Hollow Empire

by Sam Hawke

  “Some of our bakers are very capable, you know.” It wasn’t the time for bad jokes, but I’d felt too much, I’d come out the other side. It was oddly freeing.

  “And the man seems to have been incapacitated with stingbark to the face,” she continued, “which you might know is a substance that causes extremely painful burning to the skin. We found a small paper packet nearby which contained traces of the stuff.” She cleared her throat. “A similar packet of stingbark needles, this one apparently unopened, was found in the room where we recovered the body of a murdered Talafan Imperial soldier a few days ago. You remember that incident, I trust, Credo?”

  I closed my eyes, crashing back to my body and all its limitations with an almost physical jolt. All of the fear and the anxiety gripped me again, a vise of panic around me. Shit. “I remember.”

  There was a long and unpleasant pause. “May I speak plainly, Jovan?”

  I almost laughed. “I’d really prefer it, actually. I think I’ve had my fill of the other kind.”

  “Well, it’s like this. I’ve stuck my neck out for you more than once. And I haven’t minded doing it, because honor-down, you’ve done the same for me before. And I’ve always thought we had compatible goals. I didn’t always know exactly what you were about, but I was always sure we were on the same side.”

  “We are on the same side.”

  “Even last night,” she continued, “I trusted you knew something I didn’t and that’s why you were so set on searching the stands. Of course you were right. But that’s the problem, isn’t it? I’ve overlooked a lot of the times you’ve been less than open with me because you’ve tended to be right about these things in the end. But every time you give me an explanation for something, five more questions pop up, and maybe some are raising them for their own purposes, but I’m starting to lose track of your stories.”

  I caught the rhythm in my head, felt the calming influence of knowing I was stepping evenly. Left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, turn left. “What exactly are you saying, Chen?” Left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, turn right.

  “I’m saying I don’t think you’ve been honest with me. And it’s about time you were.”

  * * *

  It was a relief, in a way. Secrets could take us so far but at some point not sharing information hurt us more than the risk of giving it to the wrong person. We couldn’t counter what was happening alone; we’d proved that at the arena. If we’d had more people—but no. I’d promised Kalina I wouldn’t go over and over, imagining different outcomes. At least not purposefully.

  So I told Chen everything. What our family did, had always done. What I’d done during the siege—really done, not what the plays and rumors made out. And what had really happened at the masquerade. Even the strange things I couldn’t explain: weird parcels in our yard, the feeling of being watched, the Darfri woman at the party, the bird attack. She nodded in places, looked surprised in some, and utterly unsurprised in others as I laid it out dispassionately like a report to Etan. In a way, it was a relief. I had missed having someone to report to. It wasn’t exactly cathartic, but the familiarity of the exercise called me back to warmer, safer times, when I was confident that older and smarter and more careful people were in charge.

  “Right,” she said when I’d finished. “Well.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I suppose that clears it all up, eh?” She rubbed at her leg, looked at the ceiling, scratched her chin, looked everywhere but at me.

  “Does it?” I asked, a bit hopelessly, and she laughed. After a moment, I joined in. There was no humor in it, just shared exhaustion with the utter mess we were in.

  “Can’t say I’m surprised about most of it. Half the city must know you’re always there protecting the Chancellor, but most of us just figured that was ’cause you were in love with him.” She scowled suddenly. “I don’t like being lied to, though. I asked you straight up about that party and I don’t like how easy you lied to me. Or that niece of yours! You watch what you’re teaching her.”

  “It’s not an easy life, and you need certain skills to make it out alive,” I said, defensive. I didn’t need another person judging my guardianship. I hadn’t invented proofing or given our family that task; it had been given to me and part of that responsibility was training someone else. At least that’s what you tell yourself, the insidious little voice inside me whispered. I shoved it down. It had barely left me since that horrible moment yesterday when Sjease had told me Dee was missing. “She was protecting me. Someone had gone to a lot of effort to get me into a fix rather than just killing me straight out, and we didn’t want to play right into their hands.”

