“The Courtland Kings had their backs up against a wall, and they got nasty. They kidnapped the sister of one of the Black Antlers’ soldiers, raped and killed her. The Black Antlers were ready to wipe the bastards out. They outnumbered the Kings. They still decided not to take any chances and brought in a crew of mercs, which included Jon. About twenty soldiers, half Antlers, half hired, all holed up in a house just outside Courtland, waiting for the word on where to find the Kings.
“But the Kings knew where they were. And the Kings knew where they were getting their food from. The Black Antlers got some of their meals from this older couple. The woman would cook big pots of chili, or beef roasts, potatoes, all that stuff, and her husband would bring it to the Antlers’ hangout. The Antlers had placed a big order earlier that day. Everybody knows if you want soldiers to stick around you’ve got to feed them. So somehow one of the Kings got to the food without the old man knowing. And he put a whole mess of powdered downweed in it.”
Miriam nodded, caught in the rhythm of the story. Downweed was a well-known drug used to knock people out.
“So the food arrives and all the men dive in. And I mean all of them. Nobody missed the meal because they were in the outhouse or up on the roof watching the street or anything like that. They all eat like typical soldiers until everything’s gone. And maybe forty minutes later, six Courtland Kings come calling. They kick down the door with swords drawn, and find a mess of Antlers and mercs passed out on the floor. Except, somehow, Jon is not. He’s got his sword ready, and, I’d wager to guess, he’s got some unresolved anger issues over the whole pension-debt-jobless thing, and he goes to town on the Kings. Only one escaped alive. After killing them, Jon walks around the block, looking for some support, and he finds some men who are friends with the Antlers. Not like, pick up a blade and join the fray friends, but the kind who were keeping an eye on the fight and hoping the Antlers won. So, they come back to the house with Jon. They all sit there for a few hours, keeping a close watch on all the men. Jon sits there with them, never once dozing off, and eventually all the men start waking up. Some get sick and some take longer than others, but everybody wakes up. And they all start calling Jon Sleepy, like a joke. They can’t believe he stayed awake. Some think it’s cause he’s so big, others that he’s tough. Eventually the name becomes Sleepy Jon. And that’s how Sleepy Jon got his name.”
Miriam smiled appreciatively. “Good story. So how does Jon fit in now?”
“Well, he eventually scraped together enough money to set up shop. Some would call him a mercenary, but he does a lot more investigative work than just providing muscle. I’m not really sure where most of his contracts come from. Mid-level stuff, like trade union disputes, minor noble conflicts. Aaron and I have used him a bunch because he makes good decisions and keeps his mouth shut. We hired him a couple nights ago to look into who attacked Aaron. You remember,” Cal said with a smile. “You were there at The Old Bellows.”
He leaned forward and poured them both another drink. He lit another cigarette. “So, you gave me an easy one, but I’m sure you agree you got your money’s worth. I might have to be a little tougher on you,” Cal said. “Why should we trust Conners?”
“Why would you ask about Conners and not me?” Miriam gave Cal a bright, flirty smile.
“A couple reasons. One, I expect you’re pretty good at convincing men to trust you. You might have a little less practice convincing men to trust Conners. Two, Aaron trusts you, and he’s generally a pretty good judge of character. And the reason Aaron trusts you, and why I sort of trust you, is because we think you go as Conners goes. You’re devoted to the guy, and he’s no fool. I don’t think you’ve been deceiving him all this time. And you could do better by dumping the whole Corvale thing and going on your own. You’re loyal. In a lot of ways, you’re like me. I follow Aaron. You follow Conners. Aaron seems to trust Conners. But I’m a suspicious man, so, I’m asking you, why should we trust Conners?”
Miriam sipped her drink, looking at Cal over the rim. “Okay. The Delhonne Corvale have had to be secretive. So a lot of what I’m telling you I’d obviously prefer you keep quiet. But it’s not like Aaron couldn’t find most of it out.
