Volume 16: Tales From the Sanctioned Brothel: Part 3: The Chase
Chapter 22
Bors's Bad Idea
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
March, Year 373
The third secret bunker was guarded by a bear.Well, maybe not guarded. All Bors knew was that he glanced up from unlocking the trapdoor to find Valgund facing off with a white giant that loomed from the coastal mists, no more than twenty yards away. Even down on all fours, it was enormous, caught in the beams of their headlamps. On its hind legs, it might be twice or three times Valgund’s height.“Shit!” Bors scrambled to his feet, his breath dying in his throat. Everything was suddenly happening very slowly, the air too thick to breathe.They were on a barren stretch of tundra in sight of the coastal ice pack—nothing to hide behind, not even a bush or a boulder, just acres and acres of snow. Where was his gun?Before Bors could reach for his pack, Valgund raised a hand to stop him. His eyes didn’t move from the bear. “Quiet,” he said, the other hand unzipping his parka. “This one’s not starving—plenty of seals nearby. With any luck, it’ll go on its way.”“But if . . . it doesn’t?” Bors had trouble forming words. The bear was so close. It had come on them in total silence, graceful and bulky at once, and he could tell its attack would be fast and lethal. They were only alive because it had other priorities.Valgund tugged something from his parka; a metal tube glinted in the light. “Bear spray,” he said over his shoulder. “Don’t you dare get your rifle—those little rounds will just make it angry. And don’t run.”Bors stood frozen with one hand halfway to his pack. When he swallowed, a whimper came out. “Why’s it just standing there?”Valgund didn’t answer. Instead, he took a great stride toward the bear and began waving his arms. “Hey!” he shouted. “Get out! We got first dibs on this place!”Stop! No! But Bors could only stand like a statue, his heart hammering his ribs, and watch his lover advance on the white tower of muscle.“Ours! Go away! Out, you big lumbering fool!”The bear rose to its full height, the movement so fluid it seemed to blur. Again Bors heard that whimper from his own throat.The beast blotted out the stars. Its limbs were at least twice the width of his own chest, dwarfing a tiny head in which the eyes were black pools—thoughtless, merciless, soulless. He could already feel its claws tearing open his belly, its jaws cracking his skull.Valgund stopped walking. “Got that trapdoor unlocked?” he asked Bors conversationally.“Y-y-yes.”“Great. On three, open it and get down the hatch. Protect your eyes, and don’t forget your gear.” He raised the tube. “One, two . . .”The spray had no odor. Only a hissing sound told Bors that Valgund had unleashed it—followed by a stinging and burning in his nostrils.For a terrifying instant, he struggled to get the trapdoor open. Then the dark hatch gaped before him, and he tossed his pack in and followed it, clinging to the ladder for dear life.His gloved hands slipped and slid on each rung. He jumped the last eight feet onto the concrete floor and looked up to see—thank everything green, thank the Spark—Valgund perched above him, yanking the door closed.Bors’s breath caught. He could almost see a furry arm reaching down to catch his friend around the waist. And here he stood like an idiot, doing nothing!He reached for his rifle just as the door banged shut above him. “It’s okay!” Valgund called hoarsely.They were in darkness except for the wheeling beams of their headlamps. Valgund’s pack slipped from his grip, and Bors caught it. He set it on the floor and climbed back up a few rungs to guide his friend down into the dusty passage.Valgund was wheezing from the exertion. “It’s okay,” he repeated, collapsing into Bors’s arms. “Won’t come . . . after us.”“Are you sure?” Bors wouldn’t put anything past that creature. It was his first encounter with an animal significantly larger than he was, and he wouldn’t have been stunned if it had grown wings.“Yeah. Won’t wait outside, either. Even if it’s hungry . . . not that smart.” Valgund’s laugh was scratchy. “C’mon. Let’s make sure this place isn’t occupied.”Exploring the bunker took no more than ten minutes; it was smaller than the other two. The thick layer of dust suggested it hadn’t been entered in a few years. Like the other bunkers, though, it bore the logo of the Bureau of Preparedness, and it contained a terminal. Running on a formidable battery, the network node was online.Bors was still shaking. The bear encounter had hollowed out a space inside him; he had to keep his mind occupied, or he would start seeing those dead eyes again.Normally he would have run his password-cracking script, just as a token effort. But he didn’t want Valgund to see his fingers jittering on the keyboard, so he unpacked the camping stove and set water on to boil.