The Quarrygate Gambit, page 22
KILL THEM ALL, the beast roared while Asti choked. Asti tamped down, keeping a hold on its chain just as much as the chain was holding him. Then Asti was put back on his feet.
“Now, we see you’ve messed with your chain, Tacklin, well . . . you’ll be wishing for the pull then.”
“Noted,” Asti said.
The guards left and the door slammed shut and latched. On this side, there was nothing even to use to open it. No handle, no lock, nothing to work with at all. Well designed, Asti had to give them credit for that. There was just a slot big enough for a meal tray, and maybe Asti could get his arm through there. But after that, he had no idea. He’d have to work to figure out the next steps to get out of this.
“Sorry to keep you from your little friend,” the guard said through the slot.
“That guy?” Asti said. A quick plan formed—if this was a ploy against him, the best thing for Almer would be for Asti to distance himself. “We were just assigned to a cleaning job together. Never saw him before yesterday.”
“Well, today’s the last day you might see anyone new,” the guard said. “That is, until it’s time for you to go to Fort Olesson.”
Asti had heard of that place: a prison north of Maradaine, high up in cliff country. Only the worst of the worst are sent there, usually for crimes against crown, kingdom, or archduchy. And the folks who go there never come out. Asti had never heard of an escape from there. Not once.
“In the meantime,” the guard said. “Enjoy the stay.”
Chapter 21
THERE WAS NO GAUGING TIME in the cell on Ward Twelve. No sunlight, no nightfall, not even a lamp-out call to give a sense of nighttime. There were lamps, somehow positioned in a series of niches at the corners of the ceiling, always burning. However the oil was refilled, Asti couldn’t see. He was actually impressed by the clever design of it, but he wasn’t able to get close enough to sate his curiosity of how it worked. The chain on his collar was loose enough to give him freedom to walk about the room, but he knew eyes were on him through the door slot, and he didn’t plan on risking the wrath of the pull until he needed to test something.
So it was him, alone in a small cell, just with dim lamplight, nothing to occupy him but his own thoughts.
The beast would just growl in his mind, but as the uncountable hours passed, it grew louder.
“Looks like you’ve really misjudged this whole situation.”
Liora had manifested from his mind again. She had been, since the whole encounter with the Brotherhood and Saint Bridget’s Square, been relatively dormant—just a flash out of the corner of his eye most of the time. Not making herself seen or heard, but a gentle awareness that she was quiet, not gone.
“Hush,” he said.
“You wanted to get more information, ride it through to find out what’s going on,” she said. “And now, here you are. Trapped in more of a cage than he is. You might as well let him free, it wouldn’t be any worse.” She pointed to the corner of the room, where the beast was also made manifest. Like Asti himself, but red-faced, hair and beard in shambles, chained up in a lockjacket in the corner. Seething.
“Hush,” Asti said.
“You really thought you could be on top of the situation, but you didn’t even know what the situation was. You thought you were the player when it looks like you and the others were just pieces on the board. Someone else’s game of doubleback and you’re a sacrifice ploy.”
“Why are you even here?”
“You know why,” she told him. “You know perfectly well that cells like this? They’re designed to break wills. Yours was already broken, and here we are. You’re here with me, and with them.”
“Door’s going to open. Slit all the throats!” the beast howled.
“This is not the time,” Asti said.
“You’ve got nothing but time.”
He needed to think things through, decide the next course of action, and thinking with a clear head wasn’t going to happen with the two of them being so damn vocal. Still, he had to figure out who did this to all of them, and why, and what he was going to do about it.
Suddenly the chain pulled up, taking Asti onto his toes. He coughed and tried to hold himself up so he wouldn’t choke.
The door opened, and one guard came in with a long pole. He stretched out the pole and hooked it onto Asti’s collar. “Got him.”
“Understood.” The chain got release and Asti’s feet were back on the floor.
“Come on,” the guy with the pole said, and pulled Asti along with it. Once he was out the door, another guard with a pole came along and hooked it onto Asti’s collar as well. Both of them were able to move Asti around while keeping him ten feet away.
“Nice and easy, Tacklin,” one guard said. “Don’t try anything.”
A third guard came behind Asti and disconnected the chain.
“So what’s this?” Asti asked.
“We’re going to go for a walk,” the guard in front of him said. “Come on.”
Asti was dragged along to a circular chamber with a bit of sunlight. Looking up, it was a high tunnel up to the top, like they were in the bottom of a large well. A large shaft was erected in the center of the room, and another man with a chained collar was attached to the shaft with a pole. He was walking in a circle, one deliberate step at a time. As he passed, the guards connected the end of one pole to the shaft.
“Start walking,” the guard ordered. “Stretch your legs.”
Asti did as commanded, while the guards stepped clear so they were out of reach for him and the other fellow.
“Keep pace,” the guard said. “You two better not get too close.” Several guards surrounded them, all with crossbows, to emphasize why they better not.
“Of course,” the other prisoner said. “First walk?”
“Just arrived,” Asti said. “How long have you been down here?”
