-CORVIUM overview: Killed in action: G. TYE, W. TARRY, R. SHORE, C. ELSON, H. “Big” COOPER (5).
Missing in action: T. BOREEVE, R. BINLI (2).
Silver casualty count: Zero (0).
THE FOLLOWING MESSAGE HAS BEEN DECODED
CONFIDENTIAL, SENIOR CLEARANCE REQUIRED
Operative: General REDACTED.
Designation: DRUMMER.
Origin: COMMAND at REDACTED.
Destination: RAM at REDACTED.
-Air intel good. DELPHIE Operation in motion.
-Train transit online between ARCHEON and City #1.
-Begin 3 week countdown for Operation DAYBREAK.
RISE, RED AS THE DAWN.
—Your girl has balls. —DRUMMER—
—The girl gets our people killed. —RAM—
—Worth it for her results. But her attitude leaves something to be desired. —DRUMMER—
THE FOLLOWING MESSAGE HAS BEEN DECODED
CONFIDENTIAL, SENIOR CLEARANCE REQUIRED
Day 54 of Operation RED WEB, Stage 2.
Operative: Captain REDACTED.
Designation: LAMB.
Origin: Albanus, NRT.
Destination: RAM at REDACTED.
-CAPITAL VALLEY WHISTLES coming online. In ALBANUS to open removal with oathed WHISTLE operative WILL.
-30 assets removed in 2 weeks.
-SHADOW still operating out of CORVIUM. Intel: legions are being rotated off the trench lines, leaves gaps.
RISE, RED AS THE DAWN
I hate this stinking wagon.
The fencer, old Will, burns a candle, as if it can do anything for the smell. It only makes it hotter in here, more stifling if that’s even possible. Besides the stench, though, I feel at ease.
The Stilts is a sleepy village, without much cause for concern. In fact, this happens to be Shade’s own birthplace. Not that he talks about home much, other than his sister. I know he writes to them, though. I “mailed” his latest letter myself, leaving it at the post only this morning. Faster than relying on the army to get a letter through, he said, and he was right. Only two or so weeks since he wrote it, rather than the usual month it takes for any kind of Red mail to get anywhere.
“So does this have anything to do with the new cargo you’ve been having my compatriots ferry downriver and overland? To Harbor Bay, yes?” Will glares at me, eyes so bright for someone his age. But his beard looks thinner than it did last month, as is his body. Still, he pours himself a cup of tea with the still hands of a surgeon.
I politely decline the offer of hot tea in an even hotter wagon. How is he wearing long sleeves? “What have you heard?”
“This and that.”
Wily to the end, these Whistles. “It’s true. We’re beginning to move people, and the Whistle network has been integral to that operation. I’m hoping you’ll agree to join the same.”
“Now why would I be stupid enough to do that?”
“Well, you were stupid enough to oath yourself to the Scarlet Guard. But if you need more convincing . . .” With a grin, I pull five silver tetrarchs from my pocket. They barely touch the small table before he snaps them up. They disappear between his fingers. “More for every item.”
Still, he does not agree. Putting on a show like the other Whistles did before I eventually won their agreements.
“You would be the first to refuse,” I tell him with a slick smile. “And our partnership would cease.”
He waves a hand, dismissive. “I do fine without your sort, anyways.”
“Is that so?” My smile widens. Will is no good at bluffing. “Very well then, I’ll go and never darken your . . . wagon again.”
Before I can even get up, he stands to stop me. “Who are you planning to move?”
Got you.
“Assets. People who will be valuable to our cause.”
As I watch, his bright eyes darken. A trick of the light.
“And who makes that decision?”
Despite the heat, a finger of cold runs down my spine. Here comes the usual sticking point. “There are operations all over the country seeking out such people, myself included. We assess, propose our candidates, and wait for approval.”
“I assume the old, the sick, and the children set to conscript do not make any of your proposals. No use saving the ones who truly need it.”
“If they have valuable skills—”
“Pah!” Will spits, his cheeks going red. He gulps at his tea with angry gasps, draining the cup. The liquid seems to calm him though. When he sets down the empty cup, he rests his chin on his hand thoughtfully. “I suppose that’s the best we can hope for.”
Another channel opened. “For now.”
“Very well.”
“Oh, and this most likely won’t be a problem here, but I’d stay away from any Silvers you see tomorrow. They won’t be happy.”
Tomorrow. The thought of it singes my blood. I don’t know what the Colonel and Command have planned, only that it includes my broadcast,