“After the Slaughter at Wyelin that your friend survived, the remaining Corvale were scattered. They became easy pickings for Chalk, rival tribes without honor. Even the wilderness seemed to be against those few who tried to cling to the old ways in the east. The leftovers were plagued by attacks from wild animals, storms. But the biggest problem which drove us west to Delhonne was that our ability to trade had been decimated. Traders would never before have thought to rip off Corvale for fear of retribution. That fear was gone. The prices for our goods tripled overnight. Prices for what we sold were cut in half. The east is rough on the weak. It hurts to say, but we were weak.
“I was too young to remember when my parents and I arrived in Delhonne. The trip left them in poor health. They didn’t last long, and I was brought up by members of the Delhonne Corvale, Conners in particular. Members of the community had a link to the Corvale that waxed and waned. We were all poor. We weren’t suited for city living. Nearly everyone settled into low paying jobs or left, scattered.
“The fact that we still had a vote in the Senate became one of our leadership’s organizing elements. It was one of the few sources of revenue that the people could share. Once we established the Corvale House, the one Aaron was at last night, we got better organized. The Corvale leadership was organized in committees, or Circles, with a single chair. One dealt with politics. Another represented the warrior class, military affairs. A third handled domestic affairs, mostly community-building and looking out for the elderly, mothers and children. There’s a fourth committee that handles intelligence. Conners ran that Circle. He taught me its workings at an early age.
“All the committee chairs reported to a single chairman, Senator Strabe. Strabe started strong. He was personable, attractive, had a big booming voice. He did well at the gatherings, summoned a sense of pride and self-respect in the Corvale. Pride was always a challenge for our displaced people. But he grew corrupt over time. We think he spent too much time with the politicians in the Senate. He got caught up in their race for wealth. After a while he was living in the Corvale House and spending a lot of the money fixing it up. He was wearing fancy clothes. He would say that it was important for us to project a certain image in the rare occasions where his motives were questioned. His love of wealth became a love of power. He made moves to control the committees, largely by controlling the way information flowed. Over time, it got so all the committees were reporting to him separately, never together. They rarely talked with each other. No one realized the games he was playing.
“Conners was of course suspicious. But you need to understand a bit about Conners. He is the Palace butler, not the only one, but the leader of that household. He balances those duties with the responsibilities he has with the Corvale. We’ve all got to juggle separate lives. But Conners really respects the servant mentality. He likes working towards something larger than just himself. I think maybe all spies do. We like something to believe in. It separates us from criminals, even if sometimes the distinction is blade thin. Conners believes in tradition and order. His role as a butler is to keep the house in order and then look outwards to prepare his house for guests, challenges, winter. When someone else is leading the house, Conners respects that and focuses on his charge. In this case his charge was to serve the Corvale by keeping tabs on all the other political organizations, the news, the Ashlands, what was happening in our former homelands and among our former friends. And he did it well. But Strabe…
“I’m making excuses for Conners, but I don’t blame him. The Delhonne Corvale was a rotten institution for a long time. Some people tried hard to make it work. Others thought it was pointless. There was never enough money. Everyone worked their jobs and cared for their family. There was little time for more than that. Our way of life was slipping away. Conne
rs gave what he had to the institution, but it was hard to overcome a snake like Strabe. It seemed to a lot of us that we were destined to fail. Around that time, Aaron arrived in town and butted heads with Strabe. Aaron was pretty well known among the Corvale, and we were excited to add him to our fold. But his conflict with Strabe drove him away. Strabe did his best to paint it as Aaron’s fault, but the failings of his leadership were beginning to show. A few months after that, the winter settled in.”
Miriam paused and looked at Cal. “Everything I’ve told you thus far you could learn from any Corvale. But I’m about to illuminate some of the darker corners of our past. I’m telling you these things because I think Conners would agree that we need your trust, and because there are two things you’re going to do. First, you’re never going to tell anyone besides Aaron what I tell you, or else I’ll kill you.” For a second, Cal saw her mask fall away. The friendly and flirty manner gave way to the hard gaze of a woman who had been trained to deliver men to their death since childhood. An instant later she smiled brightly, erasing the shadow so quickly Cal wondered if he had really seen it. “The other thing you’re going to do is answer my next question really nicely. Are we in agreement?”
