Sara thankfully seemed to know her way around Dalvany’s back streets. Asher had worried at first when she sped ahead that she was leaving him in the room to do the investigation herself, but she instead came back with a smooth wooden cane and insisted he take it. The nub at the bottom echoed loudly across the cobblestone roads, but they didn’t run into anyone at any point. Penn stayed close on Asher’s heels, his footsteps light and his movements quick, so silent Asher would have been sure he wasn’t there if it wasn’t for the soft shift of fabric rustling in the back of his ears. Occasionally, figures would dart past in neighbouring streets, or they would reach a turn and hear voices echoing out ahead, but there was no point where anyone approached them.
Only when they’d reached the northern most point of town, the point where houses gave way to forest and the road up to the manor, did Sara lead them out onto a larger road. Asher pulled the hood of his cape up, hoping that with his head down and his commoner clothes, he wouldn’t be immediately recognised.
The courier outpost wasn’t much different from the one down on the farms, simple wooden buildings with an open side for horses, none of them occupied by animal or otherwise. The main house at the centre was daub, structurally old and sturdy, with an iron mailing box on one side of the door, and a crooked notice board on the other side. Many of the nails sticking out of the board had scraps of cloth or paper stuck under them, a sign of many notices being hastily pulled away. The ones that remained were route timetables and one for a local orchestra performing in the square six months ago. One in the middle had a drawing of his face.
Asher pulled the paper down, staring at his own likeness in dark charcoal lines. Whoever had drawn it had drawn his hair straight, which only told him this person had never met him before. His name was printed underneath, along with large letters that spelled out “Missing.”
Any information was to be sent directly to Lady Adalynn Norrah.
A well of hope rose in him. If Norrah was willing to help him out, then maybe he could get these charges dropped after all. Maybe he had a chance.
Sara glanced at the page over his shoulder, and she frowned. The hope sank down into shame. It wasn’t fair that he would be able to walk free if Gershwin still saw her name on the Black Scroll, and so many saw the end of their life for so much less. No, he wouldn’t go to Norrah and brush this away. He would fix this.
Asher tore the paper in half, then crumpled the pieces into little balls and shoved them into his pockets. Sara opened her mouth to ask, but he shook his head. ‘One thing at a time.’
‘Asher, if she can fix this, then let her do it,’ she said. ‘Why wouldn’t you make this easier for yourself?’
‘Because it won’t be easier,’ Asher pointed out. ‘It’ll be a back and forth for days or weeks. It’s my word against Captain Delana’s, and even if I have Lady Norrah on my side, she has Lord Barque and this Sovereignty thing on hers.’
‘’These are the same bad one’s hanging around?’ Penn asked. He was standing at the window behind the notice board, peering into the window. ‘There’s no-one inside.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Sara said. ‘You have a way out. You need to take it. No-one else ever gets a chance like this.’
‘That’s not fair,’ Asher said. ‘That I get to brush all of this off just because she’s my cousin.’
‘’That’s not… Why don’t you want to take this chance?’ Sara asked. ‘I can tell you right now, no-one is going to accuse you of favouritism. If anything, you could change things for everyone, if you push.’
I… suppose so,’ Asher hadn’t considered that.
Sara frowned. ‘Something has you scared.’
‘I—’
‘What’s wrong?’
What was wrong with him? Everything seemed to have happened so fast, but Sara was right; he could really fix this if he came clean to Norrah and let her help him clear the charges, which he’d never even confirmed were pressed. Maybe it was the conspiracy building, or it was the fact he couldn’t deny anymore that he was connected to all this magic. Not a witch but… something.
‘I don’t know,’ he mumbled.
A cracking sound from the building made both of them turn, just as Penn pushed the front door open and let himself inside. Asher cursed and hurried after him. The inside of the main building was thankfully empty, a cramped room made of a counter and an over abundance of shelves stacked with papers and crates. Penn had already rushed around the counter, and was pulling piles down to inspect them.
‘You can’t just let yourself into these places,’ Asher said. ‘There are rules.’
Penn turned and fixed him with a blank expression.
‘The door being locked means don’t let yourself in,’ Asher said.
‘It’s open now,’ Penn said.
Asher opened his mouth to argue, then thought better of it and pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Where’s the dovecot?’ he asked Sara.
Sara eased the door closed behind them, though the door handle had been broken and it no longer clicked in place. ‘It’s out the back,’ she said. ‘But maybe your friend here has the right idea.’
