Night of the Chalk (Spies of Dragon and Chalk Book 1)

by Samuel Gately

  “You don’t ask for much, do you? Are we going public with our relationship? Not that there’s much opportunity to go private. Everyone is Delhonne is watching us talk right now.”

  “We’ve been flexing muscles all night. Right now we’re a pretty tasty looking meal, we’re just hoping the dragons, Aaron’s gold, and the guards convince Delhonne we’re not worth taking a swing at.” Cal ended the statement with a questioning tone. He and Aaron both respected Sleepy Jon’s opinion on matters of strategy. Cal was waiting for his approval.

  “Makes sense to me,” Sleepy Jon said, nodding. “There’s one plot we can squash right away.” He half turned to face the barroom and raised his right hand with his fingers outstretched, then clenched his hand into a fist.

  “Knife!” came the sharp cry from the crowd. Jon’s man Mutt, the deliverer of the alarmed cry, slid a blade under the chin of Emmitt Thorpe from behind. He sharply cut his throat. Blood sprayed out as Emmitt fell to the floor, dead on impact.

  The crowd drew back, hands drawn to blades. The smell of blood filled the air. Mutt wiped his knife on the cloak of the would-be assassin and muttered, “You all saw, he had a knife.” He left quickly, no one making a move to stop him.

  Halted conversations were slowly resumed. One man lazily wiped his blood-splattered boots off with Thorpe’s cloak. No one was motivated enough for any sort of official action. This was a matter for the Home Guard. Not that they were likely to care, tonight of all nights. In a way, it was surprising it had taken this long for someone to die tonight. Power was changing hands. Those that weren’t already bloody probably would be soon.

  Carefully, circumspectly, eyes returned to the table in the corner. One of the three men had produced a deck of cards and Cal was dealing a hand. In all appearances the group was oblivious to the rest of the world. The barman called for the barback to fetch a mop. A little blood in this bar was nothing new.

  After a few hands, Cal dealt himself out, passed the deck to Aaron, and turned to face the crowd. He stretched and lit a fresh cigarette. Then he began inviting representatives from the important houses, local and state governments, and a couple merchant groups up to the table one by one. While he placated them with vague assurances that their interests were very in line with Aaron and his interests, Sleepy Jon and Aaron continued to play cards much deeper into the long night.

  Chapter 10. The Man in the Shadows

  Just down the street, the crowd in front of Rosetta Stables had almost entirely dispersed. Staring at a guard sitting on a chair in front of an old stable was not rewarding enough to keep people around. There were still a few, however, who talked excitedly in small groups. Messengers occasionally arrived with invitations and the unrealistic expectation that they would be allowed to deliver them to Aaron or Cal in person. After being refused entry, they tried to talk with the guard, who said nothing until they left.

  During the comings and goings, no one paid particular attention to the older man in the shadows across the street. He studied the guard and the stables, staring fiercely at the walls as though he was on the verge of seeing through them. He wore a nondescript cloak, perhaps a little nicer than some of the others on the street, but still thoroughly unremarkable. What would have been more remarkable, were it visible, was the spotless black uniform underneath, that of a palace butler. The man continued staring, until, as though he had finally come to a decision, he gave one sharp nod and then turned on his heel and left.

  Conners Toren, the butler, walked down a nearby alley and turned south. He passed the backs of several buildings until he came upon the only one on the alley which still was lit and somewhat active, the back door of The Old Bellows. He stood perfectly still at the back of the alley, allowing the shadow of a nearby cart house to fall over him. He patiently waited, showcasing the discipline of a highly trained front-of-house servant.

  He waited perhaps two hours, never shifting, before an attractive blonde woman exited the back of the bar. As she walked she removed a waitress’s black apron, shook it briefly, then folded it over her head, cloaking her face. Her bouncy stride was replaced with an older and slightly labored walk. By the time she passed where the butler stood, she had transformed from a woman who would attract men to one who would generate disinterest during her late walk home in a dangerous city.

  “What did you learn?” he asked softly from the darkness as she passed him.

