The going was slow. The streets tonight were packed with horses, carriages, and foot traffic thick enough to prevent progress much faster than a walk. But the carriage gave Grace some separation from the commoners he disdained. And the brief journey gave him some time to think and plan his speech.
Grace had not spoken to Carr since the night of Marquis Flegonne’s party. Once Grace had returned to the mansion that night, he requested an audience with Carr. For once he was granted the dubious privilege of climbing down the tunnel netting and speaking to Carr in his office. There Grace had reported Cal Mast’s unexpected presence at the affair and his use of Gelden Carr’s name. Carr had listened, but as usual treated Grace disrespectfully. That was the last involvement Grace had in the planning. Grace had arranged that evening’s attack, and Carr seemed to believe the failure lay at Grace’s feet rather than at the feet of the mercenaries who failed to bring them Aaron Lorne and Cal Mast’s heads.
That had been the last time Grace was in Carr’s office. His face flushed with anger and shame as he recalled the first. He had awakened to the hideous presence of Zarus Coff leaning over his bed. Without a word spoken, Grace was tied up, naked, and dragged down the stairs of his own home to bear witness to the enormous tunnel that had broken through the floor of his grand hall. Squirming in fear, Grace had been lowered down the tunnel by rope. His naked body banged repeatedly against the walls and he descended for what felt like forever. Near the bottom of the tunnel he had seen the dull eyes of a giant beast, a dragon, which stopped its scratching at the walls to watch him pass. There were more Chalk waiting for him at the bottom. He was carried down the long horizontal portion of the tunnel and thrown unceremoniously on Carr’s floor. It was as if Grace had died and been carried to some sort of deep hell.
When the ghoulish clean Chalk had started questioning Grace about Delhonne, Grace shared readily. He trembled in terror but still clung at a chance to live. Grace needed to prove his value to Carr. When he offered to draw a map of Delhonne on the tunnel wall they untied him. Soon he had shown them the locations of the garrisons, city defenses, noble family strongholds. Carr monitored him fastidiously, prodding him with quick and direct questions. Zarus Coff watched from the shadows.
As he responded to the questions, Grace began to recognize some elements of a kindred spirit in Carr. Grace knew the longing for respect, the longing for a name that echoed through the ages. Grace’s name was his pride and the fact that his foundation was sliding away from him had driven him nearly insane in recent years. Though Carr was a vile and odious creature, Grace saw the possibility of gaining from his presence.
The two struck up a tentative arrangement, bound by the promise of violence and destruction to Grace as the price of failure. Carr sweetened the deal by providing Grace with a limitless supply of gold. Grace had facilitated the buying off of the Senate with ease. The money had also greased the wheels of the social scene in Delhonne, giving Grace an increased presence at the dining halls of Delhonne’s powerful and fashionable. He hoped to restore some semblance of his rightful noble standing, and with it the respect he deserved as the lone survivor of the Grace House of the Wallace Family Tree. And if that didn’t manifest itself, he could simply force the nobility to their knees after he and Carr took the city.
Grace had taken advantage of Carr’s ignorance of the political and social atmosphere of Delhonne by bringing his rivals to Carr, ostensibly to support their cause. They had universally rebelled against the idea of betraying their city in support of the long feared and repulsive Chalk. The blood of six young nobles had been spilled on Carr’s office floor.
But as the Chalk army approached, Carr showed less and less interest in Grace’s welfare. Even small requests were ignored, and Grace soon found himself isolated. He still had a chest filled with a fortune in gold, but his movements and visitors were restricted. It dawned on Grace finally, late one night alone in the alien war camp that was once his home, that Carr had no intention of letting him live once his utility was exhausted. Carr’s goal was not the remaking of Delhonne society but the total destruction of the city Grace had deep roots in.
Carr had placed Grace under guard because any unusual action by Grace, such as fleeing, would draw some attention to the mansion, however minor. But Grace was certain Carr planned for him to die once the army arrived. His guards would either have instructions to kill him, or they would simply abandon their post. He would be forgotten in his room, left to burn in the fires or go out to the streets. In the streets he would simply be another human to be slaughtered with the others.
