The Quarrygate Gambit, page 21
“You might think you’re so clever, Tacklin, but like your brother, once you’re down here, there is nowhere else to go. You’re not going to be in the open air again.”
The door opened, not a guard.
“Listen,” the man who opened the door said in a rush, barely even looking at them. “Nothing you’re doing matters right now, I need you to get Indlen Tack—oh, I see.” He grabbed Verci by the front of his coat and dragged him through. “Well done.” He slammed the door on the guard’s face.
Verci knew exactly who this man was. Major Grieson, Asti’s former boss from Druth Intelligence.
“Grieson,” Verci said as he whipped off the irons. He immediately used them to clock the spymaster across his perfect jaw.
“Hey!” Grieson said, clutching his face and staggering back. “You’ve got every reason to clock me, but—”
“You did this?” Verci roared. “When I’m done with you—”
“Asti needs you!” Grieson said, holding up his hands. “He’s in deadly danger, and only you can save him!”
“Why should I believe you?” Verci asked.
“If you believe nothing else, believe this,” Grieson said. “Possibly the most important thing in this city is Asti, and we have to save him. So let’s not waste any more time.”
“Fine,” Verci said. “Is he down here?”
“No,” Grieson said. “He and Cort . . .”
“Almer is with him?”
“They’re both . . .” He trailed off, and Verci understood.
“They’re both outside these walls,” Verci said. Grieson nodded. “Then let’s go. And if they’re hurt, or already dead, no saint or sinner in the canon will save you.”
Part Three
The Ward Twelve Project
Chapter 20
Seven days ago . . .
“ALL RIGHT, TACKLIN, THAT LOWER bunk is yours,” the guard said pointing to the one in the dank corner of the cell. The cramped room had four double bunks, and while there was only one other prisoner in here right now, it was clear that with Asti and Almer, it was now a full cell. “And that top one over there is yours, Dale.”
“Dale, right,” Almer said. He stumbled over to the bunk and gracelessly scrambled to the top.
“What are you doing?” the guard asked, kicking the bed.
“You said this was my bunk.”
“It’s also daylight, Dale,” the guard said. “You think you’re getting in it right now? You think it’s naptime? You want me to bring you a warm milk, too?”
“Easy,” Asti said.
The guard stormed over to Asti, towering over him in a way he probably thought was intimidating. “You got something to say, Tacklin?”
The beast in his skull gave several colorful suggestions, all of which were certain to start a beating. Not that Asti couldn’t have this guard, who clearly thought too highly of himself, kissing the floor in two heartbeats. But doing that wouldn’t help anyone.
“It’s his first time in a place like this,” Asti said. “He doesn’t know the run of it.”
“But you’re an old hand, hmm?”
“I’ve a familiarity,” Asti said. This place was a luxury suite compared to the Poasian prison he had been tortured in.
“Then keep your dog in line,” the guard said. “Snocker!”
The other resident of the room, who was lying on the bunk over Asti’s, made a noncommittal noise.
“I’ve got better things to do, so take the fresh boys around the ward, make sure they know the rules.”
Snocker slinked off the bunk, landing on the ground almost silently. “What’s in it for me?”
“Not getting your tenders cracked with a hammer.”
“Well, that’s a tough choice, then,” Snocker said. On the guard’s glare, he added, “Joking, man, calm your toes. Scatter to your better things.”
The guard stalked off.
“Well, new boys,” Snocker said. “Welcome to Ward Four, it’s just like the other wards, all terrible. You’re Tacklin and Dale?”
“Sure,” Asti said. “That’s it.”
Snocker laughed. “Oh, it’s going to be like that? Jolly. Anyhow, here’s our bunkroom. The other boys are on their work details.”
“Not you, though?” Almer asked, coming down off the bunk.
“I convinced someone else to take my work today,” Snocker said. “I can be very convincing when I want to.”
“We have that in common,” Asti said.
“I bet you can be, hmm,” Snocker said. He led them out of the bunkroom. “We’re up at five bells, when they do the full bunk check. Here’s the water closet, and keeping that clean is one of the work details. The worst, and since your new boys, you’ll probably get it.”
“Fair,” Almer said. Asti was actually surprised how well Almer was taking things right now. Kennith and Julien, from what he saw, were rightly upset, and Vellun seemed on the verge of a complete breakdown. Pilsen, Asti feared, didn’t even seem to be fully understanding what was happening. Verci surely had his hands full keeping them together.
Why did they split them up, and why like this? What was the scheme here?
“After count, we’re at breakfast with Wards One through Three at seven bells. You sit with the rest of your bunkroom, so you get to see me.”
“When does Ward Seven eat?” Asti asked.
“You got a little friend in Seven?” Snocker asked. “You won’t see him. Wards Five through Eight eat at eight bells, and then Nine through Eleven—that’s the ladies’ wards—they’re at nine bells. You don’t see anyone in other wards unless you get kitchen work detail. And they don’t give that to no one new anymore.”
Snocker had led them through a meal hall, to an open yard where several prisoners were milling about in various small groups. And around the yard, on upper walls, were a lot of guards with crossbows. And even more in the yard.
