10. Unexpected Fieldwork
UNEXPECTED FIELDWORK
TALIA
Your research fellow Talent Salaren is not dangerous. However, intelligence reports place her in contact with rebel sympathizers, and she may be at risk. We have her under surveillance, but I recommend limiting her access to field assignments until further notice.
There was no way Talia was taking Dawn up on that introduction. She’d scanned Dawn’s emotions before they left the Broken Wheel and picked up some real guilt, deep and complicated. Talia didn’t trust it. Now when she saw Dawn around town, she crossed the street to avoid her.
She would just push forward with the Consortium. Two more weeks passed, filled with the same slow drudgery, but she didn’t know what else to do.
She was dropping a ledger off at Webb’s desk when a flash of red caught her eye. A thin envelope lay half buried under requisition forms. It looked like official Pentarchy stationery and had URGENT stamped across the top. The return address was printed in precise block letters: HOLLOWAY SENNETT.
It wasn’t addressed to her. Opening it was probably illegal and certainly unethical. But her childhood best friend’s name was right there. She tugged at the engagement band that still circled her wrist—his bracelet—and tore open the seal.
There weren’t many words, but they cut: We have her under surveillance…I recommend limiting her access to field assignments…
She closed her eyes and fought to stay calm. Holloway had never hidden his disapproval of her work, but seeing it in his own handwriting made it real. This was nothing short of sabotage. If anyone saw this letter, her fellowship was over. Forget six months, she’d never make it into the field.
She glanced at the staircase. It was empty.
He hadn’t written to her. He’d sent this directly to Emmer.
If Holloway trusted her so little, if he believed for a second that she might side with the rebels, her loyalty was spent.
She flipped back the glass shield from the flux lamp on Webb’s desk, slipped the edge of the letter into the open flame, and watched it catch.
Wax hissed as the paper curled and blackened. She fed it in slowly with shaking hands.
“I’ll show you not dangerous,” she muttered to herself.
Flux burned clean—no ash, no smoke—but consumed fuel slowly. The bit of paper was still sizzling when a shadow fell over her.
“What are you doing?” Riven stood in the doorway. His eyes flicked from the lamp to her face. Then, quietly, he said, “Walk with me.”
She hesitated, letting the last bit of paper disintegrate between her fingers in the cool burn of the flux flame.
“Now, boss.” The soft edge on the nickname was gone.
She shoved the lamp lid closed, grabbed her satchel, and followed him. Where was he taking her?
Sunlight hit her like a slap as soon as she stepped out onto the street. Gateway buzzed, too loud, too crowded, like any other day. Emotions pressed in on her: annoyance, hunger, impatience. She breathed through it like she’d been practicing.
“For a renowned scholar, that was reckless,” Riven said finally, walking ahead of her.
Her pulse was racing. Why did he care? He already knew enough of her secrets to ruin her life if he cared to.
“What did you see?” The question came out thin.
He slowed to let her catch up, and his hand found the small of her back.
“You don’t understand the danger you’re in.” His voice was low. His index finger was tapping her back in time with their steps. “This is not a classroom. Bad things happen out here.”
Is that a warning or a threat? Gods, she wished she could read him.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“You didn’t cross the sea to copy reports in a basement.”
He angled them down a side street, away from the main flow of traffic.
Buildings thinned, and wood planks gave way to packed dirt.
The city walls loomed ahead, a patchwork of wood and stone.
The guards barely glanced at them as they passed through the gate.
Outside, the world opened into rolling hills, distant ridgelines, ruins half buried in golden grass.
After about twenty minutes of walking, Riven led her up a small hill to a cluster of weathered stone formations. There were ancient walls of varying heights, wind whistling through the gaps.
“What is this place?” Talia breathed.
“An old watchtower. Real ruins.”
An archway rose from the rubble, its upper curve intact enough to hold a ring of glyphs. The script spiraled, worn but readable. Her mind translated almost automatically, a simple welcome.
