The Quarrygate Gambit, page 23
“Could use that last one right now,” Asti said.
The next man was wheeled in—singing an old wartime tune—and when he was placed in the room, it was clear they were setting them in a circle. Then a man bound in mage shackles, twitching and ticking. Then Almer. Then an incredibly muscular Ch’omik woman.
“Jackdaw!” the singing man called out. “Good to see you’re alive. They put you down here as well?”
“Shut your face, Erno,” Jackdaw said.
“My face is never shut, though your words fiercely cut, we find ourselves in another rut . . .”
“I will cut your heart out.”
“I just think we should be happy we’re alive, old girl, to laugh and sing another day.”
“Quiet, quiet,” the twitchy man said.
“She’s just mad because we worked a beautiful escape, only to be dragged back to Quarry.”
“That was you?” Almer asked. “The chemical work in the kitchen?”
“That was Jensett, gone to the sinners,” Erno said.
“Going to send you to the sinners,” Jackdaw said.
“I did nothing to you, ma’am. We all failed.”
“Hush hush hush!” the twitchy man said. “All of your chattering.”
Almer looked across the circle at Asti, “So they dragged you into this, too, Tacklin?”
“You know him?” the Lyranan woman asked.
“We’ve met,” Asti said, hoping he was covering all his tells. “Decent carriage-man in a pinch.”
The Lyranan woman glanced back at Almer. “Must be quite the driver to end up in this mix.”
Another man walked in, not a guard, but he had an official bearing to him, despite no uniform. “All right,” he said in a rolling Waish accent. “Looks like we have seven of you here today.” He took a pouch off his belt, and emptied a number of colored crystals into his hand.
“What’s all this?” Tharek asked.
“Unpleasant,” the Lyranan woman said.
“So,” the Waish man said. “The name is Yendick, we’re all going to get to know each other very well in a moment.”
“How well?” Asti asked.
“Well enough,” Yendick said, coming up to Asti. He pressed one crystal into Asti’s sternum, and with a searing moment of heat, it stayed in place. “So welcome to the team, Marin Tacklin.”
Whatever this was, they were still using the arrested alias. Was this what Grieson wanted him to do? What was this?
Yendick then went to Tharek, attaching another crystal to him. “Tharek Pell, welcome.” Then further around the room to each one. The Lyranan woman was Pra Yikenj. Then Erno Don, the happy singer, and Kat’rick-Ra, the Ch’omik woman called Jackdaw. And the twitchy fellow was just called “Hoskins.”
Almer was still called “Orritan Dale.” Asti wasn’t sure why this whole business still maintained the fiction of their identities, or if Yendick was aware of them being fictions. For the moment, he might as well use the name Marin Tacklin.
Almer winced as Yendick attached the crystal to him. “That wasn’t that bad,” he said.
“That wasn’t the real thing,” Yikenj said.
“No, it wasn’t,” Yendick said. “That was just the priming. Now for the attuning.”
“The what?” Asti asked.
“Brace yourselves,” Yikenj said.
Yendick took the last crystal and pressed it to his own bare chest, and Asti felt the one on his chest grow hot once again. Then that searing heat spread throughout his body, every ounce of him on fire. The fire grew hotter, stronger, and it wasn’t just his body on fire anymore. It was also Yendick, shouting out in agony.
No, that agony was Asti’s. The shout was his, erupting from his own throat. Most of them were screaming, save Tharek and Yikenj, holding in their pain.
But Asti could feel it, feel how much it hurt them, just as it hurt him.
And it hurt the beast and Liora as well, as they joined in the chorus of torment.
Chapter 22
WHEN THE SEARING PAIN SUBSIDED, Asti was in another room, unshackled from the chair, now finding himself on the floor. Had it been that long? Had he blacked out from the pain?
There was still pain, but it was now a dull ache, both coming from the crystal in his chest, and a throbbing in the back of his head.
