Emperor of Shadows

by Mike Truk

  “Fuck.” I heaved a shuddering breath, turning to Pony. “Help me get her out of here?”

  Pony nodded and lowered a foot into the barge, which immediately began to sink to the water’s line.

  “Wait, hold on, I got this.” I moved alongside the woman, crouched, and lifted the end by her head. With careful pivoting and dragging, I brought her within arm’s reach of Pony.

  He reached down and lifted her easily, cradling her in both arms.

  “Let’s get her somewhere safe where we can help her,” I said. “Remove that helm. See… see what she even wants.”

  Pony grunted.

  “Yeah, we’ll take her to Tamara. She’s probably our best bet at helping her out. Let’s head up top, get her taken care of, and help Rory clean up.”

  Pony grunted then pointed at me.

  “What? Oh. Right.” My skin was still healing over my flayed musculature. “Clothing. Hmm.”

  Not wanting to pull bloodied and torn clothing from a corpse, I cast around and found that one of the chests was filled with jewel-encrusted outfits fit for a king. A bit flouncy, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. A minute later I was clad in a cloth-of-gold tunic, resplendent crimson wool leggings, and calf-skin boots whose tip extended six inches past my toes.

  A belt of emeralds clasped the whole of it together at my waist, and taking up the shimmery silver blade, I propped it on my shoulder, turning back to Pony. “What do you think?”

  He looked me up and down and then gave an approving nod.

  I grinned bleakly. “You’re a great liar. Now come on. Time to mop up the dregs.”

  And so saying, I stepped over Yestov’s diminished form, and lead the way toward the private staircase that climbed to the former Uncle’s office.

  * * *

  The rest, as I anticipated, was easy. Yestov had never planned an armed resistance, and thus what few security forces he’d had in place had been intent on a delaying action than actually fighting my Black Wolves to a standstill. There’d been about three minutes of hard fighting, and then the surviving guards had thrown down their weapons and surrendered.

  Which left the vast Last Paradise to lockdown and search. I ordered the guests released, the senior staff arrested, and the premises locked down. Compared to clearing the Noose, however, this building was a cinch; no deadly traps around every corner and very little in the way of hidden rooms and compartments.

  I left Lieutenant Rory in charge of collecting the wealth and important documents, loaded the seer onto a wagon to be sent to Tamara whom I thought stood the best chance of helping her out, and set off for the Perfumed Cloud to connect with the others.

  The docks were in an uproar, but I was proud to see that my forces were behaving in an orderly manner, something that still beggared the mind. The guards of old would have taken advantage of such an operation to loot indiscriminately, but now the few regiments I glimpsed were marching with intent in neat ranks toward their various destinations, torches held aloft, looking serious and dangerous.

  Excellent.

  Crowds were gathered on every street corner, shouts and screams echoing from down alleyways, people running to and for with news, and I was tempted to slip down from the wagon to blend in and see what the word was.

  But it was too simple to guess. With a dozen key Family locations taken down simultaneously, the economy and life of the docks had been upended. If anything, the lack of chaos, burning, and rampant murder in the streets was bewildering the people even further. This wasn’t how Port Gloom worked. This wasn’t the city they knew, that they had grown up in, on whose streets they’d learned to survive.

  The old rules, the ancient paradigm, was being torn down before their eyes. The Family, once untouchable, was being destroyed. The guard, once louche afterthoughts used indirectly by the Family as a blunt instrument to further its ends, was now operating professionally and achieving their goals.

  I could only imagine the confusion, the shock.

  Pony and I were recognized as we rumbled down the street in our cart, and a crowd was soon following us, some cheering the Count of Manticora and his war troll, but most watching with doubtful fear.

  I didn’t blame them. I’d risen to fame on a populist tide, but how would I act now that I was achieving my aims? Would I turn on them as so many others had, my promises prove false, my altruism giving way to rank greed?

  “You behind all this, magistrate?” called a lanky costermonger, a tray covered in ice and oysters hanging from around his neck.