  Chen fixed me with a look. “Well. What’s done is done, and I don’t pretend you didn’t have reasons. Don’t either of you do it again, and you’ll get no more complaints from me about it. Fair?”

  “Fair.” I didn’t hide my relief.

  “So. You’ve decided to trust me, I’d say I owe you the same. There’s a few more things you need to know. For starters, this chap we’ve got in here.” She gestured down to the floor. “He’s more than just an assassin. If you’re right about all those other incidents, he’s been waging something of a war on your family, Credo, and I don’t mind saying it’s been a subtle one. Here’s one problem for you, though. This man doesn’t speak Sjon.”

  I blinked. “What?”

  “He doesn’t speak it. At least not well, anyway.”

  I shook my head. “You mean he hasn’t spoken to you. I imagine he’s loyal to his employer and doesn’t want to talk. He didn’t speak when we captured him, either, but—”

  “No. It’s obvious he understands when we speak Trade at him. Obeys basic instructions, even—stand back from there, move the bucket over, that sort of thing. He’ll answer, too, if he wants. And we spoke to several of the patients and one physic who remember speaking to him out there. They all said the same thing. Heavy accent, spoke slowly, didn’t seem to understand what people said to him if it was more than a very simple question or comment.”

  “But he looks—”

  She shrugged. “He does. Can’t deny that. But people don’t have to be born in a place to look like the people there. Look at me. I’ve never been to Doran but my grandmother’s likely why I got the height and shoulders. People come to Silasta from all over the continent, and plenty of Sjons go elsewhere, too. Maybe this chap had a Sjon mother who left the country. Or Sjon blood got mixed up in his from some man at some point. Or it’s just coincidence. It’s not like you cross an imaginary line on the ground and people just magically look different.”

  “His tattoo. The book he had. They’re in Sjon, though.”

  “I can read a bit of Doranite ’cause my grandmother had a lot of old books and songs and poems and such she brought over with her. But I can’t speak it. Sometimes people learn the writing without having any way to practice the talking. ’Specially in Sjon, since writing won’t help you with the talking at all.”

  “This is good news,” I said slowly. “If he’s not from here, he’s from somewhere else.” Suddenly the idea of the book as some kind of code seemed more likely, and the assassin himself vastly more significant. Our enemy would hardly have employed an assassin who barely spoke the language if they’d been hiring locally. I wished I’d taken the book from Kalina; if the assassin didn’t want to cooperate our best clues would likely lie in figuring out what it meant. It matched his tattoo. He hadn’t wanted her to have it. It meant something important, I knew it.

  But Chen still didn’t look convinced. “Maybe, but people who do this kind of work for hire could have come from anywhere and be hired anywhere. He might be skilled at killing, but he hasn’t been planning interference with business deals and manipulating promotions in the Guilds. You’ve still got someone giving him instructions. That note the Heir found tells us there’s at least one person relaying instructions.”

  Someone close to Tain. But who? A blackstrip
e? One of his or Merenda’s staff? A Councilor? Without knowing what had been relayed it was impossible to narrow down the list of people who had access to the information. Certainly anyone close enough could have killed him by now if that had been the plan. I put a hand to my forehead as if I could slow the swirl of thoughts there. We could not descend into paranoia, not now. “What else? You said you’d several things I need to know.”

  “Ah. Well, the other’s good news.” She gave me a faint smile. “Thanks to your sister’s tip, we’ve captured the Order Guard who was working for the Hands. Sukseno. Kalina guessed breaking the former Warrior-Guilder out of the jail would be the next step in the plan. I set a trap and we got him just before dawn, with a bag of explosives. He was trying to get her out while we were all still distracted here.”

  Optimism had started to rise in me again. “What do we know about him?”

  “He’s from the Leka estates, out near West Dortal,” she said, consulting notes on her desk. “The mother’s dead, got some cousins out there, but the only one who lives here, far as we could tell, is his sister, who’s out in the external village. He’s been in the Guild for almost twenty years, worked as a private merchant guard for a bit, then for the Order Guard in Moncasta, and eventually moved here. Served under Aven in the army on call for most of that time, so he’s got a history with her.”

