by Ann Denton
Mala turned to stare at another painting, not wanting the wound to open up any further. She swiped at a tear.
Ges glanced up. “What is it?”
“That’s where, you know … the attack,” Mala couldn’t finish her sentence. She took a deep calming breath.
“Hey, I’m sorry. Do you want to go somewhere else?” Ges asked.
Mala shook her head. “No. I’m good. Just have to distract myself. I actually came to tell you some good news. Lowe’s giving Ein his first combat practice as we speak.”
Ges’s jaw dropped. He looked scandalized. “No!”
Mala smiled. That was exactly the reaction I needed. “Oh yes. Since Ein has to help me melt, he has to be prepared for the consequences of the real world.”
“More like the consequences of a jealous boyfriend.”
Mala shrugged. “Maybe both.”
“I can’t believe you’d let Lowe do that. Now who am I gonna stare at? You’ve seen the other guys here. Hideous. Mala, couldn’t you have held him off? Why didn’t you think of me for once?”
“Sorry. With Ein, I only ever think about revenge.” And kissing, a snickering little voice in the back of her mind said.
“Oh my gosh!” Ges dropped his notebook and grabbed her arms. He stared into her face. “No. Oh my gosh! You do—you like him!”
Mala shrugged him off. “Ew. Not even close. We hate each other. He tries to make my life as miserable as possible. So when the opportunity comes to retaliate—I take it.”
Ges raised an eyebrow.
Mala held up her hands in protest. “I don’t. Ein’s a big smelly fish-head.” Even if his kissing is semi-adequate, the rest of him most definitely is not. And I don’t know why Fell is making us partner up. Seeing that Ges wasn’t going to drop the topic, she decided to change it. And a flash of inspiration came to her.
“Hey, so I don’t know how important these paintings are or anything. I don’t even know if the ones I saw are still there. But there was this abandoned mansion near the merge of the Vers trib and the Gottermund. West bank side. Anyway, there was a whole stack of paintings there if you want it. Found a gun there, too, so that would make sense. I mean, if the Erlender King is sending out scouts for attacks.”
“You’re trying to change the subject.”
“Yes.”
“Because you’re uncomfortable.”
“No,” Mala scoffed.
“Because it’s true!” Ges crowed.
“You know what? I better go check on Alba. I think she and I were supposed to meet up for a mediation session,” she lied. “Good luck with this,” she gestured at the paintings.
“Good luck with your little love triangle!” Ges called out as she descended the ladder.
Mala almost fell. Sludge! Did he have to announce that to the world? She flipped him off before her head disappeared beneath the ledge.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Mala made her way to the Costume Shop. To her surprise, the door was locked and it looked like the lights were off. Maybe they closed for the funeral? Mala wandered back to the elevator.
Not quite sure where else in the vast complex to look for Alba, Mala decided to head for the surface and take a quick nap in her cold hut, before heading to a lecture on explosives. It’ll be like icing these bruises. She tried to convince herself that would be a good thing.
When she’d successfully docked the sub after her third try, she walked onto the floating platform only to run smack into her roommate.
“Alba!” Mala grabbed the tall old lady, who was wearing a rumpled fuchsia wetsuit and smeared lipstick. “Sorry! Are you okay?”
Alba gave her a glazed glance, then pitched forward and puked right next to Mala’s feet.
“Ew! Alba! Over the water, please!” Witz, a pock-faced teenage Kreis called out. His friends snickered.
A large cluster of Kreis sat in a circle on the main platform. They were wrapped in fur cloaks and a rainbow of blankets. Two empty jugs sat nearby.
“Want to join the party?” Witz grinned at Mala.
“Party for what?”
“Beispiel passed his final test. He is now mission-bound and should be back with a kill in thirty-six hours.”
“If he comes back,” Alba muttered as she curled up in a ball on the icy platform.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Witz responded. He looked too drunk to be truly offended. He seemed more the chatty, philosophical type.
“Durch’s recruits only have like a thirty-percent success rate. He’s not a good picker. Teacher. Whatever.” Alba draped an arm dramatically over her face to block out the sun.
