Night of the Chalk (Spies of Dragon and Chalk Book 1)

by Samuel Gately

  Aaron looked east towards the Lower Sweeps. Dermot Gills, the server Cal had set to tailing the Viscount Gerald Grace, had reported to the kennels early that morning. The Viscount had ended his evening at the same mansion Sleepy Jon had fingered by tailing Pete Stephos. Tonight Aaron and Cal would visit the Lower Sweeps in the hopes of interrupting Gelden Carr at his dinner table.

  Market Street linked the Palace to the Sweeps directly, running east down the hill from the elevated Palace, through a market area that bustled in the daytime, and finally into the Lower Sweeps. The neighborhood situated between the Palace and its official buildings and the Lower Sweeps was commonly known as Market Slope, after its collection of vendors of jewelry, leather goods, food, and anything else one could imagine, all arrayed along the relentless decline.

  Market Slope hummed during the day. But now that the sun was going down it had quieted. The working class was heading home. The market itself was emptying, nothing but a collection of endless empty wooden vendor stalls. A single bored guard wandered around, charged with preventing vandalism and the theft of the unattended wood. As with many of Delhonne’s neighborhoods, the setting of the sun signaled to another group that the time had come to get to work. Soon the street gangs would stir from their pallets in various hideouts, wipe their eyes with dirty fists, and begin collecting on the corners.

  Aaron turned back to look to the Palace and was surprised to see Jon approaching. It was easy to forget how quietly he moved given his size. Aaron beckoned him back into the alley where Cal was putting away the cards.

  The three gathered. Cal and Aaron both lit cigarettes as Jon looked around the darkening alley. “Inefficient, this. Took me a while to shake my tail. How was the meeting with King Jacob?” he asked.

  Aaron and Cal looked at each other before answering. After a moment, Aaron shrugged. “Went about as good as could be expected. We went with Ambassador Stone with the Castalan Embassy. He set the meet. Jacob was quiet, not all that impressive. Big guy, looks like he used to be strong. He wanted some assurances we weren’t here for a power grab. Nothing heavy though.”

  “Stone’s your connection?” Jon asked Cal.

  Cal replied, “I was his direct report when I was still drawing salary from the Embassy. Good man. The meeting helped square us. He was annoyed we hadn’t involved the Embassy earlier in the dragon issue. With me in the picture a lot of inquiries were landing at the Embassy doors. Messed with their low profile. Still, Stone’s too much of a politician to sniff at a sitdown with the King.”

  Jon asked, “We keeping him involved going forward?”

  “Nothing in place right now, but we might be. I’d put him in the political asset column, next to Conners and whatever hold he’s got over Jacob and then the Corvale Senator. Drake?” he asked, looking at Aaron for confirmation. Aaron nodded as Cal went on. “I trust Stone, but he reports to my father. If the winds shift against our sails no voice outside Castalan will redirect Stone. If you need to put eyes on him, he’s a stern-looking older man, thin with just a fringe of white hair. Well-dressed. Won’t see him without a Castalan crest on him somewhere.

  “Stone gave us a quick refresher course in Tannes politics. Said the Palace used to share power with the Senate, the Tannes state government, and the Delhonne government. But the Senate has become the real place of action on non-domestic affairs, which was the Palace’s previous area of focus. Tannes is run by merchant groups now, and they fund the Senate. The Palace was reliant on traditional statesmanship, which becomes less and less important as more power shifts along economic lines. Nowadays, the treaties are written by merchants or noble families, not kings and queens. Stone says he’s got plenty of respect for King Jacob, but he’s been reduced to an almost entirely ceremonial role. Traditional funding sources are under constant threat. Senate won’t be content until he’s living in rags and they can claim he’s incapable of what few duties remain.”

  Aaron jumped in. “Seeing Conners in his element was more interesting than Jacob. Stone hinted that everyone knows Conners runs the Palace. Jacob lost his daughter a couple years ago. She drowned in the moat. He still refuses to have it emptied. Pretty much retreated from the public life since then. But Conners holds his strings and can make him dance.”

