“Cal Mast, fifth son of the Steward of Castalan by way of the third wife. Leaves Castalan in his youth. Travels the east. Allies with Aaron Lorne. Together they fight the Chalk. Together they hunt the Prisoner. Together they destroy the S’Rghat Prison. Aaron Lorne claims the Makrah Mati alone, renames him Dura Mati, and replaces Cal Mast as his second. Cal Mast remains in Delhonne for several years. Cal Mast is there when Aaron Lorne returns with dragons. The next night Cal Mast kills the Chalk spy Zarus Coff. Cal Mast claims Zarus Coff’s dragons. Cal Mast and Aaron Lorne break the Chalk army under command of Gelden Carr, who is killed by Conners Toren. Aaron Lorne and Conners Toren go north and create the SDC. Cal Mast goes west to Castalan. Leaves Delhonne with the only known dragon mark in this land. Allies with the Steward of Castalan and destroys Castalan’s smuggling rings with the three dragons he has won from Zarus Coff. The rings broken, Cal Mast is to be elevated to the highest ring of nobility in Castalan for his deeds. At a court function days before this ceremony, Cal Mast attacks and nearly kills Duke Avlor of House Avlor. The reason is unknown to all ears west or east. The Steward of Castalan demands Cal Mast’s exile.”
Cal kept a straight face, trying to match the blank slate of hair he faced. It was difficult to hear his public shaming so coldly related back to him. His loss of control was known in all corners of the world. His failure and subsequent exile. The incident with the Avlors had also led to a price on his head, one he still carried.
Barbayir continued, oblivious or uninterested in any discomfort his words created. “Cal Mast leaves Castalan to grow his dragon army. The dragon riders call Cal Mast the Unflagged. Cal Mast often allies with Aaron Lorne and SDC. Cal Mast is an enemy of NEST. Cal Mast vanished four moons ago. Many think Aaron Lorne has brought Cal Mast’s corpse to Ellis with him, but that cannot be because last night Cal Mast burns two NEST buildings, kills three NEST guards. This morning Cal Mast is bloodied by an unknown attacker. This evening Cal Mast appears in Breenheart and asks for Barbayir. For Barbayir is pleased to welcome one of the two Spies of Dragon and Chalk. For before we begin, is Barbayir correct?”
Cal spoke for the first time in the past two hours. “Impressive. One correction. I didn’t kill Zarus Coff. The Dura Mati did.”
Barbayir leaned forward, grasping his stick in both hands. Cal jerked backwards involuntarily, but Barbayir moved no closer. “For this is interesting,” he hissed. “The ears believe it was Cal Mast. The world believes it was Cal Mast. For Cal Mast holds Zarus Coff’s dragons.” When Cal shrugged, Barbayir slowly leaned back. “For this is good. This is a gift.”
It was quiet for a moment, then Barbayir turned and reached into the darkness at the edge of the tent. He raised a small ornate jar. “Here is a gift in return.” He threw the jar to Cal.
Cal, amused by the sudden turn of events, caught the small jar. He watched as Barbayir mimed opening the jar and spreading something on his side. Cal was confused, but opened the jar. There was some sort of lotion or thick oil inside. It smelled strongly of an exotic plant. Barbayir again mimed putting it on his side. Cal looked at the lotion, then at his own side. Barbayir was encouraging him to put the lotion on his wound. Some kind of salve? A drug?
Cal hesitated only a moment, then scooped up some of the lotion and spread it roughly over his tender side. The effect was immediate. The burning faded, replaced by an almost pleasant tingling. Cal nodded his thanks. Hopefully the Borhele medicine wouldn’t kill him later. For now it seemed to be exactly what he needed.
Barbayir nodded, fringe of thick hair ducking closer to his smooth, featureless chest. “For it is time for a decision, Cal Mast.” Again the Borhele reached into the shadows. This time he came out with a small handful of smooth, flat stones. He placed them between himself and Cal, carefully arrayed around the single point he’d made in the sand before.
Cal recalled DeMarco’s words again. Barbayir will initiate the Game of Stones. Each stone represents a question. To begin the visitor hands one to the host. He will hand one to you. You get to choose how many questions are exchanged. Then he gets to move first. Think carefully. You’ll have to answer every question honestly and to the best of your ability. I’ve never tried to lie to the Borhele. I suspect the consequences would be severe. I don’t think Barbayir has ever lied to me. But I’ve told him things I didn’t want to. Things that infuriated Conners when he learned of them. Tread carefully.
