Aeralis (15 page)

Gabe shut his eyes. “I knew it.”

“You knew there was a spy? And what’s in this book of records?”

Gabe licked his lower lip and glanced around again. “I must tell you in private.”

I pushed off the wall and opened the door to my room. He hesitated, and I gestured for him to follow me inside. He pinked slightly but didn’t argue. Once we were inside, Gabe lingered near the door, his hands restless while I lit a gas lamp.

“Tell me,” I said, turning back to him. “Please.”

“The book of records holds the name of the person who betrayed my family to the Dictator. Gave him access to the palace, told his men our comings and goings.”

I pulled off my coat and threw it over a chair. I waited for him to continue.

Gabe’s eyebrows pinched together as he spoke the next words. “I told you before that someone betrayed my family. I don’t know who, but I’m afraid... Clara’s family worked for the royal family. They had access.”

“You think her family betrayed yours to the Dictator?”

His throat convulsed as he swallowed. “I just need to know for sure it isn’t her.” He stopped. “And as you heard tonight, someone is leaking information.”

“You think it’s Claire?”

“I—no! Well. I just want to be sure.” Frustration and fear crossed his face.

“You love her,” I observed, and immediately regretted it. It seemed like a stupid thing to say, and I didn’t know why I had.

Gabe blinked. “Of course I do. She’s my friend.”

That wasn’t what I’d meant, but I said nothing else. I wasn’t Ann; I didn’t prod people to talk endlessly about their feelings, and I certainly wasn’t comfortable having this discussion with him. An uncomfortable emotion that felt like loss or jealousy or sadness, or all three bundled up together, simmered in my stomach. I stuffed it away to ponder later and focused on the conversation at hand while Gabe paced restlessly, his arms crossed tightly and his face pinched in a scowl.

“So you want to get this book of records to see if she’s the one who betrayed you all those years ago?”

“The name of the informants should be listed. As I’m a traitor to the crown—and supposed to be dead—it’s hardly a great secret that must be guarded with too much care. It’s simply something no one would remember, because why does it matter to them?”

“Surely Korr would care.”

Gabe looked ill.

“But you don’t want him to know she’s betraying you?”

He groaned. “I have to give her a chance to explain herself. If Korr found out, he’d have her killed. He has no mercy for traitors, not now.”

“Do we have another chance to retrieve the book?” I asked.

Gabe’s shoulders sagged. “Not that I know of. Entry to that house is rarely granted. The party was a rare occasion. But thank you. I appreciate your concern for my feelings.”

“Gabe,” I said, annoyed now. “If someone is betraying you, they need to be found before someone gets hurt. You, or if you don’t care about your own safety, Ann.” Or Adam, my mind whispered traitorously.

“Please,” he said. “I need to find out if it’s true. If Korr knew what I suspect—even if I’m wrong—she’ll be dispatched anyway. Korr already doesn’t trust her. I don’t need to give him another reason not to.”

Dispatched
. A shudder ran through me.

This was a complication I didn’t need. I needed to find Borde and his device and return to the Frost. However, the expression in Gabe’s eyes stirred me. It was the look of a wild thing trapped in a cage, desperate and terrified. It mirrored the way I felt whenever I remembered Jonn’s listless body beneath the quilt, the way I’d felt when I’d seen Ivy in Gordon’s clutches.

“What do you propose we do?” I asked, the words coming out like a sigh.

His panic thawed a little. “Thank you. I’m not sure, but thank you.”

Somewhere, a clock struck one in the morning. It was late.

“I’ll keep thinking of a plan,” Gabe said. He slipped from the room, leaving me alone.

I bathed, undressed, and tried to sleep, but I stared at the ceiling for a long time before unconsciousness claimed me.

~

I met Korr in his study the next morning. Raven joined us, much to my chagrin.

“I see you’ve found the location of your friend,” Korr said, looking from me to Raven. “Thanks to my resources.”

“She did it on her own time,” I said sharply.

Raven smirked at us both and leaned back against the desk, arching her neck and exposing the line of her collarbone. A necklace consisting of a single pearl on a silver strand glimmered there, like a frozen teardrop. “Don’t fight. There’s enough of me for everyone.”

