Crance, the Mariner working the supply convoy, had to smuggle me in, and it took a great amount of back channeling to get him to agree. Even so, I managed to get into the city proper in one piece, my radio firmly tucked into my waistband.
Red sector. Marketgrove.
That’s where Shade wanted to meet, and that’s where I must get to. I don’t dare cover or hood my face, which would give anyone a better clue as to my identity. Instead, I wear shaded glasses, hiding the one part of my face anyone saw in the video. Still, I feel risk in every step. Risk is part of the game. But somehow, my fear isn’t for myself. I’ve done my part, more than my part, for the Scarlet Guard. I could die now and be considered a successful operative. My name would go into someone’s correspondence, Tristan’s probably, clicked out in dots for the Colonel to read.
I wonder if he would mourn.
It’s cloudy today and the mood of the city reflects the weather. And the bombing is on everyone’s lips, in everyone’s eyes. The Reds are a strange mix of hopeful and downcast, some openly whispering about this so-called Scarlet Guard. But many, the old especially, scowl at their children, scolding them for believing our nonsense, telling them it will bring more trouble to their people. I’m not stupid enough to stop and argue.
Marketgrove is deep in the Red sector, but still crawling with Silver Security officers. Today they look like wolves on the prowl, their guns in hand rather than holster. I heard news of riots in the major cities, Silver citizens going after any Reds they could get their hands on, blaming everyone they could for the Scarlet Guard’s deeds. But something tells me these officers aren’t here to protect my people. They only want to instill fear and keep us quiet.
But even they can’t stop the whispers.
“Who are they?”
“The Scarlet Guard.”
“Never heard of the like.”
“Did you see? West Archeon in flames—”
“—but no one was hurt—”
“—they’ll bring more trouble—”
“—worse and worse times—”
“—blaming us for it—”
“I want to find them.”
“Farley.”
The last is a warm breath against the shell of my ear, his voice familiar as my own face. I turn instinctually and pull Shade into a hug, surprising both of us.
“Good to see you too,” he mutters.
“Let’s get you out of here,” I murmur as I pull back. When I look at him properly, I realize the last few weeks have not been kind. His face is pale, his expression drawn, and dark circles ring his eyes. “What happened?”
He tucks my arm in his and I let him lead us through the crowd dutifully walking the market. We look like anyone. “A transfer, to the Storm Legion, to the front.”
“Punishment?”
But Shade shakes his head. “Not for passing information. They still don’t know I’m the leak or that I’m bleeding everything to the Guard. No, this order is strange.”
“Strange how?”
“A general’s request. High up. For me, an aide. It makes no sense. Just like something else doesn’t make any sense.” His eyes narrow pointedly, and I nod. “I think they know, and I think they’re going to get rid of me.”
I swallow hard and hope he doesn’t notice. My fear for him cannot be construed as anything but professional. “Then we’ll execute you first, say you ran off and got shot for deserting. Eastree can falsify the documents like she does with other assets. And besides, it’s high time we moved you anyways.”
“Do you have any idea where that might be?”
“You’ll be going to Trial, across the border. That shouldn’t be too difficult for someone with your skills.”
“I’m not invincible. I can’t jump hundreds of miles, or even, well, navigate myself that far. Can you?” he mumbles.
I have to smile. Crance should work. “I think I can secure you a map and a guide.”
“You’re not coming?” I tell myself I’m imagining the disappointment in his voice.
“I have other business to handle first. Careful,” I add, noting a cluster of officers up ahead. Shade’s arm tightens on mine, pulling me closer. He’ll jump if he has to, and I’ll get sick all over my boots again.
“Try not to make me sick this time,” I grumble, drawing his crooked grin.
But there’s no need for his trepidation. The officers are focused elsewhere, on a cracked video screen, likely the only one in the Red market. Used for official broadcasts, but there isn’t anything official about what they’re watching.