The Prophecy Con (Rogues of the Republic)

by Weekes, Patrick

  Nystin grimaced. “Visors stay down at all times. I doubt she’s hexing anyone through solid yvkefer.” He knocked on the side of his helmet.

  “This might be worth bending the rules for, sir,” Scale said. “A warding charm, or—”

  “No warding charms,” Nystin said, cutting him off.

  “Yes, sir.” Scale snapped back to attention, clearly embarrassed and defensive. He hadn’t been on enough bad operations to know how it could go.

  “We’re not using them for two reasons,” Nystin said with a bit less edge in his voice. “First, because we’re the gods-damned Knights of Gedesar. The Republic calls us when some nasty magical son of a bitch needs a knife in the back. We don’t use magic. We don’t need magic.”

  “Yes, sir.” Scale nodded in apology. “Then per protocol for byproducts of ancient magic, I recommend silver on the horn.”

  “Go for the glow,” Nystin confirmed, and Scale sat down. “The second reason we’re not using warding charms. Hex?”

  An older knight stood up slowly. Nystin knew that when he was off duty, Hex favored one leg with a cane, the product of an ugly fight with a rogue wizard some years back. Technically, Nystin should have put the old knight on desk duty, but Hex hadn’t yet let it affect his performance on the job . . . and for somebody like Hex, a desk was a death sentence.

  “Death priestess,” Hex said, his voice raspy from years of shouted commands and regrettable drinks. The rest of the knights sucked in a breath at his words. “We’re confirmed on it. Not just death magic, not some necromancer using corpses as golems. We’ve got an honest-to-gods worshipper of Byn-kodar on our hands. She can manipulate magical auras. If she wanted to, she could nullify the shield around Heaven’s Spire that keeps the air in. Hell, she could turn the air poisonous. She’s raised zombies. If pressed, we can assume she’ll do worse, up to and including sucking the life right out of you. So no charms, and keep your helmets down.”

  One of the knights raised a hand. “What’s she look like?”

  “No intel,” Nystin said. “Nobody who looked at her could recall a damn thing.”

  “Ordinarily, with a death priest, decapitation works best,” Hex went on, “but she’s also armed with a warhammer of the ancients. Do not engage at close quarters. Stay at range and stick to crossbows until command determines she’s weakened sufficiently for a team to close safely.”

  “Bolts until she calls upon her magic to heal her,” Nystin said. “Once I give word, hack her damned head off and let her meet her god in person.”

  “Too bad she can’t turn herself into a zombie,” one of the knights joked, and the others laughed. Nystin allowed it. He was sending his men into a battle that would most likely leave some of them dead. He knew when to loosen the reins a bit.

  “I’m calling four teams,” he said when the laughter died down. “Hex, Scale, Grid: you’ve got your regulars, neutralize your targets and assist as needed. Rib and Glass, you’re with me. We focus on Loch and the other mundanes and provide backup where necessary. Questions?”

  Nobody had anything else. Nystin nodded. “Remember our target: Isafesira de Lochenville. Everyone else is an obstacle. She’s the one we need to kill. Visors down. Let’s move.”

  They pounded out of the warehouse at a jog in wedge formation and hit the streets of Heaven’s Spire. They had been authorized for daylight operation, and civilians gawked at them as they ran by.

  Another commander might have been pleased to see his soldiers, normally stuck on night jobs, get a little recognition for a chance. Captain Nystin hated it. Every civilian who saw them was someone who could tell a friend about the black armor, the full helmets whose visors were covered with an yvkefer mesh, the silver daggers and crystal-tipped war maces. Every story told about the shadowy Knights of Gedesar was intel that some power-mad wizard or monster could take and think of a way to counter.

  Nystin’s men lived in a world full of uncontrolled magic and fools who wanted to play with it. The only reason they gave better than they got was that so few of the bastards ever saw his people coming.

  So even though they were free to be in the open, he still kept them to back streets until they were near the objective. A block before the kahva-house, he stopped the men in an alley. The shadows didn’t hide his men, but they gave decent cover, at least.

