Broken Devices

by Karen Myers

  “Every boat at dock and on the river has been inspected, and the ships in the ocean harbors, just in case. That order was given at the first alarm, before we left with Dar Datsu to see what had happened.” Tun Jeju almost gave the impression of compassion for Penrys’s anxiety, but she couldn’t be bothered to check his mind to see if it was real.

  “We also have inspections for all wagons leaving the city.” He shrugged. “No city this size can truly seal its edges, but we don’t think they’ve been removed.”

  So they’re still here. Or they’re dead.

  For a moment, an involuntary wash of black swept over her, and she fought to keep her eyes open and her teeth from clamping together. It wouldn’t help, and they all had colleagues in the same situation.

  “So,” she said with false calm, “what about the third location?” She leaned over the map and hovered uncertainly above the Juhim Tep street grid. “Here, I think.”

  The map man identified it. “Warehouses and retailers.” He looked over at Tun Jeju. “Nothing distinctive about this.”

  “But there were wizards there last night, lots of them, and many were shielded, not like the simple groups in the family compounds.” Penrys straightened up. “Tell me about this part of the upper city.”

  Tun Jeju paused and then seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “Chosmod-chi, were there courtiers at the guild meetings yesterday, or anyone else from the upper city?”

  “No, not that I could tell. But yesterday was just a few families and clans—clearly there are others who hadn’t heard the announcement yet. I assume more will join them. They’ll all want to be part of the guild, surely.”

  “Not the criminals,” Mpeowake interjected. “A proper guild wouldn’t let them participate. In fact, it would actively try to suppress them.”

  “Better to police your own,” Penrys said, in agreement. “Who else can? That’s the Zannib policy.”

  “And the opposition won’t join either,” Chosmod added, nodding slowly, his eye on Tun Jeju. “So there is opposition, notju-chi, and it’s not a surprise to you?”

  Tun Jeju’s expression froze into a mask.

  Chosmod persisted. “Opposition to you or to the emperor?”

  “We are the same,” Tun Jeju grated out. “I am the emperor’s servant, his posom.”

  “So,” Penrys said, “you knew there was a threat and that it involved wizards. And now maybe it has blown up in your face.” She could tell from his mind that she’d made a hit.

  She closed her eyes for a moment, then rubbed her hand over her face. “What’s done is done. We want our people back. Please, tell us what you know. We can still help each other, and we’ve no reason to wish your emperor harm.”

  Mpeowake’s expression was stony, and Penrys remembered the dead Toawe, but the woman held her tongue.

  Wise woman. You have another colleague yet to rescue. We all do, hostages to both Tun Jeju’s secrecy and to his enemy, whoever that is.

  Tun Jeju gave them little satisfaction other than to say there were internal issues involved about which he couldn’t speak. When Penrys persisted, he rose and claimed another appointment, and simply walked out.

  The map expert stared after him, then looked at the three unsatisfied wizards, and reached for the map.

  “You stay,” Penrys told him, and crossed the room to close the door. “What’s the best way to get here”—her finger stabbed the gambling district—“without being obvious?”

  Chosmod nodded approval, and the man nervously sketched out a route down the larger avenues that would be unremarkable in the middle of the day.

  “I would prefer not to walk all that way,” Mpeowake said, and Penrys gave her a closer look. Her posture was as upright as before, perhaps more so with the bindings around her torso, but her rib was clearly paining her, and the sweat on her face told of the strain.

  “If we’re not going to get help from the notju, then we’ll do without,” Penrys said. “I can bring horses from the Zannib embassy, or we can get a palanquin for you, whichever you prefer.”

  “Or we could escort you back to your embassy to rest, which might be a better idea,” Chosmod said, politely.

  “No, it’s my responsibility to see this through for both the living and the dead.” Penrys had always felt a cool restraint from Mpeowake, but for the first time she approved of her, for her dedication to her people.

  “A palanquin would be most welcome,” Mpeowake said.

  Penrys glanced over at the map expert. “Thank you, you can go.”