Korr gave her a look that said he found her less than amusing. She returned it with one that said she was only playing.

I had no patience for their cat-and-mouse games of attraction and power. “When are we rescuing Falcon?”

The door to the study opened, and Adam stepped inside, his coat on his arm and his clothing damp from the outside. He tossed his coat over a chair, crossed his arms, and leaned against the wall. Our eyes met, and I was the one to look away first.

“Now that we’re all here,” Korr said, “we can discuss the plan. According to the information Nettie here provided, he’s being held in the camp on the far side of the city, called Blackmouth.”

Raven’s eyes narrowed into slits at the use of her real name, and she made a small sound of derisive outrage. Korr ignored her.

“What has to be done to extract him?”

“I’ll have to acquire passes to get you in. Brewer will accompany us, and Nettie is coming along to serve as a distraction,” Korr said.

“Us?” I asked.

“Of course I’m coming,” he said. “What else will stop you from taking the man and running straight for the Frost with no regard for our agreement?”

My heart thumped hard against my ribs. I didn’t answer. Ivy’s face floated before my eyes. We were running out of time, and Korr was only making everything more complicated by refusing to trust me.

“Fine,” I gritted out. There was no time, and arguing would only waste what little we didn’t have. “When can we leave?”

“Patience,” Korr said in a tone that made my blood boil. “This afternoon. We need time to assemble your costumes.”

“Costumes?”

He smiled.

~

Blackmouth was as ugly as its name suggested. A snarl of metal fences ringed a collection of stone buildings, and the sight of them reminded me of the Farther occupation of the Frost. Scum scudded the sides and roofs of the buildings, and seaweed clung to the bottoms of the fences where they bit into the sandy shore. The river Black surged past the dock that led to the camp, and the frothy water was thick with debris and garbage from the city. The stench of sewage filled the air.

Our cart rattled as it crossed the wooden bridge that led to the camp. Raven sat beside Korr in the front of the cart, and Adam and I crouched in the back. Adam’s eyes met mine and slid away to focus on the camp ahead. His chest rose and fell with even breaths, but his hands were still against the sides of the wagon, betraying his tension. I clung to the side as the wheels shuddered and bounced over the uneven planks.

“As you can see, these camps were constructed rather hastily,” Korr murmured under his breath. “To deal with the influx of dissenters and traitors to the new ruler.” His voice was sharp with disgust even though it was muffled by his mask.

We were disguised as a food delivery wagon. We all wore masks designed to help visitors cope with the eye-watering smell of the river and the camp, and our clothes were plain gray and brown with boots and gloves. Adam and I both had caps to cover our hair. Korr wore a beard, and a false scar marred his cheek. Raven had donned a patched dress, and her hair was dirty, but she still looked stunning.

Anxiety rioted in my blood as the camp grew closer. I adjusted my mask and shifted my weight. My legs were falling asleep. I straightened them, flexing my ankles and toes in an effort to limber them.

“We’ll be fine,” Adam said, for my ears alone.

I looked at him. He was still gazing at the camp, but I felt his attention on me all the same. One side of his mouth quirked in the barest smile.

“This is nothing you haven’t done before,” he said, and the memory of the day Korr and I had rescued him from an Aeralian prison filled my mind. I’d kissed him. A flush swept over me as I remembered the way it had felt to hold him. Now he sat only a few feet from me, but he might as well be back in the Frost for the gulf of emotional distance between us.

I pulled my mind back to the present as the wagon stopped before the gate to the camp. Soldiers approached, their guns slung low and their mouths slack. They were bored. I breathed in and out, and the sound hissed through my mask. On the seat ahead of me, Raven shifted and gave the men a sideways glance. They both looked at her with idle interest and a glimmer of curiosity. They ignored Adam and me.

Korr handed one of the guards papers that granted us passage—papers he’d forged earlier. The guard scrutinized them and then waved us through.

Adam turned his head and flicked one eyebrow up at me.

Success.

Mud squished beneath the wheels of the wagon as we entered the camp. Rows of huts stretched out toward the water. Rivulets of dirty liquid streamed through the paths between them. In the distance, men and women stood up to their knees in the river, cutting reeds and tying them into bundles.

