Rings of the Inconquo Trilogy

by A. L. Knorr

  Iry shrugged, and the lines in his face deepened again as a pensive frown settled over his features.

  “Maybe,” he sighed. “Whatever her intentions, it’s clear she values you. She is a strategist or she wouldn’t be in the position of power TNC has put her in. She knows helping us puts you in her debt, but she wants that debt to be honoured by someone powerful, someone she can leverage. In time we may find out if she’s worth trusting, but presently, she is playing a long game, and that is good for us.”

  I took a minute to digest this, doing my best to set aside how guilty I felt every time I looked at his leg. Guilt wouldn’t mend his leg, but the right choice now could ensure such injuries--or worse--didn’t happen in the future.

  “So you think I should sign up with Marks? Is that what I’m hearing?”

  The words had the weight of finality as they fell from my lips.

  “I cannot make that decision for you, Ibby. But if I were you, I would consider following these bread crumbs to see where they may lead. We have found a powerful ally—until we see evidence that they are otherwise--and in these times we can use all the help we can get.” Iry stifled a yawn. Dark pockets of weariness had sprouted under his eyes. “Before you go, could you help a babbling old man back to his bed?”

  I pressed the lump in my throat aside and put on the best smile I could manage.

  “Of course.”

  4

  Signing on with a secret society was far less esoteric than I’d imagined. More like signing a lease for a flat. So many little spots to review and initial, so many places to sign and date, but once I was done I was given a key card, an account and access to the company networks, and the promise that my salary deposit would be made post-haste.

  That final thought put a bounce in my step as I walked out of Marks’ office: well compensated, indeed! My sprightly mood lasted until I reached the elevator, where I was intercepted by Corporal Bordeaux, one of the security team members.

  If there was anyone who could match Stewart for the grim stare down award, it was Bordeaux, whose features looked chiselled out of granite. The only sign he was really human was a long jagged scar across his neck, where the words “par le sang versé” had been inked alongside the old wound. Flinty black eyes glared from beneath heavy brows, and my cheer shrivelled rapidly.

  “Stewart wants you for a briefing,” he informed me with a voice like raw gravel.

  Bristling, I eyed him. I’d just signed up, and I was already getting ordered around?

  “Right now,” he barked, making me jump. “Stewart wants you present for the briefing on the next operation.”

  “The terms of my contract is fresh in my mind,” I growled, narrowing my eyes throwing some sass into my hip. “I get to choose what operations I do and don’t take.”

  Bordeaux’s expression didn’t budge, but an intense, almost feverish light came into his eyes. When he spoke, there was an eager edge to his grinding voice.

  “Trust me; you want in on this one.”

  My defiance reluctantly crumbled at the gleeful undertone in his words. Curiosity raised its head. “Really?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he rumbled with what might have been the closest Bordeaux ever came to a laugh. “Weren’t you the one who brought the intel about Iraq?”

  ---

  “It’s goin’ to be a hard noot to crack,” Stewart remarked as the lights came up in the briefing room. The projection of the complex’s estimated layout alongside topographic maps of the area were still superimposed on the wall next to him.

  “Lucky for us, we’ll be bringin’ a few nootcrackers.”

  I thought for a second that he was talking about me, and was uncertain whether I should be proud or outraged at being called a “nootcracker”. But when the security team smiled and pounded their fists together before releasing them in pantomime explosions, I realised they were talking about explosives. Before I could help it, disappointment seeped around my edges. They were excited about getting to blow things up, not about me.

  “Your outfitting papers will arrive shortly,” Stewart continued, pretending he didn’t notice the excited muttering around him. “We’re wheels up at 0400, and live by 0800, so get your outfits sorted in the next few hours and then tuck in early. Dismissed.”

  There were murmurs of acknowledgement as the soldiers climbed to their feet, some talking as they left while others bolted, determined to use their last few hours well before lights out.

  I got up and moved toward the front of the room, where Stewart was packing up the laptop he’d run the presentation from.

