Night Rose, page 27
“Preida prepared you a lunch,” he told her. “She’s noticed you going out every day and wanted to make sure you had something to eat.”
Briatta gratefully accepted the saddlebags. “Thank you.”
If she did move away from home at the end of all of this, Briatta would greatly miss Preida and Petyr.
After leaving the barn, she turned Cobalt toward the warehouse district and settled in for the ride, keeping her eyes sharp for anything suspicious. The big horse moved comfortably on a loose rein, his bouncing gait smooth and relaxed as they passed a tea place she liked that emanated the most tempting scent of freshly baked pastries. Briatta almost stopped for something but decided against it; hand-to-hand combat on a belly full of bread never felt good, and they were heading to Vydian’s place first for a promised sparring session, which Briatta now regretted with the weariness in her bones after training with Neven.
Montclair was still waking up. Some residents were on their way to their daily tasks, and others carried bags containing breakfast and the fixings to accompany it.
Briatta squared her shoulders and turned the gelding at the following street corner. An older gentleman tipped his hat as they passed, and she nodded in return. Most Elfeans were friendly enough, but it was especially noticeable in the mornings when everybody was freshly rested.
When Vydian’s warehouse came into view, Briatta steered Cobalt to the alley behind it. She’d taken to tying her horses in the darkness between the buildings, using her Ardor to hide them and testing to see how long she could maintain it from within the warehouse. With the gelding secured, Briatta circled back around to the front, using her picks to release the padlock on the door.
Vydian had seen her do that once and insisted that they trade lessons—immediately offering up her warehouse for sparring with Briatta. Even though Briatta didn’t think Vydian could teach her much about combat she didn’t already know, the idea of having a friend who wanted to see the more secret part of her life was too much to resist, even if Owena’s voice in the back of her head told her it was a bad idea to let a strange woman see how she moved.
Surprisingly, Vydian was quite an accomplished fighter, and she’d taken Briatta’s skill in stride. Neither commented on the other’s capabilities, and it became an unspoken agreement that they wouldn’t acknowledge it. Besides, it was nice to know that Briatta would be able to rely on Vydian having her back should the Ackmanlee come to a point where they had to force their way free of something.
It was definitely something that made Briatta regard Vydian with a more critical eye, and while she questioned the validity of the file Neven had found on her, she also knew that she likely wouldn’t find anything different if she looked herself. Once again, she promised herself that after the Ackmanlee, if Vydian gave her a reason to question her, Briatta would look more deeply into her friend. But as far as she knew, Vydian hadn’t committed any crimes. Night Rose agents swore to bring down the worst of the worst, and if Vydian wasn’t that…well, then why should Briatta doubt her?
It was a war within her heart, one that Briatta hadn’t faced before.
So, while they learned from each other on the mat, Briatta taught Vydian all that she knew about the many different mechanisms that could be hidden within a lock. In fact, she had also arrived with a set of picks for Vydian today, having decided she was ready for her own.
The barrel had been long forgotten as it hadn’t provided anything helpful, and Briatta cast it a glance as she passed it—useless, rotten thing. On the mat, Briatta stretched, warming up her muscles for the second time this morning.
Vydian arrived shortly after, slipping through the entrance silently.
“Morning,” she called, setting a small pack down just inside the door.
“Hey,” Briatta answered, lowering herself to a seat on the mat and leaning back on her arms.
Vydian pulled a sweater off as she approached, tossing it aside and rolling her shoulders lightly. “You have a look on your face.”
Briatta grimaced. Vydian excelled at reading people, and for whatever reason, she was irritatingly good at reading Briatta.
“I found something yesterday that I need you to tell Neven about.”
Vydian’s chin turned as she eyed Briatta sideways, walking to the mat and dropping easily into a cross-legged seat. “Why can’t you tell Neven?”
“Because…he’ll know that I followed him if I do.”
At this, Vydian’s brows lifted. “Spill.”
