Republic

by Lindsay Buroker

  Tikaya scampered down the stairs. Once again, Amaranthe closed the trapdoor behind them, being even more careful to drag the rug across this time, so it wouldn’t be rumpled for the first people who walked in. And for the enforcers who would come after. Unless Sauda squelched the story—she might be blamed for this if she couldn’t explain who had done it.

  In grim silence, Amaranthe and Tikaya ran down the secret passage, heading through the little room and straight for the tunnel Sicarius had used. Amaranthe grabbed the empty envelope on the way by. No need to leave evidence that someone had been in there tonight. Tikaya still had the papers with her, clutched to her chest. She wasn’t going to let them go until she reached the hotel, Amaranthe wagered.

  They came out of the tunnel and into the dark carriage house, then headed for the backyard. Lamps were being lit all over the house, but nobody seemed to be searching the grounds yet. Aware that there was an assassin out there somewhere and that she was responsible for the president’s wife tonight, Amaranthe chose the most direct route to the alley. She watched every shrub and every shadow for movement as they ran. She strained her ears to listen as well, but the screams from the house hadn’t abated, and other voices had joined in, barking orders and yelling for someone to get a doctor. Too late for that.

  • • • • •

  Tikaya yawned so hard that tears sprang to her eyes. A couple of gas lamps remained lit in the library, but the room had been quiet for hours, save for someone else a few aisles away who turned a page now and then. The candles on her own table burned low—they had been fresh when she started. She should have gone to bed hours ago, especially given her nocturnal adventures with Amaranthe, but she had hoped to decrypt the message first. It would be nice to be able to hand Rias something more than lines of gibberish when she explained that she had been snooping around his first wife’s house. What would he think about that trip? That she was some insecure virago who had rushed out to confront the other woman? Or to dig up evidence to sully her name? No, he would listen to her, but it would still be an awkward conversation, maybe because Tikaya truly did wish to sully the other woman’s name.

  “How petty,” she acknowledged with a sigh.

  After another jaw-cracking yawn, Tikaya pushed herself away from the table. She felt she was close to breaking the code, but it wasn’t going to happen tonight. She was too tired to see the obvious. Maybe if she slept with her notes under the pillow, her brain would solve the problem overnight.

  “Wishful notion.”

  A chair creaked, then footsteps headed for the door. Tikaya didn’t know whom she had been sharing the library with and decided to wait for the person to leave first, but the footsteps paused, and someone poked a head around the corner of her bookcase-lined aisle. Gray hair in need of a cutting hung over eyebrows not quite hidden by his large round spectacles.

  “Vice President Serpitivich,” Tikaya said. “I didn’t know that was you over there.”

  He opened his mouth to speak but a yawn caught him, and he lifted an apologetic hand—his other hand clutched two books, a folder stuffed with papers, and a long scroll that looked like a blueprint or map. “Yes, working late. I’m on my way out, but I heard you... mutter thoughtfully and just wanted to make sure you didn’t need help with anything.”

  Mutter thoughtfully. A polite euphemism for talking-to-yourself-like-an-unhinged-person.

  “Just working through a problem to solve.” One she had best not share with anyone else before Rias. Fortunately, Serpitivich didn’t ask. He merely nodded as if he understood. “And you?” Tikaya pointed toward the scroll. “Anything you need help with?”

  His mouth twisted wryly. “Yes, but I won’t attempt to foist this burden on you.” At her raised eyebrows, he explained. “It seems subterranean plant incursions are a new concern. I’ve been tasked with studying the sewers and pipes around the hotel, to see if there’s a way to divert that plant from the building.”

  “You have? I would have thought that would be a task for some young private in security.”

  “I may have made the mistake of mentioning that I’d been studying the city’s sewer system for another project of mine.” He blew out a breath, ruffling his shaggy bangs.

  “Ah.” Tikaya’s single syllable turned into another yawn. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll wish you the best of luck with it and take my leave.”