“We’ll have to cover our footprints carefully,” Valgund said, unrolling a sleeping bag. “Whoever maintains these places, this one is probably first on their to-do list, judging by how long it’s been untouched.”Bors nodded. “The Northmen haven’t seen anyone prowling around their bunker, have they?”“No. They posted the cameras you gave them all along the trail, but no one’s been that way yet except the occasional fox or wolf. With any luck, they’ll have advance warning before the custodian arrives.”Custodian. That was their flippant name for whoever was visiting these bunkers, dusting them off, and keeping the terminals online—flippant because they didn’t want to think about the possibility of meeting that person or people in their explorations. Or of the custodian discovering Aleks and his crew.They were taking a grave risk by allowing the Northmen to inhabit the bunker in the Southern Range in the first place. All of this was risky, impossibly risky, but Bors didn’t want to stop. There were two more bunkers still out there.When he touched each terminal, running his fingers through the dust, he had his finger on the pulse of Redda, too. There was power here, he was certain. More power than he’d ever possessed in his life.“We have to start planning for the far northern site,” he said. “It’ll need to be summer, especially if we’re going by sea. With the right bribe, a small boat shouldn’t be too hard to requisition. The land journey, though—we may need a sledge to carry all our gear. What? Why are you looking at me like that?”Valgund sat on a sleeping bag, legs hugged to his chest. “Do you have any idea how dangerous a polar expedition is? Even with the best equipment? If the sea decides to freeze early, the boat’s useless. And a sledge needs someone to pull it.”“So we’ll plan ahead.” If they’d gotten inside the Sanctioned Sweetbush, one of the best-guarded sites in Oslov, surely they could get themselves to the Pole. Bors tried not to think about the possibility of meeting more bears.“That’s not enough.” Valgund tipped his head back and closed his eyes. The wan light of the camping lantern made his face look gray and tired—old. “We need a larger party. Maybe a plane. Aleks’s friend Bers has a pilot’s license and contacts at the base.”Not this again. In the second bunker, they’d spent nearly an hour arguing over whether to tell the Northmen about their explorations. That time, Bors had won.“We agreed,” he said, “this is just between us. If Aleks finds out, he’ll want to know why. He certainly won’t help us without a full explanation.”Valgund laughed.“What?”“I’d like to know why, too. Tell me again why we’re doing this, Borsha?”Bors stiffened defensively. At Int/Sec, no one asked questions about the big picture. He’d never—almost never—questioned Karishkov’s directives, even when they were absurd.But Valgund wasn’t his subordinate, and maybe Valgund had a point, and Valgund had saved him from a bear. He left the packages of dehydrated food soaking in the steaming water and came to sit beside his friend.“I thought we agreed last time,” he said, his shoulder nudging Valgund’s. “Someone has to check up on them sometimes.”“You said that, yeah. But when I asked you who ‘them’ is, you changed the subject.”Wasn’t it obvious? “Whoever runs this place. I’m guessing it’s a secret level of Int/Sec, or a special cadre of military officers that reports directly to the General Magistrate. If they have a way of turning off the lights in Redda, someone should be watching them. Making sure they don’t misuse it.”Valgund groaned. “Be honest with me, Bors. Is that what your friend Einara wants? To keep the power of some elite faction in check? To watch the watchers? Is that why she sent you here?”Why did Valgund have to keep asking questions? He should understand the danger of all-powerful elites; his own family had sent him to moral rehab for years.But he had a point about Einara’s motives. According to the evidence that Hulda had passed to Bors on her death bed, the Brothel director had killed his cousin in cold blood. She was a wild card, an enemy of the Republic. It was his responsibility to keep her under control.“I’ve told you before that Einara isn’t a factor in this,” he said. “She’s powerless; she can’t leave the Brothel.”“Where’d she get the coordinates of these bunkers, then?”