This was big.
And what was she doing? Sitting in some drugged out has-been’s den with a ticket in her pocket.
Her heart raced. She hadn’t even wanted to go when Milo gave her the ticket—she’d been too concerned about getting out of the city—but now that the choice was taken away from her—now that she knew a time and place where she’d find Enfield…
‘I told Myriel I’d stay put.’
And that was the long and short of it. Myriel had risked a lot bringing her here—Serena should keep her word. She owed her that much. Anyway, it’d be a special kind of stupid to go up against the Junior Councillor by herself, armed only with a tiny bird.
Myriel would be back soon.
She could wait.
In here.
By herself.
‘I thought you’d be in Musa’s Harp,’ said Damien.
Gallows didn’t turn around when Damien entered the office. ‘Fallon’s been arrested.’ He gripped the knife in his hand, knuckles turning white. ‘That bastard’s getting away with everything, Damien.’
Damien sat behind his desk. His brow creased. ‘Then you are also in danger.’
Gallows stared into space. ‘I have to fix it. Tonight.’
‘How?’
Gallows met Damien’s eye. His voice droned low and ground like gravel under the heel of a boot when he said: ‘I walk up to him, pull a gun, and shoot him in the head.’
‘Tyson, liste-’
‘No listening, Damien. No talking. We do what needs to be done.’
‘Getting ourselves killed is not something I am particularly keen on.’
‘Screw you, I’ll do it myself. I know where he’ll be. He can tell me where Cronin is.’
‘You’ll be cut down before you step foot in the foyer. Do you expect Pyron Thackeray to publicly announce his timetable and not take adequate precautions?’
‘He’s a cocky bastard.’
‘But he is not stupid.’ Damien leaned back, his leather chair creaking like old bones. ‘In fact, I’m of the opinion that this move is a defensive one.’
‘Gods damn it… Listen, Damien, I ain’t-’
‘Hear me out. Everything he’s done up until this point has been meticulously planned—staging his death, securing public favour, arresting Major Fallon and eliminating the people who know his true colours. He leaves nothing to chance—and yet Tiera is loose, and we can’t explain the Spire strike on her airship. Something is afoot.’
‘What are you saying? That he’s doing this to lure Tiera into making an appearance in the hopes the Watch will cut her down?’
‘Tiera and any other remaining enemies. He is preparing his endgame.’
‘C’mon, man, no-one’s that stup-’ Gallows caught himself. Gods damn it. Wasn’t that exactly what he was going to do—march in there and kill him?
‘Kirivanti has allowed me access to the concert. But I need your assurance that you won’t be reckless enough to try and kill Pyron Thackeray in full view of the damned auditorium.’
‘Sheva believed you?’
‘About the conspiracy? No. Last night, Aulton Carney—Genevieve Couressa’s associate—approached me and hired me as her bodyguard. Kirivanti wouldn’t sign off on it, but officially, she’s agreed to take me as her guest—unofficially, I’m to watch over Genevieve Couressa and her troupe.’
‘Sheva Kirivanti bending the rules. Probably the weirdest thing to happen this week.’ Gallows dug the balls of his hands into his eyes. He needed this to be over. ‘Couressa must be paying you a ton to be her errand boy.’
‘Actually, she asked for you. But the point is: I have access which other guests will not. You can act as Couressa’s bodyguard—freeing me to get to Thackeray. Sitting with Kirivanti will provide the perfect cover.’
Gallows thought about it. ‘He’ll have a steel ring of security.’
‘They won’t see me when the lights go out. Genevieve Couressa will command the attention of every single soul.’
Gallows tapped his knife. He needed to be the one to get to Pyron Thackeray—needed to make him tell him where Cronin was.
But Damien was right—Gallows would never stand a chance.
‘Alright,’ he said. ‘You do it. You kill the Prime Councillor—but make him tell you where Cronin-’
‘No.’
‘Huh? Then what’s all this about? You’re gonna sneak up to him and shake his damn hand?’
‘I am not an assassin. If we’re to prevent the war he desperately wants, we cannot do so by killing him.’
