Blood of Empire

by Brian McClellan

  “Probably both,” Ichtracia replied. “Sedial has collected every known scrap of information on the damned thing. If anyone knows how it works, it’s him. He spent years studying the Talunlica godstone.”

  “Talunlica?” Jiniel asked.

  “The Dynize capital,” Michel explained. “It’s where they have the second godstone.”

  Jiniel scowled at them both. “Did they kill orphans for that one, too?”

  “I… I don’t think so.” Even Ichtracia seemed uncertain. “They found it in the swamp and constructed a city around it. But there was no protective sorcery to break. They didn’t need blood to make it work.”

  “I’m not sure if that’s better or worse,” Michel said.

  “Neither am I.” Ichtracia’s uncertainty deepened. She seemed about to say something, but to think better of it. She glanced purposefully at Jiniel, and Michel made a note to ask her what she’d wanted to say the next time they were in private.

  Michel waved the envelope from Emerald. “This just confirms something we already suspected. But it does mean that we need to move faster. We need leverage on Ka-Sedial.”

  “What, to blackmail him?” Jiniel asked.

  “Even if we had anything, blackmail doesn’t work on Sedial,” Ichtracia said flatly. “I’ve seen it tried. He kills everyone suspected of involvement, and sorts out the corpses later.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” Michel tapped the envelope on the table thoughtfully. “I just mean anything we can use against him or the Dynize. You have your agents sweeping up any information they can get their hands on?”

  Jiniel nodded. “I’ve impressed upon all of them how important it is.”

  “And how important it is not to get caught?”

  “That, too.”

  “Good. It’s a fine balance to walk. The last thing we need is someone getting caught, dragged in, and tortured, and revealing our entire organization.”

  “Come now,” Jiniel said, smirking. “You taught me better than that. None of them know who they’re working for. There’s at least three layers between me and them.”

  “Good.”

  “Ah,” Jiniel said, raising her chin toward the door. Michel soon saw Devin-Mezi struggling through the press. The lieutenant finally reached their table and leaned over them.

  “I’ve got something to show you,” she said, indicating all three of them.

  “Here?”

  “No. The barkeep has a little room in the back. I had it emptied.”

  Michel and his companions pushed their way through the common room and into the back, where the barkeep did indeed have a private room. It was barely big enough for the four of them, dominated by a small dice table. Once they were all seated, Devin-Mezi produced a thick binder and tossed it down on the table.

  “What’s this?” Michel asked.

  “Intelligence,” Devin-Mezi said. “One of our people got hired as a maid for a townhouse near the capital building last week. Turns out the owner is a dragonman—too dangerous for us to keep her there for any length of time. This morning, we had her snatch up every important-looking document she could get her hands on and then made her disappear.”

  Michel raised both eyebrows at the binder. “Why didn’t I know about this?”

  “You’ve been busy,” Devin-Mezi said, jerking her head toward the commotion going on in the common room.

  “I authorized this,” Jiniel cut in. “Like she said, it was safer to do a smash-and-grab than to try and keep someone that close to a dragonman.”

  Michel glanced at Ichtracia, who shrugged. “They’re probably right. Dragonmen can be arrogant, but they pay more attention to their immediate surroundings. Far more likely to notice someone acting suspicious.”

  “Fair enough.” Michel undid the cord on the binder and let the contents spill out onto the table. He was immediately taken aback. This didn’t look like the contents of a warrior’s desk—this looked more like it had been pilfered from a general or politician. There were sealed envelopes, work orders, army missives, quartermaster reports. And that was just at a casual glance. “Wow,” he managed. “This is quite the coup.”

  Devin-Mezi gave them all a self-satisfied grin. “I thought so.”

  “You’re sure this came from a dragonman?” Ichtracia asked, leaning over the pile while Michel sorted through it.

  “I am.”

  “Do you know his name?”

  “Ji-Noren.”

  The name tickled the back of Michel’s memory, but Ichtracia’s reaction was far more telling. Her eyes grew wide and she drew in a sharp breath. “You’re kidding.”