  He reached for the maps again, and she stopped him. “We’ll keep these, for now.” He protested but backed down when all three of them stared at him, pointedly. He bowed hastily and left them in possession of both the room and the maps.

  “That clever old man.” The voice rang with a mix of disgust and grudging respect.

  Tsek Anbu admired Tsek Uchang’s calm. The open casements of the room admitted the spring breezes, fresher up here in Juhim Tep than in the lower cities. Scrolls suitable for the season decorated the walls, and the graceful furniture stood in contrast to the waves of anger from the other two people in the courtier’s smaller reception hall, the private one for intimate gatherings.

  “Your father, the emperor?” Tsek Anbu asked. “I imagine he had help from that notju of his.”

  “Ever since his little triumph in Neshilik, Tun Jeju has been gaining ground at Noi Shibu’s expense. My father listens to his old Imperial Security advisor and nods pleasantly, and ignores him.”

  The sweet musical tones of Tsek Okim overrode her son’s sour complaint. She was still an attractive woman, even in her fifth decade. “I warned you, didn’t I, that if Noi Shibu was weak enough to welcome our offer, he would be vulnerable to his own ambitious officers, and so it is proving.”

  “Why not remove Tun Jeju altogether and gain some breathing room?”

  Internally Tsek Anbu shook his head. Tsek Uchang was too fond of the simple violent approach, impatient with the subtlety that kept the fabric of society knit together. But he was strong and vigorous, and it’s not as though it would be a change in dynasty. Bastards had ruled before, and would again. Under the control of the magnates, of course. As it had always been.

  But these things took time. His own father had spotted the potential in his niece and groomed her for the imperial bedchamber. Not only had she born the emperor a bastard son almost as old as the official heir, but she’d managed to pass the lupchit along, making her son the first lupju who might claim the throne.

  At the death of his father, Tsek Anbu had inherited the management of his cousin and her son. He’d trained him in the hidden traditions of his clan, but the man made an indifferent lupju. It didn’t really matter—they had many better lupjuwen in the clan—but it was difficult to keep a rein on him. The family wealth in military supply contracts was more than respectable, and they were powerful among their peers, very powerful, but they weren’t courtiers, and too much of Tsek Uchang’s time was spent out of his influence, with only his mother to supply a counter-balance to the inflated flattery that surrounded even a bastard of the imperial line.

  Time for another lesson in strategy. “The imperial decree that granted the lupjuwen a guild was very, very clever. Any lupju that doesn’t seek to join the guild will be automatically suspect, requiring him to remain hidden, vulnerable to exposure and blackmail. If he does join, he’ll be under the scrutiny of others. It cuts the ground out from under our family and our allies, up here.”

  “I recognize Tun Jeju in the speed with which this happened,” Tsek Okim said. “Removing those uncontrolled tekenga lupjuwen so that ours would be unchallenged… it was the right thing to do, and I commend you, cousin, on your planning. You achieved the primary goal—embarrassing the notju by demonstrating his impotence to protect his own foreign guests. How can the emperor endorse him after that?”

  “But we lost so many, cousin,” Tsek Anbu objected.

  “It matters little.
They weren’t our family.” She smiled coolly. “If nothing else we’ve aided the civil order in the lower cities by the death of so many criminals. No, it was the escape of the gewengep’s leader, that teken Rin Tsugo and his people, that was unfortunate. Still I have no doubt we can hunt down the remainder before they become a threat. The last thing we want is for them to establish themselves.”

  Tsek Anbu shook his head. “Too late, I fear. I hear that Rin Tsugo is helping the guild with its foundation rules. The faster the tekenwen join, the sooner they’ll be under the protection of the whole.”

  Tsek Uchang interrupted his mother’s cousin. “Unless we can discredit them, make them outcasts that we can pick off at our leisure. That would solve one problem.”

  He glanced at Tsek Anbu as if to assert that he did, after all, understand what it would take to assume the imperial throne. “And if we can make them responsible for Tun Jeju’s failure, then we would have a very tidy solution indeed.”

