Sins of Empire

by Brian McClellan

  “She wants them for herself,” Vlora breathed.

  “And Ka-sedial wants them back.”

  “For himself?”

  “Or his emperor. The Dynize civil war was sparked by the murder of their last god. The only way they ended their war was the promise to make a new one.” Taniel leaned forward. “The Dynize are not motivated by greed or ambition. They are motivated by the desperation of dying faith, and that’s more dangerous than anything else in the world.”

  Vlora looked back out past the breakers, at the masts on the horizon, her breath coming fast and short. “I saw what a god can do during the war. I’m not letting that happen again.”

  “Agreed,” Taniel said, his face steely. Behind him, Ka-poel nodded.

  “This is why you’re here,” Vlora said, voicing a sudden realization. “It’s not about the Palo or Lindet or Fatrasta. You’re here because of the godstones. To keep them out of Lindet’s hands.”

  “To keep them out of anyone’s hands,” Taniel countered. “Don’t get this wrong. We fight for the Palo because we believe in their cause. But the godstones are more important than any ethnic or political squabbles.”

  Vlora couldn’t help but agree. This was bigger than her, or Lindet, or even the Dynize. The godstones could change the entire face of the world, and she feared—no, she knew that it would not be for the better. “I won’t let them have them,” she said, summoning all of her inner strength to stand up straight.

  “The Dynize?” Taniel asked.

  “Any of them,” Vlora responded. She headed back down to the fort yard, calling for her horse and an escort of two hundred men. Employer or not, she and Lindet were about to have words.

  CHAPTER 53

  It took several hours for Michel and his mother to reach Greenfire Depths.

  He ditched his Blackhat uniform within minutes of making his escape, and then they took cab after cab across the city, crisscrossing their own path, changing drivers, even walking a few blocks along the Rim before reaching a thirty-unit, worn-down tenement clinging to the cliffs on the western edge of the Depths.

  Even after all his precautions to lose whoever might be pursuing them, Michel did not feel safe as he jimmied the key in the lock of his own personal safe house. His mother stood beside him, silent after her initial outburst of questions in the first cab, staring down the hall as if shell-shocked. Michel finally managed to knock the rust off the lock of the apartment and kicked the door open.

  “What is this place?” his mother asked.

  “Inside,” he said, glancing up and down the empty hall before closing the door behind them.

  The apartment was hot and stuffy, every surface coated in a thick layer of dust. He coughed his way through the three bedrooms and opened all the windows, checking the rooms for any sign of occupancy. No one had been here for a very long time.

  About four years if he remembered right.

  “Is this, what do the spies call it, a safe house?” his mother asked.

  Michel was surprised she knew the word, then remembered that she spent all day reading penny novels. “Right,” he said.

  “Is this a Blackhat place?”

  Michel barked a laugh, then shushed himself and crossed to a window that overlooked Greenfire Depths. He could smell smoke, and smoke in the Depths was never a good thing. He stuck his head outside and listened, hearing the distant sound of yelling and the crash of broken glass. The Palo were rioting, and he wasn’t the least bit surprised—all the afternoon newspapers reported the hanging of Mama Palo.

  This wasn’t a safe time to be in the Depths, not for someone like him. He looked more Kressian than his one-fourth Palo, and that could be dangerous. But, he reasoned, it was far more dangerous to be out of the Depths right now. “Stay here,” he told his mother, then went up two flights of rickety stairs and knocked on the fourth door on the left. He waited several minutes, knocking frequently, before a suspicious-looking Palo woman opened her door a crack. Michel held up a folded ten-krana note.

  “I’m a Son of the Red Hand,” he said. “I need a message taken to the Yellow Hall immediately.”

  The woman stared at him, stared at the krana note, then said, “There’s rioting down at the Yellow Hall.”

  “I know. This is important. I live two floors down in the empty apartment.”