  “Sergeant?” I stopped on the other side of his desk. “Could I speak to you?”

  He gave me an affirmative grunt as he clicked the black briefcase shut, his expression no more disapproving than it usually was.

  The room had emptied quickly, but I had to shift aside sheepishly as the last gaggle of soldiers skirted by the front of the room to the exit.

  “Bordeaux said you wanted me to be here for the briefing,” I began, fighting the urge to fiddle and shift back and forth like a kid asking for a cookie. “So I assumed that you wanted me to be part of the operation, but I wasn’t mentioned, except that Hadlynne was supposed to keep an eye on me.”

  Stewart let out a heavy, sonorous breath.

  “You object to Hadlynne, then?” He stood the briefcase up on the table, gnarled hands gripping either side.

  “No, Hadlynne is fine,” I said with a dismissive wave.

  “Then I s’pose I dinna ken what the issue is.”

  I took in a steadying breath, determined to keep my voice level.

  “The issue is that I am on the team now; you wanted me in the briefing, but I haven’t been told what my role is in this operation. I need clarity. Direction.”

  Stewart gave me a hard look. It took willpower not to squirm. Finally, the old Scot nodded and then laid his briefcase down on the table again.

  “I understand what you’re asking, Ms Bashir,” he said, raising a hand to knead at his brow as though nursing a headache. “You’re eager and powerful, but you’re not a soldier. This operation is strictly soldierin’ in its initial phases. You are coming along as a courtesy to Ms Marks and for experience. If you want a title, call yourself an observer, but otherwise your job is to stay out of the way.”

  “What about Fes?” I asked. “I opened the door and followed orders. How is this any different?”

  Stewart shook his head, clucking his tongue. The dismissive gesture made my teeth grind together in irritation.

  “With Fes we had good intel that most were either dead or gone.” The old soldier slowed his words and softened his tone, like he was talking to a child. “This is a fortified enemy position with evidence of active hostiles. I let you show-off in Fes because Ms Marks instructed that it should be so, but now that you’re part of the command structure, my only instruction is to include you. Be thankful I’m willing to do that.”

  A tremble of anger ran through me, and I had a petulant desire to show him the kind of power I could bring to bear. Metallic aura in the room sang in the background, offering themselves as instruments of a dramatic demonstration, one that would wipe that condescending look off Stewart’s face.

  “Don’t you understand that I am wasted as an observer, Sergeant?” I bit the words out through a clenched jaw and made air quotes around the word ‘observer’, trying not to sneer the word. “Not every problem can be solved by a military solution.”

  “With all due respect, Ms Bashir, that’s where we disagree. It’s why I do what I do. Every problem does have a military solution, it’s only a matter of scale.” He gave me a close-mouthed smile that made me want to scream. Instead, I took a slow breath and counted to ten.

  I wanted to throw my past victories in his face. One look in his eyes told me that he wouldn’t be impressed, and given who he worked for, maybe he had a right not to be. Respect had to be earned, and throwing a tantrum wasn’t going to do that. Maybe I needed to c
heck my pride and let him run his team the way he saw fit. My chance to show him I should not be so easily dismissed would come, I had no doubt of that. Patience, Ibby.

  “Alright.” I exhaled. “It is your squad, you know best.”

  Stewart nodded, sweeping up his briefcase.

  “Glad to hear it.” He made toward the door.

  I stood at the table and watched him go.

  “Ah!” Stewart turned at the door, his expression that of a man remembering something unpleasant.

  “That great brute you came in with, he’s been pestering me and some o’ the lads about comin’ on operations. Almost as irritatingly eager as you.”

  An odd combination of defensiveness and embarrassment rose in my heart at his mention of Marcus. I gaped for half a moment, struggling to know what to say that wasn’t a betrayal of my boyfriend and wouldn’t rouse more of Stewart’s ire.

  “He just wants to help,” I offered with a shrug. “Same as me.”

  Stewart snorted, and then turned to leave again.