“Security here is more intense than I would have guessed,” Asti said.
“Yeah, there was a breakout a little ways back,” Snocker said.
“Really?” Almer asked. “You know how they managed?”
“They all worked the kitchen, and one of them mixed up something that blew up the wall, and something else to make the guards sick.”
Asti glanced at Almer, mouthing, “Could you?”
Almer shrugged. “From stuff in a kitchen? Probably.”
“And that’s why ain’t no one new getting kitchen duty no more. And now the guards are absolute hawks,” Snocker said. “Dinner call for us is four bells, and then its full dark and bunk at nine bells.”
“Early for my taste,” Asti said.
“And mine, but the guards do not take being out of bunk lightly. You gotta drain your whistle in the middle of the night, you’re better off just doing it in the corner.”
“Is that why it smells that way?” Asti asked.
“You better believe it,” Snocker said. “You know those fellas? They look like they know you?”
Asti saw where he was pointing, a half-dozen fellows—kids, really—all giving their full attention to Asti and Almer. Hard glares. Asti didn’t quite know why.
“They seem to have us clocked,” Asti told Almer. “You know why?”
“Yeah,” Almer said. “Three of those boys were in the group you thrashed in my shop the night of the fire.”
“I didn’t exactly remember their faces,” Asti said. He had been in a complete state, the beast had taken over. It’s a miracle three of them managed to survive.
“But by the look of them, they remember ours,” Almer said. “And hope to settle the score.”
* * *
Asti made no argument when Almer volunteered them for the worst cleaning duties. It was a good way to find an advantage in the prison. The tasks were vile, but brought them to other parts of Quarrygate, and it put them in the supply room, with bleach and vinegar and whatever else what used. Asti marked the wall, hoping Verci would spot it, hoping Verci would have the same idea.
He also hoped Almer could work some miracle with access to chemicals.
“We’ll see,” Almer said as they were led down one dank corridor. “But they are keeping a real close eye on everything in there. Every jar and bottle was marked or nocked.”
“See what you can figure out,” Asti said.
“What I figured out was volunteering us for the worst cleaning job they had to do. That’s what I told the guard.”
“So how bad is the worst one?”
“So here it is, boys,” the guard leading them said as he approached a door. “Ward Three. It’s been empty for about a month now.”
“Why is that?” Asti asked as the guard opened the door. The stench hit them like a brick to the face.
The guard covered his face with a cloth. “So we had a breakout last month, you might have heard.”
“There’s been rumors.”
“Don’t get any ideas, friend,” the guard said. “But they used some smoke or magic or such that made everyone puke out something harsh. And not, like, normal vomit, no. Nastiest stuff you ever saw. We just evacuated the ward and put people elsewhere. And no one has cleaned it up since, but you boys get to.”
“Happy to,” Almer said. He didn’t even cover his mouth. Asti couldn’t even imagine how Almer could stand the stench.
“Now, boys,” the guard said. “I’m sure your attention will be drawn to that giant hole in the wall. You might even have a temptation to avail yourself of it. I will tell you, I got five boys with crossbows stationed outside it who will happily use you for target practice if you step a toe too far out.”
“Yes, sir,” Asti said.
The guard waved them through and stayed on the other side of the doorway.
“You volunteered us for this?” Asti asked. “How are you not retching?”
“This isn’t the worst I’ve smelled,” Almer said. “But I wanted us in here because I figured it would so vile the guards wouldn’t stick around. Giving us an uninterrupted, unsupervised job.”
“Good thinking,” Asti said, as he noted the great hole in the wall, with only a tacked-up piece of sailcloth to cover it. He wondered if they actually had the crossbowmen outside or that was just a threat to keep folks in line. Not that Asti wanted to test that theory right now, but if they needed to plan an escape, the hole already blown into a stone wall was a good place to start.
“Also, the nastier the thing to clean, the harsher chemicals they might offer to clean it. It gives me options.”
“You really are thinking,” Asti said.
“I may not have the streetwise that you and your brother have,” Almer said. “But back in school I was quite adept at getting away with things under the nose of institutional scrutiny. And there is the question of, is this Orritan Dale persona I’ve been assigned also an apothecarial expert, or are our jailers ignorant of what I can do?”
“What they know and don’t know is an excellent question,” Asti said, keeping his sleeve over his nose. “Honestly, how can you stand it?”
“Get used to these things,” Almer said. He put down the buckets and knelt down next to the dried, caked-over mess on the floor and wall. “I’m impressed, I didn’t think they human body made liquids this color.”
“I’m going to find a water-closet tap,” Asti said. “Certainly not going to get far with this stuff caked over.”
Asti went off around the corner, noting that at no point did the smell diminish. It was like it was baked into the walls. Whoever it was that put together this breakout, he’d tip his hat to them, if they didn’t burn the whole path for everyone behind them. But perhaps the showmanship was the point.
After going down a few hallways, Asti found a working water closet and started filling the buckets. Hopefully Almer was right, and doing this was the opportunity he thought it could be. They needed to get on top of what was happening, get in touch with Verci and the others, find out why they had been targeted for this. There was no way this was some innocent mistaken identity, but playing along with that idea might be the best way out. Keep every option open for now.