  Miriam showed no surprise at the sound of his voice. With a glance behind her to ensure they were alone, she moved past Conners into a small pathway between buildings. She turned to face him, looking sharply into his eyes, preparing to answer.

  “Not much,” Miriam said. “It is definitely Aaron Lorne. He relied on confusion to keep the crowds at bay until Cal Mast arrived. No idea how he was able to contact Cal. They may have had this prearranged, though I can’t imagine why. The injury to the dragon appeared genuine. I doubt Lorne would have exposed the beasts to such scrutiny without getting something out of it. All they seemed to have gotten tonight was a headache. It looked as if Cal came from the DeFlorre House, or at least has some new friends. They hired Vander to supply the guards and met with Jon Harpish for some purpose I’m not sure of. Cal has been throwing quite a bit of gold around of some unknown mint. Jon’s man killed an assassin, a neat job. The assassin was a lightweight named Emmitt Thorpe. They did it publicly to dissuade any others. That is all public knowledge more or less. I was also able to learn that Lorne has an ally outside the city to the southeast. I think they’re planning to meet them soon.”

  Her report was delivered swiftly and professionally. Conners had worked with her enough to recognize the tone of frustration embedded within it. “Will you be able to find out more?” he asked.

  “Not tonight, though I suspect there will not be too much more happening. I think Aaron knew I was there for information but didn’t seem bothered by my presence. Cal doesn’t seem to see much further than a skirt. Jon Harpish was the problem. I don’t think he knew me, but he certainly knew I was on the clock. He kept me away from the table. He will be a problem if our interests run counter to his.”

  “I had wondered if we might find some of Mr. Lorne’s time tomorrow evening,” the butler said. “What do you think? Is he a true Corvale?”

  Miriam paused for a long time, glancing down the alley in both directions, finally looking up at the night sky. Conners could tell she was conflicted. It was not an easy question but it was important. Conners and she both were members of the Corvale nation. They loved their broken people deeply and sacrificed much to defend them. Aaron Lorne had always been an interesting problem. He was never allied with the Corvale House in Delhonne. In fact, he had openly denounced the organization as part of a conflict with the prior leadership. He maintained many of the Corvale traditions and did much for their reputation, but seemingly couldn’t walk across the street without creating new enemies. The strategy of the fragmented Corvale people following the Slaughter required tact and humility. Aaron Lorne displayed little of either.

  Of course, the problem had seemed to resolve itself before tonight. Everyone thought him dead. While many of the Corvale had been upset at the loss, Aaron had lived on through the stories of others. In the stories he was portrayed as a brave, loyal, unquestioning Corvale, a model of the old ways of a warrior. Now he was back from the dead. There was no certainty what new stories would be written and who would benefit from them. And he was armed with a host of dragons, an enviable and dangerous position to hold.

  “He has a lot of marks, only some of which I could see. I think we have to hope he’s for real,” she said. “We have to take a chance on him. We can’t really let an opportunity like this slide by. Not if we want things to change.”

  “I agree,” Conners replied. “I had hoped your thoughts would match my own, but I’ve already taken steps to get Aaron’s attention. We will be moving the council meeting up to tomorrow night. We must hope our new friend will join us.”

  The Night of R
ejoining

  Chapter 11. A Way Home

  As midnight closed in, Aaron Lorne stood in the shadows studying the Corvale House. It shared Delhonne Street with embassies and other cultural centers. In theory, the remnants of the Corvale nation would use the Corvale House as a gathering point and power center. It appeared shoddy next to its more well-appointed neighbors, but Aaron recognized sound defenses in place. The wall surrounding the two-story building was ten feet high, of thickly reinforced wood. The Corvale flag hung by the gate, along with flags for the city of Delhonne and the State of Tannes. The Palace’s flag also hung prominently. Aaron noted that the Corvale House was the only one in the stretch of buildings that flew it.

  The invitation to the Corvale House had been waiting at the Rosetta Stables when Aaron and Cal returned after leaving The Old Bellows a few minutes before dawn. The stressed front door guard had dumped a pile of invitations in Aaron’s arms. Nearly all had been delivered by well-armed and extremely inquisitive messengers, clearly sent to make an impression of the importance of their masters’ summons.

