84

“Ididn’t mean any insult, Bayle, but this is what I’ve been ordered to do,” said Lance, his spine straight and his eyes forward.

Bayle shook his head in response as he read the letter and took a long breath as it ended. “I’ve been keeping track of you, Lance,” he said as he folded the letter neatly and placed it to the side of his desk. His sneering expression was gone. “You haven’t been one who overly relied on his status in the past. This mission could turn the tide for Stent. Or at least buy us more time. You and I both know that I would have a better chance of succeeding at it than you. That’s nothing personal—you’ve proven very effective in a short time, but this kind of infiltration and wetwork is not something you’ve done. We’re of equal rank; if you don’t refuse it, I can at least join you on this mission, and it wouldn’t be going against the general’s orders.”

Lance met Bayle’s gaze. “I refuse.”

Bayle took a breath and smashed his fist on the thick wooden table in front of him. A large crack formed where his fist landed, though his hand was undamaged. When he looked at them again, his expression was calm.

“Fine. Let me perform the brief, though.”

“Thank you,” replied Lance.

“I’m not doing it for you,” replied Bayle as he began pulling papers from his now cracked desk. “Knight Jakub, please retrieve the other Penitents on the third floor.”

Jakub swallowed and nodded. He seemed a bit pale and had only barely resisted squirming all throughout their conversation.

Michael stood in the awkward silence as he waited for his companions to be brought down to be briefed. Bayle was back to his usual self, his expression betraying nothing, and Lance similarly wore a mask of indifference. There were things going on that Michael could only guess at, but the end result was what was most important to him. It was time for another mission. A dangerous and difficult one at that, and they’d be travelling with Lance and Jakub rather than Bayle, whose experience seemed to dwarf everyone else’s by several magnitudes.

The others came down shortly after; they’d all been in the midst of working on maintaining their equipment, as had become a regular part of the routine. The only reason Michael hadn’t been with them was because he was feeling a bit restless, and Crick had been nice enough to volunteer to spar with him.

Bayle looked at them. “As of right now, you will be in the care of Knight-Lieutenant Lance and Knight Jakub for the duration of a special mission.”

They all exchanged glances, a few questioning ones in Michael’s direction, and received a shrug in response to indicate that he knew just as much as they did.

“It has been discovered that the newfound wealth of Tusynia was due to the discovery of a number of mines in their territory, one in particular that produces silver at an astonishing rate. That, along with new techniques they’ve developed for that mining, has given them a distinct edge in our conflict. Thanks to information we’ve been able to extract from a number of captured officers across all fronts, it seems these discoveries all have the same source. A lifetaker who has vast knowledge of rock and stone.”

Michael raised an eyebrow. A geologist was what he guessed they meant. One who’d managed to go from slavery to someone who locates mines and helps implement extraction techniques for minerals. That was impressive.

“Her name is Francesca. She is noted to be dark with brown eyes and the facial tattoos common amongst lifetaker slaves and their descendants in Tusynia. I have sketches I’ll give you all in a moment. Your mission, as long as it hasn’t been changed drastically”—Bayle cast a withering look at Lance—“is to retrieve her and bring her back to Stent. If that’s an impossibility, then she’s to be killed.”

Michael raised an eyebrow at that. Assassinations were always a possibility, but he’d expected them to be against enemy generals or nobility. He’d have to make sure that it didn’t come to that.

“Where is she? I doubt she’s as close to the front line as we’ve infiltrated in the past,” said Marcus.

“I recently was able to intercept a message indicating that she’s in the small eastern mountain ranges near the border with Svict, seeing if an iron deposit there is significant enough to warrant a mining operation.”

Bayle paused to breathe. “You would need to cross a wide swathe of enemy territory, reach the mining operation, kill or incapacitate all of their guards, and then make it back. If you fail, then I imagine the enemy asset will be moved further into their territory, their guard bolstered, making it almost impossible to try this a second time.”

“Any changes beyond that?” asked Bayle with an eyebrow raised at Lance.

Lance shook his head. “No. That’s near exactly what we’ll be doing.” He looked over everyone else. “We can go into greater detail after dinner, and we can continue the briefing on the move tomorrow. I need a few more things from Bayle. Until then, you’re all dismissed.” Lance gave them a salute, and they all returned it, making their way slowly back up the steps, except for Crick, who decided to head to the kitchen to see if he could get an early snack.

Once they were up, Marcus looked carefully down steps as if he were making sure that they weren’t being followed, then he looked at the others who were settling back down next to scattered swords, shields, and breastplates that they’d been fiddling with.

“This is our best chance,” he said quietly as he kneeled down near the rest of them.

Michael knew what he meant immediately.

“In the middle of hostile territory?” asked Davi.

“Exactly. In the middle of hostile territory to Stent, near the border to Svict, and instead of Bayle, who never seems to sleep, we only need to get away from Lance and Jakub. We get on the road heading east, and as long as we can get through Svict okay, we can make it to Swandia. There’s mercenary work there. Not just fighting soldiers, but monsters from the Rifts on their border. We’d be free.”

“Svict kills lifetakers on sight,” said Pyotr.

“We don’t know that that’s true. That’s just what they’ve told us.”

“And you haven’t heard anything confirming or denying that from the regulars you gamble with.”

He sighed. “They do seem to hate us more than anyone else. Something about a Taker doing a whole lot of fucked-up shit there a long time ago.” He paused a moment to glance at the stairway before returning his eyes to the rest of them. “It’s going to be summer soon, and once it is, we’ll be able to move quickly. Between all of us we can make it through.”

“And what about Lance, Jakub, and Crick?” asked Michael.

“They’ll have to turn back on their own and head back to Stent. They’re not exactly helpless.”

Michael shook his head. “Lance wouldn’t turn back. He’d rather get himself killed than do that.”

“Michael. He’s not your responsibility.”

“Everyone is my responsibility,” replied Michael. “If you want to go when we’re past the lines and make a run for it, you can. I’ll try and heal the brands on everyone who wants me to, just as I always promised. And I don’t want anyone to say no just for me.” He looked at Ollie and Pyotr and took a breath. “Assuming I even can heal the brands, that is.” His healing was growing stronger, and he’d noticed he’d been making even people’s scars fade when he healed them, but the brand was a unique wound that went beyond just the flesh.

Pyotr opened his mouth to speak, but Marcus held up a hand.

“Michael, don’t make any decisions about it now. Can you do that for me? Can you withhold your decision until we get there? I will be leaving this time, but I’ll wait as long as I can for you to change your mind. I just want your promise that your mind can be changed.”

Michael squirmed a bit from the question. He was already uncomfortable with the fact that the others had been so hesitant to desert because of him, even over his protestations. He still felt he owed something, and he didn’t like the idea of abandoning Lance, Jakub, and Crick, but his own doubts had been growing. He felt that he had a debt, but maybe it was as much to the new world he was in as a whole as it was to Stent itself. He remembered the gratitude he’d felt as he’d closed that Rift. The sense of rightness.

“I promise to keep an open mind,” he said, letting out a breath as he did so, his hand going unprompted to the symbol of the Divine that rested against his chest.

“That’s all I ask, man. I want us all together until the end.”