  “Of course.” Serpitivich bowed his head and started to back away, but stopped, lifted a finger, then lowered it, and shook his head.

  “Something else?”

  “No.” He started to leave, but paused again. “Yes. Oh, I don’t know. I shouldn’t bother you with... government business.”

  “No? Quite a few other people have used me as a conduit to Rias.” Or they had tried. Tikaya was doing her best to avoid finding herself in that position.

  Serpitivich’s expression turned glum. “That’s what I was afraid of. I won’t bother you. I... can handle him on my own.”

  He turned, but Tikaya, her curiosity piqued despite her weariness, asked, “Him?”

  Serpitivich hesitated again, clearly torn on whether he should bother her or not. “It’s Colonel Starcrest. I’m loath to approach President Starcrest about him, since they’re related...”

  Tikaya stood very still, remembering Amaranthe’s question about Dak’s loyalty and remembering also that they now knew there was a snitch somewhere in the building. “What is it?”

  “I just... caught him looking through my office this morning, uninvited. And he’s said a few things that have made me wonder...” Serpitivich spread his free hand, palm up. “Maybe it’s nothing, but it’s hard to bring concerns about him to the president when—” he huffed, stirring his hair again. “I was against his appointment from the beginning, so maybe he simply doesn’t like me. His record is not... well, I don’t know if you’ve read it, but he certainly doesn’t seem qualified for such an important station. I respect your husband very much, but assigning a relative is nepotism, plain and clear, and that’s the sort of thing for which the warrior caste has been known for so long. Cronyism and nepotism. I wanted a fresh start with this new government, for people who had earned being appointed to offices, and... oh, I’m sorry, my lady. I never should have said anything.”

  Tikaya’s heart was pumping in her ears. No, she had never seen Dak’s record, nor did she know much about him at all. Had Rias made a mistake in recruiting him? Serpitivich was staring at her, his face twisted with concern, almost anguish, doubtlessly fearing he had made a faux pas she wouldn’t forgive. “It’s... all right,” Tikaya managed. “Appointing a relative to a government position would be frowned upon on Kyatt too.”

  Relief spread across Serpitivich’s face. “I knew—well, I’d hoped—you might understand. Anyway, I don’t want anything of you, my lady. I just had to tell someone, and I didn’t want to make accusations to the man’s uncle.”

  “I understand, though I believe Rias would hear such accusations with an open-mind.”

  Serpitivich lifted his narrow shoulders. “Perhaps so, my lady, but even after these months of working under him, he still intimidates me.” He lifted his hand. “But I’ll leave you to your rest. Be well.”

  Tikaya let him go without stopping him again. His shoulders seemed more relaxed as he walked away, a burden unleashed. Too bad he had given her another one.

  Shaking her head, she gathered her own material, blew out the candles, and left the library. Upstairs, she climbed the final stairs to their rooms, then turned left and walked past them. Since the bombing of Rias’s office, they had been sharing a more modest suite at the other end of the hall.

  A guard came to attention and gave her a professional, “Evening, my lady.”

  She returned the greeting, though having people stationed outside her door hadn’t stopped seeming strange yet. Strange and not particularly welcome. She knew they were there to protect Rias—and her—but she couldn’t help but wonder what these young pups thought of the
bedroom noises of two older folks. The walls in the old hotel weren’t particularly thick. Of course, since he had become president, Rias rarely came to bed early enough—or stayed in bed late enough—for noises more exuberant than snores.

  When Tikaya slipped inside, she found a lamp burning low near the dressing table. Bumps of the appropriate size lay stretched under the covers on Rias’s side of the bed. Assuming him asleep, she started to undress and reached for the flannel sleeping gown that she would probably be wearing halfway into summer if the nights didn’t start getting warmer soon.

  “So,” Rias’s voice came from the bed, “Sauda’s house is where you went to take initiative?”

  His tone was carefully neutral, and Tikaya couldn’t tell if disapproval, concern, or disappointment lay behind it. Maybe none of them. Maybe she was feeling guilty and reading in emotions that weren’t there.

