A Conspiracy of Whispers

by Ada Harper

  Almost.

  “Did you bring your giant wolf while you were at it?”

  “Ooo, you have one of those? What’s its name?” Yoshi was unhelpful.

  “No, Zahira stayed with the scouts.” Galen motioned to the window. “Should I signal her to come in?”

  “No.” Olivia flicked the blinds closed again. It was a nice brisk night in the scenic, beautiful Cauldron district. “Let her wait.”

  “That’s petty—”

  Whatever else he was going to say was cut off by a hiss of pistons in the door. Olivia spun around. The control panel twittered. The red lockdown lights above the door swiftly ticked down to green, one after another. Olivia suffered a moment of blind panic until she recognized the scrambled code flowing across the panel. A loud groan pulled from her throat. “Really, Yoshi?”

  “Yeah, you and Galen might be super soldiers but after this ordeal some of us need food,” Yoshi said without raising his head from his task. “And a hug.”

  Galen was a lurch of tension in an instant. He’d pulled his gun out of the holster when Olivia wasn’t looking. He leveled it at the door, but it was Olivia’s turn to place a hand over the barrel and shake her head. “As much as I’d like to shoot him...”

  Before she could finish that thought, the door swished open. The man who entered was barely taller than Olivia. Emeric Eaton was a fine composition of neat hair and polished tan skin that you only got with respectable money in the Syn. Emeric was holovids and sky-rises and flattering lighting. He wore something expensive and navy beneath a fine wool long-coat, so minimalist in style that it had to be worth twice the value of the entire building.

  Emeric flicked a sharp gaze once decisively around the room before appearing to land on Yoshi and stick. He carried a heavy duffel over one arm, and what looked suspiciously like an animal carrier in the other; both dropped heavily to the floor. A yowl immediately indicated the carrier was occupied.

  “Em!” Yoshi said, rising out of his seat at the same time as Olivia muttered, “B!”

  Yoshi embraced Emeric and Olivia rushed over to cradle the battered carrier. She reached in and gingerly extracted a deeply disgusted cat. She ignored B’s angry gurgling and buried her face into his fur. He smelled like Emeric’s cooking but gods she’d missed that cat. “Lady’s tits, Emeric, did you have to throw him? And wipe your damn feet.”

  The man in question lifted his face from where it was pressed into Yoshi’s shoulder. He grimaced and raised his voice a mocking octave. “Why thank you, Emeric, for shepherding my hellspawn away from an impending Whisper raid.” There was no way her voice was that high and waify. “Why, no problem, Olivia. It’s a delight to see you as always—”

  “I know B missed you,” Yoshi cut in, tugging on the expensive cut of Emeric’s shirt. They were about the same height, but Emeric still managed to tuck Yoshi under one arm in response. His sharp face softened significantly.

  “This is the infamous B?” Galen risked. Anyone else might have looked awkward, the sole stranger in an outburst of reunions. Galen just looked gratified, as if the plan that’d come together had been his. He reached out a hand but was brought short by a low growl.

  Olivia grinned over a mountain of orange fur. “His name is Plan B. As in—well, never mind. Don’t mind the attitude. Yoshi was watching him while I was working.”

  “Jael loves him,” Yoshi started before sending an alarmed look to Emeric. “You didn’t bring—”

  “Jael’s probably grinding his...magic-whatevers deep in the Unterlands level of Call of Ancients. He’s fine. Really, Yoshi, do I look that incompetent?” His voice was scolding, and at odds with the subtle, reassuring touch he ran over Yoshi’s arm. Olivia wasn’t sure who was soothing who. “Noor said he could stay with her for a couple days, no problem. No one’s going to touch him on Noor’s watch. She refused the cat.”

  “Jael’s Emeric’s younger brother,” Olivia supplied for Galen’s benefit. He raised his brows.

  “I thought you said the Syndicate assigned children to—”

  “Jael is my brother,” Emeric said, like a challenge. “I take care of him.”

  “He lets me help sometimes,” Yoshi said, and the tension died out of the room.