‘C’mon, man, you want to chase runts like Buzz Fitangus the rest of your days? This would mean something!’
‘No—what you seek is not justice—you only wish to satisfy yourself. Killing Pyron Thackeray accomplishes nothing.’
‘The world is a better place without him.’
‘I agree. Which is why we’re not killing him—but dismantling him.’
‘Huh?’
‘If we attempt to kill him and fail, we’ll be executed on the spot—as will Major Fallon, and then the proof he has against Thackeray is lost. You attempt to kill him and succeed, then you turn him into a martyr. Everything detailed in those files will be justified, and you’ll still end up dead. If that’s your wish, then take a knife to your wrists and be done with it.
‘But if you want justice—real justice—we arrest him, shine a light into all his secrets—tear him down piece by piece.’
‘Impossible,’ shot Gallows.
‘More so than you assassinating him?’
Gallows closed his eyes. There was no way it could be done. The son of a bitch owns the Watch, the military, the Info Towers, the paper… How could they possibly get to him with only a matter of hours to plan it?
‘Fallon might have given me up already,’ Gallows started. ‘If he has, the Watch will stick me in a cell as soon as I step outside.’
‘They’re not here yet,’ observed Damien. ‘That implies he’s holding up to their interrogation.’
‘Until they use their mind-controlling drugs. He won’t last long.’
‘Which is why we cannot squander this opportunity.’
‘Do you have a plan?’
Damien took one of the luxury pens from his desk and tore a sheet of paper from his leather-bound notebook. The pen scraped across the paper. ‘First, we lure him away from whatever escort he has and isolate him.’
‘He won’t talk.’
Damien’s chin jutted into the air. ‘He’ll talk to me. Commander Lockwood can be trusted, yes?’
‘To a point, yeah. She believed Fallon’s theory.’
‘Her airship has wireless vocal broadcasting capabilities.’
Gallows cottoned on. ‘We make Thackeray admit to every one of his crimes.’
‘Indeed—so the whole kingdom can hear.’
The ice in Gallows’ veins thawed. ‘It’s risky. He’ll claim he’s under duress.’
‘Which is why we need Major Fallon’s files to corroborate what he says.’
‘If he’s in the Gravehold,’ Gallows started, ‘we’ll never get to him.’
‘Commander Lockwood—she’d have access to visit Fallon. He can tell her where they’re being kept—or give me the location of the Gravehold and I’ll get him myself.’
‘All this is hinging on the assumption that Fallon hasn’t handed the files over yet.’
‘We need to get a message to the Schiehallion as soon as possible.’
Gallows nodded. ‘Okay, say Lockwood gets the files and say you get close enough to Thackeray—how do you take him out of the game?’
‘We’ll need a distraction.’ From his drawer, Damien produced several small devices and placed them on the desk. Each one was the size of a small coconut. ‘Bombs.’
Gallows’ eyebrow shot up. ‘Blowing him up is a hell of a distraction.’
‘Flash bombs.’
Gallows picked one up and examined it; it it weighed next to nothing. Snaking wires ran around i
ts circumference in bright red and yellow, for purposes Gallows could only guess at. It didn’t look like any explosive he had seen before.
‘They’re of my own design,’ Damien explained, as if reading Gallows’ mind.
‘Okay, so you stun him. And I’ll what, hang out backstage with the most famous singer in the world?’
‘Yes. The opera house’s power supply is located directly beneath the floor there.’
‘Huh? How the hell do you know that?’
‘When I moved here I memorised the blueprints of every major structure in Dalthea.’
‘That ain’t creepy at all.’
‘When the performance commences and the house lights dim, I’ll get into position. Prior to the intermission, I’ll neutralise his entourage and stun him—you cut the power. In the confusion, I’ll escape with Thackeray.’
‘…How long have you been planning this?’
‘Only since we started discussing it.’
‘That ain’t creepy at all.’
Was this really happening? Were they really sitting there, planning a kidnapping ploy in front of thousands of people?
‘We’ll be ruining a lot of rich folks’ evening out,’ said Gallows. ‘Always a bonus. Then what?’
