The Sunken’s back was crooked, his face lined. “My name is Bayou Ungale. I bear no weapons. I bear a message only.”
“What is your message?” Jenner asked.
“There are conditions. I am to deliver my message only to the Queen Cassandra Olmont of Camron and Aaron Lorne of the Syndicate of Delhonne Corvale. Both must be in the room. I may only deliver it after the sun sets. I may only deliver it once.”
“If you think I’m letting you in a room with the Queen…” Jenner trailed off.
“You have no choice. It concerns her daughter. She will wish to hear it. This is the only way she can. As I said, I have no weapons. Only a message.”
“And if it’s a trap? I think it might be safer to get the message from you by other means.”
“You speak of torture?” Bayou gave a short, mocking laugh. “What shall you do? Rub my flesh raw? Rob me of air? Light? Starve me? Bleed me? Feed my limbs to predators?” He raised the stump of his left arm. “I have lived a lifetime below your feet. A lifetime in the cold and wet with threshers on every tide. What can you do that has not already been done?”
When Jenner was silent, the old Sunken turned back to the table and sat down. He took another drink of wine. “Fetch the Queen, boy. And the other. I do not expect to live many more days. Let us not waste time with hollow threats. Find a room with a view of the sunset. And a fireplace. I have heard of such things but never seen one. I should like to be surrounded by warmth and dryness this one day. One day before the tides turn and bury us in green. When the sun sets, you will get your message.”
Chapter 29. Pressing
Sleepy Jon was sorting piles of paperwork, amazed at how much he’d accumulated during his short time in Surdoore, when Aaron knocked quietly on his door. Jon looked up and waved him in. “I was wondering when you’d come talk to me.”
Aaron gave a small nod and lowered himself onto the sofa across from Jon’s desk. He lit a cigarette.
Jon put the papers in his hand down and leaned in to look a little closer at Aaron’s weary face. “When did you last sleep?”
“When did you?” Aaron’s voice lacked the strength for a proper counterpunch.
“Fair enough. What’s on your mind?”
“Did you hear about the CA contract being up for rebid?”
“Yeah, and about how you were here to poison their chances? I heard.” Jon shifted the hat resting on his desk with a large hand. “I think everyone on the Plate did. I might have been upset, a friend I thought was helping me out being here on false pretenses. But then I thought about it, and I figured, if that were really your game, you wouldn’t have spread the word so wide. I couldn’t figure who else benefits from it being widely known. Then I saw Miriam this morning and it all kind of clicked into place. I mean, tell me if I’m wrong, but now I’m operating under the assumption that Miriam put the word out. And when I play that out a little further, the only reason she’d be spreading word that you were after the contract is if you were showing some resistance to the idea. Am I close to the mark?”
When Aaron nodded, Jon pressed on. “So if that’s right, my question for you is why the resistance? I would hope some of that is due to the fact that you’re meant to be here helping me? And that there’s some real help needed if we’re going to keep that child safe, maybe even get her sister back?”
Aaron nodded again. “It’s on my mind. I’d put about ninety percent of my reluctance to that.”
“In that case, I’m appreciative. I’m appreciative you made the trip and for all the help you and Cal have given me. Honestly, I wasn’t getting very far before you got here. Now more people are showing their hands with all the trouble you and Cal are causing. And I’ve got a much better idea of Jenner’s value, which frees me up to worry less about keeping the other little girl safe. So did you want to talk about that remaining ten percent? Or about the child? Or Miriam? What?”
“Conners.”
“Your commanding officer and merciless overlord? We’re both gonna need a drink if you want to go there.”
Aaron gave a half-grin. “Have you been in contact with him?”
“No, not lately. He sent SDC people once or twice to hire me out for some errands in Delhonne. Nothing big and everybody closemouthed. He keeps his circles tight.”
“And they keep getting tighter. Almost like a noose,” Aaron said.
“You think Conners is fitting you for a noose?” Jon asked, surprised. “That would be something. I can’t even begin to see how that would be in his best interests. What would the play be?”