Cal grasped the closest stone, handed it to Barbayir. Barbayir gave him a small red stone, chosen with care from the pile. Cal handed him another. Barbayir returned the favor.
Now the moment of truth. Cal shouldn’t need more than two questions to accomplish his mission. Did he want a third for himself? He could ask Barbayir about the Council of Ten, but it was unlikely anyone knew more of the Chalk than Cal and Aaron. Barbayir had called them the Spies of Dragon and Chalk, Cal’s first time hearing that. Cal could ask if Duke Avlor was still alive. But did he care? He’d learn soon enough anyway. No point in asking if House Avlor had a contract out on him. He knew they did. The beggar? The note? Find your way to us. Have someone in their inner circle. Was that worth risking the secrets of Mast, Castalan, and Corvale? More than he already was? Cal reached out, then stopped, his hand just above a stone. He pulled his hand back. Three was too many. Fuck, two was too many.
Barbayir swept the remaining stones into the shadows at the side of the tent with his stick. He gracefully smoothed the sand, then drew a flawless diagram in it. Cal was again struck by the complete silence of the world around them as the sound of the dragging stick filled the tent. One perfect circle in the center. Another surrounding it, then a third. Four lines dividing the outer two circles. The center represented the tent. Each side of the circle represented a direction with the choice of near or far.
Barbayir chose first, laying a stone on the far east. Cal quietly exhaled. He needed the center spot and had been worried Barbayir would have a question about him. He laid his first stone in the center. Barbayir chose the near east. Cal took the near west. The board was set. Two questions each. Barbayir-Cal-Cal-Barbayir.
Barbayir faced Cal for nearly a minute of silence, then for a third time he reached into the shadows at the edge of the tent. He withdrew a small scroll, an intricate knot of leather wrapped around the center of yellowish paper. He untied the cord and delicately rolled it out. It was a drawing. Barbayir held it before Cal, gesturing to the stone representing the far east.
“Who is this?” he asked, the whisper pushing the curtain of hair out just slightly.
Cal studied the drawing. It was dark, done in charcoal. An accurate capture of a moonlit clearing in late hours. In the center a stooped figure was hauling a body across the clearing. They were framed by trees. The figure was a Chalk. A marked one. Somewhere close to the rank of Zarus Coff, symbols drawn in the chalk which covered its face, skin visible in the clear lines. It had long black hair, unusual for a Chalk. The creature had its fingers dug deep under the chin of the corpse. It was hauling it out of the light, back into the shadows of the trees. Barbayir’s watcher, whoever had made the drawing, must have seen it for just a moment. Just enough to capture the barest details. It didn’t matter. Cal knew who it was. He took an extra moment to try and guess the location of the drawing. The trees could be anywhere east of the Borhele lands, anywhere west of the plains and Ashlands. Barbayir may have chosen far east because that’s where Vinn had been sighted. Or he might have chosen it because it was a question about the Chalk. No way to tell.
“Its name is Ulsor Vinn. It led the Chalk army in the attack on Delhonne. It served as Gelden Carr’s lieutenant. Last seen fleeing Delhonne. We suspected it of taking news of the defeat back to the Chalk. News of the dragons. But it hasn’t been seen since.”
“For who else knows its name?” Barbayir asked.
“As far as I know, only Aaron Lorne and Conners Toren. Derrick Issale did, but he’s dead.”
Barbayir gave him a small bow. “For you do not disappoint, Cal Mast. A
sk your question.”
Cal tried not to get distracted by the thought of Ulsor Vinn, outside the Ashlands again, dragging a body through the woods. He itched to learn more of the sighting. Staring at the flat expanse of hair facing him, Barbayir’s mask, Cal felt fear creeping along his shoulders, a feeling someone stood right behind him. He understood DeMarco’s repeated cautions. Cal was exposed here. He had just surrendered some of his best intelligence on the Chalk to a race he knew little about. This Borhele might well seek an alliance with the Chalk, with Ulsor Vinn directly, at some point in the future. Cal had handed Barbayir Vinn’s name, an object of power and importance among the Chalk, Cal’s enemy.
He put Vinn out of mind, though the question of alliance was central to his mission. He gestured towards the stone in the center. “What is the nature of the Borhele alliance with Hideon Bray?”
