Alliance of the Sunken (Spies of Dragon and Chalk Book 3)

by Samuel Gately

  As if sensing the race for Gale’s ear, Odell again addressed him, leaning in close. “All men are yours, my Lord. They are inspired by the House Gale. They will not fail you.”

  Gale gave him a cold smile. He reached out and grasped Odell’s sail, pulling him into a crouch near the foot of the throne. “This, Cal Mast of House Mast, is Odell Gale. He is the greatest of my servants.” He caressed the sail. “As you see, he is given honors above all others. His darkine is second only to mine. To go with the surname Gale. He may yet be immortalized on the wall of Gale Lords if he continues to serve me and my heir well.”

  Gale gestured to a nearby wall upon which several of the coral sails, Gale had called them darkine, were displayed.

  “My Lord is free with my name,” Odell said.

  “You are too guarded, Odell. So in love with the shadows. Men should tremble before your name second only to mine and my direct line. And they will when I reclaim my birthright.” Gale shifted his gaze to Cal. “But if your secrecy from the updwellers means so much, we can hook him. He can die with the great secret of your name on his lips.”

  “My Lord, I could speak with him. Use him to help set the ransoms for the prisoners.”

  Gale considered it for a moment. “No, I wish to see him hooked. He has met my eyes far too many times. The updwellers bring such arrogance even as they are dragged before me in chains.”

  He looked at Cal’s guards. The Sunken on either side grabbed Cal roughly by the shoulders. Another took the sharp hook from Lord Gale’s hands and fit the handle to the end of a dangling chain. It looked as if Gale’s curiosity had faded fast. Cal was in trouble.

  He was thinking frantically, his eyes on the hook, when he saw the small girl approaching. A young girl of pale skin, unlike the sallow, green, coral-covered Sunken. The Queen’s daughter. Alive and bringing Lord Gale his wine. She wore a tattered dress but showed no signs of ill use.

  Cal tried to puzzle through her presence, even as the hook, now firmly attached to a chain, came closer. The Sunken guard grabbed his chin, bringing the hook nearer. Cal could see blood and rust on the barbed point, which was being brought into position under his jaw. In seconds the chain would be pulled taught, the hook would dig into his flesh. It would either penetrate some vital part of his head and he would die instantly or he would bleed out in painful moments, feet dangling off the floor. His hair was still wet from the swim. His arms were held too tightly to move. He had only one card left to play.

  “Locke was right,” Cal said.

  “What?!” Lord Gale crushed the wineglass he was bringing to his lips in his fist. He threw it to the ground and flew down the stairs with a sudden liquid speed, pushing the Sunken before Cal violently to the side. He grabbed Cal by the shirt, twisting it in his fist, rough coral on the back of his hands scraping away skin. Cal could feel the strength of the Sunken Lord pulling his feet off the ground. His face was fury. “You dare speak that name?! What do you know of Locke?!” He was shaking Cal, the Sunken on either side straining to keep Cal’s arms down as he struggled against the fist painfully holding him up. “Where is he? Where is that traitor?”

  Odell was there in an instant, giving the appearance of trying to calm Gale. Cal caught a sideways glance from him though, as if looking for an opening to shove a blade into Cal, keep him quiet. Meanwhile the princess had her eyes lowered. She’d seen this before, men and women abused at the hands of her Sunken captors, probably far too many times. There was no hope left in her. At that moment, Cal committed to bringing her home. He’d stumbled through this one long enough, head stuck with the Borhele. He wanted to bring her home, not just because she didn’t deserve this fate and neither did the rest of her family. He wanted to bring her home because he had a feeling it would drive this asshole in front of him crazy. This asshole who was shaking him. This asshole who’d just hung a good and brave man up on a hook because of a disrespectful tone. This asshole who needed to be shown to the man in the shadows.

  And what did Cal need? He needed time. He needed Gale to want him alive. He needed to get back to his cell, get his knife. Hope Gale’s power over Odell was enough to keep the Sunken from visiting his cell in the dark and silencing him, ensuring whatever information Odell was hiding from Gale stayed quiet. Could he create a rift, or at least exploit the rift he was sensing?

  “Locke said,” Gale stilled and the room fell quiet as Cal spoke, “that Odell was keeping secrets from you.”