Instead, Grace gave Pete Stephos, who could come and go at will, orders to hire the three guards, a carriage, and to arrive at the home a few hours prior with a ladder. Grace had lowered sacks of gold out the window down to Pete, which were loaded in the chest in the carriage. Then he climbed out the window to the waiting escape.
Grace looked across at Pete. They had fought occasionally during the ordeal, but Grace still trusted him. Pete had been promised a lifetime worth of gold. They needed to work together at least to escape Delhonne. Once they were outside, it might be that Pete had to die, but for now Grace intended to reward his loyalty with the benevolence befitting a noble of Grace’s stature and honor.
They were headed to an old abandoned theater. Over the past twenty-four hours, Pete had been rounding up every lowlife, every informant, every street thug, even some merchants and lower level nobility with an interest in gold and a willingness to travel. They had all been promised twenty gold pieces to travel outside the city walls, in whichever direction they chose, and carry a message Grace was to deliver to them tonight. Many would simply take the gold and do nothing, but enough would act on their instructions to make it a worthwhile endeavor. Besides, Grace had gold to spare.
What he really wanted to leave Delhonne with was his family name. The death of Delhonne would carry the Grace name with it, unless he acted to preserve his family’s legacy. And in fact Delhonne’s destruction would give him a chance to create a new legacy. The Grace name would be known far and wide after tonight.
The carriage stopped and the guards climbed off. One rapped his knuckles twice on the door. Grace looked to Pete. Pete leaned in and said in a low voice, “Remember. The key is to never lose control of the crowd. As long as they think you are in control, they will expect to get their share of gold. The troublemakers among them may give us trouble after the gathering has dispersed, but I have an exit plan. What we really need is not to have anyone decide their best bet is to attack during the meeting. Then it will be chaos. The smart ones won’t want that. It’s a big crowd and lots of people will die before anyone gets out with gold. But the dumb ones might do something stupid. Keep their eyes on you and they won’t have a chance to screw everything up. I wish we had more security for this.” He looked out the door fearfully.
Grace laughed. “Relax. This will be my finest hour. I love the stage.”
Grace emerged from the carriage. He gestured to Pete to lead, then for the guards to bring the smaller chest, which had been filled with gold. The third guard remained with the carriage with instructions to move it off the street and stand guard. Grace was nervous leaving the bulk of the gold with him, but the man was unaware of the stockpile in the carriage interior.
They entered the theater. It was packed with people, ranging from the merchant class to the extremely needy, though the crowd was dominated by armed, hard-eyed men of the criminal bent. The commoners, seeing Grace enter, began fawning over him, making noises of appreciation and cheering, swarming close to touch him. They viewed the opportunity for gold as their salvation. The whole atmosphere was charged. Rumors of an invading army had reached the building. All were eager to undertake the travel this odd mission would require, especially with real gold in their pockets.
Grace smiled benevolently and waved. “Good evening, friends,” he projected across the theater. “It is so great to see you. Please allow me to make way to the stage. I will quick
ly get to the point of why we are all here.”
The theater was old and worn down, but had clearly once been a majestic place. Anything of value had been stripped from the barren walls, composed of exposed plaster and chipped paint. Pete had been there earlier in the day, making sure the stage had at least a modest set-up intact, lighting some of the high lamps over the balconies, and checking out the back exits.
At Grace’s speech on entry, the crowds more or less parted, though some commoners had to be actively deterred from reaching out to touch Grace, who headed straight for the well-lit stage at the back of the room. He looked at the faces of those he passed, pausing only as he saw a stunning blonde woman with shoulder length hair giving him a bright smile. She looked healthy, of a higher class than these others. Women were something he had not had time for in the past few months. He would buy several once he was safely away from Delhonne. Perhaps this one would join him for his journey? He smiled back at her. Her hand was extended and he clasped it briefly on his way past.
He withdrew his hand quickly. The bitch had scraped his hand with something. He looked back but she had momentarily disappeared into the crowd. Stupid bitch. His hand stung. Maybe he’d have a chance to circle back later and kill her before he left.
