Perdition (The Dred Chronicles) (18 page)

29

The Spoils of War

It would take weeks of work to make this place habitable. Dred eyed the evidence of Priest’s rituals with sheer disgust, then she turned back to the Speaker. He appeared unmoved by the carnage, but with the skull painted over his features, it was hard to tell. She beckoned him away from the others; to her surprise, he followed.

“Do we wait until the offensive is complete to begin dividing up gear and property?”

The Speaker shook his head. “You receive immediate possession of Priest’s property and holdings. The Handmaiden will wait until Grigor has been conquered to claim her reward.”

On the surface, that seemed like a generous offer, but Dred knew Grigor had more space in addition to having the largest standing army in Perdition. She wasn’t clear on what defenses Grigor had, as nobody had ever pushed far enough past his borders to check them out. Earlier, she’d learned that the rumors about Priest’s Peacemaker units had been nothing but bullshit, stories circulated to keep invaders away. It was a good tactic until somebody was brave—or stupid enough—to find out for himself. She had been so relieved when Tam came back to report there were a lot of enemies between her and the inner sanctum but no heavy weapons. Still, cutting so many men down took time, and she’d nearly been too late.

So was Silence. She left her sneak attack until the last possible moment.

But her expression gave away none of her thoughts as she replied, “That’s satisfactory.”

Then she turned to Tam, dismissing the Speaker. “Head back to the hall and check on things for me. Make sure Ike and Wills are holding down the fort.”

Dred didn’t tell him she was worried about an attack while their home front was so weak; she didn’t need to. Tam only nodded and slipped out of Abaddon.
Queensland, now.
As usual, he went alone. If he spotted trouble, he would slip around it. She had never known anyone who moved like he did, the shadow of the wind.

As she turned, she caught a few concise gestures from the Speaker, aimed at Silence’s quiet killers. As one, they formed up behind the skull-faced man and departed, leaving the mess for her to deal with. With so much blood, spilled entrails, and hacked-off limbs, it was impossible to judge the potential of this place. With a faint sigh, she went over to Einar.

“Take half the men back to Queensland. I’m putting you in charge of internal defense until I get back.”

“You’re supervising the inventory and cleanup?” the big man asked.

She nodded. “I can’t imagine you’re interested in such housework.”

“I love you, but no.”

She joked back, “So there are limits to your devotion.”

“And you’ve found them.”

Einar boomed out, “Sound off in ones and twos, you stupid gits! That’s presuming you can count that high.” Sometimes he sounded
so
military. The men complied, then he shouted, “Odd ducks, come with me. The rest of you stay with the Dread Queen. You get to haul off the corpses and spit-shine this place.”

A chorus of groans met the announcement, but the even-numbered Queenslanders went over to Dred. The group included Jael; they clustered around her waiting for instructions as the rest of the men moved out. At this point, Katur’s aliens decided they needed to move out, as they were definitely in the minority, and this cease-fire might not last. She also suspected they would carry word about the alliance between Queensland and Entropy, but as long as they stayed in the Warrens, Dred didn’t care what they knew. They had served their purpose, just as Tam predicted; the man was positively Machiavellian. The day after her recovery, he’d told her about his scheme, a brainstorm resulting from a chance encounter in the ducts. Dred had to admit, it had paid off beautifully.

Smiling wearily, she gave concise orders, tasking the men to haul all the bodies to the chutes, then find cleaning supplies. Dred found a chair, not so much because she was above menial labor—though Tam would counsel her against it for the sake of appearances—but mostly because her knees felt like they were filled with water. Her head spun; hopefully, nobody could tell just how weak she was or how much the battle had taken out of her. The weight of her chains made her arms ache, the first time she could remember being conscious of them in that way.

A few minutes later, Jael joined her. She didn’t chastise him for not participating in the work crew. He’d earned a place at her side as her champion. Dred inclined her head as he sat.

“You fight like a gladiator,” she said.

“Tried that. I didn’t much care for it. Too much depends on the emperor’s whim.”

She was never sure when this man was being facetious. “How’re you feeling?”

“I ought to be asking you that, but I can tell by looking.” His blue gaze swept her critically from head to toe.

“Do you think the others suspect?” The question slipped out before she could quell it.

“I doubt it. They don’t look at you with appraising eyes. They’re blinded by all the impossible things they believe you can do.”

“It’s the Dread Queen mythos,” she said.

“That must be exhausting.”

She pushed out a quiet sigh and leaned her head against the back of her chair, legs stretched out. The posture looked feline, relaxed, but the truth was, she lacked the energy to get up at the moment. “You have no idea.”