  “You see me waving a sword?” I called back. “It’s the Port Gloom guard that’s responsible.”

  A wave of raucous laughter. Guess the guards’ reputation hadn’t improved that much.

  I could see others keeping pace, wanting to toss their questions at me, but not knowing what to ask. But their eyes were alive with curiosity, with doubt, with hope, and that was enough for me.

  Change was most definitely afoot.

  Pony sat in the back, huge feet hanging off the rear of the wagon, and more than one kid ran up to throw fruit or kabobs of grilled meat onto his lap.

  At first, I’d thought they were throwing the food at him, but soon realized they were making a game of feeding him instead.

  Pony didn’t seem to mind. Everything that landed in his lap he popped into his maw and chewed placidly into oblivion.

  The Perfume Cloud was surrounded by a large crowd, and I quickly realized why: the rarefied ladies of the night who worked its silken halls were being led out and into the waiting paddy wagons.

  Normally I’d have been forced to ditch my cart to get through, but thanks to my king troll powers, my commands that people move aside were actually obeyed. We rolled through the cordon of guards keeping the crowd back, and there I stopped, pulling on the reins, to watch the rare flowers of the Cloud be escorted out.

  By the Hanged God’s ever-questing cock, I’d spent most of my youth dreaming of meeting these ladies in person, of making a sufficiently large score to pay for a night in the Perfume’s rooms. Just as we’d spent endless nights dreaming of the endless oceans of gold supposedly held beneath the Paradise, we’d spent even more telling each other authoritatively what manner of women worked at the Cloud.

  Elven princesses. Dark elf dominatrixes. The greatest beauties from across Khansalon. The daughters of noblemen who’d fallen on hard times, the roses who grew in the muck and the mire, plucked by the Family to serve in the Cloud till they earned enough gold to retire.

  And now here they were. And I found that, like most dreams of my youth, the reality was very different from what I’d expected.

  The women were beautiful. Clad in silks and gowns, they climbed into the paddy wagon with a mixture of fear, resignation, and sullen anger. But they weren’t intoxicating visions of sensual decadence, but flesh and blood women; I felt pity for them and little more.

  Cerys emerged from the entrance, caught sight of me, and walked over. “Everything taken care of at the Paradise?”

  “We found another seer.” I shook my head in disgust. “I’ve had her sent to Tamara. She was completely unresponsive. That said, Rory’s probably already run out of sacks in which to carry the gold. Delilah?”

  “Went down fighting. Surprisingly tough, but there were simply too many of us for her to handle. Couple of Gloom Knights, but otherwise no real defenses.”

  “Yestov was primed to run. Was getting into an underground barge even as we reached him. Delilah?”

  “Just another night at the Cloud.” Cerys climbed up to sit beside me. “I think she didn’t believe we’d come for her. Or that the Family could be truly challenged. There was something pathetic to how she kept ordering us out. Like she just couldn’t understand that the Family was no more.”

  “And the women?” I nodded toward the last of the prostitutes coming out the door. “I thought we were just arresting the leadership.”

  “They’re not under arrest,” said Cerys pensively. “Though I didn’t give
them a choice. We’re going to take them to Thorne Manor, give them the night there, then I’ll talk with each one, help them decide what comes next.”

  “We’re moving the entire Perfumed Cloud to my house for the night?” I raised an eyebrow at her. “I knew there was a reason you were my favorite.”

  Cerys scowled at me. “Not on your life. Most of these women were held here against their will. They don’t have the funds to survive on the streets. We’ve confiscated a fortune from Delilah’s coffers. I mean to remunerate them, help them start new lives, either here in Port Gloom or wherever they want to go.” She frowned at the last of the paddy wagons as its doors were closed. “Any help I can give them I will.”

  I nodded soberly. Of course. Not only was her decision the morally right thing to do, but Cerys had lost her sister to predatory men, had her stolen away and held against her will. The half-troll, Elias, had blackmailed Cerys into doing his bidding, promising her sister’s eventual freedom in exchange only to reveal she’d died in captivity long ago.