Briatta told her mostly everything about the previous day, excluding the part about Neven entering the warehouse with the Night Roses. Instead, she made up a story.
Vydian nodded. “I see. So, let me get this straight. You want me to say that I found someone nefarious near my warehouse and followed them all the way to D’ivory, where they vanished completely. And because of that, we should expand our search parameters.”
Briatta bobbed her head, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees.
Sighing as if Briatta had asked her to do the most difficult thing in the world—speaking to her newest arch-nemesis—Vydian’s gaze dropped. “Alright. I’ll bring it up next time we go to Allemor House.”
Beaming and feeling a little guilty about how Vydian and Neven chaffed each other’s nerves so severely, Briatta crossed her ankles and rocked forward to stand. Moving to Vydian’s rack of training weapons, Briatta selected a weighted hatchet. Practicing with something like this would mean she would need to be more careful about accidentally hitting Vydian, but it helped prepare Briatta for true combat with heavier equipment.
Dragging herself to her feet and not at all looking as though she wanted to fight that day, Vydian picked up a wooden staff and stepped onto the mat, facing Briatta.
A staff and a hatchet. Interesting. But that was what Briatta liked so much about her sessions with Vydian. They were unpredictable and—in spite of her initial doubts—helped Briatta grow as a fighter. It also felt a little like having a friend who could see this part of her without asking too many questions. Likewise, Briatta didn’t question Vydian. Though she was curious, and should probably look into her friend’s background, it was…something like mutual respect that kept her from doing so. That, and it made sense for the Ackmanlee. So long as Vydian didn’t dig too deeply into Briatta’s life, she wouldn’t either. At least not now.
After the Ackmanlee ended, it would be a different story.
She had a feeling many of the Ackmanlee contestants felt the same way. Being able to defend themselves was one thing, but moving like honed fighters when being judged was another. This was perhaps the one time the Weilers wouldn’t ask questions about where they learned to spar, especially if whoever they were observing won. Losing, on the other hand, might get Briatta placed on some sort of watchlist.
Keeping this part of herself a secret was the one thing she’d always regret when it came to Morenna. Sweet Morenna, who had absolutely no idea the sorts of things that her best friend got up to when they weren’t in school. Briatta made a note to visit her before the Ackmanlee ended. To explain why she hadn’t come by in so long.
Maybe someday, Briatta would be able to tell her the truth.
Vydian stepped forward, spinning the staff under her arm and whipping it towards Briatta’s chin. Briatta gripped the handle of her hatchet with both hands and raised it to block the blow while throwing herself backward to avoid hitting herself in the face with both the hatchet and the staff.
Vydian led, and Briatta followed. The two women whirled and thrust, blocked and advanced, pulling their blows at the last moment by sheer will and years of practice. They were well matched, and soon, Briatta fell into the rhythm of the sparring match as if she were dancing, her muscles warm and fluid.
Then Briatta’s lips lifted at the corners, and she took charge instead.
Vydian backed up, ducking as Briatta swung with the hatchet.
Soon, it became clear that Vydian grew tired. Her movements turned sluggish, as if her body were half a second behind her mind, and Briatta eased the pace to match her friend. When they sparred, they usually sparred until failure, and it had sometimes even been a toss-up as to who would tap out.
The moment Briatta brought the hatchet down hard toward Vydian’s staff, the other woman stepped back, saying “Done.”
Briatta twisted her body awkwardly to redirect the axe’s trajectory, but in doing so, she lost her grip, and the wooden hatchet flew through the air.
Staggering to a standstill, Briatta watched dumbly as it hurtled toward the barrel and lodged itself between two slats, splitting the already broken barrel further. The metal bands squealed, barely holding the wood together, and Briatta cringed at the horrible sound.
“Damn.” Vydian laughed. “You just split wood with wood. Remind me to never get on your bad side.”
