The Prophecy Con (Rogues of the Republic)

by Weekes, Patrick

  “Security Enforcer Gart Utt’Krenner, museum security,” the bailiff declared unnecessarily as Gart walked into the room, which was set entirely in angled stone. The three guildmasters assigned to his request were seated. Each wore black robes, open in the front to show the fine ringmail they wore underneath, as well as ax-shaped pendants of yvkefer.

  “Chief Utt’Krenner,” said Master Utt’Narinn, smiling over her spectacles. “I suspected we might see you soon. You have recovered?”

  “Enough to speak, Master,” Gart said politely. “I judged it necessary to make this request before the trail of the humans grew too cold.”

  “Indeed,” said Master Utt’Murrick, looking at a copy of the form Gart had filled out. “You wish to pursue the humans outside the boundaries of Ajeveth, despite our nonexistent authority outside the city?”

  Master Utt’Murrick had overseen decades of the city’s safe development, but Gart had been known to admit privately that he disliked the man’s habit of stating the obvious with implied judgment.

  “I do, Master.” Gart nodded at his report. “As I understand it, the Republic has confirmed that this ‘Loch’ is a justicar, but neither approved nor denied her actions here in the city. As such, I believe that her legal authority as justicar is suspect in this matter, and I wish to apprehend her and question her further.”

  “And the Imperial assailants?” Master Utt’Nazef asked. He was a dark-skinned man transferred from deep in the mountains after years of service, and Gart knew him only casually. “They caused most of the injuries to our people. Why are we not hunting them?”

  “We have no information regarding their identities,” Master Utt’Murrick said with a touch of impatience. “The identities with which they entered the city were fakes, and the Empire has not deigned to answer our request for assistance. Chief Utt’Krenner has no other viable targets in his hunt.”

  “This is true, Master,” Gart said. “My hope is that finding Loch will lead to the Imperials, along with the recovery of the stolen elven manuscript.”

  “Chief Utt’Krenner,” said Master Utt’Narinn, “your desire for justice is laudable, but our treaty with the Republic is clear. We have no word from the Republic that these actions were sanctioned, in which case we could request damages, or unsanctioned, in which case we could request extradition.”

  “Not that they would do so,” Master Utt’Nazef added.

  “In neither case would we be entitled to take action within the Republic’s borders,” Master Utt’Murrick said. “I believe you know this, Chief Utt’Krenner. Unless the Republic violates its treaty, we cannot in good faith approve your request.”

  Gart Utt’Krenner swallowed his disappointment, bowed to the masters, and left the Guildhall.

  He went home to a meal with his wife and children. After supper, his wife played music on the harp, which she did only rarely but knew Gart enjoyed a great deal. Gart helped the children with their schoolwork—his son was writing an essay upon protecting small towns during winter, and his daughter was preparing for a defense exam against a simulated troll attack.

  After they were asleep, Gart brought out his law books and read until his still-aching chest informed him that he was being foolish. Then he went to his room, kissed his wife, and went to sleep.

  When he awoke the next morning, his wife was already at work, but she had done two things for him. First, she had left a fresh cup of kahva steaming on a magically heated plate; and second, she had bookmarked a page of one of his law books.

  He read the page. Then he read it again.

  Then he went back to the Guildhall, filled out another form, and waited.

  They showed him in less than an hour later.

  “What are we looking at, Chief Utt’Krenner?” Master Utt’Murrick asked, scowling at him from beneath great bushy gray eyebrows.

  “Transport registration logs,” Gart said, smiling politely.

  “And why are we looking at them?” Utt’Murrick asked.

  “Because per our treaty with the Republic, docking fees for regularly scheduled government airships are paid on a quarterly basis,” Gart said, reciting the law from memory, “but unique instances are paid within one month, with acknowledgment of the fee and intent to pay received within ninety-six hours.” Gart smiled at Utt’Murrick. “As you can see, Master, we have not yet received such an acknowledgment.”

  Utt’Murrick harrumphed. “Of course not. They still have not decided whether to sanction this foolishness or not.”

