The grumbling grew louder. Shouts of agreement rose from the crowd. Michel looked around nervously and took a few steps back. The tension was thick enough to chew on, and it wouldn’t be long before some damned fools tried to vent their anger on the watching Dynize soldiers. He swore under his breath, but the word caught in his throat as someone suddenly clutched him by the wrist.
He spun, his other hand digging into his pocket for his knuckledusters, only to find himself face-to-face with Tenik. His eyes darted around, looking for some sign of an ambush, but it quickly became apparent that Tenik was alone. It was also apparent, for anyone who looked under the hat that Tenik had pulled down over his face, that he was a Dynize in a sea of angry Palo.
“What are you doing here?” Michel asked, taking a step back to stand beside Tenik.
“Looking for you.” Tenik replied in Adran but spoke in a low voice, clearly conscious of his accent. He let go of Michel’s wrist and leaned heavily on his cane.
“This is not a good place for you,” Michel warned.
“I’m just figuring that out. I feel like we’re on the edge of a damned riot. Is this your doing?”
“In part. But I don’t have any control of it anymore.” Someone nearby scowled at Tenik. Michel took him by the shoulder and steered him through the crowd. “Keep moving. We don’t want anyone to notice what you are. Pit, if you need to talk, we probably should get out of here.”
“We definitely should get out of here.”
“Palo making you nervous?” Michel asked lightly.
“Yes. And Sedial has sent four hundred cudgel-armed thugs to disperse the crowd. It’s going to get really bad really fast. If I hadn’t found you just now, I would have left myself.”
“Shit.” Michel turned, steering them back toward the alley he’d picked out as his escape route earlier. The crowd cheered at the speaker, drowning out whatever it was that Tenik said next. It took them a couple of minutes, but they soon broke through the marchers and headed into the alley. They were just turning the corner when Michel caught sight of a greater number of Dynize soldiers arriving on horseback at the other end of the square. “Just in time,” he muttered.
Michel and Tenik emerged onto the next street. It was still crowded here, with people trying to hear what was going on in the square, but they were able to walk without shoving their way through the press. He heard a loud voice echoing behind him, as if amplified by sorcery, telling the crowd to disperse. An angry roar answered it.
“Faster,” Michel said, offering Tenik his arm. Tenik took it and limped along quickly as they made their escape. The angry shouts of the crowd were soon interspersed with screams. A ripple of fear went down the street. A few people began running toward the sounds. More began running away.
They managed to find a safe place out of the way in a burned-out building on the rim of Greenfire Depths. Tenik sank down to the ground, breathing heavily, one hand on his damaged leg and a grimace on his face. Michel listened to the distant sounds of the chaos. No gunshots so far. That was good, at least. “The damned fools.”
“Who? The people protesting or the ones who showed up to deal with it?”
Michel looked down at Tenik and said, “Both. The protesters should have held their march down in the Depths, where they’d be less likely to be interfered with. And the Dynize…” Michel spat. “They’re just going to make things worse.”
“What do you expect them to do?” Tenik asked. The question came across as petulant. The protest had clearly shaken him, even if he hadn’t already been inclined to side with his countrymen.
Michel didn’t answer the question. He offered Tenik a hand, pulling him back to his feet. “This rumor going around about the street children and blood sacrifices. Is it true?” Tenik asked.
“What do you think?” Michel glanced at his friend sidelong.
Tenik shifted uncomfortably from his good leg to his bad one and back again. “I can’t say I’d be surprised.”
“It’s true.”
“You’re sure?”
Michel nodded.
Tenik rambled off a number of curses in Dynize. “How does Sedial hope to contain this? The arrogant piece of shit, he…” His voice began to rise, but he seemed to catch himself. He turned to Michel. “Once again, the Yaret Household is in your debt.”
Michel frowned. “In what way?”
“The very night that you warned us about the purge orders, they came for Yaret.”
“An assassination attempt?”
