The Last Lies of Ardor Benn

by Tyler Whitesides

  Sparks, he’d really stepped in it this time…

  “Trable,” Ard called. “Send my regards to the hot bath at Tofar’s Salts.” Hopefully, Raek and Quarrah would be there. Hopefully, they’d know what to do.

  Then Ard turned and proffered his arm to the Glassmind woman. “Shall we?”

  If you could open a spyglass into my heart, you would see that everything stems from a misguided sense of integrity.

  CHAPTER

  23

  Quarrah pushed the needle through the black cloth, pulling the thread tight. The hole in the knee of her pants was nearly fixed, and it was a good thing. She didn’t know how much longer she could sit in the Be’Igoth, listening to Raek and San talk about Mixing Grit.

  “That joiners fuse is a waste of money,” Raek carried on. “All you have to do is twist the fuse back onto itself, pull the next one through the loop and cinch it all down with regular twine. Just as effective, and saves you an Ashing.”

  The two men were stooped over the Mixing table on the side of the room, whipping up another batch of… Quarrah didn’t even know what. Something liquid.

  “That was the last of the processed shale,” San said, passing the bigger man an empty container.

  “Not so, my friend.” Raek reached down to produce another vessel from a box below the table.

  San let out a jovial laugh of pure excitement. It was good to hear happy sounds from him. He was a tough young man, and he’d come to their hideout almost every day since escaping Winter Barracks. Perhaps Mixing with Raek made him feel something besides the overwhelming grief at the death of Lomaya.

  While Raek was brilliant without a doubt, there was no question that San was more expert when it came to liquid Grit. Quarrah had given him the vial she’d stolen from Hedge Marsool, asking for a quiet analysis. He’d quickly come back to her with conclusive results, and Quarrah was still trying to decide how best to share that information with Ard.

  San took the canister from Raek, shaking his head in disbelief. “Potter’s Independent Harvesting… I approached them over a year ago. They said they didn’t take Specialty Grit orders, let alone asking them to isolate something as unique as digested shale. Plus, they cost a fortune.”

  Raek smiled. “Clearly, you didn’t say the right things to the right people.”

  “Ah. I can venture a guess at how that played out,” said San.

  “I’ll let you use your imagination,” Raek replied. “Potter’s people have been very good to work with. I’ve accumulated a lot of uncommon source material for the liquid Grit over the last two years.” Raek bent down, measuring a tiny pinch of powdered shale on the scales. “Who did you end up using to get your source materials?”

  San scoffed. “We didn’t. Imagine being some of the only people in the Greater Chain who actually understood all the new Grit types and not being able to get your hands on the source material to make it.”

  “Now that Ignition and Weight Grit are common knowledge, more and more Harvesters are including gold and horse vertebrae in their dragon bait,” said Raek. “And they’re isolating them from the Slagstone during processing.”

  “Sure, but it costs a fortune,” said San. “Lomaya and I saved up and got some, but we wanted more than just Ignition and Weight Grit.”

  Quarrah looked up from her stitching, deciding to join the conversation, now that it had turned away from the hard mechanics of Mixing.

  “Garifus Floc seemed to know about all of them,” she said. “Or at least Gather Grit.”

  “Where did they get the source materials for that?” Raek followed up.

  San lifted a finger like they weren’t going to believe what he was about to say. “They’ve been sifting. By hand.”

  “What do you mean?” Quarrah asked.

  “The Glassminds. They would upend a canister of Prolonging Grit—normally a blend of common rocks that the dragon might have digested,” explained San. “And they’d pick through the pile of powder, meticulously separating the grains of marble for Gather Grit, and shale for Null Grit. Or they’d sift through Light Grit, picking out the birchwood to isolate for Stasis Grit.”

  “How is that possible?” Raek asked. “It’s virtually indistinguishable in a blend like that.”

  “It was something about their eyes,” San said with a shudder. “They can see better than us—better than Trothians. And their hands were so steady. They had patience like I’ve never seen, but they made quick work of it.”

