Perdition (Dred Chronicles 1)

“Over five hundred.”

“Did he say why?”

Einar’s gaze met hers. “He said it was going to happen anyway, and he made it quick.”

“Remind me not to turn my back on him.” That was the only reaction she permitted herself though a small part of her was still human enough to be horrified by madness on such a scale. The rest of her was numb, had been dead so long that the excesses and cruelties of her fellow savages no longer surprised her at all.

“I wouldn’t let you. Sorry that wasn’t as productive as I hoped.”

She shrugged. “I didn’t really expect Wills to be able to solve the problem, but there’s no killing hope apparently.”

“‘Hope is a waking dream,’” Jael quoted softly. “And it’s the last thing to go. It torments you like a bird killing itself slowly against the glass.”

Dred had heard the first part of his statement before, but she couldn’t recall where. At her gesture, Einar found something else to do. Prior to those words, she hadn’t even noticed Jael’s arrival. The new fish sank into a careless slouch at the foot of her throne, but it wasn’t a subservient pose, more of a watchful one, as if he meant to kill anyone who approached. She didn’t chide him. By permitting Jael to name himself her champion, she had endowed him with rights that few fish ever gained at all.

She still wasn’t altogether sure why she’d done it.

“By which you mean, you still intend to escape.” It was hard not to let scorn color her words, and by his expression, she’d failed.

“Given time. We have a few loose ends to tie up before I go.”

At that, she laughed. “Certainly. I can’t imagine why the rest of us haven’t left ere now.”

“You didn’t have me,” he answered, as if it were that simple.

Sometimes she suspected he was as mad as Wills, only prettier about it. “Then why are we bothering with Priest and Grigor? Why don’t we just go?”

“I’m not a wizard. I need time to gather certain assets and learn the lay of the land. Dealing with your enemies will grant me time and opportunity to do that.” He pushed to his feet and offered her a hand. “Come, I need to show you something.”

She stared as if his fingers were five snakes about to strike. “I’m not interested.”

Jael sighed. “Not in that, yes, I’m aware. But this? You’ll want to see. I had a look around after our meeting. It was . . . most productive.”

Dred was tired and hungry, but she knew a man who wouldn’t be dissuaded. If he tried anything, she had her chains, and Einar was always watching. She’d lost track of Tam, but he might be around, too. With a faint mutter of annoyance, she followed the new fish.

Jael led her out of the hall and through a twist of corridors. The journey ended in a blind, a corridor ending in a blast wall. Back when it was a mining refinery, the massive ship had been outfitted with safety measures in case of a meteor shower. By pushing the button, the other end would seal, and this whole hallway was double-strength durasteel, far stronger than the bits they routinely tore free from other sections.

“I can see by your expression that you realize the purpose of this place.” He seemed to be willing her to come to some other conclusion, too.

“It can be used as a bunker, or a shelter. So what?”

Jael made an impatient noise. “Look at the floor, queenie. Prove to me that you’re as clever as you are pretty.”

At first, she had no idea what he was talking about, but then the predator kicked in. Once, she’d been fairly good at stalking men, paying attention to the signs they left behind. This site had been used by an entrenched group. Their feet left scuffs on the metal; other gear had been set up here, resulting in a series of scratches. She bent and sniffed the ground, seeking the distinctive smell of the oil that Priest’s people used in their “holy sacraments.” To her horror, she found it.

“This was a campsite,” she realized aloud. “Where they waited for word.”

He nodded grimly. “Inside your borders. How, exactly, did they manage that, love?”

12

Traitors in the Hall

Jael watched as Dred scoured the area for clues, but the signs were faint enough that it was unlikely she’d find anything more. It took the combined acuity of his sharpened senses to narrow down the spot where their enemies had lain in wait. And she searched without his advantages.

Eventually he said, “I don’t think you’ll find anything more.”

She flattened a palm on the floor, her braids tumbling over one shoulder. “It makes me sick to think of them hiding here, waiting. Secure in the knowledge that my people wouldn’t report them.”

“We need to plug that leak, queenie.” But he understood her anger; there was nothing quite like learning people would sell you out without blinking an eye.

I was so young when I learned that lesson—that it was better to sell than be sold.

“How did you stumble onto this site?” she demanded.

Ah. Blame the messenger. This was familiar to him at least. Jael donned a mocking smile, expecting that she’d rail and drop her own failures on his head.

“There was no stumbling involved. While you were playing doctor, I searched every centimeter of the corridors.” In truth, he’d gone out because he couldn’t stand to watch her being kind. Even the men she judged too injured for recovery were granted a quick death. To his mind, that was better than being left to linger. He half wished somebody would offer him that release though he thrashed like a trapped animal between twin desires for oblivion and freedom.

“Nobody asked you to do that. So why did you?” By her expression, criminals didn’t do extra work without threat of punishment.

“I’m guarding your flank,” he said quietly. “Remember, you’re all that stands between me and an interminable lifetime with Silence.”

She studied him, pushing to her feet. “I can see why you’d want to avoid that.” To his surprise, there were no further words of recrimination, no anger. Her manner became businesslike. The change startled him. “Did you learn anything else in your patrol?”

I’m starting to understand why men follow you, princess in chains.

“No. But I’m wondering why your guards didn’t spot Priest’s men. Maybe you ought to talk to the men responsible for this area. At best, they’re guilty of negligence, and—”