Elevation of the Marked (The Marked Series Book 2) (41 page)

“Is it so bad?”

Physically, Arlow felt weak, overheated, achy, but the real trouble was the conflict within his own mind—the slow circle of confusion, the knowledge that he could not trust his own thoughts.
 

When a man cannot trust himself, how is he to proceed?
 

“He’s got a friend of mine tied up in a cell. Tortured.” Arlow shifted intense, dark eyes on Mae, his expression almost pleading. “I don’t know what to do. Quade wants me to convince your brother not to get involved, not to interfere with the execution. He says he will free him if I’m successful.”

“You think he’ll really kill all them people?”
 

Arlow sipped his tea. “He did not explicitly say one way or the other.”

“Yeah, but do you think he will?”

“I think he is not guided by compassion, nor is he a man to make idle threats.” Arlow shifted his weight back on the crate. “Yes, I think he will kill them.” He licked his lips and swiveled to face her. “Mae, if I am to have interactions with Quade and his people, I won’t be able to trust my own judgment. Do you think, perhaps, you could,” he hesitated, “be my judgment for me?”

She snorted, eyes twinkling between arched, sandy brows. “Not many would be asking
me
that. I done a lot of stupid things over the years. Besides, I’m an outlaw.”

Arlow shrugged. “We’re riding the same train, at this point. There is no going back for me.” He drummed the back of his shoes on the boards. “And you cannot have worse judgment than I. Look who I’ve thrown my lot in with.”
 

“Yeah, but you’re a lucky bastard,” she said with a smirk. “You’ll come out on top in the end, even if everyone round you sinks.”
 

He smiled and nudged her with his elbow. “Best remain close to me then, hadn’t you?”
 

“Pah, why do you think I’ve stuck around this long? Sure ain’t them fancy manners of yours.”
 

He opened his mouth to ask why she had actually remained with him. The Pauper’s King had named him an official member upon completion of his most recent task. He’d expected her to be finished with him, was braced for her departure. Yet, she’d said nothing of her plans.

He closed his mouth, leaving the query unasked. Best to simply enjoy her company while he still had it.

The door to the warehouse creaked open and Arlow unconsciously leaned away from Mae. A steady stream of men and women entered, only a few known to Arlow—Foy and the Pauper’s King at the lead. Arlow was surprised by how normal many of these Pauper’s Men looked. Some were certainly dressed like thugs, but many others had the appearance of merchants or gentlemen.
 

The last figure to enter was a woman in long Cosanta robes, her blonde hair braided down her back, the red mark plainly visible on her pale neck. For a brief instant, Arlow tensed, fearing an Elevated had trailed them. Then he recognized the face—not pretty, but welcoming and clever.

She smiled, revealing a notable gap between her front teeth. “Spirits be blighted, Arlow Bowlerham?”

“Rinny?”
 

Arlow hopped from his perch and crossed the sparse, open space to greet his sister with, first, a formal handshake, then a hearty slap on the back.

“Haven’t seen you in an age, man.” She turned, smiling, to the king. “This the Cosanta you said’s been spying for you?”

Linton’s eyes darted between the two of them. “It is. I take it you know each other.”

“Sure,” Rinny said. “We was in the same year.”

Linton offered Arlow a cautious smile. “So you deem him trustworthy?”

“Arlow? Trustworthy?” She laughed. “Not a lick.”
 

Arlow
tsk
ed and shook his head. “I? Which of us just stole the other’s wallet? It’s empty, I’m afraid.”
 

General laughter greeted this statement. Arlow refrained from giving the lot of them a dirty look.
Weren’t thieves meant to have a code?
 

“Just keeping you on your toes, brother.” She pressed his wallet back in his hand. “Hey, you seen Ko-Jin lately? A bunch of us had gathered for a while, but everyone split when they heard news about their families. He weren’t there though.”

Speaking of thieves.
“Not terribly recently,” Arlow hedged, hoping the guilt was discernible only to his own ears. He moved back to his crate, though Mae had gone to stand beside her brother. The rest of the Paupers’ Men found seats, or at least comfortable places to lean.
 