  “I think that was his name?” Devin-Mezi said.

  “No, no. I believe you.” Ichtracia swore under her breath. “You just robbed Ka-Sedial’s right-hand man.”

  There was a moment of silence as that sank into the group. “Oh,” Devin-Mezi replied.

  “You don’t rob Ji-Noren,” Ichtracia continued. “He’s one of the most dangerous men in the empire, easily in the top five besides Ka-Sedial himself.” She looked at Devin-Mezi. “Whatever you think you’ve done to hide the woman who did this, do better. Get her out of the city. Far out of the city. No doubt he’s already discovered that these are missing and begun a search.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Pit, you’ve kicked a hornet’s nest.”

  Michel watched everyone for their reactions. Devin-Mezi immediately took on a defensive expression, while Jiniel scowled at the pile of papers. He stepped in before anyone could say anything else. “Okay, so we’ve robbed the wrong person. Devin-Mezi, I want you to clean this up. Do as Ichtracia just said and get anyone else who might have been seen around his townhouse out of the city.” He reached beneath the table and squeezed Ichtracia’s leg. She seemed to relax slightly. “We’re going to see what we can gain by this. We might have done something stupid by accident, but that doesn’t mean we can’t benefit.”

  Devin-Mezi waited for Jiniel to give a nod before leaving the room.

  “He’s that terrifying?” Michel asked Ichtracia.

  “I’m a Privileged, and I’m scared of him. That man you told me about, the enforcer for Chancellor Lindet?”

  “Fidelis Jes?”

  “Yes, him. Ji-Noren is like Sedial’s version of him. Not as bloodthirsty or egotistical, but equally effective.”

  “Okay. Well, we’ll deal with this. In this meantime…” Michel resumed going through the stack of intelligence. No use in worrying about mistakes already made.

  Ichtracia suddenly perked up, leaning forward again and searching through the stack with one hand. She fished a little bundle out from the middle: a number of envelopes, all bound together with a black ribbon. They were stamped with the three-star seal of the Dynize emperor. “I know these,” she said.

  Something about the way she said it struck Michel. “Those in particular?”

  “Yes.” She got a distant look on her face. “In Sedial’s study. I saw them by accident.”

  “Well, let’s see what the old man has to say,” Jiniel said, reaching for the bundle.

  Ichtracia snatched it away. “No. These are warded. Very subtle. I almost couldn’t sense it, but now that I’ve touched them, they could have any sort of nastiness stitched into them. Open one, and it could burn the envelope, or cripple you, or even alert the owner that they’ve been touched.”

  “Shit,” Michel said. “Can you do anything about that?”

  Ichtracia stared at the envelopes for a few moments. “The wards are very tightly wound. But given a day or two, I should be able to pick them apart.”

  “Any idea what’s in them?”

  She shook her head.

  “All right.” Michel returned his gaze to the rest of the intelligence. “Let’s sort this out. Ichtracia will unwind what she has there.” He pointed to Jiniel. “You and I will figure out what we can use. The rest leaves the city.”

  “To go where?”

  Michel sucked on his teeth. “We can send it to either
Lindet or Lady Flint.”

  “Lady Flint? The woman who killed the last Mama Palo?” Jiniel asked in disbelief.

  “Or Lindet.”

  “Those are terrible options.”

  “Maybe. But Lady Flint is a friend of Taniel and Ka-poel’s, and she’s actively fighting to get the godstones away from Sedial. And Lindet… well, Lindet has fought the Dynize to a standstill out west. She’s probably going to lose, but anything we can do to distract Sedial is a good thing right now.”

  “Why don’t we make a copy and send one to each of them?” Jiniel asked.

  “Fantastic idea.”

  “I was being sarcastic.”

  “I wasn’t. Get it done.” Michel glanced at the envelopes in Ichtracia’s hands. Something about them seemed off—so different from all the other missives and reports in the stack. Despite the official seal, they looked more like love letters than orders—thicker envelopes made out of heavy, expensive paper. He tilted his head, turning his ear toward the common room where one of Survivor’s young wards was talking about the horror of the Dynize citadel.

