Shattering the Ley (28 page)

“What of the executions scheduled for tomorrow?”

“Arrangements are progressing without any problems. We have nine confirmed Kormanley already in custody, all of those who survived the interrogation after the raid on Lord Gatterly’s estate. The first execution is scheduled in Grass in Seeley Park for midmorning.”

“Very well. I’ll attend Lord Gatterly’s execution myself. Inform Augustus that I want him in attendance to reassure the people of Erenthrall that at no time was the Nexus or the ley system at risk.”

Daedallen grimaced, but couldn’t ignore the tone of dismissal in Arent’s voice. “As you command.”

As he reached the outer doors, Arent already seated at his desk, poring over his papers, Daedallen noted Terrence waiting and snapped, “Report.”

“We’ve brought in four more possible conspirators in the last hour, and three arrested for protests in the streets. They’re secure in the Tower below. Also, Hagger has returned and has a request.”

Daedallen’s eyebrows rose. “Where is he?”

Terrence nodded toward the far end of the hall. “He’s waiting for you now.”

Daedallen frowned as he approached. The Dog was pacing back and forth across the breadth of the corridor, his anger palpable. Daedallen could practically taste it on the air. The elder Dog halted when he saw his captain approaching, but his hands still twitched.

“You have a request?”

“Yes, Captain. I went to find my partner, Allan Garrett, as you instructed. He was not in his apartment in Hedge. Neither was his daughter. The wet nurse who looked after her has also gone missing.”

“And you believe . . . ?”

“I believe,” Hagger snarled, “that he was working with the Kormanley and that he’s fled our retribution after the failure of the bombing last night. We need to capture him, make him pay for his betrayal.” Hagger’s fingers were clenching and unclenching, as if he had Allan’s throat in his grip already and was strangling him.

“That’s a serious allegation,” Daedallen said, his voice laced with doubt. “Are you certain? Wasn’t it Allan who led us to Lord Gatterly? Didn’t he figure out how the Kormanley were communicating? And in the Great Hall, wasn’t he the one who warned us about the carts? Why would he allow his wife to work in the Great Hall if he knew how dangerous that would be?”

Hagger’s hatred didn’t falter. “Lord Gatterly said the Kormanley had infiltrated the Dogs, didn’t he? Don’t you find it convenient that he warned us about the carts when it was too late to do anything about them?”

Daedallen frowned. “What is your request?”

Hagger’s shoulders straightened. “I want one of the Hounds to follow his scent and bring him down.”

Everyone in the corridor fell silent, Daedallen’s neck prickling as a chill slid down his back. “You want to send a Hound after a Dog.”

“If he’s Kormanley, he was never a Dog to begin with.”

Troubled, Daedallen turned to Terrence. “Bring one of the Hounds to Hagger. Use the one that worked with him before, the one that found Gatterly.”

As Terrence left, he considered Hagger again. “Bring Allan in for questioning. I want to speak with him myself. If he did work with the Kormanley, then he’ll answer to me.”

Hagger grimaced in disappointment, but nodded and said, “As you command, Alpha.”

Allan stepped onto the deck of the ley barge, through the open doors, and scanned those inside before setting down the trunk and motioning Janis forward. The wet nurse held Morrell’s body close as she found a seat. Allan stood before her, his eyes flicking between all of the passengers even after the barge jolted and began to surge forward with a noticeable shudder. None of them were paying the two any particular attention though—most casting curious or annoyed glances at the recalcitrant barge—so when Morrell began to fuss, he relaxed.

“What’s wrong?”

Janis looked up, her rounded face open, her eyes calm. She’d begun rocking Morrell back and forth. “Nothing’s wrong. She’s just upset because we’re jostling her around so much. But that can’t be helped. Unless you think we can stop for a moment to rest.”

“No, that’s not possible.”

“I didn’t think so.” She tickled Morrell’s nose, his daughter responding with gurgling noises.

Allan took a moment to study her, realizing he knew little about Janis. Moira—his heart clenched, but he shoved the sensation aside—had been the one to find her, as soon as she realized they couldn’t live off of the errens he earned as pay. Dogs weren’t expected to support a wife and child; their money was intended for only one. So Moira had looked for a wet nurse so she could return to her work at the Tower. Janis lived in the same building, had raised two of her own children. Her husband was dead, and after a brief scrutiny to make certain she didn’t trigger any of Allan’s alarms, he’d agreed to let her look after Morrell. But now. . . .

“What is it?” she asked, without taking her attention away from the baby. “You’re watching me with a suspicious look on your face. Reconsidering taking me along?”

“You’re handling this well.”

“What? Abandoning my home? Leaving most of my things behind?” She snorted. “What was there left for me? I’d been considering leaving for the Hollow since my husband died.”

“You mentioned the Hollow before.”