Arlow scanned the ring of faces, thirty or so in total. They were a varied bunch, aging from early twenties all the way up to a man at least eighty years old. Plenty of them had the crowned fist tattooed on their necks, but not nearly so many as Arlow would have thought. He was surprised, too—though perhaps he should not have been—by the number of women. It would seem Mae was not an exception, but one of many.
 

The Pauper’s King, seated on a crate like Arlow, did not elevate himself in any way. Yet when he cleared his throat the warehouse went silent, every man and woman wholly attentive. A shaft of light highlighted his sharp cheekbones.

“You know why we are here,” he said, soft voice ringing in the large, bare space. “Quade Asher has declared war on those who have not blindly followed him. He has threatened innocents.”
 

“Only Chisanta. What concern are they of ours?”
 

Arlow stared at the enormous bald man who’d spoken, studying his lumpy, oft-broken nose and bulbous eyes. His lips compressed in recognition.

“This,” Linton continued, his tone cutting at being interrupted, “after he abducted our own youngest members and forced them into slave labor.” The sound of shifting feet and murmurs met this announcement. “That we must oppose this man is, to me, clear. But in what way and at what time, I should like to hear your opinions.”

“Be bearing in mind,” Mae added. “He’s killed a lot of people, including the royal family.”

The bald man shrugged. “So? We was always against them anyway.”

“The point, here, Cline,” Foy said through clenched teeth, “is that the man is willing to use violence to attain his goals. Should he deem us a threat, he will undoubtedly use similar means.”

“I’ve heard he’s done a lot to help Accord, too,” said a young man with a long face and a lopsided haircut. “I heard things are better because of him.”

“You can’t trust what you’ve heard,” Mae said. “Arlow?” She looked to him across the circle, and the gazes of the rest soon followed.
 

Arlow swallowed. “You know, I presume, that Chisanta have unnatural abilities? Well, Quade’s makes things…difficult. He’s persuasive, to the point that, after enough time, he can change a man’s mind against his will. And it spreads from him like an illness, which is why all of Accord is so certain he’s their savior despite all of the obvious holes in his story. You can’t trust yourself around him. If you want to keep your own will intact, avoid hearing him speak and avoid others under his spell speaking of him.”
 

“It’s really like that, then?” Rinny, sitting cross-legged on the floor not far away, asked in a soft voice—confidentially, as if to confirm between Cosanta.

Arlow dipped his head in confirmation. “I, myself, have been under his influence. The danger of it is that you don’t
feel
as though you are not in control.”

“Like how?” the thug, Cline, asked, whether challenging or curious Arlow could not say. Around the room, thirty-some sets of eyes awaited an answer.
 

Arlow sighed. “Quade had two good friends of mine locked up, chained, starving, and filthy. I promised I’d help get them out. Then I went to speak to Quade and, somehow, he had me convinced it was right. I believed him, that these two men, who are more family to me than even my actual family, deserved to be treated in such a way. I left, just left them there to suffer, got on a train.” Arlow hung his head. “It wasn’t until several days later that I woke in the middle of the night with a clear head, horrified at what I’d done.”
 

The group broke into even louder whispers at this, many expressions betraying uncertainty—as well they should.

“Ko-Jin?” Rinny asked, all the humor gone from her face.
 

Arlow gave a solemn nod. “And Yarrow.”

A muscle twitched in her jaw and her blue eyes turned icy. She and Ko-Jin had been close since they were all young. Arlow had always suspected some unrequited love on her part. “Even a man with a silver tongue can be killed.”

The Pauper’s King cleared his throat, ending all side discussions. “We do not kill, Rinny, as well you know. If you wish to remain in the fold, you will abide by our rules.”

“But, Majesty, how’re we supposed to fight him if he’s got whole cities under his spell?”
 

Arlow had to agree. No matter how often he turned it over in his head, there seemed to be only one solution. Quade had to die. The trouble was, when around the man, it was hard to remember that truth. If Arlow were stronger, he’d have done the deed himself already.
My hands are already bloody
.

“We could cut out his tongue,” Cline suggested.

