Shattering the Ley

by Joshua Palmatier

  “But I was wrong.”

  Daedallen shifted where he stood. “Tumbor.”

  With effort, Arent forced the hand gripping his wine to relax before the glass shattered. “Tumbor had always been my strongest rival, and it was Leethe’s father who revolted when the Barons signed the concordance ceding control of the ley to Erenthrall. He became a thorn, drawing blood at every opportunity. So I sent the Hounds after him. Leethe saw his father die at their hands. Even though he was only nine at the time, I do not think he has forgotten that moment.” Arent had not forgotten his own father’s bloody death, after all, even though it had been by his command and carried out by his personal guard.

  The captain of the Dogs straightened and gave his Baron a formal bow. “May I release the Hounds now?”

  Arent stilled.

  After Leethe’s father’s death, the remaining Barons had refused to sign the concordance until Arent agreed to rein in the Hounds and his Dogs. Initially he’d resisted, but when he saw the beginnings of an alliance building against him—one that could be strong enough to defeat his Dogs—he’d relented. He could still train the Hounds, but he could only use them here, within Erenthrall. Sending them to seek out the Barons themselves, in their own lands, in secret. . . .

  If the Hounds were discovered, it would be political suicide. The already tenuous hold he had on some of those Barons would shatter. The Barons would ally against him as they had threatened so many decades ago. The concordance—with himself, Erenthrall, and the ley at its center—would crumble. It would be war.

  He did not have the resources or the manpower to fight such an alliance. Not now. He needed to keep the Barons on edge, tied and beholden to him—and only him—by the ley.

  “No,” he said reluctantly. “The Hounds must remain leashed for now. Use the Dogs only.”

  Arent caught the smirk on Prime Augustus’ face and felt anger spark in his chest. He had been ready to dismiss the two men to their respective tasks, but now he set his glass of wine aside. He could not have brought Erenthrall to its current height of power without Augustus, but he could not allow his control of the obsessive Wielder to slip.

  “There is one other issue we must discuss,” he said.

  The Wielder tensed as Arent’s attention fell on him. “My Baron,” he said.

  “These . . . distortions.”

  Augustus grimaced. “I have had the Wielders looking into them and as of yet we do not have an explanation as to what they are or why they are occurring.”

  “That is not acceptable. I am receiving reports from all around the city. Since the sowing of the Flyers’ Tower and the activation of the subtowers there have been twenty-seven visible distortions in nineteen separate districts. The first was reported within a month, and ten have been reported within the last year. Initially you claimed that they were a result of the ley system acclimating to the activation of the tower, that they would dissipate over time. But I fail to see how that explanation still holds, since the occurrences appear to be escalating. Even the size of these distortions . . . these ‘blossoms of light’ as the commoners call them . . . has increased.” He leaned forward onto the table, both arms rigid. “You assured me, at the time you proposed the Flyers’ Tower, that the ley system would be able to handle it. Have you changed your opinion since? Or is there some other explanation for the distortions that now plague my city?”

  Augustus’ back grew rigid and he shot a black glance toward Daedallen, as if somehow the captain of the Dogs had brought this upon him. But then he turned back to Arent. “So far, we are uncertain exactly what is causing the distortions. I am not convinced that it has anything to do with the Hub—I apologize, the Flyers’ Tower. I have descended into the pit of the Nexus myself, searched the coils of ley, and discovered no connection between the tower and the emergence of these lights.”

  “Then what are they, if not effects of the Flyers’ Tower?”

  Augustus spread his hands and shrugged. “I have no idea. I agree that they appear to be directly related to the ley, that somehow the interaction of the ley with the Tapestry is causing the Tapestry to tear in some way. But so far these tears have been minor. None of the distortions have been larger than a man’s fist. They open, hold for a moment, and then close. No significant damage has been done.”