“Everyone make it through that?” Yendick asked. He was still standing in the center of the room, and the rest of the folks—the other prisoners, Asti reminded himself—were all on the floor like Asti.
“You’re a right bastard,” Jackdaw said. She jumped to her feet and leaped at Yendick.
“Don’t bother,” Yikenj said dismissively.
Jackdaw threw a heavy punch, the muscles on her massive arm bulging. But with her fist inches from Yendick’s face, she was frozen. She looked at her fist in disbelief.
“The blazes?” she asked.
“Good, that shows you are properly attuned,” Yendick said. He tapped at the crystal on his chest. “You are connected to me, me to you, and thus, all of us to each other.”
“What have you done?” Asti asked.
“As I said, I’ve attuned you. You’re about to go out of here on a mission, and we couldn’t exactly have you walking lose with no restriction. This keeps you in line.”
“How so?” Hoskins asked, though his attention was more on the ceiling.
“I can show you,” Yikenj said. She looked Tharek up and down. “I heard about you. You killed a marshal with a button off your coat. In my country we call that novice work.”
“Do not test me,” Tharek said.
“It’s not really a test if you aren’t going to pass,” she said. “Go on, show me how easily you could kill me.”
“You think I cannot?”
“What is this, exactly?” Almer asked.
“Go on,” Yikenj taunted.
Tharek drew back his fist for a punch, but then stopped still.
“It doesn’t work,” Yikenj said. “We cannot hurt him. We cannot hurt each other.”
“Very simple,” Yendick said.
“Magic?” Erno asked.
“That is not magic,” Hoskins said. “That is something else.”
“How do you know?” Jackdaw asked.
“Because I’m a mage, at least of sorts,” Hoskins said. Then a smile crossed his lips. “And now my friends are here.”
There was a skittering noise above them, and then three flashes of fur came out of a crack in the masonry. They dropped down and landed on Hoskins’s shoulders.
“Squirrels?” Almer asked.
“Better friends than any person I’ve met,” Hoskins said. One of the squirrels fed him a nut. “Yes, thank you, Jandie.”
“You just let that go in your mouth, then,” Erno said. “Squirrel put a nut in your mouth, and you’re all right with it.”
Asti turned his attention back to Tharek, who was trying to force himself to strike Yikenj, but couldn’t.
“My arm will obey! I am its master!”
“Not anymore,” Yikenj said. She wandered to the wall and pulled a loose stone out of the mortar. “Until he releases us, we cannot intentionally harm him or each other.”
She threw the stone hard, and it bounced off three walls, back to her hand. She did it again, and again, and again, and then her arm locked as she attempted a fifth throw.
“You see?” she asked. “That time I wanted to bounce it right to his head. We can’t even want to.”
Asti was impressed with her skill. She was trained in the aiken-taz, the Lyranan throwing art. The legend was that an expert could throw almost anything with deadly accuracy, make anything into a weapon, and for the very best, not even be seen throwing it. It also meant she was Lyranan Intelligence. How did she end up here?
“I refuse to accept it,” Tharek said.
“I’m with him,” Erno said.
“The door is right there,” Yendick said as he pulled a trunk to the middle of the room. “You don’t like it, leave.”
Erno went right for the door, and as soon as he was in the hallway, the dull ache in the back of Asti’s head became noticeably sharper. He winced, and tried to bear it, but it grew stronger and sharper, like a knife being driven into the base of his skull.
“The blazes?” he shouted. Everyone else—save Yendick—was reacting the same way. Even one of the squirrels had fallen to the ground grasping its head.
Yikenj stumbled to the doorway, one hand pressed to her temple. “You better get back here!” she shouted.
“Right,” Yendick said. “In addition to not being able to harm me or each other, you cannot move too far away from me, or each other.” He casually opened up the trunk and pulled out sacks.
“Erno!” Jackdaw bellowed. “Get back here!”
The pain suddenly eased a little, and then subsided back to that dull ache. Erno stumbled back into the room.
“That is some dirty cards, old boy,” he said weakly.