  “And you trust Conners?” Jon asked.

  “I don’t know, Jon. I feel like I don’t really have much choice. He told me a bit of his past. Used to be a contract killer. Says,” Aaron looked around the alley, “and this is entirely between us, says they used to call him the man in the shadows.”

  Both Cal and Jon stared at Aaron. The man in the shadows had become a sort of urban myth around Delhonne. The phrase had become synonymous with death. If Conners were really the source, it meant he had left behind a stack of bodies. And buried them deep enough that he was still able to ascend to positions of leadership in two major organizations.

  Aaron continued, “I think we underestimate Conners Toren at our peril. But I can at least trust him to protect the Delhonne Corvale.”

  “Maybe at your expense?”

  “I’m not exactly showing him my neck. But I need allies. I’m not leaving without that injured dragon. Or without at least finding out who Gelden Carr is, why he tried to kill Cal a couple nights ago, attacked the stables, why he pulled me out of the sky. Why does he care so much about us?”

  “So I hold the stables while you two head to the Sweeps?”

  “That’s the plan. I’m sending Derrick Issale your way with some men. Another ally we need. We might not be the only ones with plans for nightfall.”

  Jon asked, “Is Issale his own man?”

  “Somewhere in the middle. Certainly loyal to Conners, but I don’t think it’s escaped him that he’s one of about a handful of men in Delhonne with enough marks to hold a dragon. And two off that hand are in this alley. I could give Issale something Conners can’t.”

  Jon grunted. Silence fell over the group. After a few moments, Jon gave a nod and turned to go. Aaron was looking to the mouth of the alley, eager to get to the Sweeps, but Cal caught Sleepy Jon’s sleeve. “Are we missing anything?” he asked in a low voice.

  Jon thought for a while. “The Palace was enough of a smokescreen to slow down the interest in us. And sending Doctor Graham and his friends was a good idea. Everyone we need to protect is protected. If you guys find out what you can about Grace and Carr, and we’re able to keep the stables safe, we’re headed in the right direction.”

  Aaron and Cal nodded, and Jon left. Aaron walked to the alley mouth, studying the path to the Sweeps. After a moment, he turned back and looked at Cal for a long time. Cal felt Aaron’s eyes on him and grew irritated. “We’re paying him good coin, right? This isn’t exactly a game.”

  When Aaron didn’t say anything in response, Cal went on in a sharp tone, “I need to ask you something. Miriam was pressing me last night on the Dura Mati. Reminding me how pissed off I should be that you left me on my own for three fucking years. So let me ask, did you know I was in Delhonne? At what point in your southwestern expansion campaign were you gonna send word?”

  “I was always coming here. Because of those marks you’re one of the most valuable people in this new world. The marks we earned together.”

  Cal looked down at the few visible tattoos creeping past his rolled shirtsleeves. “You weren’t here for all of them. But so, what, if I were a less valuable weapon for you that would have been it? I would have learned about the dragons, learned that you were still alive at the same time as the rest of the east?”

  Aaron stayed quiet.

  “You’ve always needed weapons,” Cal continued. “Someday you’ll have to learn what it means to need people.” He was shaking his head. He turned away. After a pause, he said, “You know who would have loved these last few days? Dom Beres.”

  “I haven’t thought of Dom Beres in a long time.” Aaron was cautious, sensing a trap. “How is he?”

  “He’s dead, Aaron. He was killed two and a half yea
rs ago.” Dom had been a friend of theirs. Whenever they were in Delhonne, Dom was floating around their group, happy to work just for something to eat, to be part of their team. He wasn’t much of a fighter and could never keep up around the Talent table. But he had a good attitude, didn’t mind grunt work like taking care of horses and fetching food and drink.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. How’d he die?”

  “It all seems so easy when you’re around. Everything’s moving in the right direction. But when you were gone, man, it wasn’t so easy. Three years. You were gone three years. I run the timeline in my head over and over, and all I come up with is you were riding around in the mountains with a dragon army while we were left behind handling the wrath of everyone we ever upset.” Cal removed the locust statue from his pocket. “I carried this thing every day, every night for the last three years. You know how many times I nearly threw this away or buried it?”

