“Must you make me sound like a stray pet?”
“Don’t let it bruise your ego. But Tam’s right; I’d have let you come to Queensland, but you wouldn’t be in on the planning if you weren’t a cut above.” By her expression, she meant nothing against the men currently wandering her domain, handling patrols, playing cards in the hall, sleeping and taking up space.
“So it’s a full council meeting,” Ike said then. He dropped onto Dred’s bed as if they had done this before, away from prying eyes.
“Tell me what you saw, just before the attack,” Dred demanded of the old man.
Quietly, Ike summarized the assault: how Priest’s hunting party came in the west corridor, fighting like madmen. There had been casualties, Jael knew, but he wasn’t sure how many dead or wounded. That wasn’t his purview anyway. In Perdition, it would be hard to find anyone who could be pressed to play medic. Most men inside preferred cutting people up to stitching their wounds.
“The men rallied well,” Einar offered. “Considering how Priest’s people are, I’m pleased with how quick we killed them.”
Dred nodded at that, still looking at Ike. “Did anyone look nervous . . . or expectant? Did anyone take cover a little too soon?”
Tam copped to her line of thought at once. “You think we have a traitor?”
“I don’t believe in coincidences. We set out for Entropy, and while we’re gone, Priest strikes? Someone sent word, I think.”
“How?” Einar asked, scowling. “The three of you were in the ducts. Comm systems have been down for years . . . and Mungo’s using half the electronics to keep his Kitchen-mates in service.”
Dred tapped her fingers lightly against one thigh, just above her thin leather boots. “That is . . . an excellent question.”
11
Rolling the Bones
Twenty casualties. Dred shook back her braids, trying to seem unconcerned. After the meeting, Tam had provided the preliminary head count—and they couldn’t afford the losses. While Silence was a deadly killer, she didn’t have the largest army. The lunatic was too fond of death, Dred supposed.
I won’t lose this war in pieces. We’ll regroup.
Because it needed to be done, Dred spent hours tending the wounded. Some required triage, and they had to be put down. Trying to keep them alive required resources, and she’d gotten good at knowing a lost cause when she saw one: gray skin, pale and clammy to the touch, blood gurgling in the lungs. Those were all signs that a man wouldn’t last. When she found one like that, she called Einar.
He made an efficient executioner. She’d never asked him if he minded, only if he was willing. But she’d read him the first time she requested it of him, and there was only gray. He wouldn’t be one of her lieutenants if he took pleasure in it, but for the big man, it was only another job. Which made her wonder about his past, but she didn’t break the code to ask.
By the time she finished, all the casualties were either resting comfortably or being hauled away to the recycling chutes. Einar came back to her when the corpses were gone, looking troubled. “I’ve been thinking about what you said in your quarters.”
“About the rat in our walls?” So had she.
Little else, too.
He glanced around, then lowered his voice. “Could Wills help us figure out who?”
“His prognostications, so far, have been just vague enough to stir up trouble without giving us any real information.”
“But you think he’s got a real gift.”
Dred lifted a shoulder, by which she meant anything was possible. “Something drove him crazy, and he was like that when I met him. Could be a real gift.”
“Or it could be the bad things he did to end up here. Or life inside.” Einar sounded disappointed, as if he wanted to solve her problems with a simple suggestion.
If only it could be that straightforward—summon Wills, roll the bones, find the traitor.
Then I could make an example of him and turn my
“Don’t let it bruise your ego. But Tam’s right; I’d have let you come to Queensland, but you wouldn’t be in on the planning if you weren’t a cut above.” By her expression, she meant nothing against the men currently wandering her domain, handling patrols, playing cards in the hall, sleeping and taking up space.
“So it’s a full council meeting,” Ike said then. He dropped onto Dred’s bed as if they had done this before, away from prying eyes.
“Tell me what you saw, just before the attack,” Dred demanded of the old man.
Quietly, Ike summarized the assault: how Priest’s hunting party came in the west corridor, fighting like madmen. There had been casualties, Jael knew, but he wasn’t sure how many dead or wounded. That wasn’t his purview anyway. In Perdition, it would be hard to find anyone who could be pressed to play medic. Most men inside preferred cutting people up to stitching their wounds.
“The men rallied well,” Einar offered. “Considering how Priest’s people are, I’m pleased with how quick we killed them.”
Dred nodded at that, still looking at Ike. “Did anyone look nervous . . . or expectant? Did anyone take cover a little too soon?”
Tam copped to her line of thought at once. “You think we have a traitor?”
“I don’t believe in coincidences. We set out for Entropy, and while we’re gone, Priest strikes? Someone sent word, I think.”
“How?” Einar asked, scowling. “The three of you were in the ducts. Comm systems have been down for years . . . and Mungo’s using half the electronics to keep his Kitchen-mates in service.”
Dred tapped her fingers lightly against one thigh, just above her thin leather boots. “That is . . . an excellent question.”
11
Rolling the Bones
Twenty casualties. Dred shook back her braids, trying to seem unconcerned. After the meeting, Tam had provided the preliminary head count—and they couldn’t afford the losses. While Silence was a deadly killer, she didn’t have the largest army. The lunatic was too fond of death, Dred supposed.
I won’t lose this war in pieces. We’ll regroup.
Because it needed to be done, Dred spent hours tending the wounded. Some required triage, and they had to be put down. Trying to keep them alive required resources, and she’d gotten good at knowing a lost cause when she saw one: gray skin, pale and clammy to the touch, blood gurgling in the lungs. Those were all signs that a man wouldn’t last. When she found one like that, she called Einar.
He made an efficient executioner. She’d never asked him if he minded, only if he was willing. But she’d read him the first time she requested it of him, and there was only gray. He wouldn’t be one of her lieutenants if he took pleasure in it, but for the big man, it was only another job. Which made her wonder about his past, but she didn’t break the code to ask.
By the time she finished, all the casualties were either resting comfortably or being hauled away to the recycling chutes. Einar came back to her when the corpses were gone, looking troubled. “I’ve been thinking about what you said in your quarters.”
“About the rat in our walls?” So had she.
Little else, too.
He glanced around, then lowered his voice. “Could Wills help us figure out who?”
“His prognostications, so far, have been just vague enough to stir up trouble without giving us any real information.”
“But you think he’s got a real gift.”
Dred lifted a shoulder, by which she meant anything was possible. “Something drove him crazy, and he was like that when I met him. Could be a real gift.”
“Or it could be the bad things he did to end up here. Or life inside.” Einar sounded disappointed, as if he wanted to solve her problems with a simple suggestion.
If only it could be that straightforward—summon Wills, roll the bones, find the traitor.
Then I could make an example of him and turn my
Similar Books