“Lost track of the exact time,” the man said. Asti watched the way he walked—with precision, with total control over his body. “But I think it’s been one hundred forty-five days since I was assigned to this Ward. Is it Alasim the 19th?”
“That’s a good count of time for no daylight.” Asti said. “I’ve may have lost a day in the mix but I think you’re right.”
“I value precision, as best I can,” the man said. “Though I am still waiting for my trial. It is apparently taking a long time to organize.”
“Six months is quite a long time.”
“Don’t know why you’re eager for the trial, Pell,” a guard said. “They’ll just ship you up to Olesson for it.”
“The trial,” Pell—as he was apparently named—said, “will not be about whether I did the acts I am accused of. There is no denial of that. It will be about if I was right.”
“Pell,” Asti said, memory clicking. He remembered what he had read in the newssheets, even if the westtown sheets didn’t cover it too much. “You’re the one who assaulted the Parliament floor.” Tharek Pell managed to kill a few members of Parliament, hold the whole floor hostage.
“I spoke for the people,” Pell said. “Instead of those who had no right to hold them down.”
“You two should get along great,” the guard said. “Tacklin here is with the Corvian Liberation Front.”
Pell looked at Asti, narrowing his eyes. “No, he isn’t.”
“That’s what he’s here for,” the guard said.
“That’s what they say I’m here for,” Asti reiterated.
“But it’s a lie,” Pell said. “And not your lie. Interesting.”
“That’s enough,” a guard said, and a pole hooked Pell’s collar. “You’ll come quietly.”
“I always do,” Pell said. “If a day comes when I decide not to, Nisterly, I’ll tell you beforehand so you can take Absolution first.”
“Such a joker,” Nisterly said. Pell was unhooked from the walking shaft and led away.
“Now, he’s interesting,” Liora said, walking along with Asti. “Makes you wonder why a man like him, and a man like you, are being kept here. There must be a reason, no?”
She was taunting him. But she wasn’t wrong.
* * *
More time had passed, and Asti only had the fact that he slept and was fed again as an indicator that it was a new day. After he had finished the meal—every meal down here had been oats and bread with fruit preserves, so there was no gauging time but what they fed him—they gave his collar another pull. A sign they were coming in to fetch him again.
He let them proceed without any struggle or trouble, as the guards came in and shackled his arms behind him. Points were clicking together in his head, an idea forming that he did not like the shape of. As the guards took him down the hall, he was focused on the detail that stood out most immediately: each meal down here had been substantial. Oats, bread, and preserves were nothing special, but every other time he had been locked up by someone, he was fed just enough to keep him alive.
Down here, he was fed well enough to stay strong. He was being encouraged to move. To stay active, limber. They had him and the other prisoners under tight control, but there was a purpose to that control.
“What’s today’s exercise, gentlemen?” he asked.
“Keeping your mouth shut,” one guard said.
“Oh, I’m not good at that one,” Asti said.
“Learn,” the guard said as he opened an iron door. Asti was unceremoniously shoved inside, and the door latched shut.
Another cell, this one with heavy concrete walls, and an ironwork lattice splitting the room in half. Asti got on his feet best he could as the door on the other side of the lattice opened up, and a man walked in. A man who, as soon as Asti saw him, confirmed the suspicion that had been growing in the back of his head. Of course he was behind this.
Major Grieson of Druth Intelligence.
“You’re looking hearty, Rynax,” he said.
“You’re looking like I should shove something sharp in your eye,” Asti said.
“You’ve got every reason to be upset,” Grieson said, starting to pace on his side of the room. Asti, with no bidding from the beast in his skull, started working on his shackles. He could get his way out of them, given enough time. After that, getting at Grieson was a challenge. The lattice had enough holes to see through, to talk to each other, but the holes were too small to even get a hand through. And it didn’t look like it was designed to be opened at all.
A perfect room to talk to someone who wanted to kill you.
“So you chose your venue wisely,” Asti said, trying to work his thumbs to free himself. “It will be quite the challenge to kill you from here.”
“You really shouldn’t kill me, Asti,” Grieson said. “As much as you might want to.”
“I really want to.”
“I believe it,” Grieson said.
“You arranged the arrest. Put me down here. Verci and the others up there in the main prison.”
“Correct,” Grieson said.
Asti kicked at the iron lattice, really only hurting his foot in the process. Solid metalwork, no obvious weakness to it. “How rutting dare you?”
Grieson sighed, a heavy, weary sigh. “Because I’m absolutely desperate.”
That was not what Asti expected. He had expected swagger, gloating. Or at least confidence. There was none of that. Though Grieson was an expert at playing a mark, it’s what made him such a notable spy.
“You, desperate?” Asti asked. “How so?”
“How much do you hear from the Office?” Grieson asked.
“Nothing,” Asti said. “You made sure of that.”
“I had nothing to do with your ouster, Asti,” Grieson said. “And months ago I did everything I could to help you and your friends. I pulled strings I didn’t even know I had. Do you know what it takes to get an illiterate street girl into U of M?”
“She’s not illiterate.”
“As far as the college was concerned, she might as well—that doesn’t matter. I did you all favors, and I didn’t have to. If I had known what was coming, I wouldn’t have use my flex that way. I’d have more left for right now.”
