by Ann Denton
“Because Klaren was crazy,” Lowe said impatiently. “Ein, what is this about?”
“No,” said Streck.
“No?” Lowe’s eyes widened. He saw Ein’s grin out of the corner of his eye.
“Klaren wasn’t … crazy. He was mad, but I don’t know about crazy,” said Streck.
Lowe frowned. “Mad … about what?” he said, still unsure what this had to do with Mala’s melts.
“My dad was working on something,” said Streck, “something confidential. Couldn’t breathe a word about it, even to my mother.”
“Okay,” Lowe said slowly. “Any ideas?”
Streck shook his head. “Never said. He had a lot of private meetings with Tier. He travelled a lot. Wasn’t home for more than a week at a time, if we were lucky.” He frowned and scratched his chin. “He had maps, though. Lots of them. He spent a lot of his downtime making maps and doing … something with math.”
“For what?” Lowe asked, his curiosity rising. Maps and math. He was tracking something. Measuring something.
Streck shrugged, crossing his arms. “Dunno. I wasn’t admitted into the reading program, so I never had a clue what any of it said. But … that day, when Klaren came in, he was furious. Madder than I’ve ever seen anybody in my life.”
“What did he say?” Lowe said.
“Something about a girl,” said Streck. “And how my old man shoulda’ warned him. Didn’t hear about what, but my dad said it was against protocol. That’s when Klaren went nuts. Not literally,” he added, “He was screaming. But, like sad, maybe. Maybe the girl he was talking about had died or something. It’s … kinda blurry after that,” Streck admitted sheepishly. He sighed. “It was intense. Might have been ten minutes or ten hours, muck if I knew. They fought. Klaren got him in a chokehold. Then Tier came in outta nowhere and hauled Klaren off.”
“Where had Klaren come from?” Ein asked. But it was a leading question, one he clearly already knew the answer to. “Maybe where this girl died?”
Streck shrugged. “He was on assignment. Near some slaver village on the wrong side of the river. Maybe she got taken, or maybe she drowned. I dunno.” He looked between Ein and Lowe and his expression darkened. “You aren’t wanting to go there, are you?”
“Maybe,” said Lowe. “Why?”
“Blut asked me about that same village before he went missing,” Streck said. “That place is bad luck, I swear it.”
Two deranged Kreis is hardly enough to start condemning any place as unlucky … But Lowe looked to Ein for his reaction.
“You know Streck,” Ein smiled. “I think you might be right. Klaren and his protegee go there. Go crazy. Something about that slaver village is unlucky.”
“But what?” Lowe asked.
“That’s what we have to find out.”
Streck nodded and went back inside.
Lowe traced a toe over the dirt. “What’s this have to do with Mala?”
“It’s not so much a question of Mala. What’s it got to do with Tier, would be the appropriate question.”
“Well,” Lowe felt frustrated. “What’s it got to do with Tier?”
“Sometimes, it’s so mucking frustrating when everyone around you is too stupid to keep up,” Ein huffed and started back through the trees.
“Wait!” Lowe called after him. “What’s Klaren and this village have to do with Tier?”
Ein just flipped him off and called out over his shoulder. “Let me know when you catch up, idiot!”
Lowe ran to his side.
“That’s not the kind of catching up I meant,” Ein grumbled.
“What’s going on?” Lowe asked.
Ein shook his head. “I need to do some more research.”
“But—”
“Like I said. If you and that microbial excuse for a brain can catch up, let me know. Until then, I want to find proof.”
“Proof of what?”
Ein winked. He made a big show of zipping his lips.
Lowe picked up an oar. He was tempted to whack Ein with it. But he doubted he’d get any answers then. He fumed as he rowed all the way back to the Center.
Chapter Forty-Five
Lowe didn’t have time to puzzle out what Ein was thinking. As soon as he got back to the Center, a Typical told him a meeting had been called. Fresh assignments were being handed out. Mandatory attendance. In the lecture hall. The explosives talk had been cancelled.