Snorting, Briatta went to retrieve the wretched thing, bracing a foot on the side of the barrel to pull it out. It gave eventually, but the metal squeaked and rasped horribly, sending chills down her spine and making her shudder. When it finally released, Briatta stumbled backward with the force she’d used, dropping the axe on the ground.
“Last time I ever fight with that thing,” Briatta said, glaring at the barrel.
Vydian smirked. “I don’t know. In a real fight, you’d be an asset with that. Even a wooden one, apparently.”
The barrel, seemingly having reached the end of its will to exist as a barrel, crumbled in a noisy heap of planks behind Briatta as if to confirm Vydian’s thoughts.
Vydian set her staff aside and stood behind Briatta, placing her hands on her hips and examining the remains of their one piece of evidence.
“Would you handle all cases like this?” Vydian’s tone was playful.
“What do you mean?”
“Destroying clues when the trail runs dry?”
Briatta scowled, crossing her arms. Laughing, Vydian nudged her with an elbow, making Briatta smile, too. It was the first time she had experienced a moment with Vydian that felt effortless. Like the many moments she used to have with Neven before everything got so muddled.
Crouching beside the remains of the barrel, Vydian sifted through it. She pulled the detached planks from within the bands that still stubbornly encircled what was left, examining each one before setting it aside. Briatta joined her by the wall, leaning against it and sliding down to a seat, watching the other woman work.
“Think you’ll find something?” Briatta asked.
Vydian shrugged. “It’s worth checking. Then, at least, I can get rid of this eyesore.”
Briatta looked around the warehouse with raised eyebrows, and Vydian glanced up, noting the movement from her peripheral vision.
“Alright, I know the place isn’t exactly a dream training center, but it’s mine.” Vydian laughed.
Briatta felt the strain on her Ardor then, feeling Cobalt shift restlessly within her shadows. She made a mental note of the time it had taken to feel drained. She was improving, but it still wasn’t where she wanted to be. Briatta focused on feeling the horse’s presence in the darkness. Now that was a skill she had definitely developed. In fact, she started to believe she would be able to sense where Elfeans were in a fight rather than watching them.
Maybe, when Neven judged that she’d improved with the smaller tasks, Briatta would ask about trying it; they could completely darken the basement and spar.
Vydian gasped, holding one of the barrel’s panels closer to study it.
“What is it?” Briatta asked, craning to see over Vydian’s shoulder.
Wordlessly, the woman held it out. Accepting the piece of wood, Briatta looked it over. At first, she didn’t see anything that stood out, but then she turned it over and looked at the underside, the part that had been hidden within the barrel.
Lodged in one of the ends of the wood was something small and white. Briatta pressed her face close to the wood, squinting. It was chipped and cracked as if it had broken with the force of being hammered into the wood, but it was unmistakably a tooth. Briatta’s heart raced, and her eyes widened; she looked up at Vydian.
“D’ivory,” she breathed. “The grey figure. I knew it had to be connected!”
“You were right.” Vydian nodded. “If this didn’t get here by accident, anyway.”
Briatta returned her eyes to the slat in her hands, turning it slightly as she continued studying it. “This feels a bit more like a scavenger hunt than a criminal case.”
It was Vydian’s turn to snort, and then she laughed out loud. “That’s true. Well, maybe they want us to think even further outside the box than we realized.”
Setting the plank down and rising to her feet, Briatta smiled wickedly and returned the wooden hatchet to its spot on the weapons rack.
“Feel like taking a trip to D’ivory today?”
Vydian’s answering grin was what Briatta imagined having a female partner in crime would feel like, and she felt a warm sense of belonging in her chest that she hadn’t felt anywhere other than with the Night Roses.
“I’m always ready for a hunt.” Vydian was already reaching for her sweater.
While she waited for Vydian to collect her things and prepare herself for an actual potential encounter with someone, Briatta performed an inventory check on herself. She dressed for battle every morning, but she still felt better with the reassurance that everything was still sheathed and where they belonged. Patting her thigh dagger, which was the one she usually reached for first, Briatta walked to stand by the door, listening for anyone who might approach the unlocked door as well as for Vydian’s movements.