  “But he didn’t storm the Manor two years ago,” I said slowly. That was how we had isolated Aven’s most ardent supporters. “Why not?”

  “He was injured in some kind of training accident after the forces went south. Was being treated in Moncasta during the whole siege, so he never got a chance to support her or otherwise.”

  I nodded. “All right. So he might be a full-blown believer. Let’s just hope he knows who the Hands are taking orders from.”

  Chen stood up with a wince and stamped her artificial leg irritably. “Let’s have a chat with both of them, eh, before this place is swarming with Councilors again.”

  But it was as if she’d summoned them with her words. We’d not made it twenty paces from her office before a small crowd of Councilors bore down on us.

  “Captain Chen! I sent a messenger some time ago.” Sjistevo gave me a scathing look. “Why are you taking private meetings with Credo Jovan instead of reporting to the full Council?”

  Chen was a head taller than the Credo and a good deal more muscular; Sjistevo seemed oblivious to the palpable impatience in her scowling form. Whatever deference she usually showed the Council, last night’s disaster had burnt it all out of her. “Your message said you wanted a private word. You didn’t mention the Council. And now you’re complaining your colleague is doing exactly what you asked to do?”

  Momentarily taken aback by her uncharacteristic rudeness, Sjistevo mumbled something incoherent; Chen took the opportunity to peer at his companions. “And Credola Karista. Didn’t I bid you a hearty farewell less than an hour ago? What a rare privilege to see you again so soon.” She delivered the latter in an artificially polite tone and sketched a dainty little bob that looked absurd on her powerful frame. “Credo Lazar. Stone-Guilder. Why, we’re well on the way to the Council meeting you wanted anyway, eh, Credo Sjistevo?” She straightened and looked over the group. “What is everyone doing here? Not that I’m looking to tell you all how to run a city but I think there’s enough jobs going round that we don’t need half a Council to get a report from the Order Guards.” She looked over the back and raised a hand. “And here approaches your stalwart leader, too. Perhaps I could persuade you to relocate this little gathering to your own Council chamber and leave me to handle my job. Got a bit on today, as you might imagine.”

  Tain was indeed approaching down the corridor, and scurrying beside him, taking two steps for each of his strides, was An-Suja, our Oromani estate representative, followed by Salvea, who looked composed but worried. Tain radiated fury, the kind of crackling chaotic energy he only displayed when he was in a real temper. I found my hands tensing, clenching, and tried to force them to relax. Not now, honor-down, not now of all times.

  Karista never took her gaze from me. Her eyes burned wild, and her hand shook as she pointed at me, but her voice was all false calm in the heart of a storm. “And where were you going with my dear colleague?”

  “We caught the assassin, Karista,” I said, trying to soothe the situation. I wished desperately for Kalina; she knew how to burr the edge off dangerous situations in a way I never could. “The one who killed your uncle, and so many more. We were just going to talk to him, to find out who he’s working for.”

  “And do we think that’s wise? In the circumstances?” Sjistevo had regained his poise and was smiling a smooth, false smile at Chen, his manner suddenly extravagantly courteous. “Questions have been asked about Credo Jovan’s relationship with this man. Would it not be best to—”

  Tain strode into the group, the others parting to make way for him. “What in all the hells is going on here?” he demanded. His body moved like a whip as he scoured the group and his voice dropped to a dangerously low, deceptively even tone. His eyes burned no less fervently than Karista’s. Though, I thought with a flicker of worry, it was an artificial brightness of the eyes that told me he had used darpar, same as me, to get through the night. I didn’t much like it, but hypocritical complaints could wait for another time. “We have a meeting scheduled for later, once everyone’s had a chance to have some rest, and Captain Chen will be attending to report then. Most of us have been up all night. So why was I told people are bearing down on the Guardhouse demanding personal reports from the Captain? Is this the most efficient use of the Captain’s and your time, do you think?”