“So, you’re the control,” Almer said to Yendick. “You’re in charge of whatever it is we need to do?”
“I am just the leash to hold you very dangerous folks in check. I am not in charge at all.” Yendick handed a sack to each of them. “But you do have a mission to complete before I can release any of you, so please get yourself ready.”
Asti opened his sack to find a set of clothes—not his clothes, exactly, but the sort of clothes he would wear on a dangerous job. Boots that were strong enough to run in, but soft enough to move quietly when needed. Dark blue slacks and pullover, the sort that were easy to move in. Heavy leather vest with metal plating sewn in. Belt with pouches and pockets.
And many knives.
“You want us all to get dressed?” Asti asked. Yikenj had already stripped off her prisoner grays and was putting on her provided outfit, which looked like the Lyranan equivalent of the outfit provided to Asti, with a top that more like a padded caftan.
“This is a mockery,” Tharek said, pulling out his tunic. “Are you trying to insult me?”
“Never,” Yendick said.
“Then why given me a Spathian uniform?” he said, holding it up.
“You’re a Spathian?” Erno asked. He had happily stripped down to his skivs.
“I should be, but I am not. I was denied advancement.”
“Well, if you should be, looks like they’re saying so,” Erno said, taking a bow out of his sack. “You all got Callie back, I thought she was gone for good!”
“I should have guessed you named your bow,” Jackdaw said.
“And they’ve given you your delightful weapon, I see,” he retorted.
Tharek raised an appreciative eyebrow looking at Jackdaw as she drew it out of her sack. “Is that a n’disro?”
“You know what it’s called,” she said, holding the Ch’omik weapon resembling a barbed rowing oar. “Impressive.”
Tharek’s voice took on a slight softness. “May I?”
Jackdaw looked apprehensive, and then flipped the weapon over, offering the handle to him. Tharek gingerly took it from her, and held it reverently.
“The craftsmanship, the balance,” he said quietly. He spun it over in his hand, taking a few practice swings. Then he presented it handle-first back to her. “Thank you, an honor.”
“So, we’ve got me, the singing archer,” Erno said. “The ex-Spathian, the squirrel mage, a Lyranan throwing master, the Ch’omik head cleaver, mister I-have-all-the-knives.” He pointed to Asti. He then spun to Almer. “But you remain a mystery. All you have in your sack are some ordinary clothes.”
“Tacklin already told you what I do,” Almer said. “Carriage-man.”
“So this is a job with carriage?” Yikenj asked Yendick.
“I’ve not been briefed on that,” Yendick said.
“So what is the mission?” Hoskins asked. “And why would we do it?”
“You’ll do it, because if you don’t, that crystal never comes out, and you will be very unhappy when I go home.”
“And what if I figure out how to kill you?” Tharek asked.
“You’ll all have a very painful death. Please don’t. Please keep me alive as you do the job.”
“So what is the job?” Asti asked.
“I wasn’t briefed,” Yendick said. “I was just told, in terms of actually running it, you’re in charge, Tacklin.”
“Why is he in charge?” Yikenj asked.
“Because,” Grieson said as he came in the door. “He’s the one who’s tangled with the target before.”
Asti’s hand froze in place, stuck by his primal instinct to drive a blade into Grieson’s neck.
* * *
“You’ve tangled with him before?” Tharek asked Asti. “So who is it?”
“I’d like to know that myself,” Asti said. He looked pointedly at Grieson. “There’s quite a few things here that I would like to know.”
Grieson nodded and stepped to the center of the room. Asti kept trying to make his hand throw a knife into his throat, but it was clear whatever magical or mystical control these crystals had over him, that protection extended to Grieson.
“So, this city has suffered something of an infestation,” Grieson said. “A cult, known as the Brotherhood of the Nine, has infiltrated various levels of government and infrastructure. This has proven to be possibly the most dangerous threat to crown and throne.”
“Oh no,” Tharek said flatly. “A threat to the crown.”