  “But what about the Metamorphosis Grit?” Raek asked. “You and Lomaya had obviously made some of it before Garifus and the others transformed. How did you get the digested dragon teeth?”

  He looked down, his face shadowing with pain. “That’s different.”

  “How so?” asked Raek. “Lomaya told us that you’d been experimenting with processed dragon teeth for cycles before you had a breakthrough. Where’d you get it?”

  “We had a contact in Talumon,” he said. “A smuggler with poaching connections. She called herself the Widow.”

  Quarrah didn’t recognize the name, but it obviously rang a bell for Raek. “Widow Bloodrust?”

  San nodded shamefully. “You know her?”

  “Not personally,” said Raek. “But her name came up when I was looking into Hedge Marsool. The Widow’s part of his ring.”

  “That’s the connection,” Quarrah said. “That must be how Hedge learned about Metamorphosis Grit.”

  “We never told the Widow what we were doing,” San said defensively. “She didn’t even ask any questions. She got us the first shipment of digested dragon teeth at a bargain price. But there were additional fees that she didn’t tell us about.”

  “She roped you in,” said Raek.

  “And when the debt got too large, Lomaya and I fled back to Beripent, trying to get away,” he explained. “It was a mistake. We never should have done business with her. Sparks, we never should have…” He slammed down the canister. “Now Lomaya’s gone and there are blazing monster humans outside Beripent!” He got control of his emotions, planting both hands on the table’s edge and leaning forward. “We should have abandoned the experiments. We should have let it all die with Professor Wal.”

  Raek clapped a big hand on the young man’s shoulder. “This isn’t your fault, San.”

  Actually, it kind of was. But Quarrah silently returned to her stitching.

  “You and Lomaya developed Transformation Grit on your own,” Raek went on. “But that’s the thing about creating something. Once you’ve finished, it’s out there in the world. What people decide to do with it isn’t up to you.”

  San looked up, his eyes wet. “What do we do about it?” he said quietly. “The Glassminds are…”

  “We’re working on it,” Raek said.

  Were they? Seemed like business as usual to Quarrah. She was mending her pants and Ard was putting in useless hours at his “day job” in the Mooring. What were they going to do about the terrifying Glassminds?

  “We have Prime Isless Gloristar on our side,” Raek said. “And Ardor Benn is probably out there right now, working up some brilliant plan.”

  The door to the Be’Igoth flew open. Quarrah sprang to her feet, going for the Roller on the side table. But the stranger at the door was not a figure to shoot at.

  “Trable?” Raek muttered.

  “The Prime Isle’s coming in!” Geppel’s voice shouted lazily from outside. “Couldn’t stop him.”

  The room seemed to spin around Quarrah in confusion. The Prime Isle of Wayfarism at an Agrodite soakhouse? At their hideout? Sparks, whatever was coming wasn’t going to be good.

  “Are you friends of Isle Ardor Benn?” Trable was winded.

  “That really depends on the day,” Raek replied, which was nicer than Quarrah would’ve put it.

  “He’s gone,” Trable announced.

  “Gone,” said Raek. “What do you mean?”

  “There were people… monsters,” he stammered. “They came into the Moo
ring.”

  “Slow down.” Raek stepped around the table.

  “He called himself Garifus Floc.”

  Yep. Not good. Quarrah reached down and yanked the needle off the end of her string. Now the whole thing would unravel. Only a stitch short of finishing, too. Rather symbolic, she thought.

  Raek put a hand on his bald head. “Where are they taking him?”

  Trable shook his head. “He’s taking them,” he corrected. “To the location where the Islehood stores the dragon shell.”

  “What?” Raek cried. “Ard doesn’t know where that is. He’s been trying to find out for cycles.”

  “He knows,” insisted the Prime Isle. Quarrah saw a dark look of betrayal pass over Raek’s face. He reached to his chest, absently pressing a hand against his old wound.

  “But I think he’s trying to lead them away,” continued Trable. “I just received a report that he’s in the Char, heading toward the Northern Quarter.”