  Aaron remained quiet, thinking about his feet dangling over the edge of the Tower of Sidvale, ready to throw his own locust away. Eventually Cal continued, “It was no picnic with you leaving so abruptly. I had my share of callers. The aforementioned men in the shadows. Some came at night, quiet. Those were easier to deal with than the ones who challenged me in the middle of the day, in crowded spaces. Spat in my face and called me out, begging me to make a move. All the while their friends were circling around my back with knives. They told it like you had fled Delhonne a coward, said you died in the Ashlands a painted man. I had to endure a lot without you around to lean my back against. But I took it. I could. Dom couldn’t. Whenever anyone said anything about you, Dom would get right in their face.

  “Finally he knifed some guy. Some prick who probably never even knew you, just wanted to sound tough. Thought it was easy to do on Dom. But this guy had a lot of friends. They grabbed Dom and dragged him back to their hideout.

  “Later that night, they came and got me, brought me there. This smooth-talking fuck, he tells me Dom’s been squealing my name for hours, saying he’s under my protection. This guy says they’re going to kill him, they just want to see what I have to say about it. You should have seen him. I’ve never seen anyone beaten so badly. Every inch of him black and blue, cracked, red skin. They cut off all his hair, knocked out his teeth. He looked so fucking sad. He looked at me like a damn dog, like I could help him. I couldn’t. I talked a big game. I talked revenge, I talked gold, but they heard nothing. They knew you were gone. They weren’t scared of me. They sat me in a chair and brought me a damn drink while they killed Dom. They did it fast, but he still begged.

  “I told Jon about it. He always liked Dom. He agreed to help me out for free. We went back there with a crew. But this one guy is waiting outside. He says, ‘I figured you’d show up sooner or later’ and tells us these guys are protected.

  “Apparently they were making money for Cullmore. I thought long and hard about how to get around his reach, but in the end I just couldn’t. So Dom’s killers are still out there and Cullmore has his feet up on a sofa worth more than Jon’s whole house. I settled for running up as much debt as I could to Cullmore. I buried whoever he sent after me, a few from not so many nights ago.”

  There was a long pause, then Cal joined Aaron at the alley mouth. “Sun’s down. Let’s go.”

  Aaron was hesitant to leave the conversation so open-ended, but he didn’t know what else to say. He wanted to say something in his defense. Dom had been his friend too. But had he really been? Aaron had given him no thought on leaving and, if he was honest, the death bothered him, but already he could feel his mind shifting towards tonight’s work. Cal was already halfway down the street. With nothing to say, Aaron followed his friend down the block.

  Chapter 26. To the Lower Sweeps

  As night settled again onto Delhonne, the city workers made their rounds, bringing what little light they could to dark streets. In the finer neighborhoods, well stocked oil lamps were carefully lit by well-groomed, uniformed men. They kept a close eye on any troublemakers who appeared like they didn’t belong. In the rougher neighborhoods, torches were doused in oil and lit by gruff workers. The torches were tightly secured to prevent theft. They cast little light, leaving plenty of dark corners for muggers and rats. Most of the torches would sputter out well before dawn. In the Lower Sweeps, no lamps or torches were lit. The darkness fell on its empty streets. Viewed from above, perhaps on the back of a dragon, it would look like a giant hole set like a trap to capture the unwary.

  Cal and Aaron moved swiftly towards the dark neighborhood. The recent argument, the distance the years apart had created between them were momentarily erased as they made their way through the dimly lit streets near the Palace. They had not moved together into danger in a long time, but there was a seamless click as they slid back into motion, into a long dormant synchronization. They straddled the throughway, one to each side. Both were never visible at the same time. As Aaron crossed the path of a lit street, Cal was in shadow. When Cal’s outline could be seen crossing an alley, Aaron could not be found.