In the camps, Korr had explained, the prisoners worked all day long performing hard labor. At Blackmouth, they picked reeds from the riverbed and gathered them into bundles to be dried. Then, the bundles were gathered into piles and burned. The futility of the work was part of the torture.

Korr stopped the wagon before the kitchen—a long, low building of stone surrounded by troughs. My eyes widened as I realized the prisoners were fed from the troughs. Anger burned in the pit of my stomach.

Adam touched my wrist, signaling for me to follow him, and we leaped down from the cart. Korr stepped down into the mud, muttering curses as his boots sank into the filth. He nodded at us, and we lifted the cartons of food scraps from the back of the cart and began to carry them toward the kitchen. We set them inside on a grimy brick floor and returned for the rest. The hairs on my neck prickled with apprehension as we worked. A quick glance over my shoulder confirmed that the guards were still watching us.

“Stay here,” Korr said to Raven, speaking loud enough that his voice carried across the yard. “I don’t want you wandering around. This place is dangerous.”

“It smells,” she protested. “Can’t I come with you?”

They began to bicker while Adam and I slipped around the side of the kitchen. Once out of sight of the guards, we walked briskly for the warden’s office.

The warden sat hunched over his desk, eating a slice of dry-looking cake. I wondered how he could eat with the stench of the camp in his nose. When we entered, he straightened and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yes?”

“We need a few off-duty workers to help us unload our cart,” Adam said. He paused. “Is that pecan?”

“Walnut,” the warden said, noting Adam’s interest and taking another bite with a malicious smile. He licked the crumbs from his lips.

As Adam distracted the warden with a conversation about cake, I scanned the wall behind him. It was covered in the names and numbers of the prisoners, along with marks to indicate their punishments and privileges. My eyes fell on the name I sought.

Falcon
.

He was prisoner number 650. My heart pounded, and I stepped on Adam’s foot lightly, the signal that I’d found what we needed.

As soon as we’d exited the building, we darted around the side and out of sight of any guards. We pulled off our masks and caps and dropped them behind a barrel. I rubbed a little dirt on my face, and Adam brushed mud across his neck. In our plain garments and without our masks and caps, we looked more like the prisoners—as long as no one noticed how well fed we were.

“Number 650,” I said, and Adam nodded. We set off toward the river.

The camp was divided into rows, and it was split in half between men and women prisoners, Korr had explained. The higher numbers were at the back, nearest the river. The prisoner’s numbers were posted outside the doors of the huts.

Water from puddles splashed our ankles and mud splattered the legs of our clothes as we slipped around corners and dodged guards on patrol, crossing the camp one row at a time. We weren’t alone. Prisoners squatted outside of the huts, urinated in alleyways, and wandered past in a daze. They worked in rotations, and if we were fortunate, Falcon would be in his hut. Nobody spared us more than a glance as we passed. They seemed too weary to care.

I spotted 650 and pointed. “There.”

A hand seized my shoulder and spun me around. A guard with drooping lids and a cruel sneer glared down at me. “I thought I told you to bring me a drink from the guardhouse.”

My heart thudded against my ribs. “You must be mistaken.”

“’You must be mistaken,’” he repeated, mocking me. “What is this, a tea party? I’m not mistaken. It was you. Where’s my drink?”

“It wasn’t me,” I insisted.

He slapped me hard across the face. I staggered back, tasting blood, and Adam stepped in front of me with a sound of protest.

“Hey—”

The guard punched him hard enough to drop him to his knees. When Adam raised his head, the guard hit him again.

“Stop,” I shouted, but the guard ignored me. He lifted his fist to strike again.

A splash in the river snagged his attention. He paused. In the distance, two prisoners went down together in a flail of arms and legs. They leaped up again, circling each other among the reeds with their fists up as the other prisoners scattered. The guard muttered under his breath. He reached down to his belt for his whip.

“Let this be a lesson. Don’t forget again,” the guard snarled at me, and set off for the river.

Adam got to his feet. The right side of his face was already swelling.

“Are you all right?” I asked Adam as soon as the guard had vanished.