“In fact,” Grieson said. “Their reach was able to manipulate organizations beyond the official. Who do you think was giving your man Lannic his orders, Tharek?”
“I was no one’s puppet,” Tharek said.
“Go on,” Asti said, trying not to show anything on his face of what he already knew.
Grieson took the cue. “The full extent of the Brotherhood’s influence is still unknown. We know some of the things they’ve had their fingers in. The Strephen Affair, the Dentonhill Children, the Andrendon, the Haltom’s Patriots, just to name a few.”
He had named the one that had Asti’s attention.
“But they were broken up,” Asti said.
Now everyone in the room looked at him.
“So you have dealt with this before,” Yikenj said.
“I dealt with an incident,” Asti said. “And I thought the leader was killed.”
“You do this with him?” Jackdaw asked, pointing to Almer.
“Oh, no, I wasn’t part of that,” Almer said.
Grieson coughed. “While the Brotherhood seems to have been partially crippled when their plans were routed a few months ago, it’s clear they still have gears moving throughout the city. We strongly suspect that their leader is active in the southwestern part of the city, building new members of his cult.”
Asti stepped forward. “Their leader? The Dragon?”
“The what?” Erno asked. “I . . . that’s a . . . what?”
“I agree with him,” Hoskins said, pointing to Erno. “And following that up with, I beg your pardon?”
“Do you want to explain who we’re talking about, Mister Tacklin?” Grieson asked.
“I’ll leave it to you,” Asti replied.
“We don’t know a lot about the man called Crenaxin. He was a complete mystery until recently, but the information we have indicates a man of refined knowledge and education, though we have not identified where he was educated.”
“That name is Kellirac,” Yikenj said.
“I wouldn’t swear that he is,” Asti said. “At least not by look or accent. He’s more like a North Maradaine dandy.”
“So you did encounter him,” Tharek said.
“And I thought he was dead,” Asti said.
“You didn’t make sure?” Yikenj asked.
“There really wasn’t a body,” Asti said.
“Leave him be,” Almer stressed. “He doesn’t need to explain himself here.”
Grieson coughed. “The point is, we’re seeing signs of him building a new cult, and we need him ferreted out and caught. Alive.”
“He is dangerous alive,” Asti said.
“Dangerous how?” Tharek asked.
“He can . . .” Asti wasn’t sure how to describe it. “He can speak to you, and it burrows right into your skull. And then you stop being you, but instead his puppet.”
“He did this to you?” It was Yendick who asked, looking slightly spooked.
“He tried,” Asti said. “The only reason it didn’t work was because my brain is already broken.”
“Broken?” Yikenj asked.
“Tacklin here has experience leading folks in . . . independent covert operations,” Grieson said.
“Is that a polite way of saying he’s a terrorist?” Hoskins asked. He looked over to Asti. “I mean, if so . . . respect to you.”
“Terrorist is just what they call those who fight for their truth,” Tharek said. “A truth that they are afraid of.”
“I’ve done some things under the nose,” Asti said.
“This sounds like a delight,” Erno said. “Nothing like a chance to step outside, stretch our legs, and capture an extremely dangerous man alive.”
“Besides,” Yikenj said. “We don’t have a choice.”
“You don’t,” Grieson said pointedly. “But believe me when I said, it’s what’s best for the country, for the city, and for you.” That last line was aimed at Asti.
“Follow me,” Yendick said, walking toward the door. “If you don’t, well, your head will explode.”
* * *
Yendick led them all out of the chamber, and it became clear to Asti they were no longer even in Quarrygate Prison. That chamber was a singular room built in a large, open floor.
“Did you move us once Yendick put that whammy on us?” Asti called out to Grieson.
“You were all out,” Yendick said. “It was the easiest time to get you here.”
“You wouldn’t think they’d give me this back while still inside the prison?” Jackdaw asked, holding up her weapon.
“So where are we?” Asti asked. His sense of direction and location had been upended. They were in some sort of industrial building, like an abandoned factory or warehouse.