It wasn’t long before the dark-haired woman returned to the entrance, clad in significantly more leather than when she’d arrived, her hands behind her head as they worked her shiny strands into a tight braid. Briatta’s hair was already pulled back, and she ran a hand along the side of her head without thinking as she watched Vydian tie her plait off.
“Before we go,” Briatta said, pulling the pick set from her pocket. With the excitement around the barrel, she’d nearly forgotten. “Here. These are for you.”
Accepting the lock pick tools, Vydian’s lips curled up. “You think I’m ready?”
“Let’s find out.” Briatta shrugged. “Lock the padlock with them.”
Eyes widening, Vydian’s mouth thinned into a determined line as she pulled the door open and waited for Briatta to step through before following. They’d only worked on unlocking things, so maybe it was cruel to set this challenge before Vydian, but Briatta knew that if Vydian truly understood the mechanisms of the lock, she’d have no difficulties.
The door shut and the chain slipped back on the arm of the lock, then Vydian set to work. Briatta leaned against the building and settled in to wait.
“I have to run home and grab my actual daggers before we go,” Vydian said, glancing up as she worked. “Wait here for me?”
Folding her arms as she watched Vydian’s fingers closely, Briatta nodded. She could put off the hunt just a few minutes longer.
Then, they would head to the only district on Montclair that resembled rows of teeth, built against the red, dirt gums of the planet. And they would hunt.
Chapter 27
Galen
Galen and his gelding were exhausted. They’d traveled as quickly as they could from Isa, though it had taken longer than he’d anticipated to get all the way back to Montclair. Because he was primarily a field operator for Kalaiden—or he had been—Galen didn’t know exactly where the base was, but he knew that Maverik wasn’t there. He hadn’t been for many cycles.
No, the base was somewhere in the Nalaran mountains east of Seradan. But Maverik was here, in Montclair.
He cursed then smiled grimly to himself at the irony.
He was still a fair distance from the dark biodome encasing the city, but Galen hoped there would be soldiers manning the biogate when he reached it. The Nocturne Sun was low in the sky, so it shouldn’t be too much longer.
Galen’s Ardor-infused mask had worn out about an hour before, and while he had trained to withstand low levels of oxygen, he was feeling its effects. As for his gelding, well…Galen would put him up in the most luxurious stable he could find. This poor horse had put up with his indecisive master for far too long.
Swaying precariously on top of his horse, who plodded eagerly along at the sight of the biodome ahead, Galen fought to stay conscious and aware of his surroundings. His sense of time was skewed; when he blinked, it seemed as though Carceron was experiencing that brief moment of calm between when the Nocturne Sun set and the Polar Sun rose.
Odd. Hadn’t the Nocturne Sun been glaring down at him not a minute before?
Galen shook his head vigorously and poured the last drops of water from his canteen into his mouth. He really hoped someone would be at the entrance to let him through the biodome.
Why was he there again?
Shit.
Galen kicked at his horse’s sides lightly, hoping a bouncier pace would help him stay awake. Obediently, the gelding broke into a brisk, forward trot. Galen intuitively began to post it, standing every other beat to make the gait more comfortable. The movement helped clear his mind a little, despite also causing his heart to pound, and Galen blinked furiously at the now quickly approaching biodome. His vision was fuzzy at the edges, and he was just lucid enough to understand precisely what that meant.
Seeming to sense his rider’s urgency, the gelding sped up into an easy canter, and Galen sat deep into his saddle. The rocking motion of the lope made him a little queasy, which wasn’t normal for him, but they were so close.
Finally, the edge of the biodome was there, and the horse stopped. The Polar Sun began to rise, and with it, the biodome lightened. Galen quickly removed the Ardor-mask and tucked it safely away.
