Chapter 12
‘Isee him,’ Lucky says, peering through his scope in the morning light. ‘He’s coming.’
‘Good,’ I let out a breath in relief – not only for Brother Thomas recognising my call signal, spotting the sickle-shaped rock I left for him on the road to the mine, but for him being able to sneak away. Hopefully unnoticed.
Lucky mounts his horse with a guttural groan before lifting the long scope again to sweep the forest around us.
I stop my fidgeting. ‘Why’re you groaning like that?’
His face relaxes, comforted that I’d ask. ‘Same reason as before. That spot. Death is chasing me.’
My brows furrow. ‘What did Grendle say when you saw her?’
Lucky scowls. ‘I don’t know. It didn’t make sense. She lost me when she started squeezing my tongue.’
‘I’m sorry, wha–?’
‘Marian,’ Brother Thomas says, interrupting us. He pants before taking the last few steep steps to where we are.
‘Thank you for coming,’ I say. ‘Did anyone see you?’
Brother Thomas winces. ‘Never can be sure.’
‘Right, let’s make this quick.’
‘I’ll patrol over here,’ Lucky says, steering his horse down the hill. ‘Listen for my call in case of intruders.’
I nod, then turn back to the tall, balding man with kind eyes and an even bigger heart. A heart that makes him risk exile every day.
He wipes the perspiration off his forehead. ‘I assume you want to finish our conversation?’
‘Yes,’ I say. Then I tell him everything I didn’t get to last night about Ryland catching me mid-raid, and now his threats.
‘Ryland’s supposed to meet with the Commander within the hour, and since he hasn’t left yet, we have to assume he’ll tell my secret.
He saw you and me together. You’re in grave danger.
Avoid him. And do everything you can to avoid me.
This should be the last time we talk for a while. ’
Brother Thomas’s brows rise.
‘Also, as long as Ryland’s here, I need to stop raiding.’ Secretly, part of me is relieved to say this. Even as a soldier, hardened by Coatl’s training, the risk takes a toll on me. I haven’t slept a full night in more than a year.
Brother Thomas’s lips press into a line. ‘That’s going to make things … difficult.’
I swallow hard. ‘How many are close to exile?’
‘Six adults are sick and haven’t been working in the mine. Can barely eat. But Clara has it the worst. Fever. Chills. Distended belly.’
I scratch my eyebrow, thinking. ‘Can Mrs Hutter do anything?’ She’s often the wisest among the Dresden for remedies.
‘With what medicine? There’s only so much she can do with boiled willow bark.’
This cursed place. ‘Okay. I’ll speak to Grendle; see what I can do.’
Benedict follows me, soaring in the overcast sky as I ride past the animal barns and gardens to the compound. He lands beside some tall grass as I tie my horse to the hitching post.
‘Sorry, no visit today,’ I say softly to him, and slip through a side door of the compound. Grendle’s infirmary is on the right. I knock.
‘Well, come in already,’ she grumbles.
I bite my lip and push inside. The room is dim and cold and lit with lanterns, thanks to the covered windows. The single cot along the wall is empty. In the middle is a table with formidable straps used for amputations and other procedures, like giving birth. Dried blood stains the plank floor.
‘And what’s wrong with you?’ Grendle stomps forward when I hesitate. ‘Okay, fine. Open your mouth.’
‘Oh, that’s not really nec–’ I squawk as she gets a hold of my tongue and pinches it. Hard.
I jerk back in disgust, freeing myself, and for good measure, wipe my tongue down my sleeve. What the hellfire? Usually, the woman only goes off about planets aligning and the vibrations of rocks.
‘Hmm … you’re stressed and your heart is cold. Which is bad for circulation.’
I still. Surprisingly accurate.
‘I have a question,’ I say, moving on before she tries anything else. ‘What was the name of that anti-parasitic the Lower Beaver Trading Post brings in? Black wal–?’
‘Black walroot. Why? Who needs it?’
I pause. The Dresden aren’t forbidden from seeing Grendle. Medic services are like everything Atlas offers his workers – it all comes at a price. One that’s intentionally too expensive for his miners, because it’s easier to replace them than to replenish stores of our precious medicine.
‘Go on,’ she snaps. ‘Your father will need a name before he’ll approve me to give it out.’
Of course Atlas would control that. I grit my teeth – if I say it’s for me, I won’t get enough. If I pay for the Dresden, Atlas will know. ‘It’s for no one,’ I answer. ‘I was just trying to remember what it’s called.’
