Deathwatch (The Faded Earth Book 1)(55)

“So I guess we’re not really going to Brighton, then,” Beck said, disappointed. She wanted to see Fisher.

“No, I’m afraid not,” Bowers confirmed. “Though the good news is that you won’t have to stay away long. You’re not going on the wall. We can’t afford to waste you. Since you’re not an established member of the Watch with superiors who will miss you or colleagues to note you vanish regularly, I’ve decided to take you directly into my service. We’ll worry about fudging records later. Young Eshton has been doing vital work for us over the last few weeks, and it brings new information to light.”

Beck blew out a breath. “Stuff that explains why you suddenly don’t trust our own tech?”

Bowers shrugged noncommittally. “Actually, no. That stems from another operation. The details aren’t important, but the result is. We now believe there are compromised members of the Watch in the Security division. And if whoever is blocking Fade research has been able to corrupt one group...”

“Then other divisions are just as at risk,” Beck said.

Bowers shook his head. “I don’t know. Security is tasked with guarding important civilians, from the Protector on down, so I expect proximity to wealth and power have more of an effect. Then I remember I’m old and have seen enough human nature to understand that all men, all people, have that seed inside them. Too many of us are weak to temptation. So I choose to spread my trust only as far as I have to.”

He didn’t look as though he waited on any kind of response—Beck was already in that circle of trust—but felt for the sake of her own conscience, she had to.

“Sir, as long as you’re fighting to end the Fade, I’ll always have your back.”

Bowers gave her a measured look, hard and searching, then smiled. “I take your meaning, young lady. And I admire your honesty.”

They both knew Beck spoke the truth, but the words were also a threat. Back down, they said, give in to political pressure, and I’ll put a blade in you myself.

Sometimes you had to be the sword.





Part Three


These Shadows Grow





26


The morning Beck and her cohort faced the crucible of Shān, Eshton met with Fisher’s Remnant friends. More accurately, he was taken prisoner by them.

Though he had taken the tattooed Andres as the leader, it was Karen who called the shots to humans and dogs alike. The massive dogs, a species called Great Danes he was only tangentially aware of from history class, followed the woman everywhere unless set at a task. For the first few hours of his captivity, that task was to sit in front of the corner he was forced into and make sure he didn’t do anything aggressive.

He pleaded his case, explaining without giving away too many details that the Watch had a man critical to Fade research who might need to be hidden. Dancing around the vital parts while also being convincing was nearly impossible. After hours of back and forth, Karen waved Andres over to Eshton and the muscular man crouched between the dogs.

Absently scratching the boy, Jake, behind the ears, Andres spoke in a voice made harsh by too many years of breathing dust. “You don’t have lawyers in those walled cities of yours, do you?”

Eshton searched his memory for the term. “People who...argue law? If I remember, there are supposed to be two of them.”

“That’s right,” Andres said, switching his attention to the brindled girl dog, Tiger. “Back...where the rest of us live, that’s what I do. It’s not like it was in the old world. There aren’t many laws among us, but everyone gets a fair trial. You don’t do that. You specifically, either. You’re Enforcement. That makes you the law.”

Eshton didn’t want to antagonize this man, but accuracy mattered. Rather than let him believe Eshton was some executioner, he decided to toss the dice. “No. I’m an arbiter of the law. Sometimes that means dispensing punishments, and sometimes it means letting a hungry mother trying to feed her children when the food ration runs out and she’s forced to steal slide without one.”

Andres raised an eyebrow. “You’ve killed? As a punishment, I mean.”

“Yes, of course I have,” Eshton said. “Let me ask you a question: what do you do to your rapists?”

Andres blinked. “It doesn’t happen often—”

“No,” Eshton said, cutting in. “It isn’t reported often. That much hasn’t changed from the old world. Well, among you it isn’t. Where I come from, passive recording means we can pull nearly anything up from the archives to see if a claim is valid. Which means women have recourse against attackers. And considering that the punishment for rape starts at castration and can be as severe as being hung by the arms on the outside of the wall, few men do it. Our society is rigid and honestly in a lot of ways it’s fucked up, but it has its advantages.”

Andres looked thoughtful rather than angry at being challenged, which went counter to his aggressive manner and rough appearance. Eshton chided himself for letting the bias form in the first place.

“You’re right about the imperfections in our own system,” the bald man said. “Your point is taken. I brought it up in the first place to make you understand when I say I was arguing on your behalf, it wasn’t on a whim or without consideration.”