  “Tell him to bother someone else about helping,” he called over his shoulder. “Before one of my lads puts him in a bed next to your uncle.”

  ---

  “He said what?!”

  I hadn’t been sure that telling Marcus exactly what Stewart had said was a good idea. Turned out it was a terrible idea.

  The large muscles that sloped up from his shoulders to his neck bunched into trembling knots as he ground his teeth loud enough for me to hear. The bruises from the beating at Pierre’s manor had faded from sight, but as his skin flushed, there were blotchy shadows left in their memory.

  “Stuck up bastards,” he rumbled as he began to pace across the small common room that sat between the suite of rooms we’d been given. His hands clenched into meaty fists.

  “I hope one of ’em does have a go at me. We’ll see what gets broken!”

  I understood his frustration, but for all his strength and bluster, he really was a gentle giant. I moved in front of him and reached up to take his face in my hands.

  “Hey, no one’s here now, hard case.” I drew his face down toward me. “It’s just you and me.”

  He almost surrendered, bending close enough that our lips nearly brushed, but he twisted his head to the side. My mouth grazed his stubbled cheek as he leaned forward to whisper into my ear.

  “And soon it will just be me. Alone, again,” he whispered, pulling back to watch the words sink in.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t pretend,” he grunted, his expression incredulous as he straightened. I let go of him, crossing my arms as I stared up into his face, forcing my expression blank.

  “I’m not pretending,” I lied, a keen stab of guilt driving all the way to my heart. I thought I knew what was coming and I didn’t have an answer. “Could you just tell me what is bothering you?”

  He cocked an eyebrow, his scowl deepening.

  “You mean besides your new boss threatening to have one of his little tin soldiers put me in a hospital bed?” He snarled.

  “Yes.” I rolled my eyes. “Besides that.”

  Marcus threw himself down on a loveseat, which gave a groan of protest.

  “How about the fact you signed up with Marks without even talking to me about it first? And now you’re off chasing danger around the world while I’m stuck in an office-shaped prison.”

  I glowered. “I don’t need your approval to do anything. You don’t own me, Marcus.”

  Marcus sat up sharply, his mouth hanging open in a way that just made me want to smack him. He made an outraged scoffing sound in the back of his throat.

  “I may not, but TNC does now. Don’t they?” he shot back, the words sharp and hot.

  “That’s a choice I made,” I spat, desperate to say something to drive off the sting of his words. “And you have to get used to me making my own decisions; otherwise, we aren’t going to last long.”

  The implied threat had the desired effect as I watched Marcus’s anger turn to fear, but it wasn’t gratifying in the least. Instead of triumph, I felt sick, and rather than feeling strong, I felt ready to crumble. Regret moved in, hard and fast.

  “Marcus … I …”

  What was it about romance that robbed a person of the basic ability to communicate? My heart throbbed painfully at the look on his face, a look I had put there. My mouth went dry and words wouldn’t come. Why was it so difficult to apologize?

  Marcus held up a hand, quieting my floundering, before turning it to squeeze at his temples.

  “Ibby,” he began in a sad, weary voice. “I’m not trying to control you or own you. I … I love you too much for that. But when you signed that contract, you signed me up too. That’s what being in a relationship is, sharing things, sharing life. I just wished we could have talked about it.”

  Another needle of guilt. He wasn’t wrong. Even if he had considered leaving me to face Ninurta and Winterthür alone, he couldn’t go back to his old life. The enemy had seen him. He was bound to me now, like it or not, and though I’d made the choice for his benefit, I’d made it without him.

  “I’m sorry,” I croaked, looking down. My cheeks felt warm. “I should have talked to you; it’s just… I feel like things are building. Even before learning Ninurta had awoken—”

  Marcus muttered a low, vicious curse.

  I blinked with surprise before I realized why… I’d forgotten to tell him about what happened in Fes. Damn it.

  “I’m sorry, I was going to tell you.” I put my hands out. “It’s just that things have been moving so fast.”