“Well, well, it is the chemist.”
“It is him, indeed.”
“Fancy seeing you here, man.”
The voices echoed down the halls, from however far away he had left Almer.
“You all can’t be here,” Almer’s voice. Asti was already running.
“We can be where we want,” one of others said. “That guard does us favors.”
“And we’ve got a score to settle.”
“Asti!” Almer screamed.
Asti rounded the corner to see four Scratch Cats surrounding Almer.
“We remember when our boys got killed in your shop,” one of them was saying, brandishing a makeshift knife.
“Then you should remember me,” Asti snarled, and he leaped on that one, hooking one arm around his neck and grabbing his wrist with the other. He brought down the man’s wrist onto his knee while pulling him in a tighter choke, forcing him to drop the knife. “I’m the one who killed your friends that night.”
Asti stepped on the knife while spinning the guy to one side, using him to block a blow from one of his friends.
“Run,” Asti told Almer, as he delivered a number of punches in the first guy’s back, and then pushing him on two of his friends. Then he scooped up the knife—really just a jagged piece of metal with a bit of cloth wrapped around it—and drove it into the belly of the one of them who was still standing.
Almer was running, out of the way of the fight, as Asti put down one of the other boys, then the next. The last one scrambled to his feet and started to run.
Destroy him, the beast said. Let me kill him.
Asti held on to the chain keeping the beast at bay. He wasn’t about to let it free for a simple fight like this. He grabbed the boy trying to run and slammed him against the wall. “Who are you all? Why are you coming for us?”
“We just wanted the chemist! That was what we wanted!”
“Who sent you?”
“No one, man, no one!”
“Asti!” Almer shouted. Asti looked over and saw two guards had pinned him to the floor, ironing him up.
“On the ground, prisoner!”
Kill them all! Get out of here!
Asti couldn’t let himself listen to the beast, not now. He stepped away from the Scratch Cat kid and got down on the ground.
Three more guards swarmed Asti, all of them holding him down and ironing him behind his back. The other guard in the hallway barely paid the Scratch Cats on the ground any mind. Once Asti was secured, they hauled him to his feet and dragged him along, and brought Almer along right behind.
“Looks like the two of you are real trouble,” one guard said. “And the ones who are real trouble get sent down to Ward Twelve. Hope you boys like it.”
* * *
“Welcome to Ward Twelve, boys, you’re going to like it down here.”
Down was the operative word. Asti hadn’t gotten any sense of the full layout of Quarrygate Prison, but they had definitely taken him down several levels underground to bring him to Ward Twelve.
“So what makes Ward Twelve so special?” he asked. It clearly was, since both he and Cort were forced into lockjackets, collared with chains, and led through several portal-lock chambers on the way down. It had taken every ounce of control Asti had to hold the beast in check while they locked him in the jacket, but he knew that as bad as this was, at least right now, lashing out and killing guards would make it worse. Especially with Verci and the others hidden off somewhere else.
He was now certain this whole business was a plot against them. He imagined that if he went too far, it would cause retribution on the rest. That’s why Verci was kept separated from him with the others. Five hostages.
“Is this really appropriate?” Asti asked. “I haven’t even had a trial yet.”
“You’re not the only one down here who can say that,” the guard said. “But you showed us you’re too much of a threat to keep in general population. So Ward Twelve is for you.”
“All I did was run away from a fight,” Cort said.
“Not how we saw it,” the guard said. “Two of you started a fight and nearly killed those boys.”
“Started?” Asti asked. “They came at him, and I jumped in there to help him.”
“Neither of you has a scratch while those boys are in the infirmary. Some won’t make it. So don’t tell me they started it.”
They came to a hallway that was just a series of iron doors, each one with a guard at it.
“Two new residents!” the guard leading them said. “Which rooms are open?”
“New meat!” a woman’s voice called from behind one door.
“Hush up, or you get the pull,” the guard in front of that door said.
“Promises, promises.”
He grabbed a lever over the door and yanked it down, and the woman inside squealed and choked until he let it go and it snapped back into place.
“Three and nine are open,” the guard said casually as the woman inside was clearly sputtering and gasping for breath.
“Three and nine it is,” their own guard said. He opened up one door to a tiny cell. Moldering cot, pissbucket and, most unusual, a chain hanging from the ceiling. The guard pushed Almer inside and latched the chain to the collar on Almer’s neck. Once the chain was on, he got to work removing the lockjacket.
“This is a bit much,” Almer said as the jacket was taken off.
“Nothing is too much down here,” a guard said. “The likes of all you—”
“There are no likes of me,” a deep male voice said behind one door.
“This has to violate the Rights of Man,” Asti said.
“Oh, the Rights of Man don’t exist down here, son,” the guard said, leading him to his cell. He was latched to the chain before they took off his coat. “You’ve got all the liberty you need in this little box. Walk around as you like, but you cause trouble, you get the pull.”
Someone yanked the lever, and the chain tightened, pulling Asti an inch off the ground, dangling by his neck.