“Do you want me to take you back to the hut?” Mala offered. I hope she’s done puking. She’s lying awfully close to the puke. One big wave and … “Here, let me help you up.” She grabbed Alba’s arm but the girl whined in protest.
“No!”
“You know Alba, it’s not like people get to pick their recruiter. Why can’t you just wish him the best?” Hecken, a Kreis girl Mala had sparred with a few times, called out.
“I’m just being realistic,” Alba hiccupped from the platform.
“You’re just being negative.” Hecken flipped her hair and turned away.
But another drunk Kreis took up the argument before Mala could haul Alba away. Mala didn’t know this guy’s name, she’d never done more than nod at him in the halls.
“Not all of us could have the best recruiter at the Center holding our hand during our first mission, Alba.”
“He didn’t hold my hand.”
“Not what I heard.” The Kreis crossed his arms. “I heard he practically pulled the trigger for you, you were so scared.”
Alba balled her hands into fists and weakly shook one at him. “You’re lucky I’m drunk.”
“What would you do?” he scoffed. “Besides, your recruiter isn’t here. In fact, he hasn’t come home from his own mission. How long’s it been? Five months? That’s a long time. I wonder if they’ve started looking for a body.”
This brought Alba to her knees, which was as close as she could get to standing, with the pitch and sway of the platform. “Shut UP!” Spit sprayed from her mouth as she faced her attacker. “Don’t say that. Don’t—don’t don’t say that!” A tear dropped onto her cheek.
Mala grabbed Alba’s arm to support her. She saw the old woman’s face start to ripple. But Alba took a deep breath and the moment passed.
After so many years of practice, does it become second nature to stop a melt? I wonder if she even knows she’s doing it. Why didn’t she push it more? Try to melt? Maybe she’s too drunk to realize …
Mala had lost the flow of the conversation and had to tune back into the argument.
“You don’t know anything!” another Kreis yelled at Alba. “Look at you—without him, you’re nothing.”
“I know he’s the best recruiter the Center ever had!” Alba shouted back.
One of her debaters decided to stand and raise the stakes. Before things could get drunkenly physical on a swaying platform in the middle of an ice-cold lake, Mala hauled Alba to her feet.
“Ok, time to go for a rest,” Mala stated. “We’re leaving.” She draped Alba’s arm over her shoulder and walked toward the narrow gangway that led to their hut. It was a challenge to drag Alba’s semi limp form over the slick planks. But she managed.
“I love you Mala,” Alba slurred as Mala helped her to her pallet. Alba grabbed her hand. “I mean it. I love you. You’re the best roommate ever.”
“Thanks,” Mala patted her arm and tried to scoot back. The scent of vomit still radiated from Alba’s mouth. “I love you too.”
“They’re stupid!” Alba muttered.
“Yup,” Mala tried to appease the girl as she eased her stiff muscles onto her own pallet.
“You’re not.”
“Nope.”
“They shoulda never said those things about Blut.”
Cold flooded Mala’s heart. “What?” No
. You heard wrong. You’re hearing things. That’s not what’s going on. This is an episode. This is craziness. You’re making things up. She’s drunk. She didn’t say that name.
Alba muttered into her pillow, “He’s the best recruiter. He always has been. They’re just jealous. Did you know, he even gave me this two-way radio after my first mission? So we could talk, you know. When we’re apart. We used to talk every night. But he hasn’t been on in a long time. And now they’re gonna electroshock me. Tier came by. They’re gonna fry my brain to fix it. I wish he was here. He’d fix me. I wish …”
“Alba,” Mala breathed. “Who did you say your recruiter was?”
But a loud snore was her only answer.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Mala stood in a hallway at the end of the line waiting to be admitted to the explosives lecture. Instead of watching the fish go by or watching the subs rise and fall in the water like silver balloons, she stared at the floor. She twisted her hands together as her mind ran over Alba’s revelation. Do I tell her?
A tap on her shoulder interrupted her train of thought as she weighed the pros and cons for the millionth time. She looked up to see a freshly showered Lowe smiling down at her.