After a long pause, Barbayir replied. “For there is a Borhele alliance with Hideon Bray. But perhaps it is an alliance that does not strike fear into Cal Mast and Aaron Lorne.
“The Borhele do not often work together. For we do not often speak in one voice. On the topic of Hideon Bray we do. For we say loudly we do not care. Hideon Bray meets with our leaders. Barbayir sits in the shadows. Hideon Bray asks us to sieze Garen. He offers us land, freedom from NEST. He understands nothing of the Borhele. Of what we value and need. For we do not need Garen. We do not need new lands, new wealth. For we desire something different. There are no words in your language. You would not understand as Hideon Bray does not understand.”
After a long moment, Cal said, “But the Borhele have been to the Shields. We heard rumors of an alliance involving the Shields.”
Barbayir laughed. “For you amuse me, Cal Mast. Without a hesitation you pull the deepest Chalk secrets from your mind. You bear the marks of a chief of twice your years. Then you bring foolishness to my tent. For your rumors are a joke. Your knowledge of the west is a joke. For you are unprepared. For you do not belong in the west. These are not your lands. Ellis is not your city.”
Cal struggled to keep his expression neutral in the face of the scolding. Barbayir leaned forward. His coiled body projected anger. “Hideon Bray hired the Borhele to design the Shields of Glass Palace for him. Borhele engineers traveled to Ellis to give him the designs and instruct the builders. You come here, fly a thousand miles, to ask me about an engineering contract.”
“You designed the Shields of Glass?”
“For Barbayir did not design it. Other Borhele engineers. We value the ceremony of such a structure. We do such things with great skill, though we do not often choose to display it to your kind. Hideon Bray made an unusual request. For he must have seen the Towers. He knows what we are capable of. It was an opportunity of interest. But in the larger picture it is a simple engineering contract. One that has run its course and will never be renewed or be any base for future alliance.”
Cal had no idea what the Towers were, and had been ignorant of the fact that the Borhele were involved in architecture. But he let that slide past and focused on the good news in that answer. Bray had no lasting alliance with the Borhele. He was careful to not show Barbayir how much that relieved him. Cal gestured to the near west stone. Since he’d learned what he needed to know, he could be more open with his second question.
“What is the biggest threat to our interests in the west beyond NEST?”
“For it is too broad. Whose interests? Yours? Aaron Lorne’s?”
“For now let’s say the SDC.”
Barbayir didn’t seem to like the question. Cal could sense disapproval in his stillness. Finally he spoke. “The time of the cyclone approaches. The Borhele will not be content behind these borders for long. We seek no alliance with NEST or SDC. There are certain quotas we must meet, lands we must hold at precise times. It will run counter to the interests of all men, especially men who seek to build up the west. For certain things must fall.”
“The time of the cyclone? When?”
“We do not measure time the way you do. You would not understand. I do not say so with light regard. Many of the Borhele do not understand and we breathe this language, rhythm, number from birth. There are no correct words in your tongue. I have said enough. You know more than you should. It is my turn.”
Barbayir’s whispering voice came faster. “What is the strategy of Cal Mast and Aaron Lorne? They hunt such insignificant prey. Cal Mast seeks the west’s greatest spy to ask of trifles, of dinner guests. Aaron Lorne flies to Ellis to serve a low-level court summons, not worthy of his attention. What is their game?”
“Is that your question?” Cal asked. “Also a little broad.”
“No,” replied Barbayir. He leaned backwards, calmed himself. “Your strategy will reveal itself shortly. Barbayir has no need to learn of it from you. My question is tied to Aaron Lorne, however. I wish to know more about one piece in particular.”
Barbayir gesture to the final stone, resting on the sand in the small crescent representing the near east. He leaned in closer to Cal, face a flat curtain of hair. “For whose corpse did Aaron Lorne bring to Ellis? For and why?”
Cal looked down at the dirt, studied the walls of the tent. He felt the silence of the hundreds of Borhele standing just outside of their circle, separated by a thin sheet of canvas. The fire had gone out at some point, untended by the creatures, the tent darker than before. Cal studied the flat blankness of Barbayir’s face as candlelight crawled along it. Then he answered.
Chapter 13. Hideon’s Return
Trevor and Aaron took steps to erase any trace of their presence at the house where the mark master had been held. They forced the bolt off the door which had held him with a dagger. Aaron gagged and blindfolded the guard, still unconscious and not looking well. Hopefully any brief memories of strange visitors would be lost in the swirl of confusion and injury. When more NEST arrived, they’d find their pet mark master dead by his own hand, having forced the door open in the night and gotten the jump on his lone guard. A stretch, maybe, but the signs of Fenrey’s madness did not need to be faked.