  Gale’s eyes grew cold. Anger blazed in Odell, clearly ready to kill Cal before he got out another word.

  Gale turned to Odell, at the same time releasing Cal into the arms of his captors. “This is interesting, considering how you told me Locke is dead.”

  “My Lord…” Odell was again all subservience, backing away and bowing. “His words cannot be trusted.”

  “Can yours?” Gale gave Odell a long look before returning to the throne and accepting another wineglass from the Queen’s daughter. He took a drink. “We must speak of this. At length. Take the updweller back to his cell.” He looked at Cal as the guards turned him to face the exit. “When we have finished, you will tell us everything you know. If the coral rub does not convince you, I will begin hooking the others in front of you. Clear the court. Odell and I must speak.”

  Cal could hear the start of what would hopefully be a long and involved conversation between Gale and Odell as he was led away. It was a relief to pass the skulls in the entryway and know he wasn’t joining them, at least right away. His good feeling did not last long as he was led through the cells. He didn’t see anyone he knew among the scattered and terrified prisoners. He was spared the image of the General’s wife, sitting in her cage, wondering what had become of her husband.

  The Sunken guards placed him in his cell. After they’d locked the door, Cal laced his arms through the bars, looking out into the dim chamber. He longed for a cigarette. He longed to be dry. He’d survived his audience with Lord Grinwell Gale VII, but had managed to make enemies of both him and his servant. His chest ached, salt in the water irritating the raw skin where Gale had seized him. The prospect of a coral rub sounded particularly unwelcome. His night had taken an ugly turn.

  Cal got busy by poking around the cell. He collected his knife from its hiding spot. He searched for a weakness in the bars or door, finding none. There were no guards in the chamber, but it didn’t matter if he couldn’t get through the bars. The few other prisoners in view were huddled and shivering, no look of resistance in them. The water was rising. It had been at his shins before he was summoned by Gale. Now it was at his knees. There was a stone bunk against the wall. Cal figured he might as well get what sleep he could before the water rose above the level of his bed. He climbed in, resting the knife in his inside hand. Whether it was Gale or Odell who came for him, he could at least find out what color the Sunken bled before he was finished.

  Chapter 13. The Forgotten Warehouse

  The bag came off Aaron’s head. He blinked at the sudden light. He was tied to a chair in the middle of an old warehouse. They were still near the harbor. It hadn’t been a long trip, even for a man stuffed sideways into the footrests of a carriage, and Aaron could still smell the salt. The cavernous room was mostly empty, just a few broken shipping pallets piled by the walls. Lorimer stood facing him, the same five men spaced behind him.

  Lorimer was tall, tapering up from a thick waist to impossibly broad shoulders. He wore a long grey coat, hands stuffed into the pockets. He bore a scowl. There were dark bags under his bright and piercing blue eyes. His gaze focused on Aaron intensely, as though he was trying to see through him.

  Lorimer waved his finger at Aaron. “Here’s the great thing about the harbor.” A long pause. “Things get forgotten.” He gestured around the room. “Like this warehouse. Which means no one knows you’re here. So we can have a nice, long, uninterrupted chat.” This had the feel of a practiced speech. Lorimer had done this before. From the bored expression of his men, they’d been a part
of many of these. Aaron wondered how many had been tied to this same chair, how they had fared.

  He looked up at Lorimer. “It’s easier to chat when I’m not tied up.”

  Lorimer gave a short laugh. “I’ll bet it is, Corvale. I saw those marks. And I did my homework. I hear you pull a lot of weight with the SDC and up in Tannes.” He moved in closer. “But that shit doesn’t matter on the Plate. We like to keep things local. And I am proud to be very local. That’s one of the reasons I am so very frustrated with our beloved Queen. I don’t know exactly what she was thinking bringing Sleepy Jon Harpish into this little situation we got going on. But here he is, sticking his fat face into everything and anything that smells like a lead. And I am well aware of his plans to set up shop here. He thinks Shay the Stray and her brother can hold their ground once his fat ass is out of town, he’s dumber than he looks in that hat.

  “But we don’t need to talk about Sleepy,” he continued. “I think I have something you want even more. Something I can exchange. Because word is you’re here for the Camron Air contract.”

  “Is that what the word is?”

  “I might be able to help you with that. I know a little bit about where Anders Dentrick has been spending his time.”