  “And the shell storage isn’t in the Northern Quarter?” Raek pressed.

  “No,” answered Quarrah. “It’s in the Western Quarter. Hidden in a hat shop called Tall Son’s Millinery.”

  All eyes in the Be’Igoth went to her.

  “Excuse me,” said the Prime Isle, “but who the blazes are you?”

  “You knew?” Raek bellowed. “How long have you known?”

  “Just over a year,” she answered.

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” Raek cried.

  Quarrah shrugged. “Nobody ever asked me.”

  “Unbelievable,” the Prime Isle muttered, studying his feet. Then he swallowed his pride and went on. “I’ve sent word to dispatch every available Regulator to the millinery. If we’re lucky, they’ll reach—”

  “Call them off,” Raek said. “Call them off immediately.”

  “You don’t call the shots here.” Trable folded his arms stubbornly.

  “He’s right,” said Quarrah. “Ard is obviously leading them astray, but if you start amassing Reggies in the Western Quarter, the Glassminds will realize what is happening. They’ll kill Ard, and your attempt to protect the shell will lead them right to it.”

  “There will be over a hundred Regulators between them and—”

  “You don’t know what they’re capable of,” Quarrah cut him off. “If you want to protect that shell, you need to call off the Reggies. If you want to save Ardor’s life…”

  That last part was wishful thinking. Did Ard even have a plan, stringing the world’s most powerful beings on a sightseeing tour through Beripent? And why did he think it was worth his life to keep them from reaching the shell?

  “We need to find Gloristar,” Raek said.

  Trable shook his head. “She’s dead.”

  “Actually,” said Raek, “she’s back. She transformed into—”

  “I know,” Trable interrupted. “And she’s dead. Garifus shattered her skull in the Mooring.”

  Quarrah wanted to collapse onto the couch. Their one powerful piece, their only shot at a level playing field… Dead?

  “Flames, this is all my fault,” Trable whispered. “The Homeland is punishing me.”

  “Hey, now,” said Raek. “Don’t give yourself so much credit.”

  “I haven’t followed the Urgings like I should,” he confessed. “There’s something I should have done. I feel it, but… I don’t understand why.”

  “Sounds like you’ve got some issues to work through,” said Raek. “Maybe we could talk about it after you call off the Regulators.”

  “I can’t stand by and do nothing. I’m the Prime Isle, for Homeland’s sake!”

  “Tell you what,” said Quarrah. “Order the Reggies to stand down and I promise the Glassminds won’t steal the shell from the millinery.”

  “How can you promise such a thing?” he asked.

  “Because we’re going to steal it first,” she said. It was really the only option. Taking possession of the shell gave them the most control over the situation. They could work out a deal. Maybe hand it over to the Glassminds in exchange for Ard’s life.

  “No… Flames, no…” Trable was muttering incoherently, nervously scratching his beard.

  “You might as well go along with this plan,” said Quarrah, strapping on the first of her thin belts. “It’s happening with or without you.”

  “Fine,” said Trable. “I’ll call them off. I’ll notify the queen and start redirecting the Regulators to the grounds. The moment you have the shell, I want you to take it to the palace. It’s the most defensible location.”

  That definitely wasn’t going to happen, but Quarrah nodded anyway. The sooner Trable got out of their hair, the better.

  The Prime Isle nodded as if in an effort to convince himself that he was doing the right thing. Then he turned and walked out the open door.

  “It was an honor to meet you!” San Green called after him. The young man had been so quiet that Quarrah had almost forgotten he was there.

  Raek shut the door behind him. “How are we doing this?” he asked Quarrah.

  “Simple.” She fastened her final belt. “I’ve had my eye on Tall Son’s Millinery for cycles. I know exactly how to rob the place. They’re keeping the dragon shell in a storage cellar. There’s a hidden entrance in the back room of the shop. I’d rather do this in the dark after they’d closed for the night, but I don’t think we’ve got that kind of time.”

  “Still, you’ve got one big advantage that I’m guessing you hadn’t counted on,” said Raek.