“Probably from some Councillor in return for a favor. I doubt very much she could help us get inside these terminals. That boy Janta, on the other hand . . .”“You keep going on about Janta,” Valgund said wearily. “We don’t even know where he is.”“Oh, don’t we?” Bors couldn’t stop a triumphant grin from spreading over his face. He’d been waiting to tell Valgund his Brothel discovery until they got inside the third bunker. “I’m surprised you haven’t run into him yet, Gunsha. I saw him last July in Redda. He’s Councillor Gádden’s kettle boy.”Valgund didn’t look pleased or impressed with this news. He looked perplexed—and worried. “Gersha doesn’t have a kettle boy.”“No?” Valgund might not recognize Janta with his hair cut. “Haven’t you seen a skinny, dark-haired boy in the villa during Council recesses? About the Councillor’s son’s age?”Valgund shook his head firmly. “If Gersha had brought any kind of guest, he would’ve introduced us. And he doesn’t want a kettle boy.”“Well, I saw Janta dressed up like one.” It was irritating how Valgund insisted on believing Gersha Gádden was somehow more moral than other men of his class. “He was at the Brothel with Ceill Linnett. His records confirm he’s posted to Gersha’s service. Einara told me that Tilrey helped Janta escape from Thurskein, probably because he wanted intel on the Northmen. But Janta doesn’t betray his friends.”“He was with Ceill?” Valgund tousled Bors’s hair absently, his face still troubled. “I’ll have to ask Gersha about that. He and Tilrey haven’t been south much this past year. But he would never sleep with that kid. That’s just not him.”“I don’t care about the Councillor’s sexual habits.” Bors tried not to be snappish; their closeness felt good. “All that matters is whether Janta’s betrayed us to his new protectors. Einara says he hasn’t. Which means that, when those two do bring the kid south, we can persuade him to escape and join us.”“We?” Valgund said. “I’m the only one who lives in the villa.”“Well, right, you can. Keep a watch out for Janta. Tell him we’ll get him safely to where Aleks is.”Valgund’s head drooped on Bors’s shoulder. “Why would Janta say yes to that? If I were him, I wouldn’t want anything to do with us or these bunkers. I’d want to stay where I was warm and safe and well fed.”Stop being so frustrating. “He doesn’t want to be in a comfortable prison, Gunsha! He’s a Northman, and you know how Northmen are. You can’t pen them up.”“Maybe. But, like I said, I haven’t seen hide or hair of Janta. If you want to recruit him, why don’t you approach him in Redda?”Now Bors couldn’t deny Valgund had a point. He’d asked himself the same question and concluded it was just too dangerous. “I can’t risk being seen with him on a surveillance cam. Anyway, Einara told me to leave Janta alone for now. And not come to the Brothel.”“So you’re taking your orders from Einara?”Bors bristled, his spine going rigid as bitterness rose in his throat. “I told you, no. Only for now. Only while she’s useful. I—”“Borsha.” Valgund’s tone was so mild, almost tender, that Bors shut his mouth out of sheer surprise. “I’m not trying to argue you into a corner. I’m just wondering if you really want to bring a hacker into this. I’m starting to wonder if you have the slightest idea what we’re doing.”I do. Of course I do! Bors needed to explore the bunkers because they were hidden and because they were powerful. And because Niko Karishkov had put a leash around his neck and made him do tricks while all the time he had his own shameful secret, and because people like Karishkov couldn’t be allowed to believe they controlled everything in the entire fucking world. No one could be allowed to wield that much power without being held accountable.But Valgund might not understand. Even after moral rehab, even after the Sweetbush, Valgund was still a Linnett.Bors didn’t want to speak in anger. Valgund didn’t deserve that; he couldn’t help his limitations. “I thought you weren’t afraid,” he said once he was able to control his voice.“Afraid? What’s that have to do with it?”“Out there, with the bear, you were completely fearless.” Bors swallowed hard. It wasn’t easy to admit how scared he’d been himself. “I was . . . in awe of you.”“That’s just basic wilderness training. You respect the wildlife, and they’ll respect you.” Valgund nuzzled Bors’s shoulder. “Anyway, I was scared shitless.”“You didn’t seem it.” Bors stroked his hair. He couldn’t alienate the only person in the world whom he actually liked and who still liked him. He wouldn’t. He just had to make Gunsha understand.