  Marcus waved off the apology and then bent over and held his head in his hands.

  “So that’s what you found out in Morocco?” he asked. He dropped his hands between his legs and looked up, misery etched into his features. “That Ninurta is awake?”

  “Sort of.” I shrugged, not having the time or the energy to go over the sorry details. “It wasn’t proof so much as hearsay, but I just know it’s true. I can feel it.”

  Marcus nodded and I loved him for the simple, trusting gesture that said he believed in me.

  For a moment, the conversation hung there, caught on the inescapable dread we both felt. Ninurta awoken meant, as best either of us understood, apocalypse cometh, and the end is nigh. Standing in the wake of that moment, it seemed appropriate to share a moment of silence.

  “So that’s what’s next then,” Marcus sighed, his voice catching and cracking softly. “You’re going demigod hunting with the goon squad.”

  I almost laughed but then something hit me like a brick-hauling lorry.

  What if we faced Ninurta tomorrow? The speed with which everything happened, combined with Stewart’s dismissiveness, had driven the terrifying thought out of my mind, but what if Ninurta was there in Iraq? There was some underlying assumption that he was out converting Winterthür operatives, but maybe not. What if they came to him? What if I was literally walking into the lion’s den with a crotchety old bully who wanted to keep me side-lined?

  My knees turned watery as I fought back a shiver.

  “I guess so,” I said, unable to keep the quiver from my voice. Suddenly, my chest felt tight and I struggled to draw a deep breath.

  Before I knew what was happening, Marcus had risen and scooped me up in his arms.

  “Hey, hey, Ibby,” he muttered softly as he drew me against his powerful chest. “You don’t have to go tomorrow. You can stay, stay here with me.”

  There in his strong arms, feeling the pulsing warmth of his body next to mine, that was exactly what I wanted to do. Just stay. My contract had formalized it--all operations were voluntary. That meant I could bail even now. Stewart didn’t want me anyway.

  But… if Ninurta really was awake and in Iraq, I was the security team’s best hope, no matter how meagre that hope was.

  “I have to go.” I sobbed into his neck. “I know it sounds crazy and stupid, but I’m an Inconquo. I have to go.”

&
nbsp; “It’s not stupid,” he breathed against my cheek, but I felt disappointment soft his frame. “It’s part of why I love you. But if you have to go, then I should go with you.”

  “They won’t let you.” I pressed myself against him, hungry for his willing strength and warmth.

  In response he drew me even closer, tightening those arms around me.

  I knew that wouldn’t be the end of it. I could practically feel him thinking, shifting through ideas and options like a dealer shuffles a deck of playing cards.

  But at least for the moment, we were together.

  5

  “Your boy’s got stones; I’ll give ’im that.”

  Stewart’s expression made it clear that he was a far way from being truly impressed.

  We were en route to Iraq, TNC’s plane chasing the dawn as we coasted over what might have been Turkey.

  “What happened?” I cringed waiting for the answer.

  I’d fallen asleep in Marcus’s arms on the loveseat and woken alone in my bed as my alarm went off. I hadn’t seen Marcus as I left and didn’t want to wake him if he was sleeping in his room.

  “Came to my quarters,” Stewart said with a slow shake of his head. “Woke me up.”

  “Oh, boy.” I rubbed a hand over my eyes.

  “Stuck my service pistol in his face,” Stewart grunted. “Explained with some choice phrases how I didn’t appreciate the interruption. Didn’t have a round chambered of course, but don’t s’pose he knew that.”

  For a moment, I gaped at what he was describing, trying to convince myself that the thrum of the engines had confused my ears.

  Stewart continued. “Boy didn’t even flinch. Rare for a civilian.”

  I took a steadying breath, reminding myself that I was part of a hierarchy now, one I was just getting to know. The long looks the sergeant was giving me gave me no illusions as to what this was: a test. Unintentionally, Marcus had provided Stewart with the perfect opportunity to see how I handled it when my superior did something I didn’t like.