Damien’s pen danced on the paper. ‘We have to get him from the ground to Commander Lockwood. We won’t be able to secure an airship.’
‘You’ve got grapnel gear.’
‘The Schiehallion will be too far.’
‘The sewers? Commandeer a motorcarriage?’
‘There are too many checkpoints still on the streets. Yes, the sewers might be the best route out of the opera house. In fact, there is street and sewer access via the basement underneath the stage. Performers use it to leave incognito when fans congregate outside—it will be ideal to escape the premises, but no use in getting Thackeray to Lockwood.’
‘We’ll figure something out.’
Damien held up a hand. ‘Someone’s coming.’
‘You know, I’ll never be cool with your weird super senses.’
‘She’s scared.’
‘Who is?’
The door crashed inward.
‘Gallows,’ breathed Valentine. She was still in her torn and dirty military garb, her flame-coloured hair matted and tangled. ‘We’re in trouble.’
‘Belios!’ Gallows shot to his feet. ‘You okay?’ He tried to guide her to his chair, but she batted his arms away.
‘I’m fine.’ She produced a bundle of papers from her rucksack and threw it onto the desk.
Gallows recognised them straight away. ‘The files,’ said Gallows.
‘Mathieson’s notes. All of ’em.’ Valentine leaned against the wall, perspiration coating her skin. ‘They’ve got Fallon.’
‘Yeah, we know—we were just talking about saving his ass.’
‘You’re hurt,’ observed Damien.
‘I can look after myself,’ she said. ‘If they’ve got him, they’ll get us.’
‘We’re working on it. How’d you get the files?’
‘When I heard he was arrested, I went to the garrison.’ She panted between words. ‘Assholes were turnin’ his office over. The Watch don’t know shit, bunch of kids playing soldiers, tearin’ everything apart.’
‘But you found it first?’
‘Yeah. After we got back into the city, he told me where was gonna hide it all—a loose floorboard in the garrison library. He put ’em in a Captain Crimsonwing dust jacket. Said he’s been using it as a dead drop for years.’ Her skin turned white and she lost her balance. Gallows didn’t hear Damien move when he caught her. ‘Sturrock… always liked those stupid books…’
‘Tyson, my medical bag.’
‘I’m fine, damn it!’ Valentine pushed herself away from Damien. ‘Took a beating but the guys who did it won’t be movin’ any time soon.’
Damien looked her over. ‘No broken bones, light bruising on the ribs and back of the skull. At least take some painkillers.’
She took a seat in the chair Gallows had vacated. ‘Cowards blackjacked me.’
‘Yes, the Watch are fond of that,’ Damien said. ‘Were you followed?’
‘Nah, but I don’t reckon that’ll matter much.’ Gallows passed Valentine a bottle of painkillers. ‘Tell me y’all got water.’
‘Yes,’ confirmed Damien.
‘My day’s looking up already.’
Gallows flicked through the files. ‘Yeah, ours too.’
‘Not for long.’ Valentine swallowed more pills than could be considered healthy. ‘Reckon they’ll come here looking for ya.’
‘Reckon they will,’ agreed Gallows.
Valentine mopped sweat from her forehead. ‘So, we’re definitely gonna take Pyron Thackeray out, right?’
Gallows looked from Damien to Valentine. ‘Uh, not exactly.’
‘We need a plan,’ Valentine announced an hour later.
‘We need three plans, ten escape routes, a month to organise ’em and a shitload of luck.’
‘Gee, Gallows, when you put it like that, kidnapping the Prime Councillor does seem a mite foolish.’
‘Ssh! You want people to hear?’
They sat in the Elmheart Café, one of the few shops still open on Elmwood Arcade. It used to be a decent bar, before alcohol was prohibited outside guild houses to save on water. Gallows had yet to decide if that particular law was worth it.
Valentine waved a hand around. ‘We’re the only ones here.’
They’d chosen a booth in the rear corner, facing the entrance at Gallows’ behest. Its seats were made of old, cracked red leather. Identical booths skirted the edges of the room and a smattering of tall, round tables dotted the rest of the floor. Sitting in full view of the café’s rotating door and large, inviting windows made him uncomfortable—and did nothing to mask the drone of a nearby Info Tower. He couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched.
