The Stilts is a sleepy village, without much cause for concern. In fact, this happens to be Shade’s own birthplace. Not that he talks about home much, other than his sister. I know he writes to them, though. I “mailed” his latest letter myself, leaving it at the post only this morning. Faster than relying on the army to get a letter through, he said, and he was right. Only two or so weeks since he wrote it, rather than the usual month it takes for any kind of Red mail to get anywhere.
“So does this have anything to do with the new cargo you’ve been having my compatriots ferry downriver and overland? To Harbor Bay, yes?” Will glares at me, eyes so bright for someone his age. But his beard looks thinner than it did last month, as is his body. Still, he pours himself a cup of tea with the still hands of a surgeon.
I politely decline the offer of hot tea in an even hotter wagon. How is he wearing long sleeves? “What have you heard?”
“This and that.”
Wily to the end, these Whistles. “It’s true. We’re beginning to move people, and the Whistle network has been integral to that operation. I’m hoping you’ll agree to join the same.”
“Now why would I be stupid enough to do that?”
“Well, you were stupid enough to oath yourself to the Scarlet Guard. But if you need more convincing . . .” With a grin, I pull five silver tetrarchs from my pocket. They barely touch the small table before he snaps them up. They disappear between his fingers. “More for every item.”
Still, he does not agree. Putting on a show like the other Whistles did before I eventually won their agreements.
“You would be the first to refuse,” I tell him with a slick smile. “And our partnership would cease.”
He waves a hand, dismissive. “I do fine without your sort, anyways.”
“Is that so?” My smile widens. Will is no good at bluffing. “Very well then, I’ll go and never darken your . . . wagon again.”
Before I can even get up, he stands to stop me. “Who are you planning to move?”
Got you.
“Assets. People who will be valuable to our cause.”
As I watch, his bright eyes darken. A trick of the light.
“And who makes that decision?”
Despite the heat, a finger of cold runs down my spine. Here comes the usual sticking point. “There are operations all over the country seeking out such people, myself included. We assess, propose our candidates, and wait for approval.”
“I assume the old, the sick, and the children set to conscript do not make any of your proposals. No use saving the ones who truly need it.”
“If they have valuable skills—”
“Pah!” Will spits, his cheeks going red. He gulps at his tea with angry gasps, draining the cup. The liquid seems to calm him though. When he sets down the empty cup, he rests his chin on his hand thoughtfully. “I suppose that’s the best we can hope for.”
Another channel opened. “For now.”
“Very well.”
“Oh, and this most likely won’t be a problem here, but I’d stay away from any Silvers you see tomorrow. They won’t be happy.”
Tomorrow. The thought of it singes my blood. I don’t know what the Colonel and Command have planned, only that it includes my broadcast, and something worth waving our flag for.
“Do I want to know?” Will wonders with a pointed smirk. “Do you even know?”
I have to laugh openly. “Do you have anything stronger than tea?”
He doesn’t get a chance to answer, as someone starts pounding on the wagon door. He jumps, nearly smashing the cup. I catch it deftly, but my eyes are on him. An old tremor of fear shivers through me and we sit still, waiting. Then I remember. Officers do not knock.
“Will Whistle!” a girl’s voice says. Will all but collapses in relief, and the cord of tension in me releases as well. With one hand, he gestures for me to get behind the curtain dividing his wagon.
I do as asked, hiding myself seconds before she wrenches open the door.
“Miss Barrow!” I hear him say.
A thousand crowns. I curse under my breath as I walk back to the roadside tavern. Each. Why I picked such an outrageous number, I can’t say. Why I even agreed to see the girl—Shade’s sister, that must have been her—is less puzzling. But telling her I would help? Save her friend, save her from conscription? Two teenagers I don’t know, thieves who would most likely get their ferriers killed? But deep down, I know why. I remember the boy in Rocasta, dragged away from his mother. The same happened to Shade and his two older brothers in front of that girl who begged me tonight. Mare, her name is Mare. She begged for herself and another, her boyfriend most likely. In her voice, I heard and saw so many people. The Rocastan mother. Rasha, stopping to watch. Tye, dying so close to the place she wanted to escape. Cara, Tarry, Shore, Big Coop. All gone, risking their lives and paying the price the Scarlet Guard always seems to collect.
Not that Mare will come up with the money. It was an impossible task. Still, I owe Shade much and more for his service. I suppose getting his sister away from conscription will be a small price to pay for his intelligence. And whatever she does bring me will go straight to the cause.
Tristan joins me midway between the Stilts and the road tavern. I half expected him to be all the way there, waiting with Rasha, Little Coop, and Cristobel, the only remaining members of our ill-fated team.
“Successful?” he asks, carefully adjusting his coat to hide the pistol at his hip.
“Very,” I respond. The word is surprisingly hard to force out.
Tristan knows me well enough not to pry. Instead, he changes the subject and hands over the Corvium radio. “Barrow’s been clicking for the last hour.”
Bored again. I don’t know how many times I’ve told Shade the radio is for official business and emergencies, not to annoy me. Still, I can’t help but grin. I do my best to keep my lips still, at least in front of Tristan, and start fumbling with the radio.
I click the receiver, sending a pulse of seemingly random dots. I’m here, they say.
His response comes so quickly I almost drop the radio.
“Farley, I need out.” His voice crackles, tinny through the small speaker. “Farley? I have to get away from Corvium.”
Panic spikes down my spine. “Okay,” I respond, my mind flying at top speed. “You—you can’t get out yourself?” If not for Tristan, I would ask him outright. Why can’t he jump himself away from that nightmare fortress?
“Meet me in Rocasta.”
“Done.”
THE FOLLOWING MESSAGE HAS BEEN DECODED
CONFIDENTIAL, SENIOR CLEARANCE REQUIRED
Day 56 of Operation RED WEB, Stage 2.
Operative: Captain REDACTED.
Designation: LAMB.
Origin: Rocasta, NRT.
Destination: RAM at REDACTED.
-Congratulations on ARCHEON bombing.
-In ROCASTA to remove SHADOW.
RISE, RED AS THE DAWN
THE FOLLOWING MESSAGE HAS BEEN DECODED
CONFIDENTIAL, SENIOR CLEARANCE REQUIRED
Day 60 of Operation SHIELDWALL, Stage 2.
Operative: Colonel REDACTED.
Designation: RAM.
Origin: REDACTED.
Destination: LAMB at Rocasta.
-Proceed. Send him to TRIAL. Return to RED WEB ASAP.