Asher stared down at the broken lock. When he’d been just a guard patrolling the streets, less damage would be enough to make a note for his sergeant, and when he was sergeant, he’d be the one heading the search for the culprit.
‘Asher.’ Sara pulled him from his thoughts as she reached into a crate by the door, pulling free loose papers that had been tossed in there. The contents told Asher it was all discarded junk and rubbish. The papers Sara held had torn corners, similar to the scraps on the board outside, ripped at a point where it might have been nailed in place.
Reports of Strange Activity or Persons should be reported to Sovereignty.
Reward in Coin.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
‘Oh, you’ve got to be joking,’ Asher muttered. This was the opposite of keeping order in the public. This was lynch mobs and panic and people were only going to turn on each other. If it was enough coin, it wouldn’t matter who pointed the finger for what reason.
‘At least they tore it down,’ Sara said.
‘The Courier’s aren’t getting along with these guys,’ Asher mumbled. ‘Probably don’t recognise their authority.’ Though, Asher didn’t see how anyone could; they were an emergency response and nothing more, right?
If they were posting things like this, that probably didn’t matter.
‘I didn’t realise that was an option,’ Sara commented. ‘Does this mean we can revolt against the system? Is this a revolution?’
‘It is the end of Five Princes,’ Asher pointed out.
‘I found spirits,’ Penn announced.
Asher made his way behind the counter, his cane rapping against the wooden floor. Much like the papers he had seen in Norrah’s pile, it was covered in small specks of iridescent light, splattered across the page in no order or pattern. As he took the page from Penn, some of the specks turned to dust at his touch.
Telkesi Project
Initial Contact and First Results
Research Survey
Under Decree of the Sixth King Thaddae Krishnit of Tarinye
Dated 11.14.3/799
CIC: Cpt. Navarre Chaverau
‘This one’s different from before,’ Asher said. ‘Initial Contact?’
‘It’s based out of Raulkauda,’ Sara pointed out. ‘Wouldn’t Fanmaryh make more sense?’
She was right; the main address was listed as a place in Raulkada, a good two weeks out from Fanmaryh, where everything Telkesi related had gone down before.
If this project was based in Raulkauda, what was Navarre doing in Fanmaryh?
‘None of this makes any sense,’ he mumbled.
Penn pointed to the shelf he had pulled it from, and Asher pulled the rest of the pile down, flicking through envelopes and bound documents, none of them connected to the file in question, until he came to another loose piece of paper at the bottom. There were no spirits on this one, but the address was the same.
A summons, the same that had brought him from Ralkauda in the first place, but this one was addressed – and obviously not sent – to Henri Tremboui.
What in the Underlands is going on here?
‘Another one,’ Penn said. This one was a bound folder, closed with a wax circle holding the strings in place. Rather than the splattering of flecks, this one had soft wisps bleeding out from the edges, so fine and transparent it hurt his eyes to look at them.
‘That looks perfect.’ Asher took the file and broke the seal with his thumb, then dropped the files onto the counter. Again, the same label. Telkesi Project. Navarre’s name across the top, and a date from last year, towards the end of summer.
A requisition to move the base of operations. From Fanmaryh to Ralkauda. Then Ralkauda to Dalvany. The Dalvany one was signed H. Tremboui. Beneath that was a list of names, small barons and counts throughout the mountains, local sergeants and a few city captains, and his name. A. Wulverman. The word Liuetenant had been crossed out next to it, with a penned note that read “Henri’s Ward.’
Another note had been written in a different pen. “This one.” That note had been circled in thick, black ink.
‘Is that… you?’ Sara asked. She traced his name with her finger, and he nodded.
‘Navarre mentioned they were considering a few different people to be brought in,’ he said. ‘But I assumed it was for… public response. For the city disappearing.’
‘This Navarre?’ Sara pointed to the top of the page. Asher nodded again. A sick feeling was bubbling in his stomach. Navarre was involved in this, somehow, and he’d tried to bring Asher in on it too. This had never been about a whole city disappearing.
Or had it? Had they known something like this would happen? Had the King, even though he was in the middle of its disaster?
Asher flicked through the rest of the pages, but most of it was transfer papers, new staff and outsourced contractors, transfers and a chain of command. He paused. Chain of Command.
Navarre was at the top of the list, but so was Magnus Barque. Henri Tremboui. Olive Delana. Other names he didn’t recognise, but they had titles. Barons. Captains. Magistrates.