Grendle purses her lips, accentuating her sagging jowls. ‘Well, good, because I’m all out – until tonight. We’re picking up a shipment from the Lower Beaver Trading Post later.’
A shipment tonight. I see.
In the afternoon, I find Atlas alone in the High Command, studying one of his ancient grimoires. It’s probably another book about mind-reading and how to tap into the unlimited power of the universe. Magic. A total sham. His eyes brighten, pleased to see me.
I can’t say the same as my insides squirm.
‘So, give me your report. What have you found out about our traveller?’
My hands grow damp. ‘Umm … his camp is meagre – basic supplies but in impressive condition. Old-world for sure. It doesn’t appear that he came with any large weapons, aside from his long-range bow, and if he brought anything with him to trade, it’d have to be small.’
He scowls. ‘I already know all that. What else?’
‘And …’ I pause, mouth open. I can’t stop thinking about how Ryland put his blade down last night when he could have retaliated.
He wanted to talk. Yes, he later threatened me, but am I really going to falsely accuse him and get him killed?
Risk war when his settlement comes for revenge?
I swallow hard. ‘Last night he attempted to make friends with the Dresden.’
‘Of course he would. He’s camping next to them. What I want to know is if he’s made friends with you?’
I hesitate, calculating the risks of admitting that Ryland tracked me down.
‘We had a conversation, and he dug for information.’ Information about me and Brother Thomas, but that’s beside the point.
‘My assessment of him hasn’t changed. We can’t trust anything he says.
We have no reason to believe he’s not scoping us out to raid.
Think of last spring and that wool trader – Hawthorne.
’ Maybe stoking Atlas’s fear is enough until I know Ryland’s next move.
Atlas balks, but then considers it. A concerning smirk curls on his lips.
‘No, I can sniff out an evil plot – that’s why Hawthorne’s no longer breathing.
This is our new plan: get closer. Get more information out of him.
I want the name and location of his settlement.
Find out what they have for weapons and the size of their army.
Then find out exactly what of the old world they’ve collected.
Why do they want coal? Have they figured out how to make electricity from it?
They could have the final pieces of equipment that we need. ’
A cold wave of dread washes over me. The idea of raiding Ryland’s settlement is forming into a plan.
Ryland needs to be run off. Immediately.
Not just so Atlas forgets about him and we avoid a pointless war, but for me – so Ryland can’t expose me.
For the Dresden, so they won’t starve or be exiled because I’m not free to raid with him poking around.
And for Notting, because we can’t assume Ryland’s intentions are good.
He could be scouting us out the same way Atlas wants to do to him, all to wipe us from the map.
‘I’m not sure he’s going to just offer up that information,’ I say carefully.
‘Oh, he will.’ Atlas leans forward. ‘Because you’re going to make him fall in love with you.’
My lungs forget how to work.
Impossible. Anger surges as I shake my head. Atlas gets to set the rules, but he doesn’t control my heart.
‘Are you refusing to follow a direct order? In fact, I’m sensing a distinct lack of enthusiasm to serve me altogether.’
His question carries a threat that spears me to the ground. Very quickly this could devolve into another lesson in humiliation – with or without the help of Coatl.
Or it could be like when I was promoted to Captain and advisor, a move that was nothing short of nepotism.
I’ve never turned down anything faster. But then there were surprise searches on the Dresden.
Food prices increased. Double the number of Dresden were exiled.
It took me too long to connect the dots.
Atlas is a fiend for games, and he has no problem making the majority suffer to bend the minority to his will.
‘I’ve given you everything,’ he says, voice growing harsher, his eyes hardening. ‘I’ve saved you as much as I’ve saved everyone in Notting. You owe me obed–’
‘I’m not refusing,’ I placate, while wanting to vomit at having to grovel. ‘I-I’m trying to figure out how to make that happen. You don’t just … make someone fall in love with you.’ Normally, every ridiculous request of his is a chance to scheme against him. But I’m too stunned to even think.
His irritation falls away like crumbs dusted from his trousers. ‘I know you’re inexperienced, since no one would dare go near the Commander’s favourite daughter. But my dear, you underestimate your potential. You always have.’
My skin feels like it’s crawling.
‘Don’t worry,’ he continues. ‘Already he can’t keep his eyes off you. Torturing him would be easier, but then I can’t make a coal deal if his settlement doesn’t have what I want. This will work; just don’t fall for him in return. I’m a jealous man, and I don’t share my things.’
A ringing begins in my ears. That’s the first time he’s spelled out his expectations of me – that I’m to be kept like some possession or maiden in waiting. But for what? I’m not one of his prized grimoires or mistresses. I’m his daughter. I’m a human being.