  I reached out and took Cerys’ hand in mine. “Cassandra’d approve.”

  Cerys sniffed and sat up a little straighter. “She would have, actually. She was much nicer than I was.”

  “That I find hard to believe.”

  We sat in silence as the paddy wagons pulled away, one by one, five in all, and with their departure, the gathered crowd seemed to deflate, slowly beginning to melt away.

  “We’ve come a long way since you chased me across the Garden District’s rooftops,” I said, squeezing her hand.

  She gave me a rueful smile. “That seems a lifetime ago.”

  “Who’d have thought we’d come so far?” I bumped my shoulder against hers. “We’ve a chance to really make things better, Cerys. For women like them, like Cassandra. Finish tearing down Imogen’s Web. Put an end to all this abuse.”

  She frowned.

  “What?”

  “I’m thinking of Aurora. What we did to her.”

  “Yeah.” I struggled with the words, wanting to phrase it just right. “But… what happened to her. It was an accident. I didn’t know this was even possible.”

  “Does it matter?” She looked sidelong at me. “The consequence is the same. A good woman was murdered for our goals. A noble, spiritual, just woman. And now the world is suffering for our desires.”

  I didn’t know what to say. She didn’t even say it unkindly. Just said the facts.

  “We’re doing what we can,” I said at last. “And I swear that I’ll do everything I can to deal with Aurora, to repay our debt to her, if that’s in any way possible.”

  “I know,” said Cerys, bumping her shoulder against mine. “I know you will. I just… this just confirms my suspicions. That the world is just a… naturally bad place. That there will always be those looking to take advantage of the weak, the poor. That even the best of us, like an Exemplar of the White Flame, will get screwed in the end.”

  “You don’t think we can make a difference?”

  “I do. But it’s like throwing a pebble into a pond. In the moment, you make ripples. But soon after those ripples fade away, and everything returns to the way it was.”

  “We’re not throwing pebbles here.”

  She snorted. “Fine. Rocks.”

  “Boulders, more like.” I looked up at the Cloud’s windows, saw the silhouettes of the guards working within. “But I know what you mean. There’s got to be a way, though. We’ve finally got the power to do what we want. We just need to be smart about using it.”

  Cerys nodded slowly. “But what’s the best way to change a city? Sure, we can dismantle the Family. We can take control of the Star Chamber. But then what? Command every judge, councilor, and provost to act in the people’s best interests forever?”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  “But the devil’s in the details. How do we make sure they all agree with our definition of what’s good for the people? I’ve met nobility that genuinely believes a peasant should be poor and disempowered for the good of society. That it would be fundamentally evil to try to change the way things are.”

  “Then perhaps we write out a document that clearly sets forth our goals and principles, have everyone read it, and command them to agree with it.”

  Cerys made a face. “That sounds equal parts impractical and problematic.”

  “Why?”

  She sighed. “I don’t know. Coercing so many people feels wrong. I’ve been thinking about the systems in place. The way our society works. If we can find a way to incentivize people to behave better, create pressures that lead to a fairer society, then we wouldn’t need to command every individual and police them thereafter.”

  I tapped my lips. “Create new systems.”

  “Yes. I was talking with Pogo the other night. He was explaining how the economy works, and it got me thinking. That we need to operate on that level, not down here on the streets, telling each sergeant and magistrate what to do.”

  “I’ll speak to Pogo then,” I said. “Sounds interesting.”

  “You will?” Cerys glanced sidelong at me. “That’s great.”

  “What, you thought I’d refuse?”

  She shrugged a shoulder. “No. But I can only imagine the appeal of commanding people in person. Like you’ve been doing with the guard. I was worried you’d find a more theoretical approach less satisfying.”

  “We’re not done with the in-person approach just yet,” I said. “But I like where you’re going with this. Tamara raised concerns as well. About the morality of removing people’s free will, even if we’re commanding them to do good. So yes. Let’s talk to Pogo. If anybody can imagine a new economic system, I’m sure it’s him.”