Now she did turn to him, her expression taut. “The place I told you about, where the Baron won’t be able to find you. Or Morrell.” She sighed. “I was ready to leave when your wife came to me about looking after the baby. I refused at first. I’ve already raised two children. I wasn’t even certain I could produce milk anymore. And then there was you.”

Allan couldn’t hide his surprise. “Me?”

Janis turned a caustic eye on him. “Yes, you. You were a Dog.” She spat to one side. “I have no love for the Dogs. Not many people do. You serve the Baron, supposedly to protect the people, but really to protect his interests, and his interests serve the people only when serving otherwise would cause him trouble.”

“Then what changed your mind? Why did you stay?”

“Moira,” she said bluntly. “She convinced me that you were different. And I see now, by what you are doing, by what you have done, that she was right. I didn’t want to be associated with you in any way, but I was wrong. It’s the Baron I despise, not you.”

Allan stiffened, a thrill of fear jerking his hand toward his blade. “Are you Kormanley?” The accusation was barely a whisper. He didn’t want to draw any attention. He’d changed out of his Dogs’ uniform in Copper, after arranging for the pullcart to meet them in the Field District along the western road at nightfall. As far as the passengers on the barge knew, they were simply fellow citizens.

Janis snorted, but the barge lurched as they pulled into Arrow’s station and both of them fell silent, watching the doors as people disembarked and others came aboard.

As soon as they started moving again, she said, “I don’t have to be Kormanley to hate the Baron. There are plenty of citizens of Erenthrall who despise him; their anger just isn’t enough to make them do anything about it. But that may change.”

“What do you mean?”

“Haven’t you been listening?” She shifted Morrell from one cradled arm to the other, flicked her gaze around the passengers nearby. “They’re all talking about what happened at the Amber Tower last night . . . and what the Dogs have been doing today. Seizing people off the street, for nothing more than rumor. Turning violent at any sign of resistance. They beat a man to death in Leeds for trying to stay their hand when they attacked a woman in the market.” She shook her head. “The people’s anger is growing. Haven’t you noticed?”

He grunted. “I have. And I have been listening.” He hesitated a moment, then added softly, “It’s only going to get worse.”

Janis’ eyebrows rose. “All the more reason for me to leave Erenthrall, wouldn’t you say?”

“Hagger, the Hound is here.”

“Where?” Hagger spun, searching, eyes settling finally on where the Hound stood in a far corner of the main room of the Dogs’ lair. Most of the Dogs in the room had just returned from the streets of Erenthrall, exhausted, their faces haggard. The patrols had grown steadily more dangerous as the day progressed. The prisoners’ cells on this level and below were packed. Hagger felt most of those arrested weren’t serious dissidents, but the orders were to hold them until after the executions tomorrow.

His eyes narrowed as he moved toward the boy. “How long have you been there?”

The Hound said nothing, simply waited.

Hagger scowled, hiding his discomfort by moving to one of the numerous desks and digging out the shirt he’d taken from Allan’s apartment. He could feel the rest of the Dogs near him watching, their gazes prickling along his skin, knew he couldn’t hesitate. Weakness now would be noted, and it galled him that he felt weakened without Allan at his side.

He thrust the shirt into the Hound’s hands. “Seek,” he ordered, recalling Daedallen’s words. “Do not kill. Find the traitorous Kormanley bastard and bring him here.”

The Hound stared at him long enough he finally took a step backward, uncertain why. Then the Hound’s nostrils flared and he breathed in the scent of the shirt. The boy’s brow furrowed as he scanned the room.

Then he was gone, as if he’d simply turned and vanished.

Hagger swore. But a moment later, he smiled. A dark, vicious smile.

Within a day, maybe two, Allan would be his.

A
S SOON AS KARA
and Marcus entered the main chamber of the node at the end of their daily run across Eld, Kyle asked, “Have you heard?”

Wiping a sheen of sweat from her brow—the sun had turned brutal—Kara answered, “Heard what?”

The red-haired Wielder rolled his eyes. “About the attack at the Amber Tower last night.”

“Of course we’ve heard,” Marcus scoffed. “It’s all over the streets.”

Those Wielders within hearing shifted toward them, including Katrina and Timmons, the senior Wielder at Eld. Tall and thin, with a meticulously trimmed goatee, he approached with a concerned look. “What are the streets like? We’ve heard reports of some altercations, even riots.”

Marcus shook his head. “No riots, not in Eld anyway. But the Dogs are everywhere.”

“They flooded the streets around midday,” Kara added. “They seem to be sticking close to the main public areas—the marketplace, Minstrel’s Park, Collier Street—although there are pairs of them roaming the back streets. They’re arresting anyone who even looks at them funny.” She couldn’t keep her distaste out of her voice. Images of the Kormanley priest she’d seen being beaten and arrested four years ago kept surfacing in her mind’s eye, his blood-splattered white robes, his split lip and broken nose.

