Shield and Crocus Page 8

  How did she find me? he wondered.

  [ I know where Aegis is.] She called in his mind, her voice taunting.

  Dammit. She couldn’t be bluffing if she knows that Aegis is missing. Could she? But if he went back, he might not escape again.

  The sight of aria’s dying body in his arms flashed across his vision, and his promise echoed through his mind.

  First Sentinel rounded a corner and turned back. He pressed the emergency button on his wrist bracelet, knowing that help wouldn’t arrive in time. If he was lucky, someone would be nearby. Stranger things had happened. First Sentinel saw the broken body of the rapist on the street floor, a random passer-by thumbing through his wallet.

  First Sentinel grappled onto the corner an open window and swung up around an abutment. Changing his angle, First Sentinel hit the roof in a roll, his grapple gun recoiling.

  Black wind was gone. The Shield scanned the roof and the skies overhead, but he saw nothing. Why leave? Was she just taunting me? Don’t drop your guard yet, Wonlar. he paced the roof, looking for anything left behind as a clue, half his attention turned skyward on watch.

  He was bending over to look at a brown rag he hadn’t noticed before when a solid weight crashed down on him.

  She’s brought friends. Marvelous.

  He looked up at the blue-on-black of a Freithin brute against the night sky. This one he didn’t recognize. The Freithin had range and strength on him and was probably uninjured. Well done, old man.

  The Freithin lifted and held him off the ground at arm’s length while Black wind appeared again to gloat.

  [You wear your weaknesses too openly, even for an Ikanollo.]

  The brute slammed him into the ground. First Sentinel felt a rib crack, the coat’s protective enchantment spent.

  First Sentinel screamed. He focused his rage, spitting his words at Black wind. “So you don’t know where Aegis is, then?” The Freithin’s mouth twisted into a sadistic, toothy grin.

  Black wind floated down to the roof, holding a hand to her chin. [Oh, we do. COBALT-3 is having so much fun with him, she couldn’t keep her metal mouth shut.]

  First Sentinel winced as he spoke, even shallow breaths flashing pain across his chest. “He’ll be fine. He’s tougher than your friend here and smarter than Yema.” Bluff for time, make a plan.

  [So smart that he’s leaving his mentor to die on a rooftop in The Corner for snooping into the affairs of his betters.]

  Keep talking, Black Wind. First Sentinel swung his legs up to wrap around the Freithin’s arm, then twisted the thug’s elbow against the joint, breaking the hold. First Sentinel hit the roof and rolled, gaining distance between himself and the Freithin. The ache in his eyes and at his fingers told him he couldn’t push himself much longer. Oh, to be twenty-five again. Hell, I’d take forty.

  Dodging and weaving for position, First Sentinel tried to bait Black wind with taunts. Think about how much you dislike me instead of just crushing me. he’d learned all he needed to that night. Without backup, staying would just get him killed.

  He juked left then right, dodging away from the Freithin long enough to pull the last throwing knife from his boot. He prayed that he wasn’t already hemorrhaging internally. The Freithin saw him move and grabbed him with both hands.

  No good. The thug swung First Sentinel overhand and slammed him into the ground again. But the knife was already out, and First Sentinel tossed it as he fell, using the Freithin’s body as cover. It was a long shot… The Shield’s vision swam, then went black.

  First Sentinel snapped back to consciousness, pain arcing across his chest as he sat up with a gulp.

  Ten yards away, the Freithin thug hunched over Black wind. His knife had found its target, then. Decades of fighting alongside Ghost Hands had taught him that Qava’s telekinetic sonar was more easily tricked if a projectile launched from behind cover. A split-second of surprise combined with the Qava’s own arrogance was sometimes enough to sneak a blow in.

  This Freithin must be Black wind’s bodyguard, choosing to go to her side instead of pound on the Ikanollo in front of him. Distracted by his charge’s wounds, the Freithin didn’t notice as First Sentinel pulled himself toward the lip of the roof.

  He drew his grapple gun and caught the hook on the lip of an adjacent roof. Climbing onto the lip of his building, First Sentinel then rolled off, holding on to the grapple gun with both hands. The arc swung him past his former conversation partner on the street, picked clean of everything save his patched pants.