“Hi.”
His grin was magnetic; she couldn’t help smiling in response. “Finish the combat lesson?” She raised her eyebrows.
“Yup.”
“How was it?”
“Almost satisfying.”
“Almost?”
“Well, a victory dance wouldn’t have been professional.”
Mala laughed. “You can do one now.”
He swept her into his arms. “I was hoping you’d say that.” He spun her out and back in for a dip. And then Lowe started doing the most ridiculous chickenlike kick-and-karate-chop dance moves Mala had ever seen. She doubled up in laughter.
“Feel better?”
“Fully satisfied,” Lowe winked.
“Good.” She sighed. “Because my ribs hurt. I don’t know how much more dancing I could stand.”
“None,” a solemn voice replied from behind her.
Mala stiffened and turned. There, like a shadow materializing out of thin air, was Fell, her afro haloing her head like a crown. The queue shifted so that those nearest them shuffled into a semicircle of onlookers.
Mala was speechless. Since her first combat practice, the only time she’d seen Fell was this morning. And now she’d appeared twice within one day. What does this mean?
Fell didn’t answer her unspoken question. “Come with me. Both of you.” Her glance flicked toward Lowe as she turned and strode solemnly down the hall. People scattered like fish before her, ducking into the safety of alcoves and halls.
Mala swallowed the lump in her throat and followed. Lowe trailed at her heels.
Fell pushed on a wall panel, and it slid away to reveal a brass elevator. She stepped inside and Mala and Lowe had no choice but to follow. In the middle of the elevator were several ropes on pulleys.
“We need to go up four floors,” Fell said as she pulled the elevator grille shut. “I’ll tell you when we get there.” She didn’t look directly at either of them, but Mala could feel anger rolling off of her in waves.
Mala bit her lip and looked at Lowe. I’ve got no clue how to work this thing, she tried to communicate with her gaze. She didn’t want to make Fell even more angry.
Luckily, Lowe didn’t seem too lost. He gestured to one of the ropes and grabbed its neighbor. They pulled. It was hard work. Mala had to throw her entire body weight into it. She was cursing Verrukter and his punches by the time Fell gestured for them to stop. Mala secured her rope and turned to face the door.
The grate opened with a metallic screech that sent shivers down Mala’s spine. They emerged in a hallway that was padded with deep blue carpet. Mala’s feet were in awe as she walked down the hall. I’ve never felt anything this soft. I could sleep on this.
They came to a tall wooden door. Fell stopped just outside and turned to face them.
“Once we step in here, everything you see, hear, touch … is classified. You will never speak of it again to anyone who is not in this room. You will never speak of it to anyone in this room without being one-hundred-percent certain no one else can hear you. Understood?”
Mala’s heart thrummed excitedly. She swallowed hard, and nodded. Fell took out a key and unlocked the door.
The room was nothing short of opulent. A chandelier cascaded from the ceiling, giving the appearance of water droplets frozen and suspended in midair. A rich mahogany table and tall velvet-backed chairs took up the majority of the floor space. As Lowe pulled out a chair for her Mala noticed the red velvet had molted with age, leaving bald pink patches. He sat next to her, in the chair closest to the door, while Fell walked to the head of the table.
Mala glanced around. She bit back shock when she realized Ein was there, with a tissue tucked into his bruised nose. Neid sat next to him. His blonde sister shot glares at Mala and Lowe. Mala turned her head away. That’s when she saw Tier.
Dressed in Erlender leather from head to toe, including a skullcap, he’d melted to a younger age—he looked around thirty. Dusty brown hair peeked out from under his cap. Mala only recognized him from his expression: the sour look he wore when he watched her work with Ein was marring his features.
“You have been selected for a mission.”
Neid gave an excited squeak and quickly smashed her lips shut in an attempt to recover her composure.
Unlike Neid, Mala’s blood stopped at the thought. He can’t be serious? I’ve only been here a couple months. I’m not ready for this. He knows I’m not. Ein literally just started training two hours ago … Oh. She turned to evaluate his face. Maybe that’s why I’m here: Tier wants me out of the picture.