  They had slid through darkened streets together many times before. In Lenn’s Harbor in Castalan they had stalked the warehouse district, filling a contract for Cal’s father by taking down a ring of smugglers. In the city of Ellis they’d tracked the cobbled streets, hunting down the man who kidnapped the Tannes Ambassador’s daughter. The tent cities of Vylass had held their shadows during the chaos and bloodshed of tribal negotiations when Aaron and Cal were hired to help keep a complicated and uneasy peace.

  As frustrated as Cal was at the manner and timing of Aaron’s return, the Corvale was someone he had shared meals with when they both were hungry. They had taken turns sleeping when they both were tired. They had trusted and depended on each other. That trust, that bond had marked them both just as permanently as the tattoos across their bodies. Cal had not been able to sever it. He had kept the bond intact, a link to a dead man. If the price was becoming someone else’s sword again, maybe he should just pay it. He hadn’t been doing any better setting his own course. Worse in fact.

  Cal was running point as they entered the Lower Sweeps. He carefully leaned around the corner, looking for the mansion Sleepy Jon had described. It lay not far ahead. It was a broad, two-story home with only a short setback from the street. A wrought iron gate blocked the front walkway which led past a small, dry fountain and to the dark façade of the mansion. A fence surrounded the property.

  He spotted the silhouette of a guard on the balcony right where Jon had told him to expect it. Cal raised his hand to signal to Aaron that they had eyes ahead. Aaron made his way across the street to join Cal. They both studied the mansion, then the windows and roofs of the other visible dwellings on the street.

  There were curiously few lights. Cal thought that if he were defending the place, he would have seen to it that the lamps on the street were lit. But it seemed they were more interested in hiding than guarding. The only light came from the first floor, near the rear of the building. Cal could see it filtering through the fence.

  Aaron finished his scan and raised a single finger. He only saw the one guard. Cal nodded agreement. Again, curious. A man of Grace’s resources could have hired several. In the dirt of the alley, Aaron quickly traced out the path each of them would take, converging on the balcony. Moments later, there was no one left at the corner.

  Cal slid across the street, checking blind spots as he went. He saw no watchers. He reached the fence. It stood about head high with sharp iron points on top. He was outside the guard’s view, but that would change as he went over. He carefully removed his dagger from its scabbard, then removed the scabbard from his belt. He slid the scabbard over the fence point, effectively sheathing it, wrapping it in leather. He gripped it tightly and vaulted over the fence, pivoting in midair to slow his momentum so he could drop silently to the lawn inside the fence. He raised the dagger to his ear, gripped in a throwing motion, watching the edge of the balcony and waiting for a face to appear.
His eyes rapidly flickered around the front lawn, but saw nothing worth note. A moment later, he began moving again, first recovering his scabbard from the fence then running across the yard to the side just below the balcony.

  The mansion was designed for show, not defense. It had a convenient lattice work running up next to the balcony which would make climbing easy. Cal figured this was Grace’s family home, retrofitted into some sort of base of operations. It would have been a grand structure a couple generations ago. Cal climbed the lattice work, aware now that he was mere feet from the guard.

  As his head cleared the edge of the balcony, he saw the guard in full detail. The man matched the mercenary types who had attacked the stables. He wore a military uniform with black and red and stared out at the street, looking professionally bored in the manner of all guards.

  Cal waited. This part was a balancing act. He was exposed to the street where he was, and if the guard looked his way or heard him breathing quietly he would be detected. But guards often had instructions to relay their presence to the interior at set intervals. It was unlikely this one would do so loudly, but Cal waited to see if he raised a lamp or tapped the window. If he did it once, Cal would wait and then see the interval it was repeated at. Then after the second one he would kill the guard, buying them time. No gesture was made. Finally Cal committed.

  He grabbed the lowest of the three tier railings and pulled himself up rapidly. The sound alerted the guard, who turned, shocked, to see Cal clearing the railing. The guard drew his sword and advanced. After a single step, he stopped abruptly. Aaron had surfaced behind him during the distraction and driven his blade through the guard’s back. Aaron led him gently to the balcony floor. He bled out in moments.