by Mike Truk
More shock, and now unease; even Yavarn was frowning, clearly scrambling to find a way to word his protests that didn’t make him look like a greedy foe of the people.
Magistrate Mellonis was the next to rise to his feet. Not a week ago, he’d been the tool used to destroy my political future, proposing reforms that far outdid my own, reforms that I could never object to even as I knew they’d never be acted on.
“The Count of Manticora has long been an inspiration to me,” he said, voice rich and melodious. “It is commonly known that my own reforms, lauded in this council and praised by the people, were inspired by the count’s proposals. I find it fitting that we continue to follow his example, and endorse his plans without reservation.”
I inclined my head in grave thanks. No matter that each of these three men were firmly bound my will. That my commands had dictated their every future action: You shall take no action nor, through passivity, allow any action to come to pass that shall harm me or my interests. You shall work to further my goals, and you shall share with me anything you think of importance or interest.
The three other councilors who had been present on that fateful night, who had witnessed my father’s downfall and be subsequently bound by my will also rose to their feet and voiced their support.
And then, to my delight, others began to do the same. Sensing the tide of power flowing toward me, cowed by the firm authority of their peers, first one, then another councilor rosed to voice their support.
Yavarn’s smile grew stiffer and more forced by the moment until it looked like it had been nailed on his face to there die a wretched death.
When fully two-thirds of the council had voiced their support, he raised his hands. “Please, my friends, dear brothers, there is no need for further demonstration. It is clear that the Star Chamber is in favor of Magistrate Kellik’s proposal, and why would it not be? I cannot think of a more just or equitable way to distribute this gold amongst the people.”
I inclined my head graciously, wanting to laugh.
“Let us put it to a vote for formality’s sake,” he said, “and then form a committee to enforce this new proposal.”
Which is exactly what happened. Half an hour every vote had been cast and tallied, and my proposal was passed. I was placed at the head of the committee, lauded once more for my successes and contributions, and applauded when I took my seat.
I watched as the council went back to its regular business, debating new taxes to help cover repairs to the city, import privileges, and an increase in their own salaries. I didn’t take part. I’d achieved my immediate goals, and while I’d originally intended to follow this meeting with individual audiences with Yavarn and a few others to put them firmly under my influence, Tamara’s warning caused me to let those opportunities slip by.
Perhaps I could achieve my own ends with just a handful dedicated to my cause. Perhaps there was no need to control the Star Chamber with an iron fist. For now, at any rate, it was working.
* * *
After spending several hours putting together the committee that would handle the restructuring of the Noose and the ruined warehouses, I rode my carriage to the Royal Provost’s tower, where I’d commanded the captains to assemble for a second meeting.
Netherys and Cerys met me there, each having spent the day investigating the docks and hearing the most recent rumors. They updated me on their discoveries as we stepped aside into a private meeting chamber.
I listened half-heartedly to their reports, my mind filled with dread as to what I was about to reveal. The guilt, the horror of it.
“I then moved to the northern bay,” continued Cerys, only to peter off and stare at me quizzically. “Kellik? Are you all right?”
I gave her a shaky smile. “No, not really. Tamara returned last night.”
“I heard!” Cerys bright smile quickly became one of confusion. “Wait. Is that not a good thing?”
“It is. But she brought news. She knows who the hereshen is.”
“Who?” Netherys frowned at me. “Not what?”
“Maybe both.” I took a deep breath. “Remember Aurora, from Port Lusander?”
For a moment Cerys just stared at me, expression open, uncomprehending; the blood drained from her face.
“No,” she whispered.
Netherys’s frown deepened. “The White Sun Exemplar we murdered?”
Cerys staggered back and fell into a chair, just as I’d done when Tamara told me. “No. That can’t be. She… we killed her. She died.”
“She did,” I confirmed.
“But obviously, we didn’t do a good job of it,” said Netherys. “Fascinating. So she’s returned? And is now…?”
“Unalive.” I forced the word out. “The best term I could come up with.” And I proceeded to relate what Tamara had told me, of Aurora and her powers.
“The White Sun wept,” whispered Cerys.
Netherys pretended to consider. “Unlikely.”
Cerys’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I… I told her not to. Told her it was a rape of her powers. That we - we shouldn’t desecrate her -”
“You were right,” I said. “I’m so sorry, Cerys.” I couldn’t forget. I’d promised Cerys that Aurora was dead, that she’d gone to the Ashen Garden. That using her body wouldn’t affect her soul.
I’d been dead wrong.
“I feel like I’m going to throw up,” said Cerys, turning away.
“The equation is still the same,” said Netherys. “A hereshen for Pony and Tamara. I think it’s still a good deal.”
“What does she want?” Cerys looked over her shoulder at me, eyes wide. “What does this mean?”
“We don’t know,” I said bleakly. “She’s burning with faith. She’s leading armies in conquest. Beyond that? We just don’t know.”
“Revenge,” said Netherys, matter-of-factly. “That’s what every unjustly murdered victim wants when they return from beyond the grave.”