  Olivia released her hold on B, who speed-skulked out of the room in search of a dark perch. She made brief introductions—heavily simplifying both Galen’s identity and their history.

  After peeling himself from Emeric, Yoshi began sorting out supplies on the dining table, which creaked but had chosen not to collapse yet. Food and supplies occupied Yoshi’s interest, but Emeric rustled around in the bag until he handed a satchel of heavy objects to Olivia.

  She peeked inside and saw a nest of orbs and wires she recognized. “Disruptive emitters?”

  Emeric returned to sorting through the bag. “Every three meters, one meter below roof level, please and thank you.”

  It was a good precaution. And an expensive one. Olivia knew how hard it was to get your hands on components for emitters that could affect government equipment. “You always bring me the sweetest gifts.”

  Emeric didn’t look at her. “You can thank me by ceasing to drag my husband into shit.”

  Olivia winced at her hands. “Yeah.” The guilt she’d been avoiding resurfaced.

  “So. Caricae.” Emeric changed the subject without preamble.

  Olivia looked up as her stomach did a ridiculous twist. It was one thing to hear it from Galen’s, or even Yoshi’s lips, but it really was out there now. There was no going back. Her designation was right there, in black and white, for anyone to see and form their own fucking opinion about. But Emeric’s face gave away nothing.

  Olivia twisted the bag in her hands a bit too tight. “Yoshi never told you?”

  “Nope.” Emeric’s mouth plucked on the word. Olivia felt a rush of warmth for her friend again. Emeric was not an easy man to keep anything from. “He neglected to mention that fact.”

  Galen’s arm tensed behind her. “Is that going to be a problem?”

  “Nah.” Emeric’s smile sharpened alarmingly. “Though there was a time when I would have wished you were this easy to get rid of. Really! A simple call to the Whispers would have saved me weeks of headaches and meddling I—” He stopped and rubbed his side sorely. He frowned at Yoshi. “I was only kidding, love.”

  “Not the time, dear,” Yoshi said.

  “I suppose not.” Emeric stopped untangling wires and began to tap a pattern on his arm. Colors painted to life under his skin and a cloud of light drifted over his eyes as he engaged the private screen. Most Cauldron residents had a pulse implant, but few could afford the optic display. Then again, Emeric was patently not “most.” He hummed under his breath and swiped an invisible interface. “Already listed as noncompliant. They don’t fuck around.”

  “I might have called Wallis a gutterfucker,” Olivia said.

  “That’d do it.” He raised his brows, gaze ticking back and forth before returning to Olivia. “FL-AIs are out. Whispers are doing sweeps. Media alert will probably hit the pulse first thing tomorrow if they don’t secure you.”

  Olivia’s stomach turned to lead. “Yeah.”

  “We’ll protect you. No one will find you here,” Yoshi said with resolution. One not shared by the displeased look his husband gave him.

  Emeric waged a silent argument he evidently lost. He waved a dismissive hand. “First step: emitters. Surely even a caricae can handle that, yes?”

  Galen growled, only low enough for Olivia to hear, but she shoved the bag of equipment into his hands instead. With the sniffing and insult, it would have been easy to miss the tremble in Emeric’s fingers. The incline of his head, leaning slightly in toward his husband. The barbs were false but the fear was real. Emeric was shaken. She saw Yoshi take his hand, and regret welled up in Olivia again.

  She pinned a
hard smile on instead and headed for the hallway. “Bite me, Em. Come on, Galen.”

  Chapter Twelve

  The apartment had been locked up but not totally uninhabited—no viable space remained empty for too long in the Syn. An empty quaramesh vial, a broken window. Olivia busied her mind making a note of them. If Emeric and Yoshi decided to linger here longer than the night they would need to reset all the locks. Emeric could handle that easily. Hell, he’d probably upgrade them.

  At the end of the hall, Olivia squinted at the ceiling and jumped. Her fingertips snagged on the invisible notch in the ceiling tile. Galen made an impressed sound as the ladder came down on creaking hinges.

  “Never hide anywhere without a back door,” Olivia said.