Lowe sighed as he walked down the hall. On his right, outside the floor to ceiling windows, fish drifted by, glinting like coins.
Kreis lined the hall, their conversations hushed to a dull hum. Some had heard about the change in plans. Some hadn’t. So a massive game of telephone went on as those in the know spread the news about assignments. The little slips of paper that would tell them how to reshape the world.
Then he saw her. And it felt like the Gottermund was rushing through his body. Small. Shy. So cute. Leaning up against the wall. Waiting patiently in line. Too shy to talk to anyone.
Stop that. He bit his tongue, trying to banish the emotions. You’re here to focus. To get an assignment.
But he knew what the assignment was. Knew that whatever the cover story was, he’d have to deliver Mala to Troe.
She’s strong. Resourceful. She can do this, she can do this.
But part of him didn’t believe it. She’s sweet and fragile as glass. She’s going to shatter.
He felt hollow at the thought.
This might be my last chance to see her. My last chance to talk to her before she learns what I’ve gotten her into. Before she figures out she’s being sent to die.
Lowe put his hand on Mala’s shoulder and she turned, startled.
“Hi,” he said. It was the only word he could seem to find.
A wide smile lit Mala’s face. Lowe could swear her skin was glowing. “Finish your combat lesson?”
With Ein, she meant. Anguish sliced him. The only reason he was training Ein was so he could accompany Mala, so she could melt for Troe. So she could convince the Erlender court that she was somehow divine, and worthy of the affections of the most powerful madman on the continent.
Lowe curled his hand into a fist behind his back and forced himself to smile. “Yup.”
“How was it?”
Lowe’s smile widened, half genuine. “Almost satisfying.”
Mala quirked an eyebrow at him and crossed her arms, smiling. “Almost?”
Lowe shrugged. “Well, a victory dance would hardly have been professional.”
“You can do one now.”
Lowe smiled so wide it hurt and swept her up in his arms. She was so tiny, so sweet. Like a little bird, oblivious to the hawk circling above.
He spun her around once. The feel of her skin on his was enough to calm his racing heart. He grinned.
“I was hoping you’d say that,” Lowe said. His victory dance resembled a seizure more than anything. But he wanted to see her laugh one last time.
And she did. Lowe recorded every second in his brain. Determined to remember her like this forever. Even after …
“Feel better?” Mala gasped, standing upright and wiping tears from her eyes.
“Fully satisfied,” Lowe winked. He wished he could keep her laughing, forever. Wished she would never know any other feeling. He wanted to lean forward and kiss her in front of everyone; he didn’t care who she melted into. But he couldn’t.
Mala giggled. “Good. Because I don’t know how much more dancing I could stand.”
“None,” a voice interjected.
The pair of them turned. Tension crawled down Lowe’s spine. Fell stood watching them, her face an imperious mask.
Lowe’s eyes begged her to change her mind. Fell’s gaze remained impassive.
Mala’s mouth popped open and she stammered wordlessly.
“Come with me,” said Fell. “Both of you.”
Fell turned on her heel and stalked down the hall, not waiting to see if they followed.
Lowe was last, his eyes fastened on Mala. He tried to breathe in the scent of her hair. To steal one last happy moment. But his nerves bulldozed his intentions.
Ahead of them, Fell palmed a wall and it slid aside, revealing a small brass elevator. They stepped inside.
“Four floors up,” said Fell, making no move toward the ropes and pulleys.
Lowe frowned and grabbed the one closest to him, motioning for Mala to do the same. She nodded and they began to pull.
Four floors later, they pried the doors open and stepped into a long hallway carpeted in deep blue. Silence draped itself across their shoulders like a heavy cloak. Fell had her hands clasped behind her back. She stood perfectly erect, her eyes narrow with fury.
Lowe took a deep breath. Beza, he thought. This is for Beza and the kids. We’ll trade Mala. Then Stelle will kill him. Then … he added a promise. I’ll go back and save her.
They reached the end of the hall and Fell turned on them abruptly.