  Penrys waited as Chosmod paid the porters and dismissed the palanquin. They stood at the corner of a middling-sized avenue and a well-traveled cross-street. The district was seedy, the compound buildings in need of repair, and the people currently abroad looked as if they had yet to face their first meal of the day in any but liquid form.

  “All the action’s at night in places like this,” Penrys said, and Mpeowake contented herself with meeting the eyes of the passersby with a cold glare.

  Chosmod said, “From here I can make out five brothels, several drinking establishments, and at least three spots dedicated to gambling, in addition to whatever else they support.”

  “So you’re familiar with places like this back home, then?” Penrys commented, deadpan.

  Mpeowake stared at her, but Chosmod chuckled. “Well enough, brudigna. I wasn’t always this dignified.” He rubbed his hands together. “Let’s go find us an alley where no one will bother us. They’ll mostly be sleeping at this hour, anyway.”

  They found a closed place down a mid-block lane whose signs advertised lucky sticks and coins, fortunes to be had, and companions for gentlemen. Two low walls funneled customers toward the main door, and there was room for all three of them to sit on the walls, shadowed and inconspicuous.

  “The way I see it,” Penrys said, “we can be obvious and fast, or we can be subtle and slow. Either way, I want to be thorough—everything with a shield needs a good look.”

  “But they’re shielded, you said. That means we can’t look.” Mpeowake glanced at Chosmod to check that he agreed.

  Penrys shook her head. “Not from me, not without a good deal more organization than they’ve got. Want to see? We’ll try it quiet for starters.”

  She linked with both of them and let them watch, then she reached out stealthily for the nearest wizard.

  *Kigali-native, this one. He knows knives, see? Not interesting. Let’s try this one—she’s shielded. Now, see, it’s easy to break a shield, but she’d feel it, like a slap. So we want to just sort of slip on in like this… Hmm, sex and finance and management. Seem like someone who runs a brothel, Modo?*

  A bemused reply returned. *Yes, could be. She’d have reason to be shielded, in the company of other wizards, some of whom are probably stealing from each other.*

  *Distasteful, these people.* Mpeowake’s disdain colored her thoughts.

  Aloud, Penrys replied, “Yes, it’s a dirty job. But our people might be here—it has to be done, yes?”

  “Yes,” said Chosmod. “We can always wash afterward.” He projected an image of a bucket pouring water into his head, and Penrys snorted.

  Mpeowake contented herself with saying. “Let’s get on with it, then.”

  Penrys sobered and said, “I’ll work systematically west to east, up and down in columns. I’ll try to do it quickly, since there are so many of them. You two make special note of anything that seems important.”

  She closed her eyes to concentrate better. *Here we go.*

  CHAPTER 21

  A couple of hours later, Penrys called a halt to their scan through the wizard population of the district.

  She closed her eyes and rotated her head until the vertebrae in her neck clicked. When she took a look at Mpeowake, she was alarmed. “You should have stopped me earlier,” she said.

  The woman was pale and sweaty, but she raised a hand. “Better to finish it before they started moving around more. I’ll recover, but I’d like to return to my embassy.”

  “As soon as we’ve talked about it for a moment, we’ll get you a palanquin,” Chosmod promised, and Mpeowake nodded in weary acceptance.

  “All right,” Penrys said. “Here’s what we know. What was your final count, Modo?”

  “Not quite two hundred wizards, including five chained ones. No sign of our people.”

  “Hold on a moment—I need to check something else.” Penrys did a quick scan. “I can see hundreds of power-stones, mostly scattered around, and that means lots of devices. I’ll bet they have a lot to do with the gambling odds for some of the games of chance.”

  She took a breath. “I think we have family wizards here, just like the non-criminal ones. They’re born into their trade, and those that are wizards get a special education. The difference is, I think they run the craft families, rather than just sharing them.”

  Chosmod nodded. “So, you’re not just born a gambler, but if you show wizard blood and sufficient talent, you may become a leader in your family.”