  “That . . . isn’t actually relevant,” Master Utt’Narinn said, looking over her spectacles. Her lips were pursed, either in thought or, Gart hoped, to conceal a smile. “They have acknowledged that this was Isafesira de Lochenville, and the docking registration section of our treaty does not stipulate different rules based on sanctioned or unsanctioned action. As a government agent, she did arrive and order her docking fees paid by the Republic.”

  “And they have not yet sent an acknowledgment and intent to do so,” Gart finished. “Which means—”

  “Spawn of a troll,” Master Utt’Nazef said, chuckling. “The young chopper caught the Republic in a breach of treaty.”

  “Technically,” Utt’Murrick said, glowering at Utt’Nazef. “This is doubtless an administrative error.”

  “True,” Master Utt’Narinn said, “but until such time as it is resolved, I think it reasonable to allow Security Chief Utt’Krenner to investigate this possible failure to pay the docking fees.”

  “Can’t go all the way to the humans’ big floating city,” Utt’Nazef added, grinning. “Probably best just to find that Urujar woman and question her about the docking fees in person.”

  “And if anything else related to matters of the city’s security were to surface while you investigated these possibly delinquent docking fees,” Master Utt’Murrick growled, “that would technically be within your rights to take action on as you saw fit.” He shook his head. “Much as it will likely come back to bite us.”

  “You have approval for extra-municipal action,” Master Utt’Narinn said. “Good hunting, Chief.”

  Security Chief Gart Utt’Krenner bowed. “Thank you, Masters. I will not disappoint you.”

  After flying on the airship debatably named Iofegemet for the better part of a week after Ajeveth, everyone had gotten to know every inch of the airship by heart. They’d also learned who snored and how often everyone used the privy. Now that Pyvic had given Loch a new target, everyone was more than ready to get their feet on the ground.

  “I know little of Ironroad,” Ululenia said, leaning against the railing as they flew. Loch was working with Icy on the knots that kept all the airship ropes going where they were supposed to go while Kail kept the airship on course. Tern was busy reading a book and not throwing up anymore. “It is a town of walls and rocks, stone and struggle.”

  “It’s close to dwarven lands,” Loch said. She had an awkward subject to broach, and was working her way up to it. “It has some mining. It’s largely a transportation hub, though.”

  “And your justicar believes we might find Irrethelathlialann there, Little One?”

  “Irret . . . stupid name,” Tern muttered, not looking up from her book.

  “Just go with Ethel,” Kail said.

  Tern glared over. “Kail, stop rocking the ship.”

  “I’m not rocking her, Tern. I’m steering her.”

  “My justicar is quite sure we’ll find him there,” Loch answered Ululenia. “He should be there two days from now, giving us just enough time to get there, meet Hessler, and get aboard.”

  Ululenia blinked and looked at Loch. Her pale brow furrowed ever so slightly. “Aboard?”

  “You are too rocking her—it! You are rocking it, the airship that is not a living creature or, for that matter, female. I can feel this little bip, bip, bip, and it’s making my stomach ache,
and I haven’t puked in two days and I want to keep this streak going, so gods damn it, please stop rocking the ship.”

  “I feel the same motion,” Icy said, fixing one of Loch’s knots with quick confidence that bespoke a past on the ocean or in the sky. “It is an extremely subtle vibration coming through the deck.”

  “Maybe it’s just the motion of the sailwings,” Kail said, shrugging.

  “Aboard?” Ululenia asked again, since Loch hadn’t answered yet.

  “Aboard the dwarven railway,” Loch said.

  “No,” Ululenia said.

  “It’s our only lead, Ululenia.”

  “No.”

  “It is not just the motion of the sailwings, Kail,” said Tern, “so if you could stop making that bip, bip, bip rocking motion before I puke, clean up that puke, take it down to the galley, use the hot-plate to forge the puke into a dagger of solidified vitriol, and drive it through your skull, that would be fantastic.” She burped, then shuddered.

  “This is the only lead we have on the elf,” Loch said. “There’s a luxury boxcar purchased in his name on a train that will go through Ironroad in two days’ time.”