Linton’s lips thinned. “By organizing such a large event, Quade has presented us with an opening. He will be there, as will a large audience.” He wheeled a direct gaze on Rinny first, then Arlow. “What we need is a way to combat this…
gift
of his. You are Chisanta, surely you must know. Can it be somehow stopped or lessened?”
 

“Some gifts don’t work if the person is unconscious. We could try knocking him out,” Rinny said.

Arlow’s brows dipped thoughtfully. His own gift did not work that way—he’d once won a game of lottery while passed out cold on a bar stool. He strongly suspected Quade’s would be the same. If sleep were a liability, he’d have suffered for it already.
 

“I do not think it would be possible to alter
him,
” Arlow said, reaching for the mug that still held the cold dregs of his tea. “But possibly we could have an effect on the crowd. This tea promotes mental clarity, perhaps we could…” he rubbed his chin, “open concession stands with free refreshments? And pass around pamphlets explaining Quade’s gift. It’s easier to fight if you understand what is happening in your own mind.”

Mae grinned at him. “Brilliant. Then, maybe, you could address the crowd,” she said to her brother. “They love you here. If anyone can sway ‘em, it’s you.”

“He’s called out the Chisanta by making it a public execution,” Foy said. “He must have some measures in mind to apprehend them.”

“Yes,” Arlow agreed. Quade would not make such a bold move if he did not have a strategy. “I will do my best to find out just what those measures are between now and then.”

“Who is this bloke?” a young man sitting near the King asked, speaking in a carrying whisper. “Is he even one of us? What if he’s working for Quade?”

Mae rounded on the lad. “Since all the ideas were his, that don’t make much sense, does it?”

“Unless it’s all a trick.”

“Shut it, Al.”
 

Linton held up a hand. “Arlow has proven himself. He helped free our street runners, and has passed each test he’s been given. He is one of us now, and should be treated accordingly.”
 

Arlow felt rather undeserving of this praise. He’d not been sure whose side he was on for much of that time. Ultimately, Quade was right about him—he was on his own side. Mae was giving him a look, though, that made him wish he were the kind of man who merited trust.
 

“I have more of this tea,” Arlow said. “But not the recipe. I don’t know if the person who gave it to me can be trusted if I should ask.”

Linton shook his head. “Give us what you have. I’ll have someone take it to an herbalist who owes me a favor.”

“We dipping into the coffers for this?” Cline asked, eyeing Arlow beneath unfriendly brows. “That amount of tea’ll cost us a fortune. We don’t know it even works.”
 

“You got a better idea, Cline?” Mae snapped.
 

Linton stood, the simple motion cutting off all conversation. He studied Arlow. “You will go back in?”

“Yes. But it is important that Quade not know we mean to act against him. He has a friend of mine still. If he learns of my betrayal…”

Linton waved this concern away. “Do not worry. Every man here is loyal. Even old Cline, despite his complaining, can be relied on.” He bowed his head in Arlow’s direction. “Good luck, brother.”
 

The meeting at an end, the Pauper’s men set off in small groups, a coordinated exit. Arlow observed them, hoping he’d done the right thing. If any one of these thugs reported what he’d said this day, Yarrow was as good as dead.
 

Hold on a little longer, old friend.
 

“You sure you’re up for this?” Rinny asked.
 

Arlow smiled. He was sincerely glad she was there—a small piece of his old life. A person who did not hate him. “Not at all.”
 

“I’ll be around,” she said. “If you need anything, get a message to the King and he’ll get one to me. I gotta stay low, though. My name’s on the rebel list.”
 

Arlow grasped her forearm again. “Stay safe, then.”

She left, and at length Mae was the only one remaining. “You did real good.”
 

“Did I?” Arlow asked, heaving a sigh. He wasn’t so sure. He would much rather have his involvement be known by a smaller group of people.
 

“Yeah,” she said. “And you’ll have to think so too, since I’m your judgment now and all.”

“That’s true.” He laughed, and the knot in his stomach eased. “What ever would I do without you?” He’d said it as a joke, but it had come out sounding rather sincere. He shuffled his feet and looked away.

She smirked. “Whatever it was you did before, I’m guessing.”

She made towards the door, and he took a hasty step to catch up, hooking her arm in his own. “Sounds dull.”