  First Sentinel heard Black wind’s mental shouts of frustration as his feet nearly brushed the cobblestone street.

  Get out, old man. another two blocks and he was out of range of Black wind’s telepathic trace. From there, he kept to the side streets and made for his bolt-hole.

  As he swung across The corner, First Sentinel thought about Nevri’s offer, Aegis’ captivity, and Yema’s still-unknown plans for Fahra. First Sentinel plotted a course out of the corner and toward Dr. Acci to get his ribs checked out. And then, to assemble the team. If COBALT-3 had Aegis, the only question was where. Which lab.

  I’m coming, my boy.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  First Sentinel

  The downpour outside was a constant buzz, fat droplets without end. Inside, the group sat around a bare limestone table. Without a tablecloth, the stone showed countless stains from spilled wine and food.

  Altars were made for communion, of coming together. It was fitting.

  Beyond the foyer, a lone priestess stood watch. Their door guard.

  “We need the help,” Sarii said, for the fifth time since the Shields had sat down to make a decision about Nevri’s offer. The meeting was scheduled for that night. He’d spent all morning going over his notes about COBALT3’s territory, where she might be holding his son. But if they were going to take Nevri’s offer, they had to decide and act on that first.

  Wonlar paced around the table, weaving between the pillow-seats and the altar, incense still burning. Some would say it’s blasphemous to plan war in a temple of the City Mother. But dreams of freedom are the best kind of worship we can give her.

  Many of the temples had fallen into disrepair during the reign of the tyrants. Some still prayed to the goddess that kept them afraid, hoping for mercy, but most just stayed home. As First Sentinel, Wonlar had befriended the priestesses of several temples, women who remembered the Goddess’ true purpose.

  [I think we can do it on our own,] Bira said.

  Wonlar knew the Shields could gather explosives, but they didn’t have the location of the machine or any of the other information.

  He said, “even if we can triangulate, it’ll take longer with trial and error, and we might not be able to move by the summit. Nevri is a monster, but she’s a businesswoman, she plays by her own set of rules. The offer might be a trap, but if it isn’t, then she’d be with us through the whole thing.”

  Sarii was unmoved. Bira was silent, considering. Time for a different approach. “Let’s pretend it isn’t a trap. Nevri’s above-board, and this is a good chance. How do we do it?”

  Wenlizerachi set aside the loaf of bread he’d been munching on and pulled himself up in his seat. “With the map, I could scout the place out, check sentries, rotations. Dlella said it’s protected, so we’d need to find out how well.”

  Wonlar nodded. Thank you, let’s stay positive here. “we have just after midnight to meet her. The sun outside is fading to the south, so we’ve maybe got five hours. The Smiling King will have at least one of his lieutenants stationed at the machine. Which one?”

  “Protean would kill minions to keep herself entertained,” Sarii said.

  “Onyx is his heavy,” Rova said. A fellow Freithin, Onyx was of a size with Rova and was casual with the lives of his foot soldiers.

  “That’d be my bet,” Wonlar said. “For Onyx, I have the drainer disks. We’ll just need someone to hold him in place long enough. And if that doesn’t work, I have somet
hing special I’ve been meaning to try out.”

  Rova cracked her knuckles. “I can handle Onyx.”

  [We’ll need Aegis,] Bira added.

  The last time Sapphire and Onyx had fought, it had been a standstill. Bira might be right. Wonlar kept the thought to himself, not wanting to show his doubt.

  Sarii leaned onto the heavy stone table, inlaid in emerald with the knot-work symbol of the city Goddess. “Shouldn’t we talk about Aegis?”

  First Sentinel waved a hand, dismissing the topic. “If we get started talking about him, I won’t be able to stop until we find him, and we need to address this opportunity, so no, we shouldn’t talk about Aegis.”

  “He’ll come back. Don’t worry.” although Rova looked calm, Wonlar imagined she was as worried as he was. A jade thread reached out from her heart into the indistinct distance. Still hidden, Aegis’ threads were masked.

  All six of them had threads hanging loose, their connections to Aegis a constant reminder of his absence. For most of his companions, the threads were the shimmering gold bond of brotherhood.