“I guess what I’m saying is, we make a good team,” he said. “Maybe you’re right. We need the Northmen’s help, at least for the last bunker. If we get them and Janta on board, we could be unstoppable. Just like we were in the Sweetbush.”“Unstoppable.” Valgund sounded skeptical. “Bors, sometimes I think you’re a little mad.”Bors was already visualizing the Council schedule. Gersha Gádden would surely go south for the fall recess. If Valgund didn’t want to recruit Janta, maybe Bors would do it himself, with Einara none the wiser.Valgund was still talking. “Obviously, I’m not afraid to explore these bunkers, Bors. I’m curious about them. But getting a hacker in here to try to activate them? That does scare me.”Always the same thing, over and over, the fretting demand for reasons. High-named Upstarts always thought they had all the reasons on their side and their inferiors had none.Bors ran his fingers soothingly through Valgund’s hair. “We don’t even know what it would mean to activate these bunkers, Gunsha. I’m just curious, too. I would never do anything to hurt the Republic.” Although it certainly would be fun to see Karishkov’s face if I did.“I hope that’s true—for your own sake.” Valgund didn’t sound happy. “You know, I hear they’ve cut the sap rations—some of my coworkers are complaining about it. Do you think that’s actually . . .”“Because of us. Because of what we did in the Sweetbush.” Bors planted a kiss on the crown of Valgund’s head, suddenly so happy that he was willing to forgive his lover anything. We did something. We really did something. “You aren’t regretting what we did, are you?”“I didn’t say that. It’s just—I didn’t think about the consequences. Not in such concrete terms. You have to think about consequences, Borsha.”“And I am.” Bors tugged Valgund upright so he could kiss him properly. “Trust me,” he whispered. “I know what I’m doing.”
March, Year 373
The third secret bunker was guarded by a bear.
Well, maybe not guarded. All Bors knew was that he glanced up from unlocking the trapdoor to find Valgund facing off with a white giant that loomed from the coastal mists, no more than twenty yards away. Even down on all fours, it was enormous, caught in the beams of their headlamps. On its hind legs, it might be twice or three times Valgund’s height.
“Shit!” Bors scrambled to his feet, his breath dying in his throat. Everything was suddenly happening very slowly, the air too thick to breathe.
They were on a barren stretch of tundra in sight of the coastal ice pack—nothing to hide behind, not even a bush or a boulder, just acres and acres of snow. Where was his gun?
Before Bors could reach for his pack, Valgund raised a hand to stop him. His eyes didn’t move from the bear. “Quiet,” he said, the other hand unzipping his parka. “This one’s not starving—plenty of seals nearby. With any luck, it’ll go on its way.”
“But if . . . it doesn’t?” Bors had trouble forming words. The bear was so close. It had come on them in total silence, graceful and bulky at once, and he could tell its attack would be fast and lethal. They were only alive because it had other priorities.
Valgund tugged something from his parka; a metal tube glinted in the light. “Bear spray,” he said over his shoulder. “Don’t you dare get your rifle—those little rounds will just make it angry. And don’t run.”
Bors stood frozen with one hand halfway to his pack. When he swallowed, a whimper came out. “Why’s it just standing there?”
Valgund didn’t answer. Instead, he took a great stride toward the bear and began waving his arms. “Hey!” he shouted. “Get out! We got first dibs on this place!”
Stop! No! But Bors could only stand like a statue, his heart hammering his ribs, and watch his lover advance on the white tower of muscle.
“Ours! Go away! Out, you big lumbering fool!”
The bear rose to its full height, the movement so fluid it seemed to blur. Again Bors heard that whimper from his own throat.
The beast blotted out the stars. Its limbs were at least twice the width of his own chest, dwarfing a tiny head in which the eyes were black pools—thoughtless, merciless, soulless. He could already feel its claws tearing open his belly, its jaws cracking his skull.
Valgund stopped walking. “Got that trapdoor unlocked?” he asked Bors conversationally.
“Y-y-yes.”
“Great. On three, open it and get down the hatch. Protect your eyes, and don’t forget your gear.” He raised the tube. “One, two . . .”
The spray had no odor. Only a hissing sound told Bors that Valgund had unleashed it—followed by a stinging and burning in his nostrils.
For a terrifying instant, he struggled to get the trapdoor open. Then the dark hatch gaped before him, and he tossed his pack in and followed it, clinging to the ladder for dear life.