His eyes followed her as she moved deeper into the fallen structure. The site had been picked over, but two lovers’ initials carved into the inner wall made her smile. Graffiti was timeless. She was reaching out to touch it when Riven’s hand closed over her wrist.
“Listen,” he breathed.
Then she heard it too. A screech of wagon wheels, men’s voices pitched low, leather creaking. Without a word, Riven pulled her farther behind the half-collapsed wall.
His chest pressed warm against her back. She could feel every weapon he carried, the dual blades bracketing her hips. His hand spread across her ribs, steadying her, but since she couldn’t read his emotions, the contact just felt solid, like a wall.
She could see the road below through a narrow gap in the rubble, and a wagon rolled into view. A reinforced cage was strapped to the top of it, just like in the market, and there was something inside of it. This creature looked almost like a lion, but it had feathers. A gryphon.
“Is the sedative holding?” a male voice called out, surprisingly clear over the distance.
The man came into view, and Talia jerked back in surprise. She recognized the brown canvas uniform, the bulky supply pack slung over his shoulder. That was Consortium field gear. A second man approached him wearing a distinctive green cloak.
“Should be good for now,” the enforcer answered. “We need to be farther from town when it wears off.”
“Lost Mat last week trying to net one of these,” the Consortium scholar said. “Took his arm clean off.”
“Could’ve been worse. Hydra poisoned three men in Unit Eighteen.” Another green-cloak came into view, adjusting something on the cage. “At least this one’s going down easy.”
A wave of dizziness hit her, and she pressed her eyes closed. That was the field report she had in her room. Unit Eighteen. She remembered the three fatalities, but there was no mention of a hydra.
“Nothing about this is easy.” This fourth voice rang sharp, authoritative. “We’ve got our orders, let’s move.”
It was bizarre, scholars and military officers hauling a monster down the road. They circled the wagon, checking straps and tightening restraints with the bored efficiency of routine.
The gryphon’s head swung toward the hill, and its golden eyes locked on the gap where Talia and Riven hid.
Suddenly it screamed, a sound like tearing metal and breaking glass.
Riven pulled her tighter against his chest. The men below cursed and jabbed prods through slats, pumping some kind of sedative into its neck.
“It smells something up there.”
She felt like she was choking. Tears stung her eyes. Her muscles locked into place as she hyperventilated, and a halo of black edged her vision.
“Easy,” Riven breathed against her ear. “I’m right here.”
The gryphon’s movements slowed, and she felt her own body relax. She’d felt its terror—primal and absolute. Her empathy had never worked over that kind of distance, and it had definitely never picked up an animal’s emotions.
Wheels creaked, and the voices started to fade. Riven didn’t relax his grip until the wagon blurred into a smudge on the road. When he finally stepped back, her legs wobbled. She steadied herself against the wall, and his hand hovered near her elbow, ready to catch her.
“Why are there so many monsters in cages?” she asked, shaking out her hands. “Is that a normal thing here?”
“No.” Riven looked grim. “Not normal.”
“Those were enforcers and Consortium scholars together.” Talia felt like she needed to list the facts out loud.
She needed to hear him agree that she wasn’t making it up.
“They mentioned Unit Eighteen. That unit was assigned to fieldwork. They should have been out there conducting research, not—” She gestured at the empty road.
Riven just nodded.
“Emmer told me that fieldwork was too dangerous for me.” Her voice rose. She was angry, she realized. “But they’re not doing fieldwork. They’re doing something with these monsters.”
“What will you do now?”
She felt the anger simmering in her chest. She had taken a real risk coming to Valta.
She’d disobeyed her grandmother, broken her engagement, and held on to that heretical journal.
Now she was running out of time to make it worthwhile.
It was only a matter of time before Holloway sent another letter or even tracked her down himself.
She couldn’t keep hoping things would change on their own. She’d rather make a risky choice than be left with no choice at all.
“I guess I’m going to ask Dawn for that introduction.”