‘Oh no,’ Sara breathed. ‘This is… what is this list?’
‘I don’t know,’ Asher admitted, ‘but I don’t like it.’
‘The Dovecot is out the back,’ Sara said. ‘We should look.’
‘We should,’ Asher agreed. Penn raised an eyebrow in question, and Asher pointed to a back door next to one of the overstuffed shelves. Penn bounced over to the door, and it thankfully opened without him breaking it. Sara didn’t move from the counter though. She was still staring down at the papers.
‘This is insane,’ she mumbled. ‘What are they doing?’
‘That’s what we’re trying to find out,’ Asher said.
‘No, I mean…’ she pointed to a part of the page. ‘These requisitions. These numbers can’t be real.’
Asher stared at her.
‘Okay, so if I… when one of our fences falls over, we always order four times the length of what went down, because if one part of the fence breaks, then the rest of it might be ready to go too,’ Sara said. ‘Sometimes it means we have extra stuff in storage, but we always end up needing it eventually. Even with the same logic, some of these supplies are enough to build a city.’
‘A city like Valenda?’ Asher asked.
Sara’s eyes widened, and she scanned the pages again. She chewed on her bottom lip as she studied them. ‘No, not… it depends on what they’re ordering as extra. If none of it is spare then… maybe? Even the minimum extra of… let’s say five percent, isn’t enough for a city as big as Valenda, but it could match Dalvany’s size easily. Maybe Fanmaryh if you planned it right? The problem is the material. Iron? Smelted copper? Bricks and clay?’
‘Sounds like a fortress,’ Asher commented.
‘Hadley knew about something really big, didn’t she?’
‘I think we already knew that.’ Asher could see thoughts spinning behind her eyes, the same expression she’d had at the inn. ‘We’re going to figure this out,’ he pressed.
‘I should have—’
‘You’re helping now,’ Asher said. ‘That counts for something.’
Sara flinched. ‘Okay.’ She didn’t seem completely convinced.
The dovecot was a little brick building out the back of the property, with a turret connected to one side. Small holes had been punched evenly throughout the entire thing, and ivy had claimed most of the brick. The ground between the main building and the dovecot was overgrown and uneven, and as soon as Asher placed his cane on the path, it sank into the mud.
Penn was already in the little structure, rummaging around, and by the time Asher struggled over to it, Sara had already gone in and come out again, shaking her head. ‘It’s empty. I think it has been for a while.’
The smell was still there; old hay and dirt and shit. The holes in the walls gave way to small wooden shelves on either side, small homes for birds that were no longer around. Asher tried to recall any point he’d seen pigeons around town, but they weren’t something he’d ever paid particular attention too.
‘The town abandoned the inn fast when they thought Temperance was a witch,’ Asher said. ‘Wouldn’t surprise me if they did the same here.’
‘There’s nothing here,’ Sara mumbled. ‘There’s nothing left.’
‘So we look somewhere else,’ Penn said. ‘Asher keeps going other places.’
‘Uh… yeah, we can do that,’ Asher said. Where though? The whole point was to follow Hadley’s final moments, but it had been too long and they had little to work with. Unless they followed the requisitions. That was odd enough to look into at least. If he understood what Navarre was really involved in, with Henri, with Olive, with Lord Barque… it was the edge of a full blown conspiracy and that thought made him dizzy. Conspiracies weren’t just crimes or disorder; this could easily kill any of them if they opened the wrong door.
‘I think we could try that Dalvany address,’ Asher said. ‘Where they’ve been relocated too. But maybe you should—’
‘Don’t even start,’ Sara snapped. ‘I told you I’m coming with you and you won’t talk me out of it.’
‘If this is as big as it looks, it’s dangerous,’ Asher pointed out.
‘You haven’t been listening to me, have you?’ Sara sighed. ‘Sweetie, you’re a good kid, but pay attention please. This has always been dangerous for both of us.’
‘I’m tired of this talk,’ Penn said. ‘Can we go now?’
‘He’s right, we don’t have time for this,’ Sara said. ‘You can’t do this alone, you know that.’
‘I—’ The words were a punch in the gut, and his leg ached as if it was agreeing with her.
A loud screech was Asher’s only warning before a rush of feathers burst through one of the tiny windows and slammed into his back. The weight stayed there, clinging to his shoulder and pushing down, and even as Asher tensed, too afraid to move, claws dug into his collar, breaking through his coat and stabbing flesh.