  A nondescript man in civilian clothing walked by the alley. “Went inside twenty minutes ago. None of them have left. Solids on the wizard, probable on the unicorn,” he said without stopping.

  Nystin nodded. “Hex, you’re on point. My team backs you. Scale and Grid, front window and side. Let’s move!”

  Hex and his men hit the street at a dead run, the old knight showing no sign of the limp that slowed him down in his off-duty hours. Nystin and his men were right behind him. Two men in each trio had maces and daggers out, and one, the shooter, had a crossbow cranked and ready.

  Hex kicked the front door clean off its hinges and burst inside. “Everybody down! Republic orders!” Nystin heard the windows shatter even as he came in close behind, weapons raised.

  Civilians were screaming and hitting the floor. For a moment, Nystin thought someone was already hit, but then, through the mesh of his visor, the colors resolved to dark brown instead of dark red, and he realized it was kahva spilling across the floor.

  He checked his points, knew his men were doing the same, as were Grid and Scale’s teams as they clambered into the room, weapons raised over the civilians who had fallen to the floor. There were Urujar women present, but none of them looked like Loch. “Dusters!”

  The shooter in each trio threw out a pouch that fell open as it flew, spraying dust everywhere. In moments, the kahva-house was filled with smoke.

  No telltale holes to mark an invisible person, no itchy little urge to look away from part of the room that would indicate a fairy creature trying to play with his mind. “Clear!” Hex shouted, obviously pissed off.

  “Clear!” Grid called over. She helped an old woman who’d fallen down back to her feet, a kind gesture that would also bring his yvkefer gauntlets into contact with her bare skin. She failed to assume any kind of monstrous form.

  “Clear,” Scale called, and then, “Captain, Glass—see this.”

  Nystin lowered his mace and waved for Hex to answer questions as all the civilians started shouting. He walked over to the table where Scale stood.

  Half the cups at the table were still full. Two cups of tea, one water, kahvas, and some crazy civilian crap with a ton of whipped cream on it.

  Glass stepped forward and gently touched the tea, then leaned over and looked at it closely. “Bags are still in, but they’re steeped to different levels. Still hot.” He dipped a finger to the water, put it to his mouth, and then spat. “Spring water, magically created. None of that little taste you get from the stuff up here on the Spire.” He looked at the floor, bent down, and came up with a few coins. “Ordered drinks to their table, then left money and didn’t wait for change.”

  “They were tipped off.” Nystin ground his teeth and rapped the wall with the heel of his fist. “Question everyone in this room and get me a damned lead.”

  “The Knights of Gedesar?” Loch said while jogging down the street toward the docks. “I thought they were a myth.”

  “Keep running.” Captain Pyvic, commander of the justicars and Loch’s significant other, glanced back.

  “Why are they coming after us?” Tern asked, holding tightly to Ululenia, who had returned to unicorn form. Icy jogged alongside them with apparent ease, while Hessler panted and tried to keep up. Kail was up ahead, checking each corner before they passed. “I’m not magical!”

  “Your team has enough magic in it to take out the average town guard or team of justicars.”

  “But they’re military.” Loch chewed on it, still jogging. “They answer to the Voyancy, and Bertram was on my s
ide not a half hour ago.”

  “I’m guessing someone doesn’t much care what Bertram wants, then.”

  Loch looked over at Pyvic. “Wonderful timing, by the way.”

  He shook his head. “Would’ve been here sooner, but I had to deal with getting you cleared for departure. Dumb luck I heard about the intel request and got tipped they were coming for you.”

  She shot him a smile. “Thanks.”

  He didn’t smile back. “I want to help.”

  They crossed a plaza, prompting startled glances and delighted screams from the children at the sight of a unicorn. “You can do more up here at Heaven’s Spire than down there breaking laws with me.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m going to need intel.”

  “I know.”