“How do you feel about Einar?” That was the last question she expected to hear from Jael, mostly because it was so personal.

“He’s steady, mostly. Reliable, though he’s got a nasty temper. He can be a brute when he’s properly riled.”

From his expression, that wasn’t the response he was looking for. But he didn’t say anything more about it. Instead, he watched the men hauling the bodies. They were irreverent about it, forcing the dead into undignified poses, or dragging a body by its hair. Dred didn’t chastise them; they were entitled to their small pleasures after such an impossible victory. For a few minutes, she’d thought this would be their last stand, the end of Queensland.

“I thought Grigor might hit Silence’s people. Then we would’ve had a proper dustup.”

A shiver ran through her, though Dred tried to conceal it. “We wouldn’t be having this conversation. These tactics won’t work a second time, and we don’t have the numbers to mount a frontal assault on Grigor. Mary only knows how Silence thinks we’ll defeat him.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jael said. “Enjoy the breathing room for now . . . and it might give him pause about coming at you, now that his alliance is defunct.”

“We have to neutralize the threat.” There was no way around the necessity, as she’d promised the Great Bear’s territory to Silence in payment for her aid.

Jael probably knew as much. “Not today.”

“This place will be very different with four of us in power. Lots more space.”

“It can’t be much longer before the supply ship arrives with fresh fish. Don’t let Grigor bolster his numbers.”

Dred had thought of that. “I’m aware.”

It took several hours to clear away all the corpses. By that point, she was feeling stronger, so she put Calypso in charge of supervising the cleanup. She noticed how Jael watched the other woman, and when he turned back to her, she raised her brows.

“She’s one of five survivors,” he said quietly. “Of the fifty men sent with me.”

“Damn.” Regret cascaded through her.

He shrugged. “I’ve run ops where I was the only one who walked away. But it’s harder when you’re giving the orders.”

“It speaks well of you that you feel that way. Some people have no trouble sending others to die on their behalf, and it doesn’t bother them at all.”

“I’m a prince, right enough. What’s next on the agenda?” It seemed he had appointed himself the Dread Queen’s bodyguard—or maybe he had instructions from Tam or Einar. That wouldn’t surprise her at all.

“While they’re scrubbing up from the battle, we need to walk through Abaddon and take stock of what we’ve gained.”

“Ah, time to count our shiny new toys?”

Dred laughed. “Exactly.”

Some of the rooms were beyond disgusting. The smell alone defied description, a combination of decaying flesh and rotting meat. She covered her mouth with one hand, trying to keep her breakfast down. Everyone had heard stories about Abaddon, but even the worst didn’t do the atrocities justice. If she could have, she’d have chopped Priest’s head off all over again.

“I was too quick,” she said, coldly furious. “Too merciful.”

When she turned to Jael, his mouth was pressed into a tight, pale line. “Turns ago, I thought the Farwan labs were the worst place in the universe. I mean, it was hell . . . the things they did to us. But this . . . this is worse. Because however wrong I think they were, those scientists had a reason for the experiments. They were working with purpose.”

“Whereas this is torture for its own sake.”

There were four different places in Abaddon that seemed to have been devoted to torment and anguish. For the first time, Dred closed her eyes to see if the rooms had absorbed the pain and despair of those murdered within the walls. The area throbbed with red energy, echoes of madness. Stunned, she staggered back, and Jael steadied her with a hand in the small of her back.

“What?” he asked.

Softly, she told him.

He drew her away. “Have these rooms cleaned, then sealed. Give it time to fade.” He hesitated, scanning her face. Whatever he saw made him add, “I’d keep the men out. I don’t know how much I believe that atmosphere can drive people to do twisted things, but it just doesn’t seem wise to tempt fate.”

“I know what you mean. And Queenslanders are just as susceptible to violent impulses as anyone in Perdition. That’s why we’re
all
here.”

To her relief, the rest of the inventory went smoother. She cracked open a case and gazed at Jael, eyes wide. “This is full of paste. I guess I know where all of the food supplies ended up.”

Another carton yielded actual medicine. It made no sense that Priest would hoard such things, but maybe he’d had some insane religious justification for it. They also found a stockpile of ammo for the turret as well as rudimentary magnetic sensor bracelets. Jael snapped one on his wrist and beckoned her with a jerk of his chin.