“Netherys!” Cerys hissed. “This is no joke!”
“I’m not joking,” said Netherys. “I bet it’s revenge.”
“Then why go to Olandipolis?” I asked.
“Maybe she doesn’t know where we are,” Netherys replied.
“Fuck,” said Cerys, burying her face in her hands. I recalled how she’d fallen into a crouch after killing the elves during that encounter, covering her face in just the same manner, sickened at taking part in those deaths. “This is… this is so fucked.”
“Yeah.” There was no denying it. “But it’s what we have to deal with now.”
There was a firm knock on the door; I moved over to crack it open. A nervous-looking guard saluted on the other side. “Everyone’s gathered, commander. Whenever you’re ready.”
“Thank you.”
I closed the door, turned to the others. “We’ve still got an attack to plan for tonight.”
Cerys nodded numbly, rose to her feet. “All right. Yes. An attack.”
“We’ll make this right,” I said, moving forward to take her hands in mine. “I promise you.”
Cerys let out a high-pitched laugh, then tore a hand free to clamp it over her mouth.
The pain in her eyes was terrible.
“I can’t wait to see how,” said Netherys, moving to the door. “But for now, let’s destroy a little more of the Family.”
I wanted to hug Cerys, to assuage her guilt, to tell her none of this was her fault, that it rested squarely on my shoulders.
But I knew that to hug her now would cause her to scream. She was glassy-eyed. She needed space.
I released her other hand and stepped back. “Let’s get this over with.”
Cerys nodded again, tugging her armor into place, and followed as we climbed to the large meeting room on the guard tower’s third floor.
It was like stepping into a different world. Gone was the chaos, the mess, the disorder, and air of vicious thuggery. Instead, everything was clean, with weapons racked, armor polished, the stone
floors gleaming, and crisp salutes wherever I walked.
Black Wolves were drilling in the square outside the tower, and those within were caring for their gear. Sergeants spoke to small groups, reviewing reports on recent patrols, and the air seemed to hum with efficiency and purpose.
I couldn’t help but smile.
The meeting room was already full, the captains and their lieutenants having arrived early, and upon my entrance, they turned to snap out salutes. All of them stood straight, their gear polished and professional.
Amazing what a judicious application of king troll power could do.
I returned the salute and moved to the head of the table, where I took my seat. The others followed suit, and wherever I looked I saw earnest attention.
Gone was the skepticism, the reluctance, the cynical refusal to believe anything could be done. In its place was a hunger for future successes, greater rewards, and a desire to please their new commander.
“Gentlemen. I have just returned from the Star Chamber, where our successes have been celebrated and your bravery lauded. I’m pleased to say that Captain Drussander’s suggestion to turn the Noose into a city park was met with universal approval, and that an extensive swathe of the banks north of the Snake Head will be cleared of ruins and rebuilt with affordable housing for those forced out of their homes.”
Murmurs of agreement were heard, and Drussander couldn’t help but smile in pleasure.
“However, we cannot rest on our laurels. The enemy has been bloodied but not defeated. We’ve torn out the savage heart that was Kavark’s stronghold, but many more foes still wish us ill. Their days, however, are numbered. If we can bring the same discipline and ferocity to bear, they shan’t stand a chance.”
Nods all around. The tenor here, however, was profoundly different than that of the Star Chamber. Where the councilors had been mildly bewildered and increasingly pleased at being cast as the heroes, these military men knew first hand the dangers they would face, and the lives that would be lost. They were grim, focused, and prepared for battle.
“We are going to focus on two targets who control the docks, an Uncle Yestov and an Auntie Delilah. The nature of these new foes is profoundly different from that of Kavark. We will not be facing legions of armed enforcers defending nigh impregnable blocks of alleyways laced with traps, but rather striking at dozens of smaller targets simultaneously. Yestov and Delilah run extensive smuggling operations, with drug dealing, gambling, and prostitution on the side. Our challenge lies in dismantling these businesses before they can disappear. Thus we will not be sending in battalions, but rather strike teams with carefully designated targets.
Frowns, cautious nods.
Cerys moved forward at my nod to unroll a large map across the table. It was only a few years old, and thus already outdated, but she and Netherys had made corrections in red ink here and there, marking down key locations. Netherys moved around the table, handing out documents that had been penned only that afternoon.
“We have over twenty targets that we shall hit at the same time. They range from brothels to gambling dens to smuggling bases connected to the sewers. Our goal is the arrest of key figures, not the destruction of property or the killing of enforcers. Of course, our operation will be resisted, and there will be violence, but I want as little blood spilt as possible. Discretion is the key. I want dawn to break over the docks without smoke filling the sky or blood flowing into the Bay of Ruin. Thus each of you will be tasked with forming two teams of your most competent veterans, each twenty strong, to be led by sergeants against distinct targets.”
The captains were slowly scanning the lists penned on their parchments, and then peering at the map to see where each target was located. I gave them time to come to terms with the nature of the mission and sat back, fingers steepled.