“Once we step inside, everything you see, hear, touch … is classified. You will not speak of anything that is disclosed to you in this room with anyone not present here, and you may only speak of it with those present if you are one-hundred-percent certain no one else can hear. Understood?”
Lowe nodded once. Mala’s eyes widened.
Fell unlocked the door and they entered a posh meeting room with a mahogany table and burgundy velvet chairs.
Lowe pulled out a chair for Mala and she sat, momentarily enthralled by the molting pink cloth. Lowe sat next to her and resisted the urge to cross his arms
There were three people already sitting at the table. Ein. Of course. To Lowe’s surprise, Ein’s sister, Neid, sat next to him, glaring daggers at Mala. She’s assigned?
Lowe felt a twinge of sadness for Verrukter. This was a dangerous mission. And Neid was green. She’d had the training, but not the experience. She shouldn’t be here. But then, none of them should.
Fell stood at the head of the table. And stiffly, maybe bitterly, Tier sat next to her.
Lowe swallowed hard when he saw what the Ancient was wearing. Blue-black Erlender leathers covered him from head to toe, painted with the twisting stripes of a lieutenant. A skullcap adorned his head, his hair poking out from under it like needles.
Tier turned his eyes, cold and grey and lifeless, to Mala. “You have been selected for a mission.”
Lowe’s heart knotted. Neid squeaked her excitement and quickly covered her mouth.
Mala stiffened. Her face was unreadable. But her cheeks flushed.
Tier unrolled a map, pinning it down with his hands. Red dots marred the yellowed surface, fresh ink against older, cracking lines.
“This is a map of recent attacks,” he said.
Lowe tuned out Tier’s words and instead watched the faces around him. Mala and Ein were stiff with fear. Neid was bursting with excitement.
Lowe’s eyes flickered to Fell. You couldn’t have given me anyone more experienced?
She must have known he was frustrated with this. Her mouth tightened and she gave a small jerk of her head toward Tier.
Lowe raised his eyebrows.
Fell just responded by glaring at Tier’s back.
So Tier had limited this mission to Lowe and three novices. Father mucking great.
Tier traced his finger from one dot to the next, like he was outlining a constellation.
“This is where you come in,” Tier said to Mala. “President Stahl wants intel. More than that, he wants action, and he wants it yesterday. You all are going to find out what the Erlenders are up to, and how the hell they’re keeping ahead of us.”
Find out the Erlender plans? Their next attack plans? From Troe’s compound? That was a level-seven assignment. It wasn’t even something Lowe would normally be assigned. How about the mucking moon? The source of the bomb? Anything else impossible? He wondered if Tier felt anything human at all.
Mala’s throat pulsed as she struggled to swallow. The rest of the table was suddenly in similar spirits. Ein and Neid looked physically ill.
And they should, thought Lowe, pursing his lips in disgust. This is a mucking suicide mission and everybody can see it.
Lowe swallowed a laugh. Getting hysterical would only make things worse, though he felt it was the most logical response to this situation.
“Oh now, no need to vomit,” said Fell, her expression was a touch softer. Her anger was still there, but it was muted. “The President has decided we need to use Mala’s skills to our advantage.”
Fell continued, describing the nuances of the assignment to Ein and Mala. But Lowe stopped listening again—this time because Tier was at his side, poking him with a small piece of paper. Lowe took it and scanned it under the table, keeping it angled away from Mala. Not that she was paying any attention to him. Her eyes were riveted on Fell.
The paper was the single speck of honesty in a room echoing with lies.
Enter compound with Keptiker’s entourage. Contact Stelle. Hold until she prophesies, await second contact. Force Mala to have a public meltdown. Complete the trade.
Complete the trade, Lowe thought numbly. He handed the paper back to Tier and the Ancient shoved it in his pocket, slowly walking back around to stand next to Fell. He’d known this was the plan, but to have it laid out on paper somehow made it unbearably real. Complete the trade. What if Troe just decides to slaughter us? With this small of a team, why wouldn’t he take Mala and keep the kids?