  Not mollified, Arent pushed back from the table. “And yet the distortion that appeared in Wit last month tore a chunk of stone from an interior chamber of the Temerite’s embassy when it closed, splintering the marble and scattering the shards across the embassy’s foyer.”

  “Because the distortion coalesced inside the marble wall. None of the others have caused any damage.”

  “Because we have been lucky! What if one of them appears inside one of your nodes? What if they appear here, in the Amber Tower? Or your Nexus? What if one manifests near a person? What kind of damage will it do then?”

  The Prime Wielder’s mouth opened as if to answer, then shut, lips pressed thin in anger.

  “I don’t think you understand the magnitude of my concern,” Arent said, “so let me make it clear. The flyers have become so prevalent in Erenthrall that they rival the barges of the ley lines in terms of public transportation. There are now stations at all twelve of the subtowers that support the system, even though the flyers cost dramatically more than the barges on the ground. The other Baronies are already scrambling to make offers to have the flyers established in their own cities. I expect them to demand towers of their own at the upcoming meeting. And even though I’ve made it clear that the flyers are only viable within a certain radius of the Flyers’ Tower, the lords and ladies of the surrounding lands are already complaining that they can’t have flyers on their own lands.”

  He leaned toward Augustus, voice hardening. “If the flyers are creating the distortions, that flaw must be repaired. I need to provide the Barons—and the lords and ladies—what they want.”

  He spun away, pointed toward Daedallen, the Dog still standing near the balcony. “Find out who’s behind the Kormanley and stop them, whether it’s Baron Leethe or not.” Then he turned again on Augustus. “And find out what’s causing these distortions.”

  Allan opened his eyes, instantly aware of Moira’s warmth on the bed beside him. The small chamber glowed with the pulsing red of the fire’s last embers, the tables, chairs, and the wooden crib casting strange shadows. He remained still, automatically searching the room for dangers, even though there was little that would harm them in the Hedge District. He’d learned to be wary in Erenthrall over the past four years. The Kormanley were not above bombing one of the Dogs’ flats. Not many lived outside of Grass and the barracks there.

  But not many had families to care for either.

  He rolled over, certain the flat was safe, and curled up into Moira’s warmth, kissing the nape of her neck. She moaned in irritation, her sleep disturbed, but pressed back against him, flesh to flesh. His hands traced patterns across her stomach, around her breasts, and then reached lower.

  She gasped, coming fully awake, and clutched at his arms. “You’re a beast,” she accused, pulling his hands away. “Wasn’t last night enough?”

  “It’s never enough.”

  She chuckled, the sound deep and throaty, then twisted around so that she faced him. She snuggled in closer, their legs entwined, the blankets keeping the warmth close. “Don’t you have to work at the tower today? The mighty tower guardsman, protecting the Baron from the evil Kormanley.”

  “You mock me?” He pinched the nearest available flesh and Moira shrieked, wriggling away from him as he reached for more. He caught an arm and pulled her back into the covers, holding her tight.

  The baby cried out, then hiccupped.

  Both of them stilled, breath held. In the quiet that followed, they could hear Morrell rustling in her crib, making an occasional small noise before settling down into silence.

>   Allan had just begun to relax, his hands moving suggestively along Moira’s thigh, when Morrell hiccupped again and broke into a full-fledged wail. Allan swore softly, Moira pulling away from him and heading toward the crib. He watched her pad across the floor, snatching a blanket to pull around her as she moved, then he collapsed back onto the bed with a groan.

  “You could stoke up the fire,” she said.

  “I was trying,” he grumbled. He rubbed at his sleep-gritted eyes, then dragged himself from the covers.

  Moira had pulled Morrell from the crib, blankets and all, and settled into a rocking chair set to one side. She glanced up as Allan halted before them, Morrell already quieted and intent on feeding. One of her tiny hands grasped at Moira’s dark hair, until Moira pulled it free. Morrell’s tiny face squinched up as if she were irritated at the loss, but she continued suckling, not irritated enough to start wailing again.