  “You don’t need to get yourself arrested or killed out of some kind of . . .” She broke off. “You know.”

  “I hate this,” he said, panting now. He’d burst into the kahva-house at a run to get them out the back to safety. He’d likely run all the way from the justicar station. “Bertram’s setting you up.”

  “Looks that way. Got a better idea?”

  “Find out what’s so damn important about The Love Song of Eillenfiniel,” Pyvic said without missing a beat. “Nobody would go to war over a single work of art.”

  “Probably easier if I find the book first.”

  “I might be able to help with that, too.”

  The group reached the cargo docks where Kail had docked the airship. Hessler and Tern had cleared them there instead of at the passenger docks in hopes of avoiding attention. At this time of day, it was busy, with shirtless sweating workers loading crates onto massive cargo freighters. Pallets of crates that had just been unloaded were lashed down. A daemon-powered crane picked the pallets up with a great hook and lowered them gently into wagons, where they could be driven to warehouses. Their little passenger airship, a quarter the size of the freighters, stood out like a nightgown in an armory.

  Loch stopped by the great domed hangar that offered airships protection from the elements when they weren’t in use. Everyone else was still with her, although Hessler had gone from red to white and would likely pass out if asked to do anything more strenuous than walking. Ululenia returned to human form and cupped his head gently, presumably using magic to help.

  “If you like, I can suggest cardiovascular exercises to improve your endurance,” Icy said.

  “I’m . . . fine . . . just . . .” Hessler wheezed a little. “Never . . . liked . . . running.”

  “Kail, Tern, get us cleared to depart,” Loch ordered. “Icy, Ululenia, make sure the Knights of gods-damned Gedesar aren’t already behind us. Hessler . . . breathe. Pyvic, the book?”

  As the others headed off, Pyvic jerked his chin at the registry house. “All departing ships have to state a destination. It’s the same for every major port in the Republic. Let me pull out the Justicar Captain badge and wave it around a little.”

  Loch nodded gratefully, and Pyvic jogged off. The dockworkers were giving her group funny looks, and Kail and Tern were dealing with several large and angry men who were apparently unhappy that a small passenger airship had been occupying a prime cargo dock for the past several hours. As Kail seemed to have the matter in hand, Loch let them deal with it.

  “Hessler,” she said, and he looked up at her, some color finally back in his cheeks.

  “Sorry. Exercise makes me perspire, and—”

  “Listen. I need you to do something for me.”

  Hessler pulled himself as close to upright as he ever got. “Name it.”

  “Pyvic thinks there’s something important about The Love Song of Eillenfiniel, and I think he’s right. The Republic and the Empire wouldn’t just go to war over a single book.”

  “Well, technically, it’s a figurehead being used in place of fundamental disputes over resource allocation—”

  “Hessler,” Loch said, and he shut up. “I need you to research it.”

  He blinked. “But what if you need an illusion?”

  “We’ll manage.”

  “I’ve been expanding my skillset, too,” he added. “I do a nice blast of fire now, and I’m about fifty-fifty on transmuting inanimate objects into things of equal mass!”

  “This is more important. Hit the libraries, the scholarly papers, whatever it is people like you hit.”

  “Well,” said Hessler, frowning, “there are a number of historical dissertations written on elven literature, given the elves’ purported connection to the ancients, and the doctoral defenses often reveal—”

  “Right. That,” Loch said, just as Icy and Ululenia came back around the corner, eyes wide.

  “The pack has our scent,” Ululenia said, “and though they do not bay at the moon—”

  “Got it. Kail, Tern!” Loch called over. “How are we coming?”

  The two were already up on the deck of the passenger ship, although several of the workers were still yelling at them from the dock. “All aboard!” Kail called.

  Loch sprinted past the dockworkers and up the gangplank, Icy close behind her. A small white dove landed on the deck and shifted into Ululenia. Back at the entry area, men in black armor came around the corner with maces and crossbows raised.

  Tern looked up from the helm. “Where’s Hessler?”