  “Whatever you have on your schedule for Survivor, double it,” he told Jiniel. “And get our printers going on the propaganda we’ve sketched out. I want everyone in Greenfire Depths to see a poster or handbill describing the evils of the Dynize by the end of the week. We have no idea when Sedial will use the godstone. We have to work as quickly as possible.”

  CHAPTER 42

  Styke was awakened by a commotion in the Etzi Household compound. He was soon sitting on the edge of the bed, his boz knife lying across his lap as he tried to get his head around the sounds of a hushed, but angry confrontation. He couldn’t make out any words, but there were multiple voices involved.

  He, Ka-poel, and Celine had been given a small room not far from the kitchens. It wasn’t a large space, and it suffered from being close to both the noise of the kitchens and the front gate, but it was private. He looked to the other bed, which lay perpendicular to his own against another wall, and listened for Celine’s quiet snores. She and Ka-poel were cuddled up together, but when he sought Ka-poel’s face, he saw the twin dots of the early-morning light reflecting off her eyes. She’d heard the ruckus, too.

  He guessed by that light that it was around five or five thirty. He rubbed his eyes, then found his ring and slipped it on, followed by his pants and jacket. The voices outside continued. It might have nothing to do with him, but…

  The thought ended with a gentle knock on the door. He got up to answer it, only to find Maetle waiting outside. She shifted from one foot to another. “You’re dressed?”

  “Heard a commotion.”

  “You’d better come,” she told him.

  Styke stuck his knife in his belt and followed her out into the compound. It was just two short turns before they reached the front gate. Two groups had already gathered—one consisted of Etzi, the night watchman, and four of his Household guards. The sight of the other group almost made Styke miss a step, and he swore quietly. It was Ji-Patten, along with six of the city guard.

  “You!” Ji-Patten snapped, taking two steps toward Styke.

  Styke entered the courtyard, but only just, leaning against the kitchen wall and cocking his head at Ji-Patten. He didn’t have to pretend a yawn. It came naturally, and he made no gesture to stifle it. “How’s your leg?”

  The dragonman’s nostrils flared, but he didn’t rise to the bait. “What did you say to your men the other day?” he demanded.

  Styke raised both eyebrows. “I asked them how they’d been treated.”

  “What else?”

  “That’s it.”

  “Liar.”

  Styke sniffed and turned to Etzi. “What is this?”

  Etzi frowned at the dragonman, then turned that frown on Styke. “They’re making serious accusations, Ben. I suggest you handle them respectfully.”

  “From him?” Styke jerked his chin at Ji-Patten.

  “From him,” Etzi confirmed, clearly reluctant to do so. “He is an agent of the emperor.”

  Styke yawned again and stood up straight, dropping a half bow toward Ji-Patten. “O mighty dragonman, what are you so angry about this morning?”

  “Ben!” Etzi hissed.

  “I will not allow you to goad me, foreigner,” Ji-Patten growled. “If the laws didn’t prevent it, I would teach you respect.”

  “You think you can do that with six men?” Styke asked, jerking his head toward the guardsmen behind Ji-Patten. He was beginning to get annoyed himself. “You want a bigger limp? Is that what you want?” He caught himself, remembering Celine’s words—remembering that he was a guest here. Gritting his teeth, he snapped his head back and forced down his own rising ire. Etzi’s scowl deepened, and Styke held up one hand to forestall whatever he was about to say.

  “I apologize,” Styke growled. “Not enough sleep, you see? What can I do for the Servant of the Emperor?”

  Etzi took a deep breath, nodding at Styke’s apology and then turning expectantly to the dragonman. Ji-Patten’s eyes remained narrowed, but he bit back his tone when he next spoke. “One of your men has escaped.”

  “Oh?” Styke asked, trying to sound surprised.

  “The Palo. During the changing of the guard at midnight. No one noticed until just an hour ago.”

  “Have you bothered to look for him?”

  “Of course. We’re scouring the city and widening our net. He will be found. What I want to know is what you said to him the other day.”