His gloved hands slipped and slid on each rung. He jumped the last eight feet onto the concrete floor and looked up to see—thank everything green, thank the Spark—Valgund perched above him, yanking the door closed.
Bors’s breath caught. He could almost see a furry arm reaching down to catch his friend around the waist. And here he stood like an idiot, doing nothing!
He reached for his rifle just as the door banged shut above him. “It’s okay!” Valgund called hoarsely.
They were in darkness except for the wheeling beams of their headlamps. Valgund’s pack slipped from his grip, and Bors caught it. He set it on the floor and climbed back up a few rungs to guide his friend down into the dusty passage.
Valgund was wheezing from the exertion. “It’s okay,” he repeated, collapsing into Bors’s arms. “Won’t come . . . after us.”
“Are you sure?” Bors wouldn’t put anything past that creature. It was his first encounter with an animal significantly larger than he was, and he wouldn’t have been stunned if it had grown wings.
“Yeah. Won’t wait outside, either. Even if it’s hungry . . . not that smart.” Valgund’s laugh was scratchy. “C’mon. Let’s make sure this place isn’t occupied.”
Exploring the bunker took no more than ten minutes; it was smaller than the other two. The thick layer of dust suggested it hadn’t been entered in a few years. Like the other bunkers, though, it bore the logo of the Bureau of Preparedness, and it contained a terminal. Running on a formidable battery, the network node was online.
Bors was still shaking. The bear encounter had hollowed out a space inside him; he had to keep his mind occupied, or he would start seeing those dead eyes again.
Normally he would have run his password-cracking script, just as a token effort. But he didn’t want Valgund to see his fingers jittering on the keyboard, so he unpacked the camping stove and set water on to boil.
“We’ll have to cover our footprints carefully,” Valgund said, unrolling a sleeping bag. “Whoever maintains these places, this one is probably first on their to-do list, judging by how long it’s been untouched.”
Bors nodded. “The Northmen haven’t seen anyone prowling around their bunker, have they?”
“No. They posted the cameras you gave them all along the trail, but no one’s been that way yet except the occasional fox or wolf. With any luck, they’ll have advance warning before the custodian arrives.”
Custodian. That was their flippant name for whoever was visiting these bunkers, dusting them off, and keeping the terminals online—flippant because they didn’t want to think about the possibility of meeting that person or people in their explorations. Or of the custodian discovering Aleks and his crew.
They were taking a grave risk by allowing the Northmen to inhabit the bunker in the Southern Range in the first place. All of this was risky, impossibly risky, but Bors didn’t want to stop. There were two more bunkers still out there.
When he touched each terminal, running his fingers through the dust, he had his finger on the pulse of Redda, too. There was power here, he was certain. More power than he’d ever possessed in his life.
“We have to start planning for the far northern site,” he said. “It’ll need to be summer, especially if we’re going by sea. With the right bribe, a small boat shouldn’t be too hard to requisition. The land journey, though—we may need a sledge to carry all our gear. What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
Valgund sat on a sleeping bag, legs hugged to his chest. “Do you have any idea how dangerous a polar expedition is? Even with the best equipment? If the sea decides to freeze early, the boat’s useless. And a sledge needs someone to pull it.”
“So we’ll plan ahead.” If they’d gotten inside the Sanctioned Sweetbush, one of the best-guarded sites in Oslov, surely they could get themselves to the Pole. Bors tried not to think about the possibility of meeting more bears.
“That’s not enough.” Valgund tipped his head back and closed his eyes. The wan light of the camping lantern made his face look gray and tired—old. “We need a larger party. Maybe a plane. Aleks’s friend Bers has a pilot’s license and contacts at the base.”
Not this again. In the second bunker, they’d spent nearly an hour arguing over whether to tell the Northmen about their explorations. That time, Bors had won.
“We agreed,” he said, “this is just between us. If Aleks finds out, he’ll want to know why. He certainly won’t help us without a full explanation.”
Valgund laughed.
“What?”
“I’d like to know why, too. Tell me again why we’re doing this, Borsha?”
Bors stiffened defensively. At Int/Sec, no one asked questions about the big picture. He’d never—almost never—questioned Karishkov’s directives, even when they were absurd.