She wasn’t used to taking orders anymore, but Dred didn’t make him explain. In some ways, it was a relief to spend time with someone who didn’t expect her to be scary, awe-inspiring, and unknowable all the time. Tam and Einar offered a break from playing a constant role; and to a lesser degree, so did Ike and Wills. She didn’t feel as close to them, however, possibly because of the power exchange she’d experienced with Jael.

First, he was helpless with me—and then vice versa. It . . . changes things.

Jael led her to one of the turrets, tilted it forward, and switched it to motion-sensing mode. Then, before she could protest, he dashed in front of it. The gun stayed quiet. Dred exhaled in nervous relief and tried not to show how worried she’d been.

It’s just that he’s useful. If he gets himself killed, I’ve lost a valuable asset.

“That was stupid,” she commented. “What if you were wrong?”

“I almost never am.” He flashed a cocky smile, but this time, she recognized the vulnerability; Jael only used that look when he expected nobody gave a damn.

Quickly, Dred checked. The corridor was deserted apart from them, as all of her men were clearing away the refuse in other parts of Abaddon. She took a couple steps toward him and tapped his chest lightly.

“We have a situation. You have a tendency to risk your life recklessly. I don’t approve.”

“And why is that, love?” For the first time, his use of that endearment didn’t sound razor-sharp, laced with derision. Maybe he didn’t mean for it to, but his voice softened, and his eyes burned with the blue found only at the heart of the hottest flames.

“I found you,” she said softly. “I’m keeping you. Got a problem with that?”

30

Truth Hurts

Tam circulated among the Queenslanders immediately after the victory. The overall mood was elated, though a few weren’t drinking away their ration cards. They had probably lost mates in the battle and didn’t feel like celebrating. Since Cook was supervising the liquor allotment, nobody tried to take more than his share from the still.

Einar had settled down with Ike, who was favoring his left knee. Tam could always tell when it was paining the old man because he sat with it straightened before him. Once he finished his round, he made a cup of sweetleaf tea and joined his comrades. It was loud enough in the hall to cover any number of quiet conversations, so he didn’t worry unduly about seeking privacy.

“Did anyone act suspicious while we were gone?” Tam asked Ike. He’d suspected the frontal assault on Priest might present an irresistible opportunity for a spy or saboteur to weaken Dred’s holdings. Ike’s word was the same as proof, so he’d have no qualms about disposing of a traitor who threatened Queensland.

Einar sat up at the question, planting both elbows on the table. “I hope so. This would be the perfect time to make somebody disappear.”

Unfortunately, Ike shook his head. “All the men who stayed behind went about their business. I didn’t see anything that seemed out of the ordinary.”

Hm.
That struck a chord. What if the spy was subtle enough to disguise his work? “I’ll be back. I need to take a look around.”

It took Tam an hour to complete his assessment. The hydroponics garden was undamaged, and the barricades were all in place, but somebody had tampered with the Kitchen-mate that Wills had recently repaired. If he had ordered food without checking the chemical compositions programmed into the recipe databases, he mostly likely would’ve died. So would anyone else who used the machine. Men would start dying right and left in Queensland, and without adequate medical facilities, they’d think it was some unknown disease carrying off their number. Eventually, the superstitious bastards would blame Dred for not stopping the epidemic. As sabotage plans went, this one was elegant and insidious. And it sent a cold chill through him because it meant the enemy definitely had a man hidden among them; this wasn’t something an outsider could accomplish. Even Tam, who had an unusual aptitude for stealth, would find it impossible to creep inside the Great Bear’s lines and tamper with his Kitchen-mates. It required too much detailed knowledge of patrols and defenses for anyone but a Queenslander to have done this.

Calypso came in while he stood, studying the machine. “Is it broken again?”

“Yes,” he said. “Would you mind getting Ike for me? He might be able to fix it.”

“No problem, little man. Guess I’ll be drinking my dinner again.”

He managed a half smile. “Tired of Cook’s goulash? Don’t let him hear you say so.”

The tall woman pretended to shiver. “I wouldn’t dream of it. I like my fingers all precisely where they are.”

She strode off, leaving Tam to guard the Kitchen-mate. A few minutes later, Ike limped in, his expression split evenly between annoyance and discomfort. He couldn’t afford to let the old man’s infirmities distract him, though if life was fair, Ike would be basking somewhere warm and sunny, not taking the blame for somebody else’s scandal.

“What’s wrong with it?” Ike grumbled.

Quietly, Tam told him.

Ike spent a full two minutes cursing. Then he said, “I don’t know enough about programming to counter this. But I can power it down, then restore it to factory defaults when it starts up again.”

“Do it,” Tam said quietly. “How long will that take?”