“A squad of six of them. We had already tripled our guard, and yet they still killed nine of us and wounded that number again. Yaret barely escaped with his life.” Tenik bit his lip so hard that it drew blood. “Sedial tried to kill my master, Michel! If you hadn’t warned us, he would have succeeded. If he had sent a couple of dragonmen, my entire Household would already be dead.”
Michel felt the thrill of Tenik’s anger and tried not to let himself get swept up in it. “You’re sure they were Sedial’s men?”
“We identified two of them. More than enough to be certain.”
“I thought the whole point of the purge order was so he could legally sic his soldiers on you.”
Tenik winced. “It is. But those purge orders were specifically prepared by the emperor. Your theft of them meant that Sedial couldn’t just march the army into the city. So he resorted to assassins, and he moved up his timeline. No doubt fearful that the orders might end up in someone else’s hands.” Tenik took an unsteady breath. “If not for your interference, we would all be dead.”
“You can thank a light-fingered maid,” Michel replied. He ran his hands through his hair and began to pace. The roar of an angry crowd had died down now, replaced by more screaming. Even many blocks away, he could see people rushing back and forth out in the street.
“Sedial’s trying not to kill anyone,” Tenik explained, gesturing back toward the square. “He’s not a fool. He’s hoping that a few hundred beatings might send the message for the Palo not to ask too many questions.”
Michel wondered if it would work. Perhaps. The Palo had been cowed before by Kressians, and then by Lindet. They could be cowed again. But they’d had a taste of real freedom under the Dynize. He wondered if they’d let that go.
“They’re going to try again.”
Michel turned his attention back to Tenik. “The assassins?”
“Doubtlessly. Sedial does not give up, and he’s already moving forward. Three major Household heads have been found dead in the last three days. One of the killings was definitely an assassination. The other two were made up to look like a mugging and an accident, respectively.”
“Do your people believe it?”
“Some of them,” Tenik admitted. “Some of Sedial’s allies will no doubt be in on it. There are plenty of good people on his side—people who’d never back him if they knew for certain what he was up to—but they also believe anything he says. A lot of bodies would have to pile up before they believed that this was really a purge.”
“So they’re as bad as any one of his other allies.”
“For now, yes. Yaret is reaching out quietly, trying to rally some opposition and inject doubt into the more honorable members of Sedial’s inner circle. I don’t know if it will help.” Tenik leaned over to rub his leg and wound up bent over, limp, his eyes shut. Michel could see the hopelessness in Tenik’s body language: He probably believed he was already dead.
“Is there really nothing Yaret can do to defend himself?”
“If Sedial wants us dead, he will have us dead,” Tenik answered. “That doesn’t mean we won’t fight back, but…” He trailed off for a moment. “Yaret’s cousin is one of our most celebrated generals. She’s in charge of a field army up north, chasing after Lady Flint. We’ve sent word to her about the assassination attempt. She’s our closest ally, but I’m not sure if there’s anything she can do to help us short of marching her entire army down here to demand that Sedial stop the purge. And I don’t t
hink she’s going to do that.”
“What if I can buy you more time?” Michel asked, a thought beginning to form in his head.
Tenik looked up sharply. “How?”
“I’m not completely sure. But I might be able to hide you—to give you time to negotiate, or rally Sedial’s enemies, or just wait out the purge until you can escape to Yaret’s cousin.”
Tenik snorted. “That’s impossible. You’d have to hide several hundred immediate Household members. Maybe more, if we pull some of our military officers out of the infantry. The rest are too low-ranking to require protection—Sedial won’t bother assassinating them—but hundreds of people. Where could you possibly put us?”
Michel stifled a smile. Tenik was in such deep despair that he couldn’t see the answer hiding literally right under his nose. “Are the Yaret Household still the only ones who have all the maps of the catacombs?”