They weren’t questions he could ask. The President was desperate. He was willing to try anything. Lowe shook his head. Well. He does have a backup. Stelle’s waiting in the wings to kill Troe. But whether we’re all dead before that happens … that only matters to me.
“… there must be a mole here,” Fell was saying. Lowe pulled himself from his thoughts and directed his attention back to the meeting. Ein and Mala were both pale-faced after the briefing, and Neid was green.
Fell looked pointedly at Tier before continuing. “Someone is feeding the Erlenders information. Helping them.” She shook her head. “Lowe, this is assigned to you. Find out who the mole is …”
Lowe nodded but turned subtly to Tier and raised his brow. Is she talking about my mission? About the info to Stelle?
Tier smirked back at him. Clearly Tier had not briefed Fell on their assignment with the President. Great. So I have to make something up. To lie. While trying keep everyone in this mucking room from getting killed.
Words poured out of their mouths, but Lowe only half-listened. Something about going to Keptiker’s. Having Mala melt into General Keptiker and bring the annual tax tribute for Wilde Township to Troe’s as the way to get their group into the mad king’s compound.
Lowe asked questions, but he didn’t register the answers. He felt numb. They’d not only given him the impossible task of sacrificing Mala, he now had to find some innocent person and frame them for a mission President Stahl had assigned him.
The door closed behind Fell and Tier. The briefing was over. But no one moved.
They sat like patients given a terminal diagnosis. Suddenly their life expectancy was numbered in days. In moments.
Lowe had dealt with that feeling before. But these three hadn’t. These three were dependent on him. They needed him. For strength. For guidance. They needed him for any chance to stay alive.
“Did … did that really just happen?” Neid asked.
Lowe nodded and stood. The best way to fend off death was to prepare contingencies. Time to put Ein’s big brain to work. “Let’s talk assignments. Ein, I want you to get ahold of every video, blueprint, map, and report we have on Troe’s compound. Figure out at least forty exit strategies …” He gave them all heavy workloads. He’d always found it better to bury himself in action and avoid thinking whenever his life was on the line. Keep them focused, and maybe, maybe we’ll stand a chance.
But Mala underm
ined his strategy. “I still don’t understand why they’re giving us this assignment,” she said. “I mean, no offense Neid, but you and I don’t rank high enough for this.”
No kidding, thought Lowe. The silence was palpable.
“The President’s desperate,” Ein piped up. “Too many high-visibility raids. That one with the kids no one wants to mention.” He prattled on for a bit, then tried to get under Lowe’s skin. “And Lowe … I’m guessing Fell chose you because everybody knows you’ll do anything to ensure Mala survives.”
“Yeah, not because I happen to be good at what I do or anything,” Lowe tried to keep the banter lighthearted. He did not want to think about Mala’s chances of survival.
“If you were as good of a spy as you think you are, you would have already recognized the most likely possible mole.”
Of course, Ein drug out the guessing game again. He’s compensating. Big brain, little … Lowe couldn’t smile at his own joke.
But then Neid spoke. “Are you saying it’s Alba?”
Lowe blinked. He looked at Mala. Her ditzy roommate? The one who’d been stuck as an eighty-year-old for months? The one who wore a lime-green wetsuit with the front cut so low her saggy old chest almost fell out?
Lowe turned his gaze away from her and scoffed. “Okay, genius. How’s she been communicating with him all this time?”
Mala gasped. “I … this morning…Alba was drunk. When I put her to bed, she told me her recruiter … Blut … gave her a two-way radio. They … they used to talk all the time.”
Lowe’s heart nearly stopped. For two seconds, he couldn’t breathe. “That’s against protocol,” he stammered, for something to say. Something to cover his wildly roaming thoughts. Another mole. Someone else feeding Blut information. Ironically, his heart lifted. Bara’s massacre might not have been my fault. But then it slammed back down to his toes. Is Alba still using that radio? Where did Stelle get the information about the hospital? The ships?
He stood. “You all have your assignments. We’ll meet daily at six for dinner and status updates.”
Lowe turned and strode out the door.
“You’re welcome!” Ein called as it slammed shut behind him.