“I don’t know,” Aaron said. “That’s not what I meant. I just meant tight, like it’s choking me. First the Borhele, then CA. It seems like all these fights get picked for no reason and I’m called in to dig some graves, no thought of who’s in the right and who’s in the wrong. If it benefits the SDC, that’s all that matters. A guy gets tired of it. Being used.”
“So tell him to back the fuck up. Take a vacation. Tell him you’re sick of doing every last bit of the SDC’s dirty work and he should learn to spread the shit assignments around. Any good manager does.”
“I can’t do that. I work for him. I’m pledged to him.”
“You’ve built a name to rival his, Aaron. That won’t give you ease or safety or security. Those are just as hard to come by. You still work or you die. But the name gives you options. Why follow Conners’ every order? You can tell him no. You can shape your life. I have zero doubts whatever you do will be good for the Corvale. Only a fool would put their rise on Conners instead of you. You brought them dragons. You’ve changed this world. And now you’re chafing at chains that have been put on you? Break them.”
“He could have me exiled with a word. He could sever me from my people.”
“But if he utters that word, it might destroy the SDC, might destroy the Corvale. A huge portion of New Wyelin would leave the moment he did so. Half the SDC riders would do the same. You’re treading lightly for fear he’ll use a weapon he does, yes, have at his disposal. But you’re not thinking about the costs of using it. For him. He will give you a thousand warnings before he breaks you off. He would explore every other option. You think you’re getting pressure from Miriam now? He can ramp that up. He can do a million things to bring you into line. But if he broke you off, he’d lose a lot of people’s faith. Definitely mine, for what that’s worth. And the King of Tannes. And Cal and the Unflagged. The Steward of Castalan, maybe. And, if you do right here, the Queen of Camron. Those are alliances the SDC needs. Did you ever think he might be using you the way he does because he fears you? Maybe an Aaron surrounded by enemies is an Aaron who still needs the SDC to have his back.”
Aaron was silent.
“Look, Aaron, other people are always going to press for you to be someone you aren’t. What they want you to be. You need to be the advocate for you. Tell me this,” Jon asked, “what would you do if you were setting the course? Say tonight goes well, or even if it doesn’t, where would you go next if you were setting your own course? You came here under your own volition. Where would you go next? You’d get on Marsail and fly where?”
Aaron breathed out smoke and touched his pixie eye. “I’d look for Ulsor Vinn.”
“The Chalk who escaped Delhonne? The Awakened one?”
“Yeah. He’s out there somewhere. Up to something. Cal found evidence of him below the Plate. I’d find him. Fix the mistake I made letting him escape. I feel like…I feel like I’m meant to be squared off against the Chalk. Not securing contracts for a dragon army or meeting with shareholders or defending estates that should never have been built.”
“I’d certainly sleep a little better at night with Vinn in the ground,” Jon said. “My family was in Delhonne when he showed up at the gates. That the only thing keeping you from sleeping? Something beyond the Chalk and Conners Toren?”
Aaron ground out his cigarette. “Miriam,” he said, more to the pile of ashes than to Jon.
“Yeah, I thou
ght that might be the case.” Jon sighed, reached into his desk and took out a bottle of whiskey. “Now we drink.” He poured two glasses and handed one to Aaron. “So where did you last see her before lovely Surdoore?”
“It’s been years. We were living together when New Wyelin was getting off the ground. I thought there might be more to us than just sharing the same space for a while. But then we got called off to different corners of the world. And she seemed happy to let what we had die.”
“Is that how she would tell that story?”
“She’d say neither of us was meant for that kind of life. That I was deluding myself and she was being an adult by accepting the way it had to be.”
“You know what I just said about people pressing for you to be someone you aren’t. Sometimes you’re the one pressing, and that’s when it gets hard to tell up from down. When you’re the one headed in the wrong direction. Pressing yourself, maybe pressing her.”