  Aaron shrugged, glancing around the room. Lorimer rubbed at his mouth for a minute, looking disgusted at the lack of a response. “Get me one of his cigarettes,” he said to a man, who fished through Aaron’s pockets and dug out a pack.

  Lorimer lit the smoke, looking up darkly at Aaron as he did so. He turned to the side and quietly said, “Give him a tap or two.”

  One of his men stepped up. The first punch took Aaron in the temple. His head started ringing just enough that he couldn’t track the next punch. It was a left, catching him on the cheek and rocking his head back. Pain washed over him and he could feel his eye swelling immediately. There was a hum and a cold pressure in his head, like he was back underwater.

  Lorimer looked to be ignoring the exchange, instead studying Aaron’s sword. He gave a grunt of interest as he drew it from its scabbard and saw the smooth black blade. “You know your boy Sleepy was Castalan Navy, right?” he said, turning it over in his hands. “I fucking hate Castalan Navy. I did a stretch with the Camron Maritime. Once had the great pleasure of putting down a Castalan ship that strayed into our waters. We lit it up with flaming arrows. Once it was burning good, they took to the lifeboats. We lit them up too. Some of them swam up to our ship, hoping for rescue. We let most of them keep on swimming, meet the local threshers. We pulled a few of them out of the water.” He gave a short laugh. “In the end they wished they’d stayed in.”

  He leaned in close, so close Aaron could feel hot breath on his face. Lorimer took a drag, letting the cherry of the cigarette smolder just in front of Aaron’s eyes, then blew a mouthful of smoke at him. “You seem to enjoy swimming. Where did you swim to tonight?”

  Aaron slowly opened his eyes as the smoke drifted away. “How is it you’re working for the Queen?” he replied. “I don’t see it.”

  Lorimer leaned back. “I’ll be asking the questions tonight. You want to leave this building alive you’ll start answering. Now,” he spoke slowly, as if to a child, “where did you go tonight?”

  Aaron didn’t say anything. After a moment, Lorimer asked, “How’d you learn about the gate? I know the Stray was with you earlier. That from her? She sometimes knows stuff she’s not supposed to.”

  “I was gonna ask you the same thing. How did you learn about the gate?”

  Lorimer was shaking his head. “I think you’ve got the wrong idea.” He turned to his enforcer. “Hit him again.”

  The man gave Aaron a dark grin, then punched him hard enough in the chin to rock the chair back off its front legs. Aaron tasted blood as his lip split open.

  Lorimer continued without a pause. “I’m a lot more friendly than you’re giving me credit for. I work for the Queen. So does Jon. And so do you. We should all be on the same team. We’re all in the same boat, trying to find out who took twin number one and make sure nobody gets twin number two. It’s not complicated. But Jon has made this into a rivalry. He’s trying to make some coin and he doesn’t want to be outshined by a local. He’s making things harder for everybody. How about you just tell me what you know?” There was a long pause. “Or I can get less friendly about it.”

  Aaron spat blood onto the floor. “You’ve been on this three weeks and the best you can do is try to beat leads out of someone who’s been here two days?”

  “You surprise me, Aaron Lorne. I was looking forward to this chat. I even brought bait. But you’re not biting. Don’t seem to care about what I’ve got that can help on Camron Air. Don’t care about helping out the Queen. I’m not sure what other levers I can pull while continuing to be such a nice guy.” When Aaron stayed silent, he shook his head. “Okay, I can do better. See, I’ve just been showing you the easy way. I wanted you to see that first. Now I’ll show you the hard way.”

  He leaned over and opened a trapdoor in the floor near Aaron’s chair. The smell of salt grew stronger and Aaron could hear the cold slosh of harbor water. Lorimer’s men were circling Aaron, drawing closer.

  Lorimer looked into the dark water below him, squinting as if he could penetrate its depths. “You ever seen what a thresher can do to a man’s leg? Maybe you went under by the gate. That takes balls, I’ll grant you. But you think you got some idea what it’s like in the water. Well you ain’t been in harbor waters yet.” He glanced at his men. “Help Mr. Lorne get his boots off. Let’s see how many toes he needs to lose before he starts being more cooperative.”

  Someone was at his boots, another untying his arms, and Aaron was just beginning to wonder if he should well and truly be concerned, when there was a small commotion at the front door. The Queen’s Guard, Jenner, forced his way past the man Lorimer had posted at the entryway. “Lorimer!” he called loudly.