But Valgund wasn’t his subordinate, and maybe Valgund had a point, and Valgund had saved him from a bear. He left the packages of dehydrated food soaking in the steaming water and came to sit beside his friend.
“I thought we agreed last time,” he said, his shoulder nudging Valgund’s. “Someone has to check up on them sometimes.”
“You said that, yeah. But when I asked you who ‘them’ is, you changed the subject.”
Wasn’t it obvious? “Whoever runs this place. I’m guessing it’s a secret level of Int/Sec, or a special cadre of military officers that reports directly to the General Magistrate. If they have a way of turning off the lights in Redda, someone should be watching them. Making sure they don’t misuse it.”
Valgund groaned. “Be honest with me, Bors. Is that what your friend Einara wants? To keep the power of some elite faction in check? To watch the watchers? Is that why she sent you here?”
Why did Valgund have to keep asking questions? He should understand the danger of all-powerful elites; his own family had sent him to moral rehab for years.
But he had a point about Einara’s motives. According to the evidence that Hulda had passed to Bors on her death bed, the Brothel director had killed his cousin in cold blood. She was a wild card, an enemy of the Republic. It was his responsibility to keep her under control.
“I’ve told you before that Einara isn’t a factor in this,” he said. “She’s powerless; she can’t leave the Brothel.”
“Where’d she get the coordinates of these bunkers, then?”
“Probably from some Councillor in return for a favor. I doubt very much she could help us get inside these terminals. That boy Janta, on the other hand . . .”
“You keep going on about Janta,” Valgund said wearily. “We don’t even know where he is.”
“Oh, don’t we?” Bors couldn’t stop a triumphant grin from spreading over his face. He’d been waiting to tell Valgund his Brothel discovery until they got inside the third bunker. “I’m surprised you haven’t run into him yet, Gunsha. I saw him last July in Redda. He’s Councillor Gádden’s kettle boy.”
Valgund didn’t look pleased or impressed with this news. He looked perplexed—and worried. “Gersha doesn’t have a kettle boy.”
“No?” Valgund might not recognize Janta with his hair cut. “Haven’t you seen a skinny, dark-haired boy in the villa during Council recesses? About the Councillor’s son’s age?”
Valgund shook his head firmly. “If Gersha had brought any kind of guest, he would’ve introduced us. And he doesn’t want a kettle boy.”
“Well, I saw Janta dressed up like one.” It was irritating how Valgund insisted on believing Gersha Gádden was somehow more moral than other men of his class. “He was at the Brothel with Ceill Linnett. His records confirm he’s posted to Gersha’s service. Einara told me that Tilrey helped Janta escape from Thurskein, probably because he wanted intel on the Northmen. But Janta doesn’t betray his friends.”
“He was with Ceill?” Valgund tousled Bors’s hair absently, his face still troubled. “I’ll have to ask Gersha about that. He and Tilrey haven’t been south much this past year. But he would never sleep with that kid. That’s just not him.”
“I don’t care about the Councillor’s sexual habits.” Bors tried not to be snappish; their closeness felt good. “All that matters is whether Janta’s betrayed us to his new protectors. Einara says he hasn’t. Which means that, when those two do bring the kid south, we can persuade him to escape and join us.”
“We?” Valgund said. “I’m the only one who lives in the villa.”
“Well, right, you can. Keep a watch out for Janta. Tell him we’ll get him safely to where Aleks is.”
Valgund’s head drooped on Bors’s shoulder. “Why would Janta say yes to that? If I were him, I wouldn’t want anything to do with us or these bunkers. I’d want to stay where I was warm and safe and well fed.”
Stop being so frustrating. “He doesn’t want to be in a comfortable prison, Gunsha! He’s a Northman, and you know how Northmen are. You can’t pen them up.”
“Maybe. But, like I said, I haven’t seen hide or hair of Janta. If you want to recruit him, why don’t you approach him in Redda?”
Now Bors couldn’t deny Valgund had a point. He’d asked himself the same question and concluded it was just too dangerous. “I can’t risk being seen with him on a surveillance cam. Anyway, Einara told me to leave Janta alone for now. And not come to the Brothel.”
“So you’re taking your orders from Einara?”