“They’re only after the ones who attacked the Baron,” Katrina said defensively. “The Kormanley.”

“I don’t think the woman they kicked so hard she vomited was Kormanley,” Kara muttered darkly. “She only protested because they kicked over her potter’s cart and shattered most of her wares.”

Katrina frowned uncertainly. “They must have had a reason.”

Kara snorted.

“They’re also erecting a platform in the square,” Marcus cut in. “They’re planning some kind of execution tomorrow.”

All of the Wielders shifted uncomfortably, even Katrina.

Timmons cleared his throat. “Is it safe to continue our runs?”

Marcus straightened. “Do we have any choice? The Primes want us searching for the distortions, right?” He shook his head. “It’s safe enough, I think. But everyone should stay clear of the Dogs, whether you’re on patrol or not. They’re itching for a fight.”

“You heard him,” Timmons said, raising his voice, although by this time nearly everyone in the hall had drifted over to listen in. “Spread the word. I want all of the Wielders to keep out of the Dogs’ path. Focus on the ley, nothing else.”

The group broke up, Kyle snagging Katrina’s arm and motioning toward the outer door—they were replacing Marcus and Kara—the rest drifting back to whatever they’d been doing before their arrival. Conversations were low and tense with worry.

“Come on,” Marcus said, catching her attention. “We had a rough run. We need a break.”

He headed toward the back of the hall, where the heavy iron door to the ley pit remained closed to protect everyone in the rest of the node from any surges in the ley. But he bypassed the door, moving instead to a small corridor to one side that Kara had never noticed before. It was narrow, her shoulders nearly touching on both sides, and led to stairs spiraling up around the pit itself. It was built between the outer wall of the pit and the barracks and rooms that surrounded the central chamber.

Ten minutes later, they emerged through a wooden trapdoor onto the roof of the node. A hot, sharp breeze slapped Kara in the face as she climbed the last few steep steps, Marcus closing the trapdoor behind her.

She brushed her flying hair away from her face and turned toward her partner, wide eyed. “I didn’t even know we could come up here!”

He grinned. “Not many of the Wielders do, although I don’t know why. There’s a great view of Eld and Confluence from up here.”

Kara angled toward one crenellated edge of the circular node, resting her hands on the gritty stone as she leaned out and looked over at the street and buildings below. The stone structure was only a few stories high, some of the adjacent buildings a few floors taller, but the people below still looked small somehow.

She gasped when Marcus’ arms slid around her body from behind, but leaned back into the embrace.

“I would never let you fall,” he said, his breath tickling the side of her neck. She smiled and let the tension caused by seeing the Dogs on the street seep away. He squeezed her once, then asked, “Why do they bother you so much?”

She shrugged. “I saw them beat up one of the Kormanley priests once, here in Eld, at the marketplace. They were brutal. And then someone said that the priest was as good as dead after they hauled him off. I’d never thought about what happened to those the Dogs took away before, but this time, for some reason, it made a difference. The priest wasn’t doing anything except talking, and after that day I never saw him again in Eld.”

Marcus grunted and rested his chin on top of her head. When he spoke, his voice rumbled through his chest to her back. “The Kormanley have done more than talk. From what we heard, they bombed the Great Hall in the Amber Tower. During the Baronial Meeting, no less. They killed and wounded hundreds of people.”

“I know. But back then they hadn’t done anything violent yet.”

Marcus rocked her back and forth a long moment, deep in thought, then asked, “Do you agree with the Kormanley?”

Kara stiffened. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, do you agree with what they preach about the ley, that it should be returned to its natural order, that we’re subverting it, abusing it.”

She twisted in his arms until she was facing him, arms resting on his chest. “I agree we need to be careful with the ley. But to not use it? It’s there, why shouldn’t we use it?”

“I don’t know. I just think the Kormanley have a point. The Baron does control everything concerning the ley . . . or rather, he controls Prime Wielder Augustus. Do you honestly think the Baron—or Augustus—has the best interests of the citizens of Erenthrall in mind when he makes his decisions? And we both know that they’ve overextended the Nexus somehow, no matter what the Primes say. Where else would the distortions be coming from?”

Kara squirmed, pushing away from him lightly. “The Kormanley killed my parents,” she reminded him.

He tightened his hold on her, drew her in, and kissed her forehead. “I know. I’m not saying I agree with their methods. They’ve killed too many people, hurt too many others. But I don’t think we should discount what they say because of that. We should at least think about it.”

Kara relaxed, mollified. “I guess.”

He released her. “Look at how the sun is reflecting off the rivers.”

She turned, Marcus shifting to her side, and leaned up against the crenellation again. To the south, the two rivers—the Tiana and the Urate—converged, their waters a brilliant, blinding silver, the University on the vee of land where they met. She wondered what Cory was doing at that moment, still troubled over the last time she’d seen him and told him about Justin. She wondered if she should seek Cory out and apologize. She hadn’t meant to upset him.