  “She was the one who sent you the gift that was making you sick,” Tikaya said.

  “I... wasn’t aware that I’d been sick.”

  “All those headaches you’ve been getting?”

  “I thought it was the job.”

  “The sudden need to use pen and paper to perform math problems you formerly did in your head?”

  “I... thought... feared I was getting older. That the brain was getting a little soft along the borders.”

  “Love, you’re not senile; you’ve been under the influence of a Made device.”

  A long moment passed, and Tikaya wondered if he might not believe her. Would he think she was making something up to justify her visit to his first wife’s house?

  Rias sat up in bed and leaned against the headboard. “I’m trying to decide if that’s a relief or not.”

  “Let me tell you the rest while you ponder that.” Tikaya shared the story of the night’s adventures as she finished changing and performing her evening ablutions, explaining the gift and everything that had gone on in Sauda’s house. “Sicarius knew you had a man in the yard, by the way. It seems he wasn’t being as stealthy as he thought.”

  “Dak had a man in the yard.”

  Dak. Should Tikaya relay the vice president’s concerns?

  “Nobody else would be brazen enough to send a spy to any of my relatives’ houses,” Rias continued dryly. “Even former relatives. Although she’s not as former as I had thought. Did anyone fill you in on that?”

  “Mahliki did. I believe I’m all caught up.” Tikaya brought the lamp to the bedside table along with the papers.

  “I’m glad someone is.” Rias pushed a hand through his tousled hair—if that “bed head” was any indication, he must have gotten some sleep before she had come in. Good. He needed it. “Shall I confess that I spent the evening hiding in a warehouse on the waterfront, tinkering with the sub? I needed a break from—” he waved vaguely to encompass the hotel, or maybe the entire city, “—everything.”

  Tikaya decided not to mention that Sicarius had been missing since he took off after that assassin, so his and Amaranthe’s mission to find a Maker had been delayed. She wasn’t even sure if she should mention the encoded message they had intercepted. Maybe it could wait for morning. She slid the pages under the lamp.

  “And that is...?” he asked.

  “Some of that everything you need a break from.”

  “Ah.”

  “It can wait until morning. I haven’t broken the encryption yet anyway.” Tikaya leaned over to cut out the lamp, but an arm wrapped around her, fingers clamping gently onto the back of her hand.

  “Really, love, you can’t toss a word like encryption into the bed, and then expect me to lay my head on the pillows and nod off into slumber.”

  “I thought you might have had enough work-related talk for the night.” Tikaya rubbed his hand with her thumb and leaned back against him. He smelled of soap but also of engine oil and machine lubricant from the submarine. The familiar scent stirred nostalgia in her, of all those years when he had been working on some engineering project or another beneath the warm Kyattese sun, when they had little more to worry about than raising children and pursuing their passions.

  “Oh, I’ve had enough for the year,” Rias sighed, “but assuage my curiosity, regardless, please.”

  Tikaya handed him the blueprint of the hotel. “We have a snitch.”

  He accepted it and dropped his chin onto her shoulder as he stared at the other page by the lamplight.

  “Sicarius intercepted this as it was delivered to Sauda’s mailbox. We’d originally thought she was being duped—the instructions we found in the box that held your gift promised it would make you more amenable to her wishes, not that it would give you blinding headaches—but if she’s acting as some sort of delivery point, she may be more entrenched in this plot than I had imagined.”

  “It seems I was wise to send along Sicarius to keep an eye on you instead of a squad of guards.”

  “Actually, I requested that. I believe that makes me the wise one.”

  “Yes, but I considered countermanding that request, since you were clearly up to something shifty.” Rias lifted his eyes toward her face and offered a half-smile with these words.

  “You know,” Tikaya said, “your nose is close enough that I could insert a pencil in your nostril. Don’t think I’m too mature for such antics.”

  “Oh, I know you’re not, but I don’t see a pencil, so I feel moderately safe.”