“So, what, I’m just delusional if I think I can be more than just a weapon for the SDC?”
“I’m not necessarily saying that. I just think you’ve got blind spots, sometimes. And Miriam, well, she doesn’t. She sees right through people, even when people don’t want her to. I think she might have seen something in you that you didn’t see yourself. Not that you can’t be more. Just maybe that you weren’t ready. Or maybe she wasn’t. It’s not easy to hear, but when things fall apart, it’s usually for a good reason. And if you guys haven’t seen each other for years, that’s another bad sign. I’m just trying to be straight. Here,” Jon topped off Aaron’s drink, “this will make that easier to swallow.” He shrugged. “Sorry.”
Aaron was rubbing at his pixie eye, pondering a response, when there was a quick knock at the door. Finn leaned in. “Jenner needs us at the Palace. The Sunken sent a messenger.”
Jon and Aaron stood, Jon grabbing his hat from the desk. Before they left the room, he grabbed Aaron by the shoulder. “You okay? I know that’s a lot to lay on you, and not what you wanted to hear.”
Aaron gave a slow nod. “I’ll think on it some more.”
“Good. Just don’t forget, there’s a girl here who needs you more than Miriam. One who can’t defend herself and set her own life’s course. That was taken from her. Tonight our job is to get her back.” He looked down at the floor, then back up. “And that’s not all. The more I look at Surdoore, the more I realize how poorly defended it is. The City Guard is a pretty token force, you saw them at the Club Diamond. And the Queen’s Guard focuses on the Palace, the Queen won’t let them do anything else with the threat to her daughter hanging out there. Which means the rest of the Plate is wide open. And if they hold all the gates, they can have us running in circles. Like I’ve been doing ever since I got here.”
He stuffed his hat onto his head and led the way out into the hall.
Chapter 30. Strays
The neighborhood near the Laurent House was quiet as sunset approached. Shay kept her hand near the knife in her belt as she approached the front of the compound which had once housed one of Surdoore’s greatest families. There were no guards. The wrought iron gate was open and swung lazily in the breeze. The whole place had an air of long abandonment. The House and practically everyone associated with it had been taken by the Sunken four nights ago. Leaving no heirs to the property, no retainers to squat on the land. The rumors about the abduction were flying and the city seemed fine to let the land sit, unwatched and unguarded, for a time. No one wanted to be caught there if the creatures returned.
But this was their only remaining lead on the location of a gate. The one near the Club Diamond was being staked out by City and Queen’s Guards. Locke’s gate near the harbor was likewise under watch. The Sunken had surfaced somewhere near here and had taken everyone in the mansion, gathered for what was to be one of the major social events of the season, into the darkness below the Plate. To dangle on hooks without even the chance for a ransom request, which still made no sense to Shay.
She scanned the street, seeing no one, and ducked into the property. The lawn and shrubs lining the entryway were still well-shaped and decadent. There were some signs of the struggle, broken branches and gouges in the ground, which would have been addressed by the groundskeeping staff if they and their employers were still alive. The rain fell lightly but the fat clouds above hinted at a long, wet night ahead.
Shay heard a panting behind her and whirled. One of the few neighborhood strays in this part of town, a hound Shay called Timmons, was approaching. Not everyone was frightened away by rumors. Shay smiled and bent at her knees as Timmons greeted her with a few licks in the direction of her face then immediately began sniffing at her pockets. She smiled and fished out a small piece of the dried fish she always carried. He fell to it with abandon.
“Hi, boy,” she said, looking around as she petted him. “Did you find a nice quiet space to hunt rabbits? You want to show me around? I wouldn’t mind some company.”
She headed towards the front door, the dog by her side. She mounted the steps, turning around to get the lay of the compound. It took up half a city block, demarcated by an eight-foot-high brick wall. There were several structures, all designed with deference to the main house. She went inside.