  Cerys leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. “Yes. And thank you.”

  I smiled. “For what?”

  “For being you.” Her smile was uncomplicated, glad, and some emotion swept over her, causing her to blush slightly and her eyes to glimmer. “Despite everything, despite Aurora, I’d not want anyone else to rule Port Gloom with the iron fist of a king troll.”

  I laughed. “You flirting? Because that’s some weird flirting if so.”

  “I’m just… glad. That we’ve survived. That we have a chance of making a difference. That we have that chance together. To put things right. To pay for our mistakes.”

  “Me too,” I said, leaned in closer. “And something tells me we’re just getting started.”

  “Mmm,” she murmured, moving in so that our lips were nearly touching. “That sounds good to me.”

  And like that desire seized me by the throat, and I wanted nothing more than to be alone with her. “I think the Iron Mermaid can wait.”

  She kissed me gently, hesitated, then pulled back. “I’m not so sure.”

  I kissed her more insistently. “You don’t think they can spare us for another ten minutes?”

  “That’s the problem,” she sighed, leaning in close again. “You try and satisfy me in just ten minutes, I’ll stab you in the groin.”

  I laughed. “Fifteen, then?”

  Cerys jerked back and thwapped me across the shoulder. “Cad!”

  “There’s got to be some benefit to being the ruler of the city,” I said, rubbing my nose gently across her cheek. “If I can’t ask my men to wait for an hour or so, then who’s really in charge?”

  Cerys exhaled softly. “That would be… irresponsible, and… display… poor management…”

  I took her earlobe between my lips, biting it gently.

  “Oh.” She was melting into me. “That’s… persuasive.”

  “Come on,” I said, slipping off the seat to drop to the cobblestones. “Follow me.”

  “What? Where?” But she came right after, lithe and agile, dropping alongside me as silently as a shadow. “You’re not going to do me in a filthy alleyway, are you?”

  I laughed as I took her hand and pulled her along. “I can’t tell if you’d like that or not?”

  Cerys’
s face flushed. She bit her lip as she followed me across the street, her arm outstretched, hand in mine.

  I returned salutes as we entered the Perfumed Cloud’s front door, the archway a glorious confection of painted clouds and impossibly endowed women.

  “Wait, what?” Cerys pulled me to a stop just within the door. “The Perfumed Cloud? You’re going to seduce me in here?”

  I walked backward, pulling her to follow me again. “A childhood dream. I always wanted to fuck the most beautiful woman in the world within these walls.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “And I’m to be that woman?”

  With a hard jerk, I pulled her into my arms, holding her fast and pinning her to my body. Looking down into her upturned face, I drank in the sight of her. “You know you are.”

  I kissed her. Hard. A searching, dominating kiss, owning her, possessing her, her sweet lips parting so that our tongues could touch, could slide over each other.

  When I broke the kiss she simply stood there for a moment, eyes half-closed, face still upturned, as if lost in a dream. Her eyes fluttered; she licked her lips pensively, then grinned.

  “Very well,” she said, voice husky. “Find us a room. Let’s see how much punishment your pelvic cradle can take.”

  I laughed and plunged into the Cloud, pulling her along. Through parlors done in silks and strewn with cushions, past interior fountains complete with jeweled fish, up ivory staircases, the scents sweet and alluring, everything meant to arouse the senses.

  The place was a wonder. Art was everywhere, almost all of it erotic but understated, weirdly elegant and arousing. I’d no time to appreciate the sights. I wanted a door I could close between the world and Cerys and myself.

  Down a broad hall we strode, the floor thickly carpeted, the lights subtle and casting rich yellowed tones over everything, to a doorway which revealed a broad chamber.

  Its far wall was a sweeping balcony that looked out over a primordial landscape, a huge expanse of jungle to one side, a rocky plain on the other, volcanoes in the background, and lava gouting out into the night sky.

  We both stopped, stared, then together wandered inside, the door closing behind us. Across the layered rugs, past the huge bed, and out onto the balcony.