  “Little One,” Ululenia said, her small white hands clenched into delicate fists, “I am not a doe turning up her nose at brackish water. The railways are silver. To ride them would wrack my spirit with discomfort at every step.”

  “Yeah,” said Tern as her stomach made a noise like a dog trying to roll over and growl at the same time, “what’s that like?”

  “Could you actually forge puke into a weapon?” Kail asked.

  “I’m an alchemist, Kail. I can absolutely do that.”

  Loch ignored them, still looking at Ululenia. “I was already on the fence about you coming along if Veiled Lightning has a Hunter working with her. I think the silver railway tips it.”

  “I do not fear the Hunters,” Ululenia said, her horn flaring.

  “You should,” Kail said. “They scare me, and they aren’t following centuries-old instructions from the ancients to hunt me.”

  “If you can’t come with us,” Loch said to Ululenia after shooting Kail a look, “maybe you can go back to Heaven’s Spire. Desidora has been trying to make sense of the fairy book without much luck. You may be able to help her translate.”

  Ululenia sighed. “Of course. I am sorry, Little One. You must hunt in the grounds where your quarry makes its home. I only wished to help. It has been . . . frustrating without my virgin.”

  Loch looked down over the railing. Kail had them following a river that would take them up to Ironroad, and it was a tiny ribbon of silvery blue below them. They were over farmland, and the fields were laid out in neat little squares. She couldn’t make out people at this height, but she thought she could see carts on a tiny road running parallel to the river.

  “What happened with Dairy?” she finally asked.

  Ululenia looked away. “I did not hurt him, Little One.”

  “I would be very disappointed if you had.”

  “You do prefer virgins,” Kail said. “I mean, when Loch and I found you, you’d just finished deflowering some young village man and a strapping young ogre.”

  Tern burped, winced, and swallowed.

  “Yes,” Ululenia said, smiling and staring off into the distance. “I enjoy the supple limbs of those who have never rested in the dewy meadows of a lover’s embrace, the lust-darkened gaze in eyes for whom the world is still lit in the colors of spring. But for my virgin, I might have stayed even after the flush of manhood had risen in his loins.”

  “I’m so glad you asked her this, Captain,” Kail said. “These were pictures I needed in my head.”

  “In celebration of his victory over the Glimmering Folk as the Champion of Dawn, I took young Dairy to a restaurant on Heaven’s Spire. We dined on fresh oysters, prawns soaked in cream . . .”

  Tern got up and stumbled to the far railing. Everyone politely looked the other way and ignored the noises coming from that direction.

  “Do you need a cloth?” Icy asked as Tern turned back around.

  “No. Please nobody look at me right now.” She sat back down against the far railing.

  “Tern, if you wish, I can show you the breathing technique to harmonize your internal energies,” Icy said, “again.”

  “I can’t learn it right now.” Tern swallowed. “I can’t do anything right now.”

  “I offered to teach it to you back in Ajeveth,” Icy added, “but you insisted that you did not need it.”

  “Yes, I know.” Tern shot Icy a glare, her apple cheeks more olive at the moment. “Past Tern made some bad life choices. Just no more shellfish.”

  “So, after dinner . . .” Loch said, nodding to Ululenia.

  The unicorn sighed, her horn flickering. “We went to a room. At first, his nervous pleasure was a thing of beauty, but . . .” She paused, trying to find the words.

  “But . . . what?” Kail said after a moment.

  Ululenia glared at him. “We encountered difficulties. He said that while this human form was ‘very pretty,’ it did not ‘feel right,’ and so we would simply ‘remain friends.’ ”

  “He turned you down?” Kail sputtered. “Dairy turned down the magical shapeshifting, mind-reading fairy creature with a thing for virgins?”

  “Yes!” Ululenia snapped. “He turned me down. Loch and her justicar sweated naked under the moon, Tern and Hessler found gentle delight in each other’s bodies . . .”

  “Wooo, sexy times,” Tern muttered, and coughed.

  “But I got nothing! So no,” Ululenia said, glaring at all of them, “I did not mistreat my young virgin, nor lie with him under false pretenses. As you all knew the pleasures of each other’s bodies, I took a long walk in the rain.”