  In addition, there had been a soft jade thread between Rova and Aegis for the better part of two years, but neither of them seemed to be willing to make a move. Two of the strongest people in the city, but they’re scared of their own feelings.

  “Why can’t Nevri just do it herself?” Sarii asked. “Even if she needs to have it not be traceable to her, she could hire any number of mercenaries. Why us?”

  “That might be the most important question,” First Sentinel said. “She means to involve us in this, and not just to serve our purposes. By using us, she’s getting something else. What?”

  Rova answered. “We should be going after Aegis. We don’t all have to go to meet Nevri, do we?”

  “We don’t, but we would need everyone to face COBALT-3. I don’t imagine she’d let him out of her grasp without a fight,” Blurred Fists said.

  Sarii jumped in. “Here’s what she gets—a win-win situation. We go and die, she wins. We go and succeed, she wins. And City Mother only knows what she’ll do to us if we pull this off and are greedy enough to come calling for our reward.” She twirled a stone noose around one finger.

  “It’s undoubtedly a trap,” First Sentinel said. “But is the chance to keep close tabs on Nevri worth the danger?”

  [Once we get the information tonight, we can case the location and then decide,] Bira said, her thoughts speaking directly to each of the Shields’ minds.

  “What if they hold back the location until the meet with Nevri?” Wonlar asked.“we don’t get the explosive until the meet with Nevri anyway. Whatever it is, we want it. None of the bombs we have are big enough to take out a machine the size I imagine this Rebirth engine would need to be. So unless we want to make Bira float a whole crate of explosives and even then take our chances, we need that explosive.”

  Wenlizerachi stood, took three quick laps around the table, and lit three more sticks of incense, repeating the ritual supplication for a blessing from the City Mother. “Even if we get in and can plant the explosive, we’ll need an escape plan, different than the way we got in—the Smiling King’s reinforcements would flood us by then.”

  Bira chuckled in the Shields’ minds. [I can just knock out the walls, if we really want to cause trouble.]

  “Why not?” Sarii asked. “Why are we always playing it soft with these monsters? We should be leaving behind stacks of corpses until they decide to pack it up and find another city to terrorize.”

  Wonlar leveled a gaze at Sarii. “They’re the killers. Not us.”

  “Fifty years you’ve been saying that, and what have we got to show for it? I buried my naïveté with the dozen friends who gave their lives for your dreams of a free Audec-Hal, Wonlar. I won’t bury another friend, but I’d happily dig graves for the tyrants myself.”

  Bira spoke again, her voice calm, but insistent. [We’re losing focus. It’s time to make a decision.]

  Wonlar took a deep breath. “Let’s vote. All for taking Nevri’s bargain?”

  Rova’s hand went up. Bira locked Wonlar in her attention, and he felt her presence in his mind, watching and listening. Wonlar raised his hand, and the Qava mirrored him. Wonlar tried to shut away his doubt from Bira, but he felt her find it, acknowledge it, and move past it.

  Wenlizerachi raised his hand. “I still think it’s a trap.”

  “If I have to bury all of you by myself, I’m going to cave in the tomb and never look back.” Sarii at her most sentimental—in public at least.

  Wonlar unfolded a map of the district around Ruby Shackles. “Alright, here’s my plan. If it is a trap, we won’t be caught unawares. Dlella will have people placed here and here.” Wonlar indicated the alley in front of the brothel and the street behind it. If Nevri means to imply that we were prostitutes, at least she thought us high-class ones.

  “Wenlizerachi, I want you, Bira, and Sarii to stay back, watch the exits and keep our line of retreat open. Rova and I will go inside.”

  [ And what about Selweh/Aegis?]

  Wonlar didn’t notice a reaction from anyone else. The message was only for him, coming back to the doubt he’d let slip through to the forefront of his thoughts. [I swore an oath to do anything I could to protect him. But we have to take this opportunity,] Wonlar thought back to his old friend. [He would kill me if we passed up this opportunity just for him.]

  Wonlar thought back to Bira, [As soon as we get back, we start crossing warehouses and laboratories off the list, until we find the right one and take it by storm.]

  City Mother, let this not be a trap.