  Lorimer turned his head to the side and gave an exasperated sigh. Aaron heard him mumble something under his breath and then he turned to face Jenner. “What brings the Queen’s Guard out this time of night?”

  “Let him go, Lorimer. Queen’s orders.”

  “Is that so? This came directly from the Queen? The Queen said to you, ‘Hey, Watchful, go break up a civil conversation between one of my most trusted advisors and the asshole I flew in to screw up his investigation’? That’s what she said to you?”

  Jenner walked past Lorimer and peered down into the open trapdoor, his hand resting on his sword hilt. As Jenner took his attention off of Lorimer, for a second Aaron thought Lorimer was going to push him into the waters. Lorimer looked like he was considering it, but the moment passed. Aaron detected the slightest glint to Jenner’s good eye as he turned back to face Lorimer. He wanted him to try, Aaron thought. He was baiting him. Aaron reminded himself not to underestimate Jenner just because everyone else on the Plate seemed to.

  “A civil conversation, huh?” Jenner said. “Just you, him, a bunch of your muscle, and a thresher.”

  “Why are you here, Jenner, when you could be someplace else? Someplace safer.” The threat hung in the air.

  “I’m right where I need to be. I’m representing the Queen. Lately that hasn’t seemed to fall in line with what you’re doing.” He gave Lorimer a long glare, then looked past him to the men standing beside Aaron. “Cut him loose.”

  They didn’t move until Lorimer gave them a nod. In a few moments, Aaron was freed from the chair. He stood slowly, resisting the urge to wipe the blood from his lip. He pointed to his sword, lying at Lorimer’s feet. “I’ll be having that back.”

  Lorimer sneered and took a few steps back, giving Aaron space to pick it up. He buckled the belt, looked at Jenner, then they both turned towards the door. “We’ll talk again, Corvale,” Lorimer said as they walked past. “And keep that eye open, Jenner.”

  Aaron heard Jenner mutter quietly, “Always do.” They walked out of the warehouse into the calm night. The sm
ell of the harbor filled the air. Surdoore’s lights painted the streets green. The carriage was waiting outside, Finn in the driver’s seat. Aaron climbed in to see Jon sitting across from him.

  “How’d you find me?” he asked Jon as Jenner joined him inside.

  “Shay told me where you were, but by the time we got back you were being tossed into the back of a carriage. We followed you here.”

  “You left me in there for a long time.”

  “I had to send Finn to get Jenner. If I’d gone in there it would have been six on two.” He was looking closely at Aaron. “Your hair’s wet.”

  “I’ve been under the Plate.”

  “And…”

  “And the Sunken are real. Locke is real. Lord Gale, or at least one of his descendants, rules below the Plate. Doesn’t seem like the time down there has mellowed House Gale out at all. They still sound pretty charming, if Locke is to be believed. Way he said it, it sounds like the princess may be alive, held by this Lord Gale.”

  “Well, at least there’s some good news tonight.”

  “What’s the bad?”

  “We’re pretty sure the Sunken have got Cal.”

  “How’s that?”

  “A bunch of them showed up at the Club Diamond. Everyone who was there is missing. Shay’s digging into it right now. That’s where we’re headed.”

  The carriage began rolling through the quiet streets of the harbor neighborhood, leaving Lorimer’s forgotten warehouse behind them.

  Chapter 14. Picking Up the Trail

  Aaron flicked his cigarette into the gutter as he stepped out of Jon’s carriage, some cold part of him noting that the butt was covered in blood from the lip Lorimer’s man had split. The entryway to the Club Diamond was crawling with people looking for answers. All trying to exercise authority over each other and put themselves in the center of the chaos. All pressed tightly under the pavilions to stay clear of the pounding rain. The Queen’s Guards were in force, the Palace livery yellow clashing with the bright red decorations throughout the club. The City Guard wore green. There were others baring the colors of Surdoore’s noble houses, dark looks on their faces. Those without any sort of uniform or obvious authority were resigned to a ring just off the steps leading to the entrance. Despite the array of official colors, Jon didn’t need a uniform to get past the crowds of onlookers, his sheer size creating openings in front of them. Aaron followed in his wake, Jenner and Finn close behind.