After checking that the coast was clear, they were back on the streets, winding their way towards Gestlin. They only got four or five blocks before someone broke the silence by calling Aaron’s name from the shadows. Aaron pushed Trevor one way and scrambled the other, drawing his black blade and scanning the dark doorways ahead of him.
“Calm, man.” The voice came from the shadows. Aaron knew he recognized it but wasn’t sure from where. He cursed the dimly lit streets. “Would you and your friend join us for a moment?” the voice said. Then Aaron had it. It was Matt James, the Eostre Uprising rep from the night before.
Aaron put away his sword, motioned to Trevor to do the same. Matt stood by an open door leading into a tall, unlit building. He gestured to the door with an exaggerated servile demeanor. Aaron looked up and down the street. It was empty aside from the three men. Aaron stepped through the doorway, checking the entryway carefully. It never hurt to be wary, though Matt could have simply ambushed them on the street if betrayal had been his aim.
Once Trevor was also inside, Matt closed the door behind them. “I hope you won’t fault me for not lighting a candle,” he said, then led the men up a narrow staircase in the dark. They went four flights up the creaking stairs. There were no signs of anyone else in the building. Matt moved quickly, leaving no time for questions.
He reached the top of the stairs and opened a trapdoor to the roof. The stars shone in brightly. Matt climbed onto the roof, not bothering to offer a hand to Aaron or Trevor as they surfaced. He drew himself up proudly, long, thin arms crossed at the wrists. He inclined his head to the edge of the roof. Aaron followed the gesture. Standing at the edge of the rooftop was a dark shape, wrapped in a cloak.
Aaron and Trevor started towards it, but Matt raised a hand to hold Trevor back. “With all regards to Mario,” Matt said, “this meeting was arranged for Mr. Lorne.” Aaron gave Trevor a nod and walked across the rough stones
of the rooftop.
The shape stood at the parapet, watching the NEST west landing, not bothering to face him as Aaron took a place alongside. “Shale Kormet,” he said.
She turned slowly, lowering her hood. “Aaron Lorne,” she said, a small mischievous smile surfacing. Shale had a striking face with clear and high cheekbones, a nose with just the hint of a button on the end. Small, rather pointy teeth visible between her pale lips. Her deep brown hair was pulled back into a knot. Her dark eyes twinkled. As he studied her, Aaron felt a surprising ache of longing. She was undeniably beautiful. The tales had not been exaggerated. Shale met his gaze and tilted her head slightly, seemingly well aware of the impact of her appearance on him, on all men.
“The enemy of my enemy,” she said, as though tasting the words. Her hands were hidden in the dark blue cloak which covered her, billowing in the wind.
“Or simply your friend, I think,” Aaron replied.
“That remains to be seen,” she replied. A small pale hand emerged from her cloak and she slowly reached up to touch Aaron’s face. She brushed a finger along the pixie eye which marked his right cheek. “What brings you to Eostre, Aaron Lorne?” Her hand vanished back into her sleeves. She made no mention of the odd, intimate gesture.
“I have to go to court tomorrow.”
“Ah, yes, the great trial. What were the charges again?”
“I forget. Maybe a noise violation.”
“Well,” she said, “I can only wish you the greatest luck in beating the charges. I understand the courts here tend to be rather sympathetic to NEST causes over others. I hope the trial won’t place you in conflict with that noble organization.”
“Unfortunately, yes, I believe the charges were filed by a NEST affiliate.”
Shale sighed, shaking her head in mock concern. “I fear it may end badly for you.” She gave a wide, friendly smile. “And how are you celebrating your last night before this stain darkens your noble record? What finds you in such close proximity to your esteemed courtroom opponents? You must be aware that their western base of operations is not far from this very street. Desperate late night plea bargains to avoid your scheduled comeuppance? Surely that is not your lawyer over there?” She pointed to Trevor. “I know Mario provides many great services but I was unaware his reaches extended into the legal realm.” When Aaron kept quiet, she continued, “I understand you have hopes of making the acquaintance of Hideon Bray himself tomorrow. I suspect you will be successful in that, even if your court-ordered innocence is unlikely.”
Rise of the Falsemarked (Spies of Dragon and Chalk Book 2) Page 11