It was as empty and lifeless as the rest of the compound. Timmons cheerfully padded forward into the main reception area just beyond the stairs and curled up in a rug he’d scratched into a bed. There were decorations from the party hanging from the high wooden rafters above. The room was still set for dining. The dais held the main table. There were still plates in place, half-full wine glasses. The investigators had searched every inch of the place, but cleaning up wasn’t part of their job description. Amazing that no one had taken advantage yet and made off with all the silver. A superstitious lot on the Plate, especially where the Sunken were involved.
Shay herself had been in this room, and all over the compound, the morning after the Sunken came. There had been few clues, most notably a guest list at the front which included checkmarks for everyone who had arrived. They were able to use it to generate a fairly reliable list of who had been taken, excepting the servants. Everyone who’d been forced out of the compound through the back gate. No signs of where thirty-some prisoners and however many invaders vanished to once they were in the streets.
Shay whistled to summon Timmons to her side, having grown used to his companionship on this particular mission. He happily complied when she drew another bit of fish from her pocket. Together they went out the back door and walked to the back gate. This one was closed, but Shay turned the lock and opened it, wincing as the hinges squealed loudly. The back area was less upscale than the front. There were twisting and turning alleyways. A canal ran nearby, bloated from the recent rains. If the Sunken had taken their prisoners to a gate somewhere in or near the canal, it would be practically impossible to find, short of swimming the depths. She would pass on that. She walked the canal until the first alley, then headed back down it, between the quiet buildings.
She was looking up at a set of windows, wondering if someone could be forced to climb that high, when a rock came sailing down the alley and struck Timmons on his side. The dog gave a yelp of shock and pain, falling over as the rock skittered across the alley’s stones, one end dark with blood. The sounds of him desperately scrambling to find his feet mingled with a crude laughter from the mouth of the alley.
“Got him!”
Shay’s head snapped up. Jarmis and several other of Lorimer’s men were gathered in the alley mouth. She heard Timmons flee in the other direction, panting furiously with ragged breath.
“Looks like Shay the Stray,” Jarmis began, sauntering towards her, “has wandered away a little too far from her protector.” The others were following Jarmis into the alley, their shadows long with the sun setting behind them.
Shay considered running, but she had the idea that showing them her heels was all it would take to escalate this. Once they saw her as prey, they would all
open up for the hunt. “I’m never too far from all the protection I need,” she said, pulling the knife off her belt.
“You look all alone to me,” Jarmis said.
“I’m never alone when I’m on the Plate.”
“I don’t see Sleepy. I don’t see any of your foreign friends. All I see is a smartmouth bitch who needs to be taught a lesson. And maybe when we’re finished with our teaching, I’ll let you enjoy a little swim of your own. Bitch.” He started moving towards her faster, clearly through with the threat-exchanging portion of this showdown.
There was no way she could outrun all of them. The streets back here were too quiet to call for help. Shay moved to one side of the alley to put a wall to her back, holding the knife in front of her, thinking about how to prevent them from swarming. She heard Timmons returning, a slow saunter to the clicks of his paws on the stones, his breathing still ragged.
Jarmis and the others stopped their advance, looking past her. Shay risked a quick look down the alley. Timmons was there, accompanied by seven or eight other strays. She recognized many of them. They included a range of sizes and breeds, from a smallish terrier Shay called Appleton to an enormous mastiff she’d never seen before. The pack was moving towards Jarmis.
He stared for a moment, then reached down and picked up another rock. “Get the fuck out of here!” he yelled as he threw it. This one missed, the mastiff simply watching it go past, then turned and taking several rapid steps towards Jarmis, growling low in its throat.
Jarmis nervously looked behind him. That was when he realized there were more dogs gathering at the other end of the alley, just as large, just as focused on him and his friends. They continued closing in, passing Shay without a glance. Jarmis and his men were badly outnumbered, and more dogs were gathering behind the ranks of the closing circle. The larger ones pushed passed the smaller. The rains had washed the garbage off the streets and food had been scarce of late.
Alliance of the Sunken (Spies of Dragon and Chalk Book 3) Page 20