We’d be striking at my home turf. I might have been an aspirant of the Sodden Hold, but I’d grown up on the docks, plied my trade as a gentlefinger there, and knew the ins and outs as if each madam, pit boss, and drug dealer had been a member of my own family.
Which, of course, they had been.
I’d been out of the running for a couple of years now, however, and when it came to criminal undertakings, that was a mighty long time. Still, the bases of operation hadn’t changed, and Cerys and Netherys had verified the locations and names as best they could. Perhaps one or two teams would strike at an abandoned basement or empty tavern back room, but for the most part, I knew we’d be hitting paydirt.
“The goal is to bring in those who control this web of corruption. We’re talking arrests, not murders. Which means each assault team will be backed by a couple of paddy wagons. Prisoners are to be taken to the holding cells on Execution Hill.”
A murmur of surprise.
“We planning on mass executions, sir?” asked Captain Rory.
“No. But I want to scare them a little before we put them to trial. I’m imagining most will be released once the true leaders are deposed. They might try to set up their own little operations again, but without the support of the Family, they’ll be small-time.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to simply jail the lot of them?” asked Drussander.
“They’re going to leave power vacuums in their wake,” I said. “And we all know that there are a thousand replacements just waiting to step into their shoes. So better we know who’s running things then have to figure it all out again. What’s more, we’re looking to pacify the docks. These people we’re arresting tonight are the very fabric of that society. They’re respected and feared and looked up to. If we rip the guts out of the neighborhood by putting them away permanently, we’ll turn the populace against us.”
“But sir, that’s what we did in the Noose.”
“And that’s the key difference. The Noose was effectively a war zone. This is a functioning part of the city and essential to the economy. We want it to remain productive. So the small fish will get to ultimately swim out of our net. It’s the big fish we want. With them removed, the small fry will get the message. A few nights in the Execution Hill cells will drive it home. And they’ll know we have their identities on file. That if they step out we’ll come down on them, hard.”
Dubious nods all around. Every man here was a hammer, and I was asking them to not treat the problem as a nail. No matter. That’s why I was in charge and they were tasked with executing the letter of my commands.
“Timing is essential,” I continued. “Word will no doubt be getting out already that we’re planning something, but I want our assault squads to hit before the docks realize they’re the target. This means we leave at the same time, move quickly, and hit hard. Even more importantly, we don’t tell the troops who their targets are until they arrive at the locations, which only you will know. That should help prevent moles from sending word ahead.”
“How much time do we have to put this together, sir?”
“Three hours. That should be just enough for you all to assemble your assault teams and return here by the Dusk Bell. I’ll have the carriages and wagons ready to roll by the time you do.”
Firm nods. I could see my plan slotting into place within their minds, expressions growing solid, resolve rising.
And to think what this assembled force had been like not five days ago.
“Excellent.” Time for a little insurance. “We’ll use the centrally located Iron Mermaid as a base of operations. Report back there once you have accomplished your task. We’ll keep a hundred militia in waiting there in case reinforcements are needed - simply send a messenger asking for help. In the meantime, you are not to speak of these plans to anybody until it is time to execute them. Keep the targets and methods secret. Understood?”
My voice thrummed with power, and the captains and lieutenants, already used to obeying, simply nodded their heads.
There. That should help maintain the surprise and shock value of our assault.
“In which case, dismissed. Be sure to be back before the Dusk Bell
.”
The captains arose, lieutenants stepping back to give them room, and filed out of the door, talking quietly amongst themselves.
“That went well,” said Netherys, flopping down into a vacated chair and propping a leg over a chair back beside her.
“Helps that Kellik can simply order them to do as they’re told,” said Cerys, leaning over the map to scrutinize its details. “Otherwise this would be impossible.”
“How do commanders of regular armies get anything done?” I wondered. “Even with my powers, this feels like threading a hundred needles all at once.”
“They don’t,” said Netherys drolly. “Large scale operations are the bane of every military leader. They take weeks to assemble and are usually pulled off haphazardly, with confusion and chaos all around. It’s why actual battles are so rare between the city-states. Nobody can get their shit sufficiently together to attack each other.”
“Except for this hereshen,” I said. I’d shared Tamara’s news with them earlier. “According to Tamara, her abilities will make it so that Olandipolis falls all by itself.”
“I don’t think that’s quite how she put it,” said Cerys.
“Still,” murmured Netherys. “There’s no denying the efficacy of her power. If it can truly spread like some form of contagion, she’ll have no need of logistics or strategy.”
“I heard talk along the docks about the attack,” said Cerys. “Folk who’d fled the coastal regions south of us brought word. I spoke with a few eyewitnesses.”
“And?” I asked.
“Disturbing. Confirms what Tamara said. The whole thing has an air of religious mania. One trader who watched the army cross the river he was boating down said the whole army was singing, roaring forth a White Sun hymn as they marched over the bridge. Another said that each night they form up in endless concentric circles around a high point upon which the Aurora stands and preaches to them about purity.”