  She stewed on this information for a few moments. Michel’s persona—his real persona, the one that had lived in the marble in the back of his head all these years—was just as careful as his Blackhat one. He and Taniel had a dozen backup plans, including safe houses, passwords, message chains, and bank boxes. He didn’t remember half those plans, but he did know that he needed to get word to Taniel immediately that his cover had been blown.

  When the woman didn’t answer, Michel pulled out another twenty krana. She gave a perfunctory nod and said, “Meln-Dun’s people have taken hold of the Yellow Hall, but I can get a message to the Red Hand.” She snatched the money, and a moment later the door opened and a small boy ran into the hall and held out his hand expectantly.

  Michel found a nub of pencil in his pocket and scribbled a note, handing it to the boy, who immediately took off down the hall.

  He returned to find his mother sitting on the dusty sofa in the corner of the main room, staring at her hands. She looked up at him as he entered, a question on her lips, but remained silent. He looked out the windows one more time, listening to the distant shouts. The smell of smoke was getting stronger, and that didn’t bode well at all. A fire in the wrong place and Greenfire Depths might go up entirely.

  Michel sat down on the sofa beside his mother and stared at the wall. His life—the one he’d worked so hard to build the last four years—was over. There was a hole in his chest and he wondered if perhaps he’d gone in too deep with the Blackhats. He should be celebrating right now, ready to return to what he once was.

  “Michel …”

  “I met Taniel and Ka-poel seven years ago,” Michel said without preamble. He didn’t bother looking at his mother. He didn’t want to see her face as she realized she’d been lied to for so long. “I bluffed my way into some politician’s gala in Upper Landfall and went looking around for someone to con. Taniel and Ka-poel were supposed to be my mark—I was gonna rob them blind. But we got to talking, and there was something different about them.”

  He chuckled to himself, glad he’d not gone through with his plan to nick their wallets. Taniel would have probably turned him inside out. “Ka-poel saw through me right away, but instead of getting me kicked out of the gala they took me under their wing. They introduced me to people I had no right talking with, and over the course of a couple of hours I’d created a whole different persona. I was a disenfranchised young count from Starland trying to wrestle my fortune back from my duplicitous little brother. The idiots at that gala ate it up, and I left with ten thousand krana in donations to help me win back my title.

  “I found out later that my new friends weren’t who they said they were, either. They’d bluffed their way into the party just like I had, but they weren’t there for money. They were creating a network of contacts that, I have to admit, were probably far more valuable to them than the ten thousand I left with were to me.

  “I ended up working for them—petty thievery, forgery, that sort of thing.” He ignored his mother’s indignant snort and continued: “It wasn’t long before I figured out that they weren’t crime bosses or cons like I first suspected. They were playing a longer game, a bigger one. They were positioning themselves to take on Lindet. They championed the Palo, and I liked that because, well, because of Grandpappy.”

  He finally looked at his mother, wondering if the names Taniel and Ka-poel meant anything to her. Her memory tended to slip, so the chances of her remembering an old war hero—aside from her late husband—were slim. She peered at him cautiously through the dust, eyes narrowed as if seeing him for the first time.

  “I don’t know what you’re saying, Michel,” she finally sa
id, “but it scares me.”

  “I’m saying”—Michel reached into his shirt and drew out his Gold Rose, letting it dangle from his fingertips as he stared at it—“that before I became this, I was something else. This,” he said, bouncing the Gold Rose up and down by its chain, “is not me.”

  “What are you, then?”

  There was a sudden knock on the door and Michel leapt to his feet, crossing the room as quietly as he dared and putting a finger to his lips. He approached the front door, palming his knuckledusters, and slowly moved the brass cover to the peephole to look out into the hall. He let out a soft sigh and stepped away from the door, pulling it open.

  Taniel and Ka-poel stood in the hallway. Taniel was himself—not Gregious Tampo or any of the other faces he’d worn over the years—and Ka-poel hadn’t aged a day in the years since Michel had seen her. Michel and Ka-poel exchanged a hug, and Taniel stalked into the room, giving it the same thorough inspection that Michel had when he first entered.