  Tikaya plucked a stub from behind the ear he couldn’t see and waved it in the air.

  “Ah. My feeling of safety is a delusion, it seems.” His gaze fell to the blueprint. “In all senses.” He nodded toward the other sheet and her stack of notes beneath it. “I would offer to dump that on the intelligence department, but given all that I’ve learned of you over the years, you’re probably delighted to have a project.”

  “Yes, this is more appealing than taking up... what is that thing your brother’s wife does? With the strings of sheep fur?”

  Rias chuckled. “Knitting. With wool. Sheep have wool.”

  “Right, that’s it.” Tikaya waved away any embarrassment at her mistake—as far as she knew, the Kyatt Islands had never seen a sheep, and her encounters with them had all been in books. “It doesn’t sound stimulating enough for my tastes. Besides,” she said as she picked up the coded message, “since we apparently have a snitch in the building, the fewer eyes on this, the better, right?”

  Rias lay back down on his side of the bed. “Please let me know as soon as you crack the code. I’ll have Dak change the security shifts and patrol routes, but I’d like to know what other information has been leaked.”

  “I will.” Tikaya fiddled with the hem of the blanket. “About Dak...”

  “Yes?”

  “Seeing as we don’t know who this snitch is, should you be... reserved with what you tell him?”

  That prompted a long moment of silence. “Do you have a reason to suspect him?”

  “The vice president mentioned that Dak had been snooping in his office,” Tikaya said.

  “Hm, that’s not appropriate, but not that surprising, either. I know Dak doesn’t trust Serpitivich.”

  “Also... Amaranthe pointed out that he’s your least eager admirer, if he’s an admirer at all. When I met him, he was knocking you on your backside and enjoying it.”

  “It’s true that I don’t know him that well—I’ve been out of the empire for his entire twenty-year career—but I believe I understand him. He’s grown up in my shadow and has a reason to resent me. But at the same time, I read his record carefully before bringing him down here. He’s the sort to punch a commanding officer in the face rather than gossip about him behind his back.”

  “In most nations, that would earn a man a court-martial,” Tikaya said. “I suppose that’s grounds for respect here.”

  “It depends on the officer being punched. Some men admire that sort of forthrightness, and some don’t. I, of course, prefer straightforward honesty, even if I’ve learned to deal with deceit and tricker
y.”

  “Yes, I remember you didn’t care for the Kyattese government officials at first because they wouldn’t attack you openly.”

  “At first?” Rias asked lightly.

  “Just promise me you’ll keep an eye on him. If he’s a Starcrest, I’m sure there’s a brain beneath that crusty exterior.”

  “Oh, there is. I wouldn’t have brought him into the office if there weren’t. Although he has made it clear that he’s a field man and doesn’t particularly care for desk jobs, especially one that involves supervising a lot of other people doing their desk jobs.”

  Tikaya fluffed up her pillow and cut out the lamp. “I’ll let you know what I find as soon as I find it.”

  “Good. You should also prepare a suitcase in the morning,” Rias said, “though I’m loath to give up ground and admit defeat.”

  “What? Why? And admit defeat to whom?”

  “To that plant. I received word this evening that it’s in the sewer system not five feet from the basement of this hotel.”

  That explained Serpitivich’s research.

  “I sent Dak on a reconnaissance,” Rias went on, “and it’s breaking through buildings’ foundations and destroying their plumbing up to Fourth Street so far. This is all in addition to the surface damage. I’ve ordered all of the factories, warehouses, and canneries on the first two blocks abandoned. The owners are not pleased. I expect we’ll have riots outside the gates soon, and those religious zealots are using this to their advantage to cow people into joining their cause.”

  “I suppose when you say pack a suitcase, you mean so that we can move your headquarters farther up the hill, not so we can hop onto the first steamer heading out to sea and back home.” Tikaya thought he might laugh or at least chuckle wryly, but he was utterly serious when he responded.

  “That remains an option for you. For me to leave would be the greatest cowardice.”