  “Ugly things, new babies.”

  Moira snorted. “You’re one to talk. Besides, she’s nearly ten months old. I wouldn’t be calling her new anymore.”

  “New enough.” He leaned down to kiss Moira on the forehead.

  She smiled, a wicked gleam in her eye. “Aren’t you cold?” She glanced down toward his naked body meaningfully as she shifted Morrell’s position.

  Allan faked a hurt look, but moved to stir up the embers in the ancient stone fireplace. Most of the flats in Hedge used the ley to keep the rooms warm and for cooking, but the ley never worked properly around him, its power sporadic. Allan knew it was his presence that interrupted the ley, but he’d kept quiet, telling only Moira and making her vow silence. He didn’t want the Wielders or those at the University taking him away to do . . . whatever they might do. He’d made certain he stayed clear of anything related to the ley when with the Dogs or the Wielders, although he had noticed that the disruptions were getting worse. Before, the ley had flickered only if he were within a few paces. Now he would affect the ley from across the room, ten feet or more.

  None of the Wielders who’d come to repair the heat had found anything wrong with the ley itself, so he and Moira had finally given up and resorted to a fire for their cooking instead. He placed some dried grass on the coals, blew on them gently until flames began, then placed kindling over those. Once the fire caught and held, he placed some larger pieces on top and backed away.

  He was disappointed to find Moira already dressed.

  Sighing, he reached for his own clothes and shrugged into the Dogs’ uniform. The newness of the fabric and the slightly different cut from that of the Dogs that roamed the streets still felt awkward, even though he’d been transferred to the tower eight months before. He set his sword and sheath on a table. Moira had swung a kettle of water over the fire as he dressed and now poured the contents over a heap of oats in a bowl, stirring the mixture until it cooked and thickened. Allan checked on Morrell, his little girl staring at him with widened eyes while chewing on her own hand. Her legs kicked the air and she giggled when he reached down to chuck her chin.

  “My little poppet,” he whispered, then settled into a chair.

  Moira placed a bowl of the steaming porridge in front of him, then flavored it with some honey, leaving the comb behind in a small bowl in case he wanted more. His stomach growled.

  “What are you and Hagger handling today?”

  Allan sighed and grimaced. “More of the same, I expect. There are Kormanley to question.” He took a spoonful of the porridge, but it tasted like ash, even though a moment before it had smelled delicious. He wrinkled his nose and added more honey.

  “I’d think the Dogs would try something different after all this time,” Moira said, as she began chopping up carrots and onions. “Obviously, interrogation isn’t working.”

  “It’s the only option we’ve got,” he said around a mouthful of tasteless porridge. “The Kormanley aren’t stupid. For every one that we capture, there seem to be two more out there, although those we question only know of them, not who they are. And none of those we capture appear to be all that high up in the organization. They’re pawns, sent to place the bombs or deliver messages. Nothing significant. And the Baron refuses to release the Hounds. Not that they’d be much more effective. They’re best when they have a scent to follow, from what I’ve heard.”

  Moira passed by as he pushed the porridge away; it was smothered in honey, but it hadn’t helped. She kissed him and patted his cheek. “They’ll make a mistake at some point.”

  Allan glanced toward Morrell and fervently hoped so. He didn’t want to raise his daughter in Erenthrall with the Kormanley around.

  “Where in all hells have you been?” Hagger snapped the moment Allan stepped into the barracks. His fellow Dog looked like he’d been searching for him. The rest of the Dogs present—sitting at tables or stretched out on their bunks—glanced in their direction.

  “Home,” Allan snapped back.

  Hagger snarled. “Your home should be in the barracks, Pup, with your fellow Dogs. Not shacked up with some woman you knocked up and your little whelp.”

  Anger flared deep inside Allan’s chest. He let it spark in his eyes and color his voice as he asked, “What happened?”