  “I already told you,” Styke insisted. “I inquired whether they were being treated well. Nothing more. I didn’t have time to before your guards hustled me out.”

  “If you had nothing to do with this, then you must help us find him,” Ji-Patten said. “He must be returned to his cell until this… suit of yours has been resolved.” His eyes darted briefly to Etzi.

  “What do you expect me to do?” Styke demanded. “Ride through the city calling his name? Neither of us knows anything about this place. I don’t know why he escaped—certainly not on my orders—but he should be easy enough to find.” Styke narrowed his eyes. “How do I know that you haven’t snatched him yourself?”

  Ji-Patten looked taken aback.

  Styke pushed on. “You’ve already shown that you have no problem murdering an old woman in a nighttime ambush. What’s to say you didn’t snatch one of my men to take him off for questioning?” Styke feared that perhaps he was right. What if Sedial’s men had snatched Jackal before he was able to escape, and had taken him away to be questioned by bone-eyes? He’d have to check with Ka-poel to see if she was protecting Jackal.

  “That’s preposterous,” Ji-Patten objected. It was clear he wasn’t used to being confronted in such a manner. As a dragonman, he probably expected everyone to bow and scrape—even the Household heads.

  “It better be,” Styke said. “I protect my men. You find him—for his own safety—or you’ll have me to answer to.” Despite his fears, he grinned inwardly. Too bad Celine couldn’t see him now. Terrible actor—bah.

  Ji-Patten looked from Styke to Etzi and then back at Styke. “Damn you both. There will be consequences for this.” He pointed a finger at Styke. “The first is this: As an agent of the emperor, I bar you from seeing the foreign prisoners until this suit is over.” He whirled suddenly and strode out through the open gate, heading toward the horses waiting at the other end of the long causeway. Styke noticed that his limp was less pronounced, as if it was healing quickly, and he thought of the sorcery that had kept Orz from dying due to a punctured lung. If they did end up fighting, that wound would not give Styke as much of an advantage as he wanted.

  The compound gate was soon closed, and Etzi ran a hand across his face. He was clearly exhausted, his cheeks flushed, bags beneath his eyes, and hair mussed. He took several long breaths before turning to Styke. “What…,” he began, then held up a hand. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.” He stepped forward and said in a voice low enough not t
o be overheard by his guardsmen. “One of your horses went missing. Two hours ago. The boy watching the stables said that it just disappeared. Do you know anything about that?”

  “No,” Styke answered. How Jackal had managed to slip into the stables and out again on a warhorse without waking anyone up was beyond him.

  “Good.” Etzi let out a shaky breath. “I hope whatever you’re doing is worth not speaking to your men again. This will make my task more difficult.”

  “I’m not doing anything,” Styke said. The words came out dull and heavy. Not very convincing.

  “Of course not,” Etzi said, waving the subject off. “I’m going back to bed. I suggest you do the same.”

  Styke followed Etzi’s suggestion, returning to the guest room, where he found both Ka-poel and Celine sitting up in bed. He removed his shirt and sat down on his own, yawning. “Do you have anything on that Ji-Patten?” he asked Ka-poel.

  She shook her head and gestured. Dragonmen are more cautious about not leaving behind detritus for bone-eyes. Styke didn’t need Celine to translate.

  “Makes sense. Well, if you get the opportunity don’t hesitate. That bastard is starting to annoy me.”

  Ka-poel pressed her lips into a hard line. I am spread thin.

  “So you can’t help?”

  I’ll do what I can. But a dragonman is harder because of the sorcery that gives him his strength.

  “How about my Lancers?” Styke asked. “If they are questioned by a bone-eye, can you keep them from being compelled to answer?”

  That tight-lipped expression turned up into a wicked little smile. They’ve already tried.

  “And you didn’t tell me?” Styke took in a sharp breath and swore.

  They were… unsuccessful. And quite baffled as to why.

  Styke frowned. “Good. Wait. Could this tip your hand to Ka-Sedial? He doesn’t know you’re here, but if he finds out…”

  I understand. I’m being very cautious.