‘You’re risking a lot for Fallon,’ he said.
‘So’re you, sugar.’
‘Yeah, well, we go back.’
‘That a fact?’ Valentine reclined in her seat. ‘He knows how to pick ’em.’
Gallows didn’t disagree. ‘How did you end up on his unit?’
‘He got me out of a psych ward.’
‘Always a good start to a story.’
‘I was stationed in Tura before it burned. The Idari had some fire-breathin’ siege engine. Death everywhere. I saw kids burn. The Idari were merciless—folk surrendered and they cut ’em down like they were nothin’. And there wasn’t a damn thing I could do.
‘So when we got back, I blamed my CO for not evacuating the civvies fast enough. He disagreed. Pulled a knife on me.’ Valentine tapped the scar on her cheek. ‘Knocked out three of his teeth. He got his revenge by getting the white coats to drag me away. Missed out on kicking Idari ass at home because of that dickhead.’
‘But Fallon got you out.’
‘Sure did. Read my file and took a shine to me. Got me out and put me to work.’
‘He does attract the outsiders.’
‘He likes them that think outside the box. Used to talk about you. Said you was some kind of grave robber.’
‘I was a treasure hunter.’
She arched an eyebrow.
‘Was out in some Godsforsaken corner of the world once,’ started Gallows. ‘Ran into Fallon. His unit had been killed rescuing civilians from a warlord—the same warlord who hired me to find a precious trinket. He told me his story. I switched sides. The warlord died. And Fallon was impressed by how easy it is for me to piss people off.’
‘So you were a thief.’
‘Sometimes,’ Gallows admitted. ‘Officially I hauled cargo.’
‘You got a pilot’s licence?’
‘Yeah. But after Amberfire Night… Well. That’s a different story.’
Damien approached carrying a tray with three cups of steaming coffee. He was the only one with water tokens.
Gallows’ hands
wrapped around the hot ceramic cup. He muttered his thanks and sipped.
‘Still think we’d be better pluggin’ him,’ said Valentine.
‘No.’ Damien produced a notebook from his holdall bag. In their haste to leave the office before the Watch tore in, he’d packed it with numerous supplies for their mission. All Gallows had on him was his knife and shortsword, but he figured he didn’t need much more.
Damien tore a fresh page from the notebook and mapped out a rough sketch of the opera house.
‘The basement can be accessed beneath the main stage here,’ Damien said, marking it on his map, ‘and from there, you can get to the power supply.’
‘Can’t you just K.O. Thackeray so Gallows can help me with the escape? It’s gonna get dicey out there. I could use someone watching my back.’
‘I am good,’ stated Damien without sounding boastful, ‘but not that good. If I could control every element of this operation, I would do it on my own. But I cannot—all it would take is a wayward glance to see me, even during the performance. We need to be fast and efficient, and the only way to do that is for me to carry out my objective in total darkness.’
‘Agreed,’ said Gallows. And you also want me out the way so I ain’t tempted to cut Thackeray’s throat. ‘It’d be handy to have Genevieve’s schedule. Let’s hope she ain’t one of those divas who needs a costume change for every tune.’
‘I’ll request that information,’ said Damien, making a note. ‘Lance Corporal-’
‘My name’s Nyrita. Don’t reckon I can consider myself “Lance Corporal” any more.’
‘Nyrita? As in-’
‘“Daughter of Nyr”. Yeah, I ain’t a fan either. Forget it, honey, just call me Valentine.’
‘Ah. Well, as it happens, you’re going to have to play the soldier for a spell longer. Tell me, can you drive a motorcarriage?’
They talked for over an hour, planning the best way to get Thackeray out of the opera house and aboard the Schiehallion; what Valentine would need to do to secure a vehicle; how Gallows would need to stay away from the Watch—and Kirivanti.
Damien, as the architect, made it sound easy, as though overthrowing the government was as conversational as the local streetball results—or whatever sports the upper classes were into.
Symphony of the Wind Page 37