Shattering the Ley (27 page)

Dalton couldn’t suppress the shudder that coursed through him. Erenthrall hadn’t experienced the Hounds in force in decades, but everyone knew of the bloodshed they’d caused during Arent’s seizure of power. Entire Baronial families had been wiped out, or whittled down to only a few survivors. Like Baron Leethe.

If they’d pushed Baron Arent to that extreme, then perhaps the Kormanley had succeeded after all, even if Arent himself had not died in last night’s attack.

But it still called for drastic measures. The Dogs might not be able to trace the members of the cells, but the Hounds. . . .

And Tyrus had come straight here, to the production offices of
The Ley
.

It was time to abandon the newspaper front. Time to scatter the cells. He’d have to put the order out immediately, before the executions. And he needed to vanish.

He turned a cold eye on Tyrus, his fellow Kormanley taking an involuntary step backward. A knife rested on the edge of his desk, within easy reach. He could kill Tyrus, end at least one trail leading to him.

But no. The Dogs likely already knew about the newspaper. They’d discover he was part of the Kormanley even if they didn’t follow Tyrus’ trail here. But Tyrus would be a useful diversion. Let them hunt the clerk down while Dalton found refuge somewhere else. He wasn’t certain where, or how he would elude the Hounds—he wasn’t even certain of their abilities, his knowledge based on folklore, superstition, and rumor—but whatever time he could glean to escape would be necessary.

“Warn the others,” he said, tension in his shoulders relaxing. “Tell Calven and the rest of that cell to disperse.”

Tyrus shook his head. “No. We need to go to the Dogs right now, tell them what we were doing, tell them we were only trying to figure out who was supporting the splinter Kormanley ourselves first. It’s our only chance!”

Dalton cursed himself. He’d forgotten Tyrus wasn’t part of the splinter group.

He surged forward and grabbed Tyrus by his shirtfront, felt the gritty dried blood there grinding between his fingers as he yanked the weak clerk close. “Don’t you see? They won’t believe us. They’ll think we’re only trying to save ourselves. It’s too late to try to convince them otherwise. We have to run while we still can.”

“But—”

Dalton shook him. “Do you honestly think they’ll let you go? You forged permits to get them into Seeley Park! You planted one of their bombs on a ley barge!” He pulled Tyrus close enough that he could smell the blood and ash on his shirt. “You vouched for those who brought the carts and explosives into the Tower yesterday.”

Horror bloomed in Tyrus’ gaze, his breath catching in his throat. “But if you verify what I’m saying—”

Dalton snorted and dropped him. He’d already dismissed him from his mind. “I don’t intend to get caught.”

He left Tyrus gasping where he stood, moved into the back section of the basement, where an old fireplace had been built into the stone wall. Long dead coals were scattered in the pit, from the past winter when he’d worked late and needed the warmth—there was no ley heating down here. A small stack of wood and kindling abutted the wall.

He began building a fire.

Behind, Tyrus fidgeted, then shifted forward. “What are you doing?”

Dalton glanced over his shoulder. “I’m going to burn the newspaper’s office down. That may slow the Hounds.” His gaze narrowed. “I’d start thinking about where you intend to run if I were you.”

He turned back to the fire, used flint and crumpled paper to start the flames, shoved it beneath the wood he’d stacked, then moved toward his office. He gathered what little he thought he’d need from his files and desk into a satchel and slung it over his shoulder. When he returned to the outer room, Tyrus was gone. He grunted and began scattering sheets of parchment for the printing press about the room, stacking it near the supports of the building above, then spilled the containers of oil for his lanterns through the maze of supplies and desks, hesitating over the press itself, but ultimately splattering the oil over its intricate mechanics. He coughed as the fumes filled the room, pulled his shirt up to cover his mouth as he used a poker to scatter the now charred wood of the fire before he edged toward the stairs, making certain the flames had caught. He told himself it was the reek of oil and the smoke that caused his eyes to tear.

Ten minutes later, he stood across the street, teeth clenched, hands fisted, as the first few tendrils of smoke wafted through the cracks around the small door tucked between the shops to either side. When flames appeared, and the patrons of the two shops began pouring out onto the street, coughing, he spun and headed toward his apartments. He needed to send word to Dierdre and Darius. They hadn’t associated with any of the cells, so they should be able to go unnoticed, at least initially. They could continue their work. But he’d have to let them know he’d be gone for a while. At least until the Baron’s rage had cooled.

They still hadn’t accomplished their ultimate goal: a return to the natural ley system, before their arrogance and abuse brought about the destruction he had seen in his visions.

Hagger pounded on the door to Allan’s apartment and shouted, “Allan, are you in there?” His words fell hard into the silence. He hesitated, doubt niggling at the back of his mind. He had tested Allan after all, had forced him to interrogate Lord Gatterly. Allan had done everything they’d asked of him.

And yet. . . .

The suspicion and rage overwhelmed the doubt and he bellowed, “Allan!”

He glanced over his shoulder at the two Dogs who accompanied him, both tensing and drawing blades.

Then he kicked in the door, charging through the opening into the flat, already knowing what he would find.

An empty room.

He spat a curse, motioned the other Dogs to fan out, even though there was no reasonable place to hide. They began tearing the room apart, flipping the bed, slitting open the mattress and scattering the compact straw, opening and overturning trunks, tossing the contents of the single cupboard out onto the floor. A sack of flour ripped and spread in a fan of white, a cloud rising into the air. Hagger coughed and waved a hand in front of his face as he moved to the opposite side of the room toward a firepit. He knelt, leaned forward with a spread hand. The embers and coals were cold. To one side, a stone had been removed from the wall and when he reached into the opening the space beyond was empty.