  “How did you find me so quickly?” Michel asked. “I just sent a message minutes ago.”

  Taniel looked out the windows, then closed them against the increasing smokiness of the outside air. Michel’s mother sat silently on the couch, as still as a frightened deer, eyeing the two new arrivals with something between suspicion and anger.

  “We had someone watching your mother’s home,” Taniel said. “We were down at Fort Nied about an hour ago when we got the message that you attacked Fidelis Jes. We checked the home first, then came here hoping to find you. Your cover is blown, I assume?”

  Michel nodded. “I slipped up.”

  Taniel gave a frustrated snort. “How?”

  “I tripped a ward looking for some sign of the godstones in the Millinery upper library. Fidelis Jes came for me at Mother’s home, and I was able to get the drop on him and escape.”

  Taniel and Ka-poel exchanged a glance, and Ka-poel shrugged as if it were of little consequence. Taniel seemed more annoyed. “It can’t be helped, I suppose,” he said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the note Michel had left at the bank yesterday. “I haven’t gotten the chance to check this yet. Care to explain?”

  Michel quickly ran through his visit to the Millinery library and the dig site south of town, and as he spoke the irritation drained from Taniel’s face until he was finally smiling.

  “So we have it?” Taniel said.

  “I think so. You’ll want to be sure. I’m not sure if it’s what you expected, though. It’s huge—maybe eighty feet long; one of those big obelisks they dig up from time to time around the city.”

  Taniel crossed the room and sat down beside Michel’s mother, his hand on his chin, seemingly without noticing she was there. His brow furrowed. “You’re right, that’s not what we expected at all.”

  “Michel.” His mother finally spoke up, her voice an octave higher than usual. “Who are these people?”

  Michel wiped his brow and glanced from Taniel to Ka-poel. Ka-poel gestured to herself, then to his mother, as if to say go ahead and introduce us. He hesitated for a long moment, wondering if his mother had fully grasped the importance of the story he’d told her just a few minutes ago. “Mother, this is Taniel and Ka-poel. They’re the ones I work for.”

  “So you’re not a Blackhat?”

  “I am. Or rather, I was. I imagine Fidelis Jes is hunting for me now.”

  His mother leaned back from Taniel, taking him in. “Who are you?” she asked.

  In answer, Taniel tugged at the fingers of his glove and removed it, revealing skin the color of fresh blood. His nails were long, his skin smooth, and he gave her a little wave.

  Michel’s mother inhaled sharply. “The Red Hand?”

  “One and the same.”

  “He’s a revolutionary. A guerrilla fighter.”

  “So is your son, Mrs. Bravis.”

  Michel gave his mother a tight smile. She blinked at him, and he could see the moment it all came together in her head. “You’re a double agent,” she said.

  “I am.”

  She rose from the sofa, rushing across the room and throwing her arms around Michel before he could stop her. She clung to him, face buried in his neck, and he thought perhaps she was crying. He took her in his arms and gently patted her back, giving Taniel an apologetic smile. “It’s okay, Mother.”

  “You’re not a Blackhat, then. You’re a good Palo boy, fighting against Lindet?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I couldn’t.”

  “I’m your mother!”

  “That’s why I couldn’t,” Michel said. He wondered if he should explain about being caught and tortured and all the risks and horrible things that could have happened to both of them if she’d known his true identity and slipped up. But that seemed like a bit much for her now. “I’ve been climbing the ranks from the beginning. Spying, informing, helping the Blackhats mop up the streets. A couple of years ago Taniel helped me catch a rogue powder mage. It earned me my Silver Rose, and I’ve just been aiming for my Gold ever since.”

  “Sorry to interrupt,” Taniel said quietly. “But we have a problem.”

  Michel slowly extricated himself from his mother’s grip and deposited her back on the sofa. She beamed at him, and he felt his cheeks color. “We have a lot of problems. Fidelis Jes wants my head.”

