor quickly conjured a way to deflect his guilt.

  “I was trying to break into one of the safe rooms,” he said. Uncle Rhyne, who’d always been stern, raised his eyebrows and actually cracked a smile.

  “And how’d that work out for you?” Rhyne asked, on the verge of laughing.

  “Not well at all.”

  “No, I bet it didn’t. I’ll let you in on a little secret. When I can’t sleep, sometimes I come down here and do the same thing. It’s sort of a mental workout, but ultimately a fruitless one. Unless you’ve got the proper keys, there’s no way through any of these doors,” Rhyne said.

  “Is that what you’re doing here now? Do you want to take a shot at one together?” Taylor asked. The tension diminished the longer they spoke together. It was clear that Rhyne wasn’t about to drill him against the wall and alert house security, but Taylor’s offer presaged a chagrinned look his uncle.

  “You don’t belong down here, Taylor. If anyone else caught you around these safe rooms…” Rhyne trailed off and glanced at the ceiling. “You’re just lucky I’m willing to give you an honest chance to prove yourself. Trust is a hard thing to come by, and good bankers know only to trust what’s right in their hands. Some members of the family, well, they look at you and they see your father. It’s going to take a lot of work on your part to shake that impression and build up some trust.”

  “I’m only trying to do what’s right,” Taylor said. He was able to look his uncle straight in the eyes when he said it, but inside he was crossing his uncle, mother, and the entire Hockley family. If only they weren’t standing in the way, it wouldn’t have had to be like this.

  “That’s all anybody can ask of you. Let’s start putting some credit toward that trust right now. What are you really looking for down here?” Rhyne asked, unflinching.

  Taylor took a deep breath, glanced at the lock and the hairs on the floor, and sighed.

  “I remember when I was little my mother used to come down here and get bandages out of this room when I scraped my knees playing. It’s one of the best memories I have of her. There was something in that soup that’s not agreeing with my stomach, so I figured I’d look for something to help before I turned one of the bathrooms into a disaster area.”

  Rhyne nodded slightly, but Taylor still wasn’t sure he completely bought it.

  “We’ve got a new infirmary wing for that, run by my second aunt. I’m sure it’ll have something more useful than whatever’s been trapped in those rusty cabinets for decades. Let’s go up and see if we can get you straightened out.”

  Once Rhyne’s back was turned and they headed toward the stairs, Taylor wondered what hurdles he’d need to jump in order to avoid getting caught in his lie. Whether it was faking a stomach ache, making himself vomit, or taking doses of medicine, none of it seemed appealing. The only upside was that if he made it through to the next cycle he wouldn’t be chased down by the rest of his family for snooping around their fortunes.

  Up the stairs and out of the library, they entered the foyer and approached the grand staircase when footsteps clattered along the hallway. It was still extremely dark in the house, and Rhyne stopped Taylor in order to peer through it without any distractive movement.

  When Danby came around the corner, he nearly collided with them at the foot of the stairs. The man’s eyes l
ooked like they were about to pop out of his head.

  “Sir, thank goodness I found you. I just heard from the others that someone heard a noise on the east hillside and spotted some kind of gathering forming there. The bridge has already been pulled, but the lights are off.”

  Taylor didn’t need to hear another word to know what was going on. The Illiams and their army of farm folk had finally made it to the Vault.

  But that conclusion was far from apparent to the others, and Rhyne grimaced uncomfortably. The Vault was supposed to be secluded enough and in such a difficult spot to reach that no one would come visiting, and the last thing the Hockleys wanted were a number of uninvited guests.

  “This needs to be addressed by the core family, and quickly,” Rhyne said. “Everyone needs to meet in the upper ballroom on the east wing. Go upstairs and wake everyone up, starting with Melody. Don’t give me that look, Danby. Just do it.”

  Once Danby began thumping up the stairs, Rhyne turned to Taylor, who was still formulating his plan of action. At the center of this conflict was the misunderstanding that Ralph Fiori had created. If they managed to work it out, it would destroy any chance of the Brackens being around to influence the new government…‌or for Taylor to make it out of the Vault alive.

  “What are you thinking?” Taylor asked his uncle, deciding it was best to be as deferential as possible. Rhyne had the icy glare of a fighter in his eyes, something that Taylor knew all too well. Both of them knew when a fight was waiting for them.

  “I’m thinking it’s a good night not to be able to sleep,” he said, starting up the stairs himself. “Let’s see if we can get a good look at who we’re dealing with.”

  The pair raced up flights of stairs until they made it to the east tower, a creaky stone construction dating back to the original Hockley castle. The biting wind seeped between the cracks, making it seem like they were outside in the cold by the time they made it to the lookout room at the top. The darkness and the edge of the Vault’s considerable stone foundation hid most of the gathering.