A human being he wants complete control of.
Atlas giggles. ‘Oh, I haven’t had this much fun in years. What a game this will be.’ Raising his voice, he calls towards the entrance, ‘Has our guest arrived yet?’
I hold my breath, waiting for the answer. Please be gone.
The door opens and Fitzgerald calls out. ‘He’s disarming, sir. Captain Coatl will escort him in.’
My shoulders wilt. I find my spot along the side wall, my mind spinning dangerously close to despair. All I can do is deny any accusation of being the raider. Vehemently. Then falsely implicate Ryland … and see which one of us falls.
When he finally walks in, his head is held high, and his piercing blue-eyed gaze immediately meets mine.
He can’t keep his eyes off you.
I doubt that’s true but gone is the anger I saw last night after I threw the knife. His handsome face borders on curious as he dips his chin, almost in greeting.
What does that mean? My face is carefully blank, but my already pounding heart turns bruising against my ribs.
Make him fall in love with you.
I can’t even imagine how I would do that. My mind drifts to how close we were last night with me holding a knife against his throat. There was a moment, he almost looked like he enjoyed it.
What would he have done if I had kissed him instead? Would I be any further along in silencing him about me?
Would he have kissed me back?
A warmth gathers in my belly. I quickly stomp it out.
‘Commander,’ Ryland says as he approaches the throne. Coatl takes his seat beside Atlas. ‘I have a gift for you.’ Ryland reaches into one of his pockets and removes a small jar. But he doesn’t hand it over.
‘What is it?’ Atlas asks, intrigued.
‘The first gesture of trust. Allyship.’
And what will be his second? Exposing me? I inhale, feeling like I’m about to come out of my skin.
‘But before we go any further, I need to say something, and I’m aware it might disrupt our hopes of a deal.’
I stop breathing.
‘I can’t accept your coal under the conditions with which you operate the mine now.’
Atlas’s face is disbelieving. Mine too. Control is Atlas’s fortress, and he’ll scorch the earth – or Ryland – before opening the gates.
‘It’s come to my attention that you use oil lamps or fire to light the mine, and because of it, there’ve been explosions,’ Ryland says. ‘Unnecessary deaths. If we’re to make a deal, we would need you to switch to a better way.’
Atlas unfreezes. ‘You’re going to tell me how to run my mine?’
‘No, sir,’ Ryland says. ‘It’s obvious you’re a very smart man who’s built an empire. But I can’t offer the most lucrative contract likely in the entire Republic unless you make this small change to safety lamps. They use metal gauze and glass globes to protect the flame from explosive gases.’
My pulse beats so loud, I half expect to be kicked from the room. Atlas is going to shoot Ryland through the heart, which, frankly, would solve a lot of my problems.
But it wouldn’t make the mine safer – a complex issue I’ve lost many hours of sleep over.
Atlas’s scowl cracks into a smile. He even huffs a laugh. ‘You’re talking about miner’s safety lamps; we already have those.’ He shrugs. ‘We don’t use them because the workers complained the light was weak. But … we can try them again. For the right deal.’
Is that a lie? My post is never in the mine, so I don’t know. My gaze darts back and forth between them. What the hellfire is going on?
‘See? I can compromise.’ Atlas leans forward, lowering his voice. ‘But the question is, can you?’ An ominous tension fills the air. He wants the name of Ryland’s settlement.
Ryland smiles, unfazed. ‘Compromise is essential in making a deal, and I look forward to it. But first comes trust.’ Ryland finally hands the jar to Atlas. ‘In the interest of becoming friends – business partners – I’d like to gift you these.’
Atlas raises the glass jar in the air. The contents appear white. ‘What is it?’
‘Water purification tablets,’ Ryland says. ‘Mix one with two litres of water. Maybe two tablets if the water is visibly dirty. Wait thirty minutes before drinking.’
Atlas drops the jar to his lap. ‘Just like magic.’ He snickers. ‘I do love magic … but we don’t need these. We have wells.’
‘You have wells, but your mine workers don’t,’ Ryland says. ‘And nothing will affect your productivity more than waterborne illnesses.’
‘They boil their water,’ Atlas says, flippantly.
‘Even when they’re deep in the mine? What about your traders when they’re racing around the badlands?’
Atlas considers the jar for a second. ‘Fine. I’ll accept your gift.’ A calculating smile curls his lips. ‘Now accept one of mine. Join me and my daughters for dinner tonight. In the interest of … getting to know one another and building trust, as you’ve said.’