Diccon despite the limited space. Several hunkered down, including Phillipe.
Caleb did, too, again bringing his face more level with Diccon’s. “Right, then. This mine—does it have a fence around it?”
That was all he had to ask to have Diccon launch into a remarkably clear and detailed description of the camp—more like a compound—that surrounded the entrance to the mine. Crude but effective outer walls, with huts for various purposes. Mention of a medical hut had Caleb and Phillipe exchanging surprised glances.
Diccon’s description wound to a close; he’d mentally walked in via the gate, then taken them on a clockwise tour describing every building they would pass.
“That’s extremely helpful,” Caleb said, and meant it. “Now—how many mercenaries are there?”
“Hmm.” Diccon’s features scrunched up. He had set down his basket, and from the way his fingers moved, he was counting. Then his face cleared. “There be twenty-four there right now, plus Dubois, and six are off taking the latest batch of diamonds to the coast for pickup.”
Caleb blinked. “So it’s definitely diamonds they’re mining.”
“Aye,” Diccon said. “Thought you knew that.”
“We’d guessed it, but until now, we couldn’t be certain.” Caleb tilted his head. “You said the mercenaries take the diamonds to the coast for pickup—not Freetown?”
“Nuh-uh. At least, we—all of us in the compound—don’t think so. Far as we’ve been able to make out, they take the strongbox toward the settlement, but the pickup is somewhere on the estuary, see? That way, no one in Freetown knows.”
Phillipe shifted, drawing Diccon’s attention. “The six who’ve gone to the coast—do they go and return via that path?” He pointed at the path they’d been following, which lay not that far away through the palms.
A pertinent point. Caleb looked at Diccon—and was relieved to see the boy shake his head.
“That path just goes to Kale’s camp.” Diccon’s eyes grew flat, and his expression shuttered. “You don’t want to go that way.”
“Kale’s not there anymore,” Caleb said. “He’s...left. Along with all his men.”
“Yeah?” Diccon studied Caleb’s face, then his eyes grew round as the implication registered.
Before he could ask the eager questions clearly bubbling on his tongue, Phillipe intervened. “Which route do the mercenaries take to the coast, then?”
“There’s another path—well, there’s several leave the compound. One goes to the lake where we get our water, and there’s this one, where all of us came in from. Then there’s another that divides into two not far from the gate. Those who go to drop off the diamonds take the northwest branch, and we reckon it also eventually leads to Freetown. They could get to Freetown through Kale’s camp, but Dubois—he’s the leader—he mostly sends his men to get ordinary things like food and stuff that we know must come from Freetown when they go to drop off the diamonds.”
Caleb nodded, a map taking shape in his brain. “You said that path divides into two—where does the other branch go?”
“Far as we know, it leads dead north. We think there’s nothing but jungle that way, all the way to the coast.” Diccon paused, then added, “Maybe some natives. There’s a chief that owns this land, see, and Dubois pays him to let the mine be. We think he—the chief—lives that way. That’s why the track’s there, but no one from the mine uses it.”
Phillipe caught Caleb’s eye. Caleb nodded fractionally. That little-used path sounded like the one they should fall back along. He refocused on Diccon. “Tell us more about the mercenaries.”
“Well, like I said, there’s thirty of them all up, including the cook and his helper, who are just as fierce as the others. And there’s Dubois. He’s in charge, and they all mind him. He has two...lieutenants, I suppose you’d say. Arsene—he’s Dubois’s second-in-command—and
Claudia Dain
Eryk Pruitt
Susan Crawford
Bathroom Readers’ Institute
Pauline A. Chen
Keith Houghton
Lorie O'Clare
Eli Easton
Murray McDonald
Edward Sklepowich