“What maps you didn’t steal when you—” A wave of shock swept across Tenik’s face, followed by a gasp of relief. “Damn you, Michel. How the pit did I not see that?” He stood up straight, like he’d been animated by some new strength. “Those catacombs are endless. We could disappear without Sedial even noticing, and even if he did, we could hold out in there for weeks. He’d have to send Privileged in to find us, and he doesn’t have any to spare.” He began to pace, leaning heavily on his cane, talking quickly. “We’d need to pack up our valuables. Take food, bedding, lanterns, rope. Spread everyone out to avoid the bad air. It’ll take planning and logistics, but we could do it. There’s an entrance not far from the Household. We could all disappear within days.”
“I can lend a little help for the logistics,” Michel offered, though he knew that Jiniel would slap him if she heard him say so. The Sons of the Red Hand already had way too much work for their existing plans. They couldn’t afford to take in hundreds of strays. But he was already working through the argument he’d give to her lieutenants: allies among the Dynize. A bona fide source of intelligence, straight from the Minister of Scrolls. Adding kindling to a budding Dynize civil war.
And, it would let him save some friends that he desperately wanted to help.
He pulled out a scrap of paper and a nub of pencil. “Send two of your most trusted people to this address,” he said, scribbling. “We can coordinate getting your people off the streets and well hidden. We might even put some of them in the Depths. I’ll see what we can spare in supplies.”
Tenik took the paper, but a sudden reservation crossed his face.
“What is it?” Michel asked.
“You… you don’t have to do this.”
“I know.”
“But you’re doing it anyway. I didn’t ask for help. Yaret sent me to do so, and I was getting around to it, but I hadn’t actually asked.”
“I don’t need to make you ask,” Michel said reassuringly. He reached out, patting Tenik on the shoulder. “Like I told you before. I’m a spy, not a monster.”
“But…”
“You were—you are—my friend, Tenik. Yaret was, for a small moment, my master, and a good one. I don’t need to abandon that.”
Tenik stared at the scrap of paper, then finally met Michel’s gaze. “Thank you.”
“It’s not often I have things I can offer other people,” Michel said. “It’s kind of nice to be able to help.”
Tenik suddenly pulled him into an embrace, squeezing him hard before hurrying back toward the street and falling into the flow of the crowd. Michel stood still for a few minutes, listening to the sounds of the city. The screaming had all but died down now. He could still hear the occasional rough shout of a soldier. Somewhere nearby, a window shattered. “How long have you been standing there?” he asked.
Ichtracia emerged from the shadows of a brick building just around the corner from where Tenik had been standing. She pursed her lips and looked toward the street. “I followed the two of you from the protest.”
“And you didn’t want to announce yourself?” Michel should have been mad, but he was mostly bemused. He was actually a little proud of her—staying silent, listening in on a conversation, sneaking about; she was becoming a better spy every day.
“I was curious what you’d talk about. Also I wanted to make sure that Tenik wasn’t trying to lead you into some kind of trap. Do you trust him?”
“I do,” Michel replied. “But I’m also going to check with Emerald and try to verify his claims. The last thing I need is to be suckered into helping them only to find out that Yaret or Tenik have been turned into puppets by Sedial.”
“Be careful.”
“I will,” Michel promised. “Thank you for watching out for me again.”
She smirked at him. “How did you know I was around the corner?”
“I could see your shadow.”
She looked back to her hiding spot and rolled her eyes. “Damn it. I thought I’d done so well, too. How did you know it was me and not someone else?”
“You have a, uh, particular shape. Even your shadow.”
Ichtracia snorted. “Right. I’ll have to remember that. You think that protest has died down?”
“Sounds like Sedial’s thugs are still chasing people off. But I’m guessing we’re far enough away that we’ll be fine.”
“Good.” She fiddled with her vest pockets where she kept her hidden Privileged gloves. “Let’s go find something to eat. Spycraft makes me hungry.”