Cal gave her an “of course” wave of the hand. Miriam continued, “It was a particularly cold winter. One of the charges of the Domestic Circle was to keep tabs on the needier Corvale, make sure they were warm and safe. In most cases, it was easy enough. But there was a woman, Bernice, who was troubled. She was not in her right mind. She was difficult to understand. She rambled. She couldn’t possibly hold down a job. She made shepra and other traditional crafts for the group and everyone would pay her what they could, but she needed care. Her only saving grace was that she had relatives in Delhonne and they had given her a house. It kept her from wandering the streets. Or at least it did, until a few lowlifes realized she didn’t have it together enough to get them out of her house. They moved in and threw her out. She kept trying to come back in and they would tell her that it wasn’t her house, that she was confused. This lasted for a few days. At some point she went to the Corvale House for help. Strabe gave her none. That night she froze to death in the streets.”
Miriam continued in a low voice, “It was an unacceptable failure and disgrace for the Delhonne Corvale. And the blame lay at Strabe’s door. A few things happened after that. The first is her corpse vanished from the morgue, morgue being a fancy term for the pile of poor people’s bodies they keep out by the West Gate before burying them outside the walls. The second is that Strabe fell asleep much harder than usual that night, almost as if he were under the influence of the dropweed from your story. The third is that Strabe woke up next to cold Bernice’s corpse, which now sported several stab wounds. He held a dagger in his bloody hands. And finally, it just so happened that a rare joint meeting of the Circles had been called for by letters sent the night before in Strabe’s hand, to occur at his home at daybreak.
“A trial commenced immediately. All actions in the House were placed under a shroud of secrecy. Strabe was given the opportunity to call witnesses, but he was disoriented and unprepared. Conners, on the other hand, was well prepared. The others didn’t realize the extent of Strabe’s corruption, but Conners brought in several witnesses. They made it clear Strabe had long been shorting the warriors, leading to many of them cutting ties with the Corvale. He had been badly shorting the Domestic Circle under the guise of poverty. Only the Intelligence Circle had been receiving anything close to real money because the info they procured was valuable to Strabe for political purposes.
“Conners showed the others the location of the wealth Strabe had been stockpiling in a floor safe in his room. Thousands of gold. But the truly damning thing was the testimony of a woman who witnessed him taking advantage of Bernice and welcoming her into his home the night before. My testimony.
“The case was closed quickly and Strabe was unanimously found guilty. Derrick Issale, the leader of the Warrior Circle, insisted he be given the honor of carrying out the execution. It was done on the spot. Strabe cried and begged, then assured us his colleagues in the Senate would never tolerate his absence. It all fell on deaf ears. If Conners had any craving to mete out the justice himself, he kept quiet. Or maybe he satiated his anger by eliminating the three lowlifes who forced Bernice out of her home, which happened later that same day.
“Conners took control of the Corvale Delhonne and reestablished order. It has been run smoothly, incorruptibly ever since. He claims no privilege, just works tirelessly to the great benefit of his people. Under his leadership, we have again become strong and proud.
“You can trust Conners because of his devotion to the Corvale. You can trust Conners to do anything for his people. You dismiss me as a threat because I am tied to him. You’re right, just as I’m right to dismiss you as a threat. You go as Aaron goes. If Aaron tells you to wait in three years of purgatory, you do it. Because you have nothing else. All this other stuff, the women, the drink, the gambling, the swordplay, it’s what you do when you’re waiting. You are only living when you’re by Aaron’s side. Conners is a servant, pure and simple. And he is only living when he serves a master. His master is the Corvale. As long as you and your friend understand that you can trust him. Just don’t think for a second he won’t kill you if he senses you mean his people harm.”