He tried to keep his face neutral and tap into his positive energy again. The cheers of the crowd restored his spirits as he reached the stage and climbed the stairs to turn and properly greet the crowd. There was some scattered applause, but the crowd was also projecting a sense of urgency. Grace needed to keep this short and to the point.
Pete directed the soldiers to place the gold behind Grace, then he opened the chest, exposing some of the treasure to the crowd. He then had the guards take one step in front of the gold and draw their swords, then stand at attention. Pete bowed low to Grace, who acknowledged the show with a wave of his hand. The message was clearly received by the crowd. Grace had the gold that was promised, but also muscle to ensure it was only distributed at his discretion. Pete slid off the stage to position himself to Grace’s left, just beyond the old frayed curtain so he could wordlessly advise and direct Grace without being seen by the crowd. He immediately gave Grace a “get started” gesture, much to Grace’s annoyance.
“My friends,” Grace began, “I am grateful for your presence during this challenging time. I am sad to inform you, if you have not already heard, a Chalk army has invaded Delhonne. The creatures are very much real and travel in the company of dragons, corrupt and vile beasts. We know not why they left the Ashlands, but the eastern gate has nearly fallen. There is little doubt Delhonne’s brave defenders will be overwhelmed. The city will be sacked and burned. Any remaining citizens will be put to the sword.
“I beseech you to not join them in this terrible fate. I have brought you a means to fuel your escape, and it requires only a simple service, a message to be spread.”
Grace turned to gesture to the gold, taking a moment to catch his breath. Projecting his voice over the crowd was making him lightheaded. Maybe the time cooped up in his mansion had left him unprepared for a room of this many people. He was not feeling well at all.
He turned back to the crowd. For a moment he saw the blonde woman, watching him from just inside the crowd. He swallowed, tongue feeling thick, and continued.
“The message is simple. The story of Delhonne’s fall will no doubt spread across the continent, but with it, we must remember to honor those whose bravery allowed many to escape, who led to the saving of many lives.”
Grace was losing the thread of his speech, and this was the part he had practiced so many times. Naming himself as the hero of the attack. Spreading the name of Grace to the world. His head ached. He looked over to Pete, who was waving his hands impatiently. Grace swayed slightly, looking at the crowd. The blonde woman was gone.
“The lives of many. Of innocent. I…he…” Grace couldn’t feel his right arm. Something was wrong. The speech. Needed to keep the crowd, Pete said. Before. He turned to look back at Pete, not sure if he could help him.
Pete Stephos was lying in a pool of blood. The blonde woman stood over him, a bloody knife in her hand. As Grace watched horrified, she set down the knife carefully and peeled off dark gloves. She smiled brightly at him, clean and unbloodied.
He turned to the guards behind him. But they were not the men he had come in with. These men were not armored, but held the same positions as his guards. How had they switched? Why were they dimming the lights?
Grace collapsed onto the stage. There was a gasp from the crowd. Abruptly the blonde woman was next to him, kneeling over him. He tried to recoil, but now he was falling entirely numb. His tongue was too thick to talk. He was shaking quietly, unable to move.
“My Lord Grace!” said the woman, theatrically projecting her voice across the theater. She rose and faced the crowd. “Please wait but a moment, friends, and be patient. My Lord has been working far too hard. You will get your gold. The deal will not change. One moment.”
She leaned back over Grace. He looked helplessly up at her. She said in a voice for his ears only, “I meant that, the deal with them will still stand. We might need to change that message a little bit. I have a feeling I knew where you were going with that. I think we could just improve it a little. One minor detail or two.”
Miriam stood, raising her hands over her head to quiet the murmuring crowd. “My friends,” she began. She held the crowd rapt during a long dramatic pause, the lights from the balcony showcasing her calming beauty to the scared and impatient masses. “The message you carry forth is simple. If Delhonne is saved this night, it will be due to the actions of one man. One man has tirelessly fought this threat, uncovered the plan for the Chalk invasion, and even now moves bravely to stop it. His name and the tale of his bravery should be told as far as the Western Seas. That man is the leader of the Delhonne Corvale.
“His name is Conners Toren.”