  “He turned you down.” Kail was laughing now. “Oh, that is hilarious.” He slapped the side of the helm.

  “Right there!” said Tern. “When you hit the helm, that made the little rocking thing go again. Have you been tapping the helm with your hands? Because if you have, Kail—if you have been hitting the helm with your hands in some little idle gesture, and that is what made the little bips that caused it to rain puke on some poor farmer’s fields . . .”

  “I don’t think I was tapping the helm,” Kail said with absolute sincerity, “so let’s just see if that rocking motion doesn’t go away all on its own.” He held his hands absolutely motionless.

  “I will end you,” Tern said, closing her eyes and leaning back against the railing.

  “I’m sorry about Dairy,” Loch said to Ululenia. “Maybe you’ll find another virgin back up on Heaven’s Spire.”

  Ululenia snorted, then shimmered into a white eagle and launched herself to the sky. Heaven’s Spire is home to wealthy politicians, her voice came into Loch’s mind. There are few virgins to be found there.

  Loch grinned. “Well, at least you’ll have a love priestess to ask for advice.”

  I will return to Desidora and your justicar as quickly as I can, Little One. Good luck on the silver rails. And be wary. The trains are pulled by fire-daemons, and whatever agitation walks the land of late, it seems to shake daemons loose from their bindings.

  Loch nodded as Ululenia soared off, a shining white wedge in the pale sky.

  It was one more problem to think about, and she had enough of those already.

  Captain Nystin of the Knights of Gedesar took a slip of paper from the justicar at the table, tucked it into his pocket, and stood up. He left a pouch of coins on his seat and walked out of the kahva-house without looking back.

  Nystin walked for a quarter of an hour, taking random streets and doubling back twice, before removing the slip of paper from his pocket and reading it. When he had memorized the information, he tore the paper into shreds, then tossed it into a nearby fountain.

  He returned to h
is men, who were already armored and ready to move.

  “We’ve got a hit on Loch,” he said without preamble.

  “Location?” Grid asked, checking the binding on her crossbow.

  “Projected. Ironroad. Our thief is catching a train.” Nystin held out his arms, and Rib, the newest of the recruits, fitted Nystin’s armor on as Nystin kept going. “We’ve got intel that her people raised daemons out in Ajeveth and stole artifacts from the dwarves.”

  “Will the dwarves be offering assistance in catching her?” Scale asked.

  “I don’t particularly need anything forged at the moment.” Nystin slid his hands into leather gauntlets while Rib quickly laced up his armor. “Less than a day after it leaves Ironroad, that train enters dwarven territory.” He looked out at his soldiers. “I fully expect our team to take this woman down before jurisdiction becomes an issue.”

  “How are we getting there?” Hex asked. “Ironroad’s halfway across the Republic.”

  Nystin nodded at the question. “There’s a zephyr-class airship leaving Dock 17 in one hour. It belongs to a gang of hexmongers who’ve been running high-grade crystals stolen from the inner workings of the city to use for death-curses.” He let that sink in. “The justicars have been sitting on that intel for six months, hoping to get a lead on the necromancer on the ground. Personally, I’d rather kill the bastards here and now, then take their fast little airship out to Ironroad and catch our target. Thoughts?”

  There was a rumble of assent from the soldiers.

  “Hexmongers might have traps on their ship,” Hex said, his dry old voice grim with the memory of old battles. “Permission to lead?”

  “Granted.” Nystin nodded at Rib, who had finished helping Nystin into his armor in record time. The recruit had the makings of a decent soldier, if he didn’t get killed. “Glass, your team clears the docks. Let’s avoid any trouble with the workers this time.”

  She flushed. “Understood, sir.”

  “Good.” Nystin looked out at his soldiers. “We missed her last time. Any deaths out in Ajeveth when Loch hit? That’s on her, make no mistake, but it’s on us, too. I don’t know how many dwarven mothers and fathers are putting out flowers for their children, but it’s too many.” He scanned the room, making sure they were taking it in. “No more. Grab weapons. We move in five. Dismissed.”