“Your acting like you don’t have flex? You’ve got me locked up!”
“Let me explain,” Grieson said.
“Sure,” Asti offered. Time to crack his thumb out of joint, get his hand out of the shackle. What he’d do after that, he had no idea, but one step at a time. “Tell me why you wrecked my life, as well as Verci and the rest.”
“If things go well, in a few days, the mistaken identity will be cleared up, and everyone will be set free. No one the worse.”
“You don’t think even a few days in here is for the worse? For someone like Julien? Pilsen?”
“Believe me that I brought the absolute minimum I felt I needed to insure your cooperation. I could have also dragged the ladies into this.”
“My cooperation? That’s what you want?”
“That’s what I need, Asti,” Grieson said.
“Why the blazes do you need me? I’m not in Intelligence anymore.”
“Nor am I, really,” Grieson said.
That got Asti to stop forcing his thumb.
“Then what the blazes is this?”
“This?” Grieson asked, gesturing to the room. “All of this is the Ward Twelve Project. Not on any books or reports, so when I . . .”
“You’ve were ousted,” Asti said, realizing the truth.
“I smelled the wind and went dark,” Grieson said. “Altarn has her grasp over the entire Colonel’s Table, nearly all of Intelligence now. And she is tied to something rancid.”
“Rancid how?”
“That business with the Brotherhood you unearthed?” Grieson asked. “I’m certain her fingers are in that. And she’s had Liora in her pocket all this time.”
“Blazes,” Asti said. “But that doesn’t sound like my problem.”
“It very much is, even if you don’t realize it. I need to get myself in a position to move against her, or we’re all in danger. So my access to this project, the prisoners in Twelve, and the systems in place to put someone I needed in here? Those were the only cards I had to play.”
“Then you played them stupidly,” Asti said. “I am not here to be your playing piece—”
“I said if all goes well, Verci and the others walk free in a few days. If not, there will be a mountain of evidence against the Corvia Seven.”
“You wouldn’t,” Asti said. Now he popped his thumb out of joint, and used the angry words to cover up his wince.
“If I have to, I don’t want to.”
“You don’t have to,” Asti said.
“So you’ll cooperate,” Grieson said.
“Why the blazes are you doing this to me?”
“For one, because you’ve already tangled with the fellow I’m sending you after. I need your experience.”
“I’m sure you have plenty of people who have that experience.”
“I don’t, not that I can trust.”
Asti wished he didn’t understand what that meant. “You can’t trust anyone in the Office right now. So, because I’m out . . .”
“I know where you stand. And . . .” Grieson moved a bit closer to the lattice work and tapped his skull. “Because of what’s up here.”
“You mean . . . what the blazes do you mean?”
“I mean, Asti, there are other things that aren’t on any books or reports. And one of the most important ones, one of the most dangerous ones . . . it’s in your head. And I only know that you have it in there, I don’t even know exactly what it is.”
“Why . . .” Asti didn’t even know what to say to that. “How can you stand there and know that?”
“Secrets are the job.”
“I left that job. I have a normal life, and a plan to—”
“I know about your plans. I gave you your normal life. Same with all your friends. You get me through this, everyone walks out back to them.”
Asti pulled his hands free, and in a quick, fluid move, jumped forward while he painfully snapped his thumb back into place.
“When I get my hands on you, Grieson, I will—” He grabbed the lattice, and when he did, felt a jolt course through his body.
“I know you will, which is why you never can, Asti,” Grieson said. “Instead you’re going to be part of the Ward Twelve Project. You’ll take your team on this mission, and do it clean and quiet, and when it’s done, everyone goes home.”
“And then I tear out your throat,” Asti said, pulling himself to his feet. Saints above, that hurt.
“If you still want to then, I’ll understand. But you are going to do this for me.” He went back to his door and knocked it twice. “For what it’s worth, while I need you for this mission, and will use your brother and your friends as leverage until it’s done . . . I truly am sorry about this.”
The door opened and Grieson walked out. Asti, left alone in his side of the cell, howled in futile rage.
* * *
Asti woke up, bound to a chair. He didn’t even recall falling asleep, or where he was when he did so. When had he left that meeting cell with Grieson? He didn’t even recall. He had lost time in there, and that unsettled him even more.
Which, given that he was bound to a chair, alone in a large circular room, was saying something.
Another chair was rolled in by a pair of guards, this one with Tharek Pell bound to it.
“Is this typical?” Asti asked him. “A usual evening in Ward Twelve?”
“I’m not certain of the time,” Tharek said. “But this is a new experience for me.”
“Not for me.” This came from the next person being wheeled in, a Lyranan woman of indeterminate age. “Third time for this particular arrangement.”
“Arrangement?” Asti asked.
“It’s so much fun,” the Lyranan woman said. She looked to Tharek. “You know him?”
“They say his name is Tacklin,” Tharek said. “I doubt that’s true.”
“What do they have you for?” Asti asked her.
“Espionage against the crown, murder, attempted murder, and executing a jailbreak.”