  “I don’t think he’s worried about you right now. That Dynize fleet out beyond the bay is threatening to attack. They want the godstones. I imagine all of Fidelis Jes’s efforts are heading in that direction right now.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “Not in the slightest. The Dynize want the godstones. My people tell me that their agents here in the Depths are the ones stirring up the rioters. I’ve already dispatched everyone I could to try to deal with them, but you, Ka-poel, and I are going to have to do something about that stone.”

  Michel drummed his fingers on the wall. “I’m not doing anything,” he said. “Half the Blackhats in the city will be looking for me by now. I’m staying right here until I can get Mother safely out of the city. If the Dynize are going to attack, I don’t want to be anywhere near this place.”

  “I don’t think they are looking for you,” Taniel responded coolly. “Jes survived your little attack, I can tell you that. But with this possible invasion he’ll be rushing around trying to keep the Blackhats together. Besides, do you really think someone with his ego will have told anyone that a common spy got the drop on him? He’ll keep that close to his chest until he has the time to find you himself.”

  Michel wasn’t convinced. “Either way, I’m not a fighter.”

  “No,” Taniel agreed. “You’re not. But you’ve still got your Gold Rose, don’t you?”

  Michel touched the medallion under his shirt. “I’m going to get rid of it as quickly as I can.”

  “It might come in handy,” Taniel said.

  “It also identifies me as a Blackhat to all those rioters out there.” Michel crossed to the corner of the room and folded his arms, trying to think. His primary worry was getting Mother out of the city. As far as he was concerned, Taniel was on his own from here on out. There was nothing more Michel could do to help, not now. He looked at Ka-poel, hoping for a little help. Both of them could be inscrutable at times, but Michel had always liked Ka-poel. She had a fantastic sense of humor.

  Ka-poel fired off a rapid series of gestures at Taniel, and it took Michel a few moments to translate them in his head.

  We need that stone, Ka-poel gestured.

  “I know,” Taniel said glumly.

  If the Dynize manage to get it, that might be worse than letting Lindet keep it.

  “I don’t think we have a choice but to let them fight over it,” Taniel responded. “We weren’t ready for it to be that big.”

  We have to figure out something.

  “Sure. But what are we going to do with eighty feet of solid rock? We can’t just go down and steal
it.”

  Michel pushed himself away from the wall and went to his mother’s side, kneeling down beside the sofa. She was rocking back and forth gently, muttering to herself in Palo. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “All my books,” she said mournfully.

  Michel almost laughed out loud. The city was burning down around them, their whole world going to shit, and Mother could only think of the books she’d left behind at her house. He leaned over and kissed her gently on the forehead. “I’ll get you out of the city, and then I’ll buy you more. I promise.”

  “Can we even get out of here?” she asked. “Is it safe to get out through the riots and the Blackhats?”

  Probably not, he said silently to himself. “We may have to hold tight for a while and risk the smoke. But I’ll get you out.” He bit one knuckle, scowling at himself, trying to think of something. If he risked a Blackhat contact, on the assumption that Taniel was right and Jes had not spread word of his betrayal, he might be able to smuggle them both out of the city before nightfall. But that was not a risk he was willing to take.

  “Wait,” he said, looking up at Taniel and Ka-poel. “What did you just say?”

  “We’re just trying to agree on a plan,” Taniel responded.

  “No. A moment ago,” Michel said. “You said you couldn’t just go down there and steal the godstone.”

  Ka-poel cocked her head.

  “What if”—Michel held up a finger for their patience—“what if we could just go steal it?”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “How hard would it be to arrange a couple of barges to meet us upriver?” Michel asked. “Say, a mile north of Landfall? We’d want armed guards, barges, tow cables; the lot.” He thought furiously, remembering what Professor Cressel had told him—that they’d be ready to move the obelisk within days.

  Taniel exchanged a glance with Ka-poel. “It would be tight, but I think I could manage.”

  Michel took Taniel by the arm and nudged him toward the door. They stepped out into the hall, where the smoke was somehow even worse. Michel thought he heard a scream in the distance. “Could you get my mother out of the city? Immediately?”