  “Different assignment. I’ll fill you in later. Let’s go.” Loch ignored the look Tern shot her and kept her eyes on the men. They were headed toward the airship.

  Kail pulled back the gangplank, and Loch took a few steps back and out of sight as he took the helm back from Tern. “Okay, let’s give our daemon a little nudge, and—”

  The airship rocked, sending everyone stumbling. Loch looked up. The great balloon overhead was distended, bulging out as though something were punching it from the inside.

  “What did you do?” Tern yelled.

  “Me? I didn’t do anything!” Kail hammered at the console. “It’s never done that before!”

  The dark-armored men were halfway across the dock. “Now would be good, Kail.”

  Kail turned another dial, and something inside the balloon growled and hissed. Again, the balloon lurched, sending the airship rocking.

  “Isafesira de Lochenville!” came a shout from down on the dock. “Surrender immediately or we will take you down!” A grappling hook came sailing over the side of the ship and caught on the railing. A moment later, another joined it.

  “Hell. Fix it,” Loch said to Kail. She drew her sword, stepped to the railing, and chopped through one of the ropes. A crossbow bolt whizzed past her face, and she ducked in case more followed.

  “I’m working on it! This is in no way normal!” Kail shouted back as the balloon distended overhead.

  “Is it going to break loose?” Loch yelled. “That looks a lot like the balloon that time the daemon tore free and ate Jyelle!”

  “That daemon did us all a favor,” Kail muttered and pounded on the console. “This one’s just pissing me off.”

  Tern darted to the railing, hunched over, and fiddled with her lavender lapitect’s robes. Underneath them, Loch saw, she wore her usual brown crafter’s dress with its many pockets. She lifted her crossbow and fitted a bolt in place.

  “You continued to carry your crossbow all this time?” Icy asked, moving past her and grabbing hold of another grappling hook.

  “Nobody has ever been sad to have their crossbow with them.” Tern peeked up and fired a shot down at the dock. As she did, Icy reached out and caught an incoming bolt inches from her face. “Aaaaand thank you.”

  “It was nothing,” Icy said modestly, and freed the other grappling hook with his free hand.

  Purple smoke poured out from the spot where Tern had fired, and Loch heard the sound of coughing, even as another bolt thudded into the side of the
airship inches from her. The balloon above her head growled, and more grappling hooks latched onto the railing.

  Loch reached the first one just as a dark-armored knight pulled himself over the railing. He came down in a fighting crouch, readying a war mace whose head was tipped with crystal.

  Loch took that in as she charged him. He had time to raise it before she slammed him into the railing. As he staggered, she hooked an arm under his leg and heaved him off the ship.

  A few yards away, another knight rolled onto the deck. Ululenia pointed at him, and her horn flared. Instead of repeating a nonsense phrase and falling over, the knight whipped out a dagger and flung it without hesitation.

  Icy caught it mid-leap, fell into a roll, and came up between the knight and Ululenia. As the knight went for his mace, a crossbow bolt tipped with what looked to Loch like mud slammed into his helmet, rocking him back and covering his visor with the viscous material.

  Loch stepped in, knocked the mace from the knight’s hands, rattled his helmet with a hilt smash to the temple, and shoved him over the railing as well. “Kail!”

  “Almost got it, Captain!” Kail’s yell sounded a bit panicked, but then, it often did.

  As the knight crashed to the dock below, she saw more of them climbing up the rope, and others closing in. One knight down on the dock simply stood at the edge of the cloud of purple smoke Tern had made, arm raised to point directly at her. His helmet, dark like that of the others, was emblazoned with the half-lidded eye of Gedesar in red.

  “I’ve killed a lot worse than you, girl,” he called up to her.

  Then, beside him, one of the dockworkers approached the cloud of purple smoke. As he did, a dark knight stepped out of the smoke with dagger drawn. Without hesitation, the knight stabbed the worker in the throat. The worker fell back, clutching his throat, and stumbled into the smoke, where he disappeared.