  Aaron had slept most of the day away. When darkness fell, he took Cal up for his first flight. Cal had taken to it well. Aaron had shown him how to mount and ride the dragons, arms and shoulders braced above the wings and knees behind, leaving plenty of room for the muscles at the base of their wings to pivot and roll as they pumped up and down. Two ropes were tied around each riding dragon, one to be gripped by the hands and the other to brace the rider’s feet against.

  Aaron had left Cal no time for fear, immediately ordering his dragon to kick off the ground once Cal was positioned. At first Cal had held as still as a rock. Eventually he had learned to sway with the rhythms of the dragon’s wings. Soon Aaron was leading them on a series of banks and twists just outside of the city limits.

  The wind screamed as the dragons dipped and swooped, Cal fighting to remain balanced. His dragon chased Aaron’s at high speed, winding through columns of cloud. A third dragon accompanied them. Aaron had it flying in a kite tail position, high above the two rather than below. The kite tail had greater positioning to identify threats. If they were attacked the kite tail would have altitude to counter. After they had landed, Aaron decided to send Cal in his place to fly southeast of the city to attempt a rendezvous with the Dura Mati.

  Aaron was intrigued enough by the invitation to the Corvale House to change his plans and risk sending Cal outside Delhonne alone. Unlike the others, the Corvale invitation was not personalized. It merely invited all Corvale to the House for a council meeting and promotion ceremony at midnight. Aaron was feeling a pressing sense of urgency. He needed allies and new weapons now that some unknown enemy had matched his advantage of dragons. The Corvale may fit the bill. He knew it was a tall order to send Cal on a solo flight so soon, especially outside Delhonne, but his friend had been willing.

  The street outside the Corvale House was dark and quiet, but Aaron was not too surprised by the late hour of the meeting. It would make it easier for all the second shift and service employees. The late hour would help them leave their places of work, which often doubled as their residence, without their employers recognizing their absence. Aaron had no doubt the survivors among the Corvale community were largely composed of the working class. They would have been away from the main tribe during the Slaughter. With the loss of the Corvale support network, they would have been vulnerable to attack from other tribes and exploitation by other economic powers. He imagined some made their livings rattling in or around the old Corvale territories, as he had. But the Chalk had become bolder in recent years, driving away any business and making travel unsafe. Others would have left the Corvale way of life behind and settled into blue collar jobs in places like Delhonne. The warrior class was still active. Aaron knew they maintained a good reputation, but their constant travel prevented them from maintaining any sort of cohesive community.

  Aaron had had little contact with the Corvale community in Delhonne. A part of this was because his travels had taken him far from the city. A far larger part lay at the feet of the prior leadership of the Corvale House.

  Aaron had first arrived in Delhonne about eight years after the Slaughter had left him an orphan. By this time he had some minor reputation in the east. He found out quickly that meant little in Delhonne. He carefully asked around to learn about the remnants of the Corvale and was directed to the Corvale House. Around the same time, he learned about Senator Strabe, the appointed representative of the Corvale in the Tannes State Senate. The State Senate was the biggest political force in Tannes. They struggled for power and control with the Palace and Delhonne City Council, which ran the Home Guard.

  The Corvale maintained voting rights in the Senate despite being a nation with no lands and few people. Several of the neighboring lands had nominal representation in the Senate. The Corvale vote should have been taken from them after the Slaughter claimed much of their population, but the vote had very quickly been offered to the highest bidder. The political party in control had essentially established Senator Strabe and the Corvale nation as a puppet. Every year they renewed Corvale’s status as a voting member and paid Strabe to show up and vote the way they wanted. No action had been taken on any of the issues a Corvale should care about, like controlling the Chalk threat or establishing some sort of economic lifeline for what remained of their people. Strabe was profiting at the expense of his people.