  * * *

  Most brothels had a doorman, some tough—often a Freithin—who kept out the riffraff and waded in when trouble started.

  Ruby Shackles had three, standing in a wide V-shape: a tall lanky Pronai who wore a white straw hat, a portly Freithin as wide as the double-doors, and a full-blood oxkin Millrej with raven-black fur and a bronze nose-ring.

  The first trick was getting in. Audec-Hal’s sex trade had a great deal of money invested in keeping the tyrants in power. Before the Republic fell, prostitution was tightly controlled and limited. But under the tyrants, no perversion was out of bounds. Anything for the right price.

  As Sapphire and First Sentinel approached the door in full raiment, the three bouncers stood shoulder-to-shoulder-to-shoulder to bar their way.

  The Pronai adjusted his hat. “Who do we have here?” he drew out the last word slowly, a big grin on his face.

  First Sentinel sighed. I don’t have time to do my laundry, so I certainly don’t have time for small men with big egos.

  “We’re here to meet Dlella. We’re expected,” he said, striding forward, attempting to force them to move out of his way.

  They didn’t. First Sentinel stopped on the toes of his foot just before colliding with the Pronai.

  The thin bouncer looked down his hawkish nose at First Sentinel. “Your kind is bad for business, okay? Why don’t you just keep on walking?”

  Sapphire flanked First Sentinel, squaring off against the portly Freithin. “We’ll play nice. Buy some rounds, and keep out of the spotlight. Won’t even know we’re here.”

  “With those outfits?” the Millrej snorted.

  Come on, flinch, First Sentinel thought. He found thrashing smart-asses to be very calming.

  Instead, he stepped back and addressed the group.

  “Well, if you want to get on Dlella’s bad side.” he looked to Sapphire, then back to the bouncers.

  They could fight their way through, but he’d rather not raise anyone’s ire and set himself up for even more of a trap in the brothel full of gangsters.

  Sighing, First Sentinel slipped the Pronai a crisp bill. Likely as much as the guard would make in a night. Then he pulled out two more, for the Millrej and Freithin.

  Having stuffed the pockets of the bouncers, First Sentinel held his hands up and asked, “are we done here?”

  They parted, and th
e Shields walked inside.

  Ruby Shackles was a monument to indulgence. Wallto-wall crushed red velvet, polished mahogany fixtures, and expensive Jalvai sculptures, all from the last great pre-oligarchy movement, defined by bold lines and self-assurance. The bar was polished steel, manned by a four-armed Spark-touched woman and a slight Pronai. Naked and mostly naked women and men were peppered throughout the room like furniture. One man even was furniture: a broad-backed Qava who lay on the floor having finger food eaten off his back.

  The air was thick with threads the flushed pink of lust, the orange of greed, and even a few dashes of fearful yellow.

  A stocky man in a grey suit nodded at the Shields from the second floor, waving them up.

  “I don’t like this place,” Sapphire said.

  “Neither do i.”

  Dlella didn’t want them to be comfortable—classic business tactics. Take your opponent out of their everyday routine, put them on guard. Create and exploit every advantage. Luckily, First Sentinel was too angry to be defensive. He headed for the stairs, the weight of eyes following both him and Sapphire.

  The elder Shield crossed the room with a hand on his belt, ready for the trap that he’d all but convinced himself was waiting. At the top of the stairs, a Jalvai attendant ushered them into a sitting room with a low black-lacquered table and pillows for seats. Dlella was coiled into an upright sitting position, with four more guards in grey suits posted in the corners.

  Dlella had set the stage well—no matter where the Shields stood, they would be flanked and outnumbered. If they stood at the door, they’d show their distrust and continue to draw attention from the main crowd, but if they made a display of courtesy and sat at the table, they’d have to turn their backs to two of the guards.

  Dlella swayed side to side as they entered. She gave a slight nod. “Please sit.” First Sentinel threw back his longcoat and took a seat, turned to keep the far corner guards in peripheral vision. Sapphire knelt into a crouch beside him, ready to spring up in a Pronai’s heartbeat.

  Eyes darted across the room, from the guards to Dlella to Sapphire. For a long moment, the seven waited for someone to make a move.