  “There are plenty whose primary skill seems to be weapons. The enforcers, I suppose.”

  Mpeowake made an effort. “I saw nothing incompatible with the attackers at the gewengep.”

  “I agree,” Penrys said. Many of them felt just like the ones she’d stopped… killed. Equally untalented, equally vulnerable.

  “More than one family was included,” Chosmod said. “That means they’re organized enough to work together. Probably have a history of that for fulfilling the larger contracts.”

  “Not quite mercenaries,” Penrys said, “but fighters after a fashion.”

  “The brutal scum of the underclasses,” Mpeowake summarized.

  Chosmod chuckled. “Let’s get you into a palanquin and then home. Penrys, you stay here with her while I find one and bring it along.”

  The two women eyed each other after he trotted off, apparently indifferent to being a Rasesni on his own in a bad part of town.

  “Well, it is the middle of the day— I don’t imagine he’ll be attacked in public and all.”

  Mpeowake gave her a glance and decided she was joking. In actuality, Penrys kept tabs on him while he was gone the way she did on Najud in a dangerous situation.

  Her fist clenched in impatience. “You know what’s next, don’t you?” she said to Mpeowake.

  “Up to Juhim Tep to do the same thing. But you won’t be able to sneak up there. All travel is up and down in the cages. They’ll know you’re coming.”

  “Well…” Penrys demurred. “There are other choices, other directions.”

  “Around from the north, through the military encampments, or up from the west with the vegetables?” Mpeowake suggested.

  “Or from above.” Penrys said.

  “Ah, yes. I was forgetting that. But not in daylight, surely.”

  “Indeed.” Penrys bit her lip. “I haven’t decided yet—partly depends on what Chosmod wants to do, if he wants to come along.”

  “I’ve been to court,” Mpeowake said. “They patrol the streets up there, and the security around the emperor is strong and attentive. There won’t be anything like this to hide in.” She waved her hand around their dirty hidey-hole. “No easy way to be inconspicuous.”

  “I’m not going to wait for dark,” Penrys said. “It may be only a few hours for us but…”

  “Yes, a long time, perhaps, for our friends.” Mpeowake adjusted her position. “I regret I cannot come with you.”

  Munraz positioned himself beneath the grate and scanned the street level above him. Anot
her pair of guards. I should never have slept past dawn, but who could see the sun in here?

  He could finally see the lock that held the grate shut. The keyhole was reached from the inside of the opening. As though you might be above or below it when working the key.

  He’d long since worked it open. When he’d woken, his hand was still on the small stone from the wall. He’d made to pocket it out of some impulse, but found his pocket overfull of small items, which he emptied on the tunnel floor into the small patch of light that leaked down from the grating.

  While he’d absently stuffed the rock into the empty pocket that resulted, he’d rooted through the old contents and found one of the spare picks his jarghal had given him, feeling that his own anah im-ghabr was already overstuffed with metal. I’d forgotten that was there. That’s a lucky find. If I hadn’t wanted to take the rock, I’d never have emptied the pocket.

  The thought made him dig the stone out again and look at it in the light. It seemed ordinary, at first, but there was something about it that made it feel right in his hand. Can it be a lud? Here, in a Kigali tunnel?

  He shook his head, unable to decide whether or not the little gods that manifested in a found object could travel so far. But he put the rock back in his pocket again and made sure it was secure.

  The pick from Najud made short work of the lock, but the same light that made it possible to see what he was doing lit his face for anyone to see who came close enough, so he remained cautious as he spied out his situation and stayed as low as he could.

  The bore hole he was in seemed to operate as some sort of storm drain for a public square in the upper city. It was full of activity—a platform was being hammered together and decorated at the far end from where he was, and merchants and food vendors were doing a lively trade along all the sides he could see.

  The smell of cooking was maddening, but he could hardly lift the grate and come out in broad daylight, Zan that he was by face and clothing, and not cause an unwelcome stir. It would have to wait until dark, but at least the way was open for him.