CHAPTER 51
Vlora was more than a little surprised to get a visit from Delia Snowbound in the middle of the afternoon. It was the third day since they had arrived at the Hadshaw River and crushed the Dynize there, and Vlora was hiding from the worst of the afternoon heat in her tent by the river. Tamas’s journal lay open beside her, forgotten in a flurry of reports and her own strategic planning. Norrine announced Delia, and Vlora, startled by the suddenness of it, forgot to pretend that she wasn’t around.
Delia swept the tent flap aside and stepped in, turning her head quickly to take in Vlora’s residence as if inspecting the lair of some great beast. She gave Vlora a brisk nod and clasped her hands behind her back, standing formally just inside the flap.
Vlora blinked at her, pulling her own thoughts out of her plans and then clearing away several of her maps and notes from her spare chair. “Lady Snowbound. This is unexpected. Please have a seat.”
Delia glanced at the chair as if it were a scorpion. She gave Vlora a grimace that was probably supposed to be a smile, then crossed the tent in a few overly brisk steps and sank into the offered seat. She put her hands on her knees, raised her chin, and looked around at everything except at Vlora herself.
Vlora took a deep breath. “What can I do for you?”
“Lady Flint. I wanted to let you know how the negotiations are going.”
“Oh?” Vlora had last gotten an update from Sabastenien yesterday morning. Unless she was mistaken, Delia had more meetings this morning and she expected to hear Sabastenien’s opinion of them later tonight. She didn’t bother to cut Delia off, though. It would be interesting to hear her version of events.
“You’ve put me in quite the pickle.”
Vlora pursed her lips and braced herself for a lecture.
Delia continued. “We have three armies bearing down on us, and they have finally received orders from Landfall on how to deal with us. While they do have room to negotiate, it seems the three generals are in agreement that they don’t actually need to negotiate. They feel their armies are more than enough to deal with our one. They’d rather try their luck at a battle than give up anything.”
“That does sound like the Dynize I’ve gotten used to dealing with.”
“That’s why I’m here.” Delia took a deep breath, looking around nervously again before finally seeming to relax into her seat with a frustrated sigh. “We need to talk strategy. Whatever hate exists between us needs to be set aside so we can discuss our situation frankly.”
“I’m not the one with all the hate.” The
words slipped out before Vlora could rethink them.
“Because it wasn’t your family who was slaughtered,” Delia snapped. She visibly wrestled control of herself and her tone returned to normal. “Yes, I hate you. I hate your family. I hate everyone who helped Tamas in his bloody coup. But I’m not a fool. We are in a dire situation and I need your help resolving it.”
Vlora didn’t let herself rise to the bait. Tamas is dead, she wanted to say. Besides, your parents were a part of the old system that had to die. Instead, she plastered a neutral expression on her face. “Go on.”
“As I said, the Dynize do not believe they need to negotiate. I have given them generous terms and reminded them that furthering this conflict increases the chances of the Nine getting involved. They don’t seem to be all that worried about the latter—it would take the better part of a year for anyone to raise an army and then sail it here, after all, and the Dynize seem to think all of this will be wrapped up by then.”
“What do you think?” Vlora asked.
“I think they’re mad. Whatever crimes were committed by the general staff and Magus Borbador to get us involved… well, those will be dealt with later. And whatever I think about the Adran Army’s role in the coup, you are still the best in the world. They should be treading lightly around us. Instead they are preparing to attack.”
Vlora stiffened. Her last report put all three of the Dynize armies holding about five miles away from the river, arrayed in a semicircle. She had a few companies down to their south to keep the Dynize from fording the river for a flanking action, but otherwise there’d been no conflict. “You’re sure?”
“I’m dealing with generals right now instead of politicians, and they are not good at concealing their intentions. If they wanted a deal, they’d be negotiating more aggressively. But they aren’t.”
“What, exactly, are they asking for?”
Delia pursed her lips. “They want your head, for starters.”
“I see.” Vlora sighed. This again. Sedial’s petty idiocy.
“As much as I’d enjoy handing it over, I have neither the authority to do such a thing nor, in the end, would I. You are an Adran citizen.”
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