His anger ratcheted one notch higher and his chest rumbled with a low growl as he stood to find the two Dogs waiting.

“There’s no one here,” one of them said.

“Of course not,” Hagger snapped. “The traitor ran as soon as he could. He must have been working with the Kormanley.” The two Dogs traded looks, their stances hardening. He motioned them out of the room. “Question the neighbors. See if anyone saw anything, heard anything.”

As soon as they left, Hagger searched the room himself but found nothing of interest. As far as he could tell, his partner had left with almost nothing. “He must have returned, grabbed some clothes, maybe some food—” he glanced toward the hole near the firepit, “—some money and the whelp, then run. But where would he go?”

He paced, brow furrowed, the sounds of the other two Dogs—beating on doors, opening a few forcefully amid cries of protest—echoing around him. Would Allan retreat back to the sticks? What was the name of that village he said he’d come from? Cannon? Candor?

The two Dogs reappeared in the doorway, the lead shaking his head. “Nothing. Although someone reported that the woman who was acting as their wet nurse is missing.”

Hagger snarled, snatched up a discarded shirt from the floor—part of a Dogs’ uniform—then stormed forward, brushing past the two in the doorway.

“What now?” the younger of the two asked.

“Now, we find Daedallen and ask for one of the Hounds.”

“Ah, Baron Leethe, I see that you’ve decided to join me.”

Daedallen noted the simmering anger that flashed through Leethe’s eyes before he forced a smile and began walking across the expanse of the meeting room toward where Arent sat behind his massive wooden desk. Daedallen fell in behind the Baron of Tumbor as they passed between the two tables that contained the maps of Erenthrall’s districts and the ley system spread across the continent and beyond.

“I’m afraid that your captain of the Dogs insisted,” Baron Leethe said, coming to a halt a few paces before the desk, the sound of his footfalls dampening when he reached the rug. Sunlight streamed in from the windows, glinting off the amber floor and the various knickknacks littering the desk’s surface. Daedallen was forced to squint to make out Arent himself. “You can understand why I was hesitant to come to the Amber Tower. After what happened at the Baronial Meeting, I no longer know where it is safe within Erenthrall.”

Daedallen’s hackles rose at the looks the two traded and he shifted quietly into position to one side.

Baron Arent motioned to a chair, but Leethe shook his head. “I don’t intend to stay long, Baron Arent. Why did you summon me here?”

Arent stood, fingers steepled on the front of his desk. “The Dogs have been looking into what happened at the Baronial Meeting. Many of the guests report that you departed immediately after the first explosion, before the second sealed off escape by the stairwell. How did you know to leave then? Your timing was . . . impeccable.”

Leethe grinned. “It was, wasn’t it?” The smile vanished in the blink of an eye. “But I assure you, I knew nothing of the second explosion. I was simply fortunate to escape before it occurred. My enforcers rushed me out of the Great Hall before I even knew what had happened.”

Arent’s eyes narrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line. “I don’t believe you,” he said softly.

Leethe snorted. “I don’t care what you believe.”

“Tell me what you know of the Kormanley. I know you are working with them.”

“Even if I were, why would I tell you now? Especially after what happened last night. If they were behind the attack, then they have hurt you. They have proven that you are not in control—of the ley, of the Baronies, not even of your own city. Baron Ranit paid for that lack of control with his life. The other Barons must be reevaluating their loyalties as we speak, rethinking the treaty they signed yesterday, as I am.”

Arent smirked. “I’ve already spoken to the other Barons. They are understandably shaken, but I have solidified their loyalties. They will not renege on the treaty. And neither will you.” He pushed back from the desk. “If you had anything to do with the Kormanley and the attack, confess to me now. I will find out if you were complicit. I have unleashed the Hounds.”

Leethe could not hide the spike of fear that blanched his face, his skin sagging around his cheeks, his jaw. For a moment, he appeared twenty years older, his eyes trapped in long suppressed memories.

But he recovered quickly, one hand tightening into a fist, his jaw set. “I assume you will use the Hounds with suitable restraint. We wouldn’t want the Baronies to return to the bloody civil war ended decades ago.” His voice carried more threat than concern.

“Not unless that becomes necessary,” Baron Arent said.

The two Barons glared at each other. A long, tense moment, broken by Baron Leethe.

“Was there something else?”

Arent frowned. “No.”

“Then I will take my leave . . . of you and this city.”

Baron Leethe shot a cold glance in Daedallen’s direction, then retreated toward the door, where the captain of his enforcers waited.

As soon as they’d moved out of sight, Arent turned to Daedallen. “What do we know of the attack?”

“The Hounds are following numerous leads, but there were nearly a thousand people in attendance last night. It will take a while for them to sort out any of the Kormanley tracks from the regular servants, lords, and ladies who were here. We have interviewed nearly everyone we detained overnight and released them. A few of those questioned showed promise and we have Hounds following their scents now.

“The Dogs and city watch have hit the streets. News of the attack is spreading rapidly and they are arresting anyone who shows any sign of support for the Kormanley and bringing them here to the Tower for questioning. Violence has broken out in three districts over the arrests, but the Dogs remain in control. We’re continuing to watch major plazas, marketplaces, and gathering places in force.”