A shadow passed over them and she glanced skyward as one of the flying barges drifted by, its sails sparkling with ley. A few people hanging over the sides waved and laughter drifted down faintly. Kara smiled and waved back.

“We should get something to eat,” Marcus said as the barge passed beyond the node. “Let’s see if anyone else wants to head on over to the Leyline.”

“Why not?” Kara said. The Leyline was the Wielders’ prime watering hole in Eld. The food wasn’t great, but they had plenty to drink.

Marcus grinned, then leaned forward and kissed her. She pressed into it, a heat that had nothing to do with the sun suffusing her. She laughed when they broke apart, and Marcus asked, “What?”

“Nothing.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the trapdoor. “The Leyline, remember?”

When Ischua rounded the corner, he found the street packed with Dogs and the two buildings that had stood above
The Ley
’s printing press were nothing more than charred heaps of riverstone and timber. He ducked into the shadows beneath a café’s awning, the sun near setting, and watched in silence.

A moment later, the café’s owner arrived and asked, “Would you like to be seated?”

He caught the man’s nervous gaze. “I’d like a table over here, if that’s possible.”

“Of course, of course! Anything for a Tender.” He escorted Ischua to the table, took his order, and then hurried back inside. Almost no one was seated at the small tables and chairs outside, Ischua noted. And anyone who turned the corner and saw the Dogs either hesitated and turned back, or ducked his head and skirted their activity by as wide a distance as possible.

The café owner brought his drink and vanished again. Ischua sipped casually.

The Dogs were sorting through the debris from the fire, descending into the pit that used to be the basement using the stone steps of the newspaper’s offices. There were five of them, the pack leader standing outside and waiting impatiently, the others already covered in soot and ash.

When the café owner returned with his food, Ischua asked, “What happened here?”

He shifted so that his back was to the Dogs and spoke in a low voice. “A fire, early this morning. We thought nothing of it until the Dogs showed up this afternoon looking for the man who ran the newspaper. They questioned us for an hour, have been searching through the remains of the buildings for at least two.” He lowered his voice even further. “The rumor is they’re waiting for a Hound.”

Ischua raised an eyebrow and the café owner shrugged. “In any case, they’ve scared away nearly all of my customers.”

“Have you seen him?”

“Who? The Hound?”

“The owner of the newspaper.”

The owner sighed. “Not since yesterday. He was one of my best customers.”

He retreated back inside and Ischua continued to watch. Half an hour later, the pack leader gave a sudden start and Ischua realized that a man stood before him. He hadn’t seen him arrive. He was too distant to make out any of the conversation, but the pack leader’s irritation was clear. He motioned to the burnt-out husk of the building, pointed to a few items that the other Dogs had dragged up from the basement, and handed over what appeared to be a scrap of cloth. The Hound—Ischua judged him to be about thirty years of age, broad of shoulder but narrow of hip, with nothing remarkable about his features or clothes—breathed in deeply of the cloth, then examined each of the items before descending into the charred pit. He returned a moment later, sneezing harshly. All of the Dogs stood back from him, wary. He shook his head, scrubbed at his face, then paced up and down the street a few times. Ischua’s skin prickled when he halted abruptly and stared in the café’s direction, but then the Hound spun and motioned in the opposite direction. He ran off as if following a scent trail, like a true hound, the pack leader barking an order, the Dogs falling in behind him.

Ischua took a sip of his drink and was surprised to find the glass empty. He stood, leaving a few errens on the table, and turned his back on the destroyed newspaper, troubled.

The Dogs must have discovered the real Kormanley’s link to the splinter cells. It had to have been through Tyrus. He’d been their only connection to the violent Kormanley since they’d severed contact four years ago. Tyrus may have led them to Dalton, and through Dalton. . . .

His steps quickened. He needed to warn the rest of the real Kormanley.

The Hound stood in the doorway of the apartment. His gaze flicked off the overturned bed, the scattered straw of the mattress, the footprints in the fan of flour that had spilled from a split bag. He drew in a deep breath, nostrils flaring, and caught the scent of the Dog called Hagger, strong. He reeked of anger, his sweat tangy, acidic, like an orange. It permeated the room. But the Hound filtered it out, dug deeper through the layers. The other two Dogs who’d been here smelled of beer and barracks and rancid butter. One of them chewed the black leaf, his scent strong with mouth rot. But beneath that—

He tilted his head, breathed in deep again. Liniment, shit, and baby vomit. Ash and coals from the fire. The kohl and lavender of perfume. Fresh breast milk. And, threaded through it all, the scent he searched for: the strange Dog, the one that sent shivers of wrongness through the Hound’s bones.