“You’re hoping we can get this done without the person responsible knowing we’ve neutralized the threat.” The old man wore a shrewd expression.

He nodded. “We’ll watch and see if anyone takes unusual interest in Kitchen-mate meals. He or she will probably also examine the machine when there are no poison victims.”

“And we’ll be ready,” Ike guessed.

“That’s the plan.”

Ike got to work immediately, pressing the buttons to shut down the Kitchen-mate. “How can you be sure it wasn’t me?”

Tam couldn’t restrain a smile, despite the severity of the situation. “If
you’re
the traitor, Ike, then I’m not the judge of character I believe myself to be. More to the point, so far as I know, you’re the only innocent man in Perdition.”

The old man shifted uncomfortably, pausing to aim a troubled gaze at Tam. “I was drunk when I told you that. Better if it’s not repeated.”

“Understood.”

Men survived on reputations, here. The other Queenslanders thought Ike had butchered fifty people like livestock. If they learned he’d been pushed to a false confession, it would make life more difficult for him. A cold rage filled Tam when he considered what the bastards in law enforcement had done to Ike. His case had been riddled with corruption until Ike was backed into a no-win situation. Then the family of the real killer, in conjunction with high-priced barristers, made Ike an offer he couldn’t refuse. He could take his chances and go to trial, where he would certainly be convicted, based on the false evidence, or he could willingly confess. If he did so, his wife and children would be compensated handsomely, and the true killer would be confined for life in a posh asylum for the criminally insane while his family avoided even a hint of scandal. Unsurprisingly to anyone who knew Ike, he took the deal to provide for his family. And he had been in Perdition ever since.

“I might’ve been lying,” Ike said then.

“And I might be queen of Tarnus.”

The old man grinned. “Only if she pisses standing up. There, that’s got it.”

Lights flickered in the control panel, showing the startup sequence. Ike pressed a series of buttons until a menu came up. Tam was impressed at how adroit Ike was with old technology. This was the first line of Kitchen-mates, primitive compared to the new ones, which had voice-activation modules. These, you still had to program by hand.

“How’s it coming?” Tam kept an eye on the door.

“Not long.” Ike held his gaze for a few seconds. “Do you plan to tell Dred about this?”

He considered, then shook his head. “Her poker face isn’t as good as she thinks it is. And the more people who know about a trap, the more chances it will fail.”

“I don’t know if I agree, but I’m good at keeping secrets. I won’t say anything.”

Tam fell quiet then. It would be disastrous if the saboteur caught them, as it would return them to the beginning in terms of laying a trap to catch the spy. Despite the danger, however, this was just the sort of challenge Tam thrived on. In the end, he’d come up on top. He always did, even when winning meant life in prison. After all, his incarceration signaled his greatest victory to date.

* * *

JAEL
thought long and hard about his reply. In the end, he yielded to the impulse to flirt. “I suppose that depends on what you intend to do with me.”

You know better. Don’t be stupid, man.
While three in a bed worked for some people, four was just asking for trouble. Yet he didn’t step away or break eye contact. She gazed back from nearly at eye level; Dred was tall for a woman, just a few centimeters shy of his own height, and he measured a bit under two meters. He shouldn’t cup the back of her head in his hand, but he did—and gave her ample opportunity to retreat.

This time, however,
she
kissed him. Dred gave him a little push, and he went with it, falling against the wall as her lips met his. She kissed like she fought: hard, demanding, and aggressive. The rasp of teeth on his lower lip made him groan, and she leaned into him, her hands framing his face. Such intimacy kindled a sharp ache. He couldn’t remember wanting anything—anyone—more.

Trembling, he skimmed his palms down until they found her hips, and she still didn’t back off. She moved against him, oddly tentative, as if she wasn’t sure of his response—though that wasn’t in question—or her own intentions. It had been a
long
time, but this felt like the precursor to sex.

Jael broke the kiss to ask, “Is that the answer to my question?”

“Part of it,” she said softly.

He wanted to ask what this meant, if she was looking to add him to her stable of men, if he’d be rotated in and out of her bed.
Do Tam and Einar take turns or do they share?
But questioning her would imply he cared about her personal arrangements. If the other men didn’t care if she slept with someone else, then he could deal with it, too.

“I’m not opposed.”

“Then let’s finish up here and get back to Queensland.” That sounded like a promise.

He threw himself into the task of squaring Abaddon away, helping the others stack the supplies that would be transported immediately. A runner went back to their territory to fetch the air pallet, as some of the goods were too heavy to carry back by hand. Even so, the cleanup, salvage, and restoration efforts took hours.