  “What’s that?”

  He shouldered a pack that he kept ready for such a hasty departure. “Me.”

  Quarrah was already thinking of a way to use him as a distraction. But sneaking all the shell outside was going to pose a challenge.

  “What about me?” San asked as the two of them headed for the door.

  “You should stay here,” said Raek. “Hold down the fort in case Hedge Marsool shows up, wondering how his dragon got away.”

  “And I’m supposed to answer him?” San squeaked.

  If the intent was to make the lad feel comfortable in the Be’Igoth, Raek had really botched that.

  “What we’re about to do is highly illegal,” said Quarrah. “And the Prime Isle knows we’re doing it. If you come with us, that’s the end of your clean record. It makes the most sense for you to lie low here. We might need somebody on the outside if things go wrong.”

  San nodded curtly. Raek pulled open the door and they set off across the boardwalks of Tofar’s Salts.

  “You got any Shadow Grit?” Quarrah asked as they jogged down the street.

  “A little,” he answered. “What do you have in mind?”

  “Tall Son’s Millinery is surprisingly secure for a shop in the Western Quarter,” Quarrah explained. “Single story. Flat roof. One door and two big windows into the shopfront. There’s an interior door leading into the rear room, which is always locked. There was a window back there, but they boarded it up when the Islehood started using the shop as a secret cache.”

  “And the way into the cellar?”

  “I don’t know yet,” she said. “Never made it that deep inside. It’ll be disguised, but I’m sure I can sniff out the entrance. It’s getting me into the back room that’s the hard part.”

  “You want me to throw Shadow Grit around the door?” he asked, following her onto the street.

  “That’s what I was thinking,” she said. “But that only gets us in. How do we get out with hundreds of panweights of dragon shell in tow?”

  Raek chuckled. “Leave that to me.”

  “You’re going to blow a hole in the wall, aren’t you,” she said.

  “No,” he replied defensively. “I’m going to blow a hole in the roof. We can use a cloud of Drift Grit, inside a bubble of Containment, to haul the shell up and out.”

  They moved at a steady jog for quite some time, Raek’s breathing raspy and shallow until he paused to take a detonation of Heg in his chest.

 
; The streets were getting narrower, but the buildings were very well cared for. The Islehood certainly wasn’t going to hide their assets in a slum.

  Nearly there.

  They passed a couple of Regulators who looked confused, running to and fro. Trable must have called them off, even if it was taking some time for the message to trickle down to the first responders.

  The hat shop finally came into view. The street was no busier than would be expected on a late afternoon. Pedestrians coming and going, a painter touching up the door to a nearby flower shop, a vendor selling bread from a basket…

  Quarrah squinted through the front windows of Tall Son’s Millinery, but it was too dark to see inside.

  Raek produced a small round Grit pot. “I’ll leave the front door open and give you a signal once the Shadow Grit is in place.”

  “What’s the signal?” she asked.

  “I’ll break the window. Don’t worry. It’ll happen naturally.”

  Before Quarrah could ask any follow-up questions, Raek strode across the narrow street and pushed open the door to the millinery, a bell chiming on his way in. He moved out of sight, leaving the door open as promised.

  Waiting at an inconspicuous side street, Quarrah pulled on her black thieving gloves, making sure that the Slagstone fragment was squarely situated on the tip of her middle finger, ready to spark with a snap.

  The Glassminds might have sparking fingertips, Quarrah thought, but I came up with it first.

  She checked the thin pockets on her palm, filled with convenient, quick-access Light Grit. From within the hat shop, she could hear voices raised in argument. They escalated quickly, and she was able to make out Raek’s words.

  “I didn’t ask you if my head looked funny! I was talking about the hat!”

  Suddenly, the front window shattered as a man came flying through the glass, landing in a painful heap on the street. Passersby screamed, and several pedestrians raced to his aid. In the confusion, it was easy for Quarrah to slip into the shop through the front door. She quickly ducked behind a tall hat display to analyze the situation.