  “It seems we came just in time,” Karista said, with the air of a person triumphantly revealing a surprise. “Credo Jovan here was just attempting to interview the prisoner. Apparently he is not only a one-man army, but a trained interrogator, too. You speak of efficiency, well! Our colleague renders our Order Guards and determination council redundant, apparently.”

  Sjistevo smirked, and Lazar shifted uncomfortably behind him, avoiding looking directly at me. I felt my stomach turn. Telling Chen the whole truth had been one thing. Explaining my role to the Council was entirely another.

  “Credo Jovan tried to warn us a number of times about the threat from this man.” Eliska spoke up for the first time. “Now he’s caught him, is it any wonder he wants to know more? I’m here because I’d like to know more too, and I’ve as much interest as anybody in making sure these efforts aren’t given any—” She glanced over at Karista and Sjistevo. “—undue hurdles.”

  “In the circumstances, I think it is best that impartial officers handle what this man may or may not tell us,” Sjistevo said, spreading his hands wide and smiling around as though he’d just proposed a solution so eminently sensible no one could possibly object. “There have been some valid questions asked about the circumstances of his capture—”

  “Questions asked by who?” Tain demanded. “Chen said Jovan caught this man. I’ve got my own questions about why anyone would have any interest in keeping him from helping protect us yet again!”

  “Chen wasn’t there at the medical area!” Karista rounded on him, her temper as fierce as his. “Did you bother to ask anyone who was before you marched in here throwing accusations around?”

  “I haven’t thrown any accusations anywhere yet, Karista,” Tain snapped. “But if you’d like me to start, by all means keep volunteering.”

  “He showed up at the medical area and suddenly people with injuries that shouldn’t have killed them were dying left right and center,” Sjistevo interjected. “That is what the witnesses report. He was seen giving unauthorized substances to patients! And the people dying were members of the Leka family, relatives of Credola Karista, someone with whom the Credo has often clashed! A family against whom he has a long-standing grudge, I do not think anyone would deny. My colleague is right to say questions need to be asked, questions that should have been
asked a long time ago. Credo Jovan undoubtedly tried to stop these explosions or what have you, but that’s not to say he’s not capable of taking advantage of the chaos to—”

  “Very generous of you to acknowledge your colleague probably didn’t try to murder half the city,” An-Suja cut in dryly, and Eliska was shaking her head, visibly dismissive. Their disbelief was a balm. Not everyone had been influenced by this campaign against me.

  “Are you seriously suggesting Credo Jovan murdered injured patients?” Eliska said. “Do you know how insane that sounds? Credo Jovan. Of all people.”

  “I would trust Credo Jovan with my life,” Salvea said firmly.

  “I’d trust him with your life, too,” Karista shot back. “Just not mine.”

  That set off a chorus of shouting again. Etan had always said no one ever shouted in the Council, that my family’s position and honor would insulate me from blatant insult, how I would need to be able to recognize attacks delivered with honey, barbs hidden within questions, double and triple meanings. It seemed a comical and naive perspective now. There had been a hell of a lot of shouting in the last two years. Right now, I felt too numb to participate in it. I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes. After everything, this latest indignity barely scratched the surface. For all our scrambling and research and attempts to unwind this conspiracy, we’d failed, and it had cost everyone dearly. They’d earned the right to stand and shout and accuse one another of things.

  Tain still looked furious. I knew part of that anger was directed at himself. “We were attacked last night, by the same people who almost destroyed our country two years ago, and we’re turning on each other,” he said. “Were you not watching what happened out there? Don’t you think you’re doing exactly what our enemies want you to do?”

  Lazar, his face puffy from tears, cleared his throat. “We are allowed to have questions, Honored Chancellor. We might all owe Credo Jovan our lives, more than once over for some of us, but that does not give him perpetual freedom from questioning. This is not the first incident that has raised these questions. There has been a pattern—”