  Aaron publicly butted heads with Strabe, confronting him with a loud and angry tirade Aaron winced to recall. A few days after his public demonstration, the Corvale House held a public meeting not unlike the meeting tonight. When Aaron arrived, thrilled at the possibility of finally meeting his people and finding a community, Strabe had five large men waiting. They dragged Aaron into the alley and beat him within an inch of his life. It was the exact spot he was now standing, where one of the men had leaned over and told the bloody young Aaron that if they saw him there again, he wouldn’t make it off the street alive.

  In discussions with Cal and Sleepy Jon this evening, Aaron had learned that Strabe was out of the picture. He had been replaced by another Senator that was known to be completely for sale. Aaron searched for the anger he had the last time he came to this place. It was gone, replaced with a deep sadness over the decline of his people. He had spent enough time destroying things. Now, with the right tools at his side, he wanted to try and build something.

  In studying the arrivals at the Corvale House, Aaron noticed a few things which intrigued him. The first was the numbers. He had been unsure what to expect, but as the arrivals kept coming he realized the crowd would be much larger than he had thought. He was also surprised by the number of women and children, far outnumbering the men. He supposed the promotion ceremony drew all of the children active in the militaristic training pushed on young Corvale boys and girls.

  The arrivals were circumspect. There was no lingering outside. There was never more than a single small group on the dark street at the same time. And it appeared attendees were entering through the alley as well. Along with the late hour, all of these actions served to mask the numbers. They were exercised with surprising discipline. Aaron made a note to keep his eyes open and his mouth shut. It was a well-oiled machine he was walking into. It was difficult to surmise what they would want of him, aside from maybe his blind allegiance. But he wouldn’t forget his last visit so easily.

  Aaron unconsciously touched his pixie eye and then stepped out of the shadows and onto the street. He moved quickly towards the gate. The guard made a note of him and leaned back into the compound, softly calling someone. Aaron tensed, but the man who appeared was unarmed and on the smallish side. He gave a pleasant smile and beckoned Aaron inside. Aaron entered.

  …

  As the gate closed behind Aaron, another shape stepped out of the shadows and into the street. Miriam had followed Aaron from the Rosetta Stables. She had arrived at dusk in time to see him fly off on his dragon, Cal on another, and a third flanking t
hem. She was waiting when both returned about an hour later. Another hour and then a cloaked figure flew away in the darkness with the three dragons. It appeared they had arranged it so any watchers would believe it was Aaron. Miriam, hoping for Aaron’s appearance at Corvale House at midnight, assumed it was Cal who had taken wing, masked by his cloak. Miriam continued to wait. Some of the few workmen still hammering away on the exterior walls of the stable put down their tools and left in a cluster. Miriam was able to detect an extra presence in the center of a huddled pack which was slightly too tight to be natural. As they rounded the corner, Aaron peeled off and vanished into an alley.

  Miriam played a careful game of cat-and-mouse, tracking Aaron down the dark alleyways. He doubled back several times. She barely stayed on his tail, avoiding discovery due to her superior knowledge of Delhonne’s streets and the fact that she knew where he was headed. He eventually straightened his route out and made for the Corvale House. As he neared Delhonne Street, he returned to the alleys and made his way across from the Corvale House, where the meeting congregants were slowly collecting.

  As Aaron stared at the House, Miriam thought through the many potential ways the evening could play out. Conners intended to showcase the best of the Corvale and earn Aaron’s affiliation. But if he was not receptive, they would have to make moves to limit any negative impact on their community.

  Finally Aaron moved. After disappearing through the gate, Miriam gave him a few seconds to get inside the main building, which lay beyond a small dirt courtyard. Then she crossed the street, nodding to the guard, who held the gate open and closed it behind her with a sense of finality, following her inside. The table had been set. Nothing left to do but deal the cards.

  Chapter 12. A Promotion

  The guard overtook Miriam in the small dirt courtyard of the Corvale House and led the way into the main compound. They went up three wooden stairs and into a large hall, filled to bursting with quietly talking people. There were at least a few hundred people present. The vast majority of them tracked Aaron with their eyes as he was led to a seat near the front by Corbin, one of the Corvale House’s stewards. Aaron followed Corbin down an aisle among the wooden chairs that dominated the room. Corbin seated Aaron at a chair in the front row at the very left side of the room.