Bors bristled, his spine going rigid as bitterness rose in his throat. “I told you, no. Only for now. Only while she’s useful. I—”
“Borsha.” Valgund’s tone was so mild, almost tender, that Bors shut his mouth out of sheer surprise. “I’m not trying to argue you into a corner. I’m just wondering if you really want to bring a hacker into this. I’m starting to wonder if you have the slightest idea what we’re doing.”
I do. Of course I do! Bors needed to explore the bunkers because they were hidden and because they were powerful. And because Niko Karishkov had put a leash around his neck and made him do tricks while all the time he had his own shameful secret, and because people like Karishkov couldn’t be allowed to believe they controlled everything in the entire fucking world. No one could be allowed to wield that much power without being held accountable.
But Valgund might not understand. Even after moral rehab, even after the Sweetbush, Valgund was still a Linnett.
Bors didn’t want to speak in anger. Valgund didn’t deserve that; he couldn’t help his limitations. “I thought you weren’t afraid,” he said once he was able to control his voice.
“Afraid? What’s that have to do with it?”
“Out there, with the bear, you were completely fearless.” Bors swallowed hard. It wasn’t easy to admit how scared he’d been himself. “I was . . . in awe of you.”
“That’s just basic wilderness training. You respect the wildlife, and they’ll respect you.” Valgund nuzzled Bors’s shoulder. “Anyway, I was scared shitless.”
“You didn’t seem it.” Bors stroked his hair. He couldn’t alienate the only person in the world whom he actually liked and who still liked him. He wouldn’t. He just had to make Gunsha understand.
“I guess what I’m saying is, we make a good team,” he said. “Maybe you’re right. We need the Northmen’s help, at least for the last bunker. If we get them and Janta on board, we could be unstoppable. Just like we were in the Sweetbush.”
“Unstoppable.” Valgund sounded skeptical. “Bors, sometimes I think you’re a little mad.”
Bors was already visualizing the Council schedule. Gersha Gádden would surely go south for the fall recess. If Valgund didn’t want to recruit Janta, maybe Bors would do it himself, with Einara none the wiser.
Valgund was still talking. “Obviously, I’m not afraid to explore these bunkers, Bors. I’m curious about them. But getting a hacker in here to try to activate them? That does scare me.”
Always the same thing, over and over, the fretting demand for reasons. High-named Upstarts always thought they had all the reasons on their side and their inferiors had none.
Bors ran his fingers soothingly through Valgund’s hair. “We don’t even know what it would mean to activate these bunkers, Gunsha. I’m just curious, too. I would never do anything to hurt the Republic.” Although it certainly would be fun to see Karishkov’s face if I did.
“I hope that’s true—for your own sake.” Valgund didn’t sound happy. “You know, I hear they’ve cut the sap rations—some of my coworkers are complaining about it. Do you think that’s actually . . .”
“Because of us. Because of what we did in the Sweetbush.” Bors planted a kiss on the crown of Valgund’s head, suddenly so happy that he was willing to forgive his lover anything. We did something. We really did something. “You aren’t regretting what we did, are you?”
“I didn’t say that. It’s just—I didn’t think about the consequences. Not in such concrete terms. You have to think about consequences, Borsha.”
“And I am.” Bors tugged Valgund upright so he could kiss him properly. “Trust me,” he whispered. “I know what I’m doing.”
Chapter End Notes
I promise this long story is going somewhere! There is an overarching plan, but it’s turning out to be so very long that I’ve decided to make the last part of it into a separate story. (Haha, I know, that sounds very inviting, doesn’t it? ;) )More about Ceill and Janta in the next chapter. Thanks for reading! <3
Chapter End Notes
I promise this long story is going somewhere! There is an overarching plan, but it’s turning out to be so very long that I’ve decided to make the last part of it into a separate story. (Haha, I know, that sounds very inviting, doesn’t it? ;) )More about Ceill and Janta in the next chapter. Thanks for reading! <3
I promise this long story is going somewhere! There is an overarching plan, but it’s turning out to be so very long that I’ve decided to make the last part of it into a separate story. (Haha, I know, that sounds very inviting, doesn’t it? ;) )
More about Ceill and Janta in the next chapter. Thanks for reading! <3