She couldn’t read anything in Tier’s expression. So she turned to Fell.
Fell wouldn’t let him just throw me to the wolves, right? She’s my champion—or whatever. It would look bad for her. But she’s pissed. So what does that mean? Mala had never really interacted with Fell. She didn’t know the woman’s true intentions. And what choice do I have, anyway? she grumbled internally. It’s not like I’m going to refuse to go.
Only Ein looked as shocked as she did. For the second time that day, his face drained of color. This time, Mala’s stomach twisted in pity, not delight. He’s not ready. He hadn’t asked for this. He’s never even left the Center.
Tier unrolled a scroll. It was a map of the Gottermund River. Red dots marred the map in a multitude of places.
“This is a map of recent attacks. Most of them have been made well inside our territory, meaning the Erlenders have figured out how to slither past our border guards.” Tier ran his finger to each of the red dots in turn. “I’m sure you’ve heard unauthorized rumors that the Erlenders are beating us. This is true. And this is where you come in: the President wants intelligence. He wants action. He wants something done now. You all are going to find out what the Erlenders are doing, how they keep getting ahead of us.”
Mala’s stomach dropped. This does not sound like a quick in-and-out assignment. I thought a first mission was supposed to be quick. She glanced at the others. Now Neid’s face mirrored Ein’s; she looked sick. Mala had to count her breaths to get the panic to recede.
“Oh now, no need to vomit,” Fell interjected, seeing the dread on every face but Lowe’s. “The President has decided we need to use Mala’s skills to our advantage.” Fell’s glare at Tier told everyone in the room exactly how the President had learned about and decided to use Mala.
“You have two objectives: first, see what the Erlenders are up to. They aren’t going on more raids for no reason. But we haven’t been able to find out why. What’s their goal? What’s their next target? How are they getting past us?
King Troe is a shut-in. Paranoid—and for good reason, after Sich seduced and assassinated his father. We need Mala to go in looking like someone he trusts. We need you guys to find out hi
s next move.”
Reconnaissance, Mala thought. We can do that. Right? Her heart wasn’t sure. It tried to run out of her chest, thumping hard against her ribs, like a prisoner held against its will. Mala looked back at Fell.
“We think …” Fell glanced at Tier and then back at the group before continuing. “We think there must be a mole here. Someone feeding the Erlenders information. Helping them. Lowe, this is assigned to you. Find out who the mole is. Whatever it takes, figure out who they’re working with. Figure out which Erlender is coordinating this. Find the web. Trace it to the source. And kill them. All.”
Mala’s heart constricted. But Lowe only nodded solemnly, his face an unreadable mask.
Fell turned to the opposite side of the table. “It’s nearly time to pay the piper. Each year, every Erlender town’s general visits the king. Tax and tribute time.” She tossed a scroll at Mala, who unrolled it to find a series of illegible scribbles dancing across the page. “That’s the tax list issued by King Troe, typically paid in the form of food, weapons, and slaves. Mala, you will pay the taxes for Wilde this year, posing as Wilde’s General Keptiker. I know that after what they did to your guard, revenge is going to be the first thing that comes to mind. But Keptiker is the king’s cousin. More likely to be trusted.” Fell leaned forward and her gaze speared Mala. “You will resist the temptation to give in to revenge. We need you to find out Troe’s next move—moves, if possible. Ein will pose as one of your guards so you have access to him. Lowe—you’ll be a cupbearer; gain access to the kitchens, servant quarters, gossip. Neid, you’re a slave paid for taxes; see what whispers are alive in the dungeons.”
Tier took up the explanation. “Lowe, you also need to prepare to distract Troe from Mala in case she has any trouble in Keptiker’s role.”
So much for the vote of confidence. He obviously thinks I’m not ready for this. Why the muck toss me in, then?
Tier continued. “Neid, we’ll have an extraction team ready for you if the old mud-breather decides on sacrifice. But our intel says Troe is currently showing a penchant for breaking slaves, particularly the pretty ones. The last human sacrifice was four years ago.”