  “Like cats in trees.”

  “Significantly fewer bugs this way...well—” Olivia squinted into the passage beyond the hatch “—at least I hope. It’s not exactly made for altus shoulders. Try not to get stuck.”

  “After you.”

  Olivia scaled the ladder quickly. Everything dropped into dark as she went up. More so after Galen’s bulk filled up the entrance behind her. She heard him pull the ladder behind him, everything clicking secure with a hushed snick. Good. The ladder wasn’t a straight shot to the roof. A few times, Olivia had to tap Galen’s shoulder with her toe, silently guiding them around an awkward junction that avoided this utility or that ancient pipe. Each time, he lightly touched her ankle as an affirmative, his palm a brief, phantom heat on her skin made warmer for the dark.

  By the time they emerged on the roof, Olivia’s own hands were filthy from the ladder. Galen huffed a laugh and reached out to sweep a cobweb from her hair. The motion was easy, ignoring when she froze with uncertainty. Only his eyes reacted, apologetic and indecipherably soft.

  Olivia swept the moment away by turning to the roof. The ladder had come up under the back of the stairwell, shaded by the low roof of the utility shed these old, cheaply built multiunit buildings had. It gave them a small ledge of privacy, shielded from any FL-AIs from overhead, from any distant buildings by the shed to either side. She gestured. “The next building over is a reach but doable with a running jump.”

  “You’re telling me this why?”

  Olivia shrugged. “In case Emeric fucks up and we get raided.”

  There was a pause, long enough for Olivia to turn back and see a struggle flicker across Galen’s face. He smiled. It was that disappointed smile she’d started to see more since the border. “I intend to follow you. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Well.” Olivia felt off balance when he looked at her like that. “It’s still good to know your options.”

  “Some things are not optional.”

  And he just said things like that. You are not optional. Olivia felt at a loss. How much power did you wield in normal life to say things like that? Everything in Olivia’s life had to be optional. Her dreams were optional, her desires were optional, her identity had to be optional, if she was going to survive. She wanted to question it, understand how he did it. But that would mean opening up.

  Later.

  She reached for the bag instead. “These need to go every three meters around the building.”

  The rucksack held a nest of squat circles of permasteel and gleaming pulse emitters. Olivia held one up and demonstrated the side that held small pinchers. “Press this side into the outer wall of the building and it’ll hold. Most of the Cauldron was built a couple centuries ago so buildings like this are just old-fashioned brick.”

  Galen picked one up, pinching the mushroom-shaped device with more care than it really warranted. “I’m familiar with dampeners but I don’t recognize this pulse configuration.”

  “We tend to homebrew in the Cauldron.” Olivia’s lips tugged up. “From what I understand from Emeric, they just mimic and amplify the natural disruption patterns of the old buildings around here. Once they’re set up, they’ll confuse and divert any FL-AI patrols if they’re scanning audio or heat signatures. It’ll buy us at least a day or two until some tech notices the disruption pattern dead spot and flags it.”

  Galen’s brows crept up. “Clever.”

  “Well, I don’t keep Emeric around for his company. Boy has the personality of a meat grinder.” Olivia shook her head and set out across the flat rooftop to the nearest drop-off. “I’ll configure them if you can spot me.”

  “Spot you...?”

  Olivia flashed him a bright smile and stepped off the roof. The fingers of her good hand caught on the edge of the gutter and she smiled into the bricks, relishing the small, startled gasp that came from above her. A moment later, Galen’s shadow blocked the streetlights.

  “That was cruel.” The growl brushed the shell of her ear. Olivia looked up. He hunched over the edge of the roof, a hand braced around her forearm just in case her fingertips slipped.

  “I couldn’t resist. Hang on.” Olivia adjusted her grip. She felt him relax a hair as his hand caught hers in a secure grip. Fingers brushed the inside of her wrist. It was unnecessary, but Olivia selfishly enjoyed the touch. She focused on bracing her feet and installing the first emitter with her bandaged hand.