She probably won’t feel like making good on that implied offer by the time we get back.

It had been an incredibly long day with the promise of harder work to come. Now they had to protect their extended borders as well as figure out a way to defeat the Great Bear. Even to him, it sounded daunting. Dred proved that rack time was the last thing on her mind when she ordered him back to Queensland guarding the air pallet while she stayed on to continue working.

“You want me to return once we stow everything?”

She shook her head. “Help Tam and Einar. Make sure the place is in order.”

Ah.
He only nodded and departed along with five other men. Fortunately, they encountered no trouble on the way back, and it didn’t take long to put away the supplies. Wills was delighted when he saw all the goodies Priest had stored up. Jael listened with only half an ear as the soothsayer went on about all the things he could do with such bounty.

“Do you need anything else?” he asked.

Wills shook his head. “Ike and I can take it from here.”

The older man looked none too pleased to be volunteered for the task, but he set down his drink. “Fine. What do you need?”

Oddly discontent, Jael joined Tam and Einar, who held a mug of something alcoholic. From the cloudy look of their drinks, the liquor came from the still. Come to think of it, the rest of the men seemed to be living it up, too. It wasn’t quite a victory party, probably because of the heavy losses, but given another hour or two, the wild celebration would be going, full swing.

“Do we have anybody sober and on watch?” he asked.

The big man scowled at him. “You think we’re idiots? Of course.”

“It’s a low-risk opportunity for them to blow off steam,” Tam added. “The odds of a retaliatory strike so soon are low, and the men need a break, especially when everything went off exactly as we planned.”

Einar laughed. “And that’s so unlikely, too. I can’t believe your alien gambit worked.”

Jael froze, not that the other two men noticed. With a drink in hand, even the spymaster had lost his customary wariness in the spirit of celebration. But clearly, they both knew why the aliens from the Warren had been attacking Priest at such a convenient moment whereas he’d heard nothing about the scheme.

“How did you get them to cooperate?” he asked.

Tam tapped a finger on his mug, then shrugged. “In my old line of work, I never got to boast when a plan came together. This is a nice change. I was afraid our numbers wouldn’t stack up to the diversion Silence requested, so I took advantage of some . . . discord between Priest’s people and the aliens in the Warren.”

“Brilliant,” Einar said, lifting his glass. “Priest’s people killed some, and it’s ugly stuff, dismemberment and evisceration, the markings and the blood painting left behind. The aliens keep to themselves, mostly, but they’re quite vicious if you get them riled.”

Jael registered the cold calculation in Tam’s eyes. Often that look went unnoticed because the man moved silently and didn’t draw attention with violent behavior. But it didn’t mean he was a good man or better than the obvious brutes.

“Took advantage, how?”

“I performed a service for Katur. Between his anger at Priest and his gratitude, he was willing to fight.” That was vague enough to be frustrating, but Jael suspected Tam wouldn’t be offering full disclosure anytime soon.

To him, we’re only numbers and probabilities. I doubt he has a single genuine emotion.

“It worked like a charm,” Jael forced himself to say lightly.

In his gut, a hole opened up. Dred must have known about the plan yet she’d chosen not to tell him—when it was his squad that would’ve been annihilated if the aliens hadn’t kept up their end of the deal. As it was, he’d lost all but five of his people. This meant she, too, saw him as a tool to be used: Sharpen the blade and keep it wet with blood. To make matters worse, she’d been perfectly willing to screw him as part of that arrangement, maybe even for the same reason she’d used her hand on him before—to keep him happy and compliant, asking no questions.

To his surprise, he wasn’t content with scraps from her table. Never would be. In the hole where he’d languished for thirty turns, going quietly mad by millimeters, he’d come to the conclusion that he both wanted and deserved something better. He muttered about getting a drink, and neither Tam nor Einar watched him go, so apparently, he’d kept up a flat expression. Jael poured a mug of the strong liquor and took a seat at one of the other tables.

Since he wasn’t paying much attention to his companions, he was surprised when Martine drew her chair over beside him. She clicked her drink against his. “Here’s to surviving when the other bastards didn’t.”

“Cheers to that,” he said.

“So what’s up with you and the Dread Queen?” the woman asked.

Not shy, this one.

“Why?”

“You spent an awful lot of time holed up with her while she was recuperating. I thought there might be a reason.”

There was,
he thought.
I was saving her life.

He shrugged. “I have some medical background. Tam and Einar thought it was best if I supervised her care.”