Miriam sat back abruptly. She had gotten fairly worked up near the end. Cal was amused to see some demonstration of real passion from the woman he had previously pegged as pretty cold. Even if it came at the price of some harsh observations directed his way.
“You asked me a hard one. Now it’s my turn.” Miriam looked Cal in the eyes. “Tell me about the Dura Mati.”
Cal sighed and shifted in his seat. “You sure about that one? I’m not a huge fan of that story. Plus I think this might be your last question of the evening and you haven’t asked about the dragons. I thought that would be first.”
“I fully intend to hear everything about the dragons from Aaron. He’s promised me that. I want to hear about the Dura Mati.”
Cal sighed and poured another drink for each of them. The bottle was empty. He hesitated, then waved for another. He waited for it to arrive, adding fresh ice to their glasses. As the barkeep dropped off a bottle and left, Cal noticed another man approaching their huddle.
“Doctor Graham,” Cal said warmly, “I was hoping to see you.”
“I imagine so, Cal,” the Doctor replied, looking at Cal’s bloody left hand. He spoke softly and wore a gentleman’s outfit, with a nicely tailored coat. He was a shorter, stout man with a thick dark beard and fat hands.
Cal said, “Oh, this, this is nothing.”
“You don’t mind if I take a look then.” Without waiting for an answer the Doctor pulled up a chair and pulled a candle closer. He turned slightly pink as he realized he hadn’t acknowledged Miriam. “My apologies, Miss. I don’t mean to intrude.”
Miriam smiled and gestured for him to continue. “Please, Doctor, if someone doesn’t help this poor man he’ll have no choice but to complain all night.”
The Doctor turned back to Cal’s hand, examining it as he muttered to himself. He waved the barkeep over and asked for a clean towel and some clear liquor.
As he returned to the hand, Cal asked, “Doctor, you ever work with large animals?”
“This is going to need some stitches. Not many, but just enough to keep it closed.” He reached into his coat pocket and removed a small sewing kit. “Large animals? Can’t say I have. I’ve seen one or two horses, but there’s an animal doctor just down the street from me so it’s pretty easy to pass people on who want me to look at their dogs and such. Now,” the Doctor continued, “what’s wrong with your chest?”
“Nothing,” Cal said.
“Son, I never understood why people lie to doctors. If you’re trying to impress the lady, I think she’d prefer honesty. You’re holding your shoulders all wrong. I’d like a look. If you’re feeling shy just have an
other drink.”
Cal laughed and undid the laces of his shirt enough to pull the neck low. The ugly, half-healed wounds of the night before were a deep purple.
“These are from earlier?” the Doctor asked. Cal nodded. The Doctor looked troubled. “The hand is a defensive wound. These are not. Exactly what kind of trouble are you in, Cal?”
The barkeep arrived with a towel and bottle of clear liquor that Cal could smell through the glass. The Doctor began to set up his sewing kit.
“No real trouble, Doctor. Some rather impolite gentlemen wanted to speak with me. They spoke. I suspect they won’t be doing much speaking anymore.”
Doctor Graham, now holding Cal’s hand and planning out the stitches, grunted in approval.
Cal said, “So, I was thinking. Maybe you’d like to come by and see the dragons?”
The Doctor looked up at him, surprised. “I thought you had them under lock and key. I wanted to ask but figured that’s all you’re hearing these days.” He poured a small measure of liquor onto the towel and wiped a needle. Then he briskly rubbed the towel against Cal’s hand.
Cal drew his breath in sharply. After a moment he got his breathing under control. “Well, I thought you could come by tomorrow. One of them is wounded. He seems to be recovering, but none of us have much experience with dragons. Not sure anyone does. Also, we are starting to think we’ve given everyone the wrong impression. We got some good advice that when we put these dragons behind a fence of swords it got everybody thinking they are just some kind of weapon. Maybe if a doctor were to show up, and maybe you could bring a few of your academic colleague types, well that might help remind people that these animals are an exciting discovery for lots of reasons.”
Night of the Chalk (Spies of Dragon and Chalk Book 1) Page 17