Miriam finished with her hands still held dramatically in the air. “Conners Toren,” she said again. Then she gestured to her men behind her to move the chest to the side of the stage and begin distributing the gold.
The message delivered, Miriam knelt over Grace again. “Well that was fun,” she said, keeping one eye on the masses lining up for their gold. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, my Lord.” She laughed lightly as Grace struggled to talk. “The mighty Viscount Gerald Grace. You, sir, are very short.” Miriam stopped laughing and leaned in closer, face grim. “The attack you and your partner arranged on the Rosetta Stables led to the death of one of our own. Hundreds if not thousands will die tonight, in part due to you. But it looks like, despite all your efforts, the Grace name won’t be leaving the city.” She stood as if to go, then knelt back down beside him. “Well, maybe it will. I mean, given that I fully expect Aaron and Conners to stop the invading army, most folks won’t need to leave. They can study at their leisure the fact that the Chalk tunnel came up right through the basement of the Viscount Gerald Grace of the Wallace Family Tree and form their own conclusions. It’s a pity you won’t be around for the trial. I’m afraid the poison I used is quite lethal.”
Miriam kissed her fingers, then reached out and closed his eyes. Grace was powerless to stop her as darkness covered his world. The last thing he heard as life fled his body was Miriam telling her guards that after they were finished giving out the gold, the next step was to search Grace’s carriage.
Chapter 43. A Noose of Wood and Water
Conversation had halted in Carr’s office. It had grown oddly quiet. Everyone was waiting. The city around them scrambled. The army in the tunnel had passed the door. Another was at the city gates. Night would have fallen above. Fires would now be burning in the city. Men fought for their lives, but only at the fringes of the central thrust, which had yet to be delivered. The game was being played. But many of the key players sat quietly deep underground, waiting on the movement of invisible forces.
The quiet of the room was finally broken by the soun
d of a locust. It came from Lorne’s pocket. He gave a relaxed smile to Carr. It was clear he had been expecting it, waiting for it. Yet he made no move, said nothing.
More time passed, several minutes. Conners had melted into the shadows, standing perfectly still, clearly aiming to be forgotten amidst this gathering. Aaron looked at King Jacob out of the corner of his eye. The King had the face and the bearing of a much older man, though his movements hinted at a previously held strength, like an aged athlete. His bright blue eyes were alert, unafraid. Aaron had previously been unimpressed with Jacob, but he sensed a core of strength that hadn’t been evident earlier in the Room of Stained Glass.
Finally a Chalk entered the room, leaning in to whisper into Carr’s ear. Carr, careful to not allow the creature to touch him, listened closely. His face tightened. He waved the Chalk away.
As it left, Carr leaned over the desk, long manicured fingers spread wide on its surface. He scowled at Aaron. “You think you have trapped us? Somehow you have blocked the exit? You think that will stop us? The dragons will clear it, you have only bought a small time. Your attempt to alert the Senate to our army failed miserably. No help is coming.”
Aaron replied, “I wouldn’t say it will stop you, maybe just slow you down a little. I’m sure your army could find some other ways to cause trouble in the city if we just left them in a tunnel below the surface. But I don’t plan on just leaving them.” He leaned back, as if trying to show how relaxed he was. “They’re just going to keep crowding. They don’t work independently. They are all going to keep climbing, keep moving forward. No one is going to stop them, order them back. You’re the only one who could do that. Maybe Zarus Coff could have, but he’s dead, body stinking up the woods some unknown place southeast of here. And you’re back here, deep in some tunnel, far behind your troops, fanning your ego.
“Earlier, you said you made me who I am. You didn’t. Sure, you made me something, some sort of ghostly disaster of a person, yearning for change and revenge, yearning for my family. But I didn’t stay that way. I woke up. The pixie that nearly took my eye woke me up. From that moment I realized I couldn’t just cry out over the injustice of what you dealt me. I needed to build something if I would oppose you. I needed to become greater. No matter how pathetic my early attempts were, I kept going. I kept fighting to become stronger.”
Night of the Chalk (Spies of Dragon and Chalk Book 1) Page 28