  They worked quickly, falling into a comfortable pattern. It was never a struggle when they worked together; they simply filled each other’s neglected spaces. He would shift and she would sway in. She would reach and he’d have what she needed ready. Olivia worked her way around the building, and Galen handed her emitters while keeping a reassuring anchor on her wrists. She switched hands now and then when her fingers went numb, and each time the warmth of his palm was a frisson of heat.

  Once the final emitter was in place, Olivia flopped limp into open air, trusting Galen to keep her aloft. She squinted at the pollution-soaked sky. “We could see more stars in the Caeweld. That was its one redeeming value.”

  “The only one?” Galen said softly, but he smiled. “I’m surprised you even know what stars are, living in the Syndicate.”

  “Hey. I love all three of our stars, shut up.”

  Their ancestors had seen the stars, or at least gotten closer to them. They had been a people who’d looked up, once, until a hundred mundane feuds of survival dragged them back down. The Crisis had put an end to a lot of things from the old world, but the official accounts said the last star flight ended long before the population declined. It was a piece of the timeline that had never made sense to Olivia, and filled her with an undefinable sadness.

  “There’s a royal lodge in the northlands. At the top of the mountains. Cold and remote, but you can see every star. I would like to take you there, after all this.” Galen’s voice was barely a whisper, and when Olivia turned he wasn’t looking at the sky. His sharp face held the same kind of softness, hard edges muddled by regret, and when he offered his hand, the street lights reflected their own kind of ghostlights in his eyes. He looked at her the way she looked at stars, and her doubts melted with a starved kind of longing. After all this.

  She took his hand. When he pulled and deposited her so easily onto the rooftop again, she restricted herself to the present. “Why are you here, Galen?”

  He stilled, forgetting to relinquish her hand, and looked at her intently. No: with intent. “I was wrong.”

  Olivia felt her breath hitch, but she kept her look flat. “You didn’t need to abandon your beloved Empire to tell me that. That can’t be why you’re here.”

  “I’m—” Galen stopped with a depreciating huff. “I suppose I’m technically here to gather intelligence on the Syndicate’s involvement in the dissidents. That should be what Lyre is up to right about now.”

  “I thought Lyre was here to guard you.”

  “And she’s probably guarding us both from beneath the Syndicate king’s ottoman,” Galen said dryly.

  He must be out of his element. That wasn’t Galen’s kind of joke. Olivia’s lips twitched. “
We don’t have a king.”

  “No, you have a minister. Strange title for a leader.”

  “Technically the ministry does the leading.”

  “Leadership by committee. Even worse. At least my sister can exile her nobles.”

  “Yes.” Olivia raised her brow. “I’ve seen how well that works out for you.”

  Galen had the grace to grimace. “Government is a...work in progress.”

  “And what are you working on now?”

  Instead of answering, Galen set his shoulders. “I was wrong,” he said again. She couldn’t derail him twice. She raised her brows to encourage him to continue.

  “I saw a problem and assumed I knew how to fix it. I assumed it was my place to fix it. Assumed that because I care deeply about you, that it meant I had a right to replace your fears with my own.” Galen’s mouth twisted, as if fighting with some part of himself that still felt that. He folded his arms. “I was wrong.”

  “Okay...you were wrong,” Olivia repeated slowly, buying herself time to consider just how many dangerous words were in that speech. I care deeply about you. Galen was either sincere, scheming, or an idiot. He was rarely either of the latter two, which left the first. There was something else he wasn’t telling her. “But why are you here?”

  “I thought you were in danger—accurately, I might add.” His sigh sounded a little like walls falling. “I have become...attached. I didn’t realize it myself, I suppose because you spent the last two weeks stuck with me, but I felt anxious, painfully, deeply, irrationally anxious when you left. The idea that you were walking into a trap—” He stopped, helpless, expression hidden in shadow. “I had to come.”

  “That sounds...like an irritating condition.” Olivia’s thoughts were drowned out by a tight feeling in her chest. It sounded irritating, and familiar. Like the itching, creeping tension she’d felt since she’d left. She wrapped her arms around herself.