  Hagger drew back at his aggression, eyes widening, then hardening. He sucked in a breath to slap Allan down, Allan could see the intent in his eyes, but he choked back the response and grabbed Allan by the arm, spun him around, and headed back out the door and into the streets of Grass. The Amber Tower loomed before them, the Flyers’ Tower beyond it. The skyboats drifted overhead, a sight Allan had still not grown used to. But Hagger thrust him forward, his grip so tight Allan’s arm began tingling with numbness.

  He wrenched his arm free. “What in hells happened? Where are we headed?”

  “To the Amber Tower. Captain Daedallen came down on us like a sailor on a whore. The Baron thinks the Kormanley are working with one of the other Barons and he wants the Dogs to figure out which one. He isn’t happy with our progress. Neither is Daedallen. He beat the shit out of Grierson when he had the gall to point out we were doing the best we could, then demanded we do more. He roared we’d better find out before the Baronial Meeting, then stormed out.”

  “What happened to Grierson?”

  Hagger shot him a confused look. “Who cares? Someone toted him off to the healers. We’ve got more important things to worry about. Since we’ve been promoted to Tower guardsmen, Daedallen and the Baron have been expecting some results from us, and they haven’t gotten them.”

  “I don’t see how that’s going to change.”

  Hagger grinned unpleasantly. “We brought in another follower last night, along with a cartload of those damn papers with the cryptic notes. I told everyone not to touch him, to leave him to me, and to dump the pages into your lap.”

  Allan nodded. This was how they’d worked their partnership for the past few years. Hagger had realized early on that Allan didn’t have the stomach for the interrogations. The old Dog might have abandoned him in disgust, but he’d risen too far too fast and knew it wasn’t his own work that had caused it.

  They entered the Amber Tower, passing through the great round foyer, staircases rising elegantly to the upper floors like the arms of an embrace on either side, a massive crystal chandelier lit with ley globes dangling down from the ceiling overhead. But the two Dogs didn’t move toward the upper levels. They crossed the flawless marble floor to a set of double doors beneath the stairs, passing through and then down into the tower’s depths. This was the domain of the Dogs, where those who provoked or annoyed Baron Arent were kept. And beneath this level lay the domain of the Hounds, the elite Dogs rumored to be Baron Arent’s assassins. Allan wasn’t exactly sure how one became a Hound, only that some of the more vicious Dogs disappeared on occasion, taken to train with the Hounds to see if they had what it took to become one themselves. Rumor said that if they didn’t, they didn�
�t survive the training. Allan had also overheard some of the Dogs discussing a slew of disappearances throughout Erenthrall, mostly young boys and girls, one of the men muttering about the Hounds recruiting. But the Dogs had quieted as soon as they noticed him nearby and he’d heard nothing more.

  All Allan knew was that no one went willingly down into the Hounds’ lair, and that even though he had only seen a Hound twice, he had no wish to see one again. They looked normal in every way, but they behaved differently, in a way that he couldn’t quite describe and that sent chills down his back and prickled the hairs at the nape of his neck.

  As soon as they descended the first flight of stairs, the atmosphere of the tower changed. The amber that made up the core of the structure vanished, replaced by smooth granite that appeared molded from the earth itself. The ostentatiously decorated doors gave way to oak banded with iron, and the delicate brass and pewter of the ley sconces were replaced with practical iron holders.

  They emerged into a central room, desks, tables, and chairs strewn around the edges of the hall, the center reserved for training. Three Dogs were brawling, one of them barking out instructions as the other two grappled with each other. The granite flooring had been covered with sand, enclosed by an ankle-high, circular barrier. As Allan and Hagger circled toward a set of doors on the far side, passing other Dogs who were watching the bout, one of the men landed a brutal punch to the face that caused blood to fly. Roars of encouragement followed as Hagger led Allan into the next room.

  A pair of Dogs looked up immediately, hands shifting toward swords. But they relaxed as soon as they recognized Hagger, nodding to him and Allan both.