The Prophecy Con (Rogues of the Republic)

by Weekes, Patrick

  “So it is a distraction.” Blossom stepped toward the door. “Threaten us with the city, then land troops to seize the temple rather than destroying it.”

  “No.” Sparrow reached out to the bowl, then grimaced and removed his spectacles. His eyes were pale milky blue, unfocused and wet as he touched the bowl as though caressing a lover for the first time. “This is no enemy. Attendant Shenziencis returns.” His shoulders slumped in relaxation. “We are saved, General.”

  Blossom stepped outside and barked the order for the flamecannons to stand down. Under the foolishly ostentatious armor that offered protection only from the barbed wit of nobles and the condescending stares of old monks, she was sweating and hungry.

  Ten minutes later, Attendant Shenziencis swept up the steps and into the inner sanctum, with Princess Veiled Lightning’s personal bodyguard Gentle Thunder at her side. Shenziencis wore simple green robes rather than the ringmail Blossom had seen her wear on formal occasions, showing nothing of her body save her face as she moved into the room with liquid grace. Gentle Thunder’s armor was battered and chipped, and he moved with a hint of stiffness Blossom only noticed from years of watching the movements of men who lived by making others die.

  “Attendant.” Sparrow dropped to a bow. “We await your words.”

  “You have already begun the preparations,” she said, looking at the vases on the table, and something under her robe moved that Blossom could not quite place, something that seemed like the instinctual reaching of a hand, but placed wrong. “Your work is beyond reproach, Sparrow.”

  “What of the princess?” Blossom asked, because someone had to, and Gentle Thunder turned to her and bowed.

  “She is dead,” he said, and Sparrow gasped. “Slain by the Republic’s assassins while she met with them in secret talks to negotiate a peace treaty.”

  General Jade Blossom had expected no less when Thunder had walked in without her. Still, her gut clenched, and her bones suddenly felt the four hours of sleep she had gotten in the last three days. Veiled Lightning had been intelligent, skilled, and tougher than most nobles ever learned to be. Had she fought a few battles in the world outside the palace walls, she might have grown into a remarkable Empress. “Then why are you here, Thunder?”

  “Veil ordered me to return Shenziencis safely here,” Gentle Thunder said grimly. “It was her last request. When our work here is done, I will embrace the blade.”

  Blossom was tired, and Thunder’s voice seemed to echo faintly inside his helmet, giving his words a tinny buzz that set her teeth on edge. “And what is our work, then? We have no means of stopping Heaven’s Spire from destroying this temple.”

  “Untrue,” Gentle Thunder said, and stepped past Sparrow where he bowed. “The city approaches, and it will not fall to flamecannons. However, in our meetings with the Republic nobles, we learned of a weakness that may still bring it to earth.” He turned to Shenziencis. “Attendant, you will complete preparations as we discussed?”

  “I would be honored,” Shenziencis said, bowing, and though Blossom was exhausted, something in it still nagged at her, whether it was the respect the temple master was showing a simple bodyguard or just the way the woman moved as she inclined her head. “It will be as you have said.”

  “General,” said Thunder, turning to Blossom. “I go now to carry out the final wishes of my mistress. I beg of you, trust Attendant Shenziencis as you would our own Veiled Lightning, for she carries our last hope of survival against the barbarians of the Republic.”

  Blossom raised an eyebrow, about to ask what exactly that was supposed to tell her as far as useful information, but then Gentle Thunder brought up his magical ax, the Bringer of Order, and swung it at the gong on the wall.

  “Besyn larveth’is!” the ax cried as it struck, and instead of the great noise that Blossom was already flinching against, the room was bathed in brilliant light.

  Gentle Thunder and his magical ax were silhouetted against that light, flickering, and when it dimmed, he was gone.

  General Jade Blossom looked at Attendant Shenziencis and First Listener Sparrow. “Well, then,” she said. “How the hell do you expect us to get through this crap alive?”

  When the suf-gesuf game reached the next break, Irrethelathlialann was up and Helianthia, the elven woman with the forest-green skin and the golden spectacles, was about even, along with Veiled Lightning.

  Loch, of course, was down.

  She didn’t take a chance on leaving the main hall this time. There were guards by the doorways, and only in a perfect world would all of them be loyal to the ship’s captain. She went to the bar instead, where Dairy was waiting for her.

  “Water?” she asked, looking at the wooden cup he held out in her direction.

  “You told me to cut you off after two, ma’am.”

  “That sounds like a terrible thing for Past Me to have said.” Loch drank the water anyway. “Any word on getting that special?”

  “Nothing yet. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything.”

  “Or she will.” Loch looked up as Ululenia entered the room.

  Everyone looked up as Ululenia entered the room.

  The unicorn’s natural shape was a horse with a shining rainbow horn of energy, of course, but her normal human shape was a slim, fresh-faced woman with ash-blond hair and a simple white dress.

  Tonight, she had taken the form of an elf, her skin pale jade and her cheeks lit with opals that shimmered with their own rainbow light. Her hair remained ash-white, but she had pulled it up into a complex coiling knot that left little curls free to dangle at the side of her face, glittering where they caught the light. Her dress was a strapless white satin sheath with coils of jade twining around her curves in ways that drew the eye.

  “Seriously, nothing?” Loch asked Dairy. “Because I’m a few years out of date on virginity—and I don’t usually go for women—but even I’m a little tempted there.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Hey, what did I say? No apologies.” Loch glanced at Ululenia again. “I’m mystified, but no apologies.”

  “Delicious.” The voice came from beside Loch, and she turned to see Irrethelathlialann looking at Ululenia as she came their way, his gaze smoldering. “Is there any chance you could introduce me?”

  “Trade you for the book?” Loch asked.

  “Sadly, no longer within my purview, as it now resides with my employer.”

  “Mister Dragon. Yes. We talked. He seems nice.” Loch cocked her head, appeared to give it some thought. “Big.”

  Irrethelathlialann smiled. “I heard about your wager. Do you truly believe that you can win?”

  “I believe people are dying, and it’s going to be more unless I win.”

  “Not people,” Irrethelathlialann said, smiling. “Humans. Key difference, you see.”

  “You hate us that much?” Everyone turned to see Veiled Lightning, a drink in hand, standing nearby. “What have we done to earn such disgust as a species in its entirety?”

  “What have you done?” He looked at her, and then at Loch, and finally at Ululenia again as she approached. His voice was incredulous, bordering on outraged. “Humans. You litter this world with the magic of the ancients, using carelessly an energy that burns the very souls of others. You spread across the land like locusts, finding any excuse to kill or cut down any life that stands between you and your presumed domination. And even amongst yourselves . . .” He jerked his chin at Loch. “You make war upon your neighbors for the color of their skin, even as your own country reviles you for the color of yours. Whatever humans once were, you have been broken by your beloved ancients, as surely as my people cannot bear crystals and the dwarves slot themselves into three perfect castes. I cannot hate such madness.” He smiled and shook his head. “I can only pity it.”

  Ululenia had been listening with the others. As Irrethelathl
ialann finished, she extended a hand. “You are cruel . . . but attractive. A pity we did not meet earlier in your life.”

  “A pity indeed.” The elf took her hand, raised it to his lips, and held it there for longer than was absolutely necessary. “Perhaps when your current engagement is finished . . .”

  “I have made no commitments.” Ululenia bowed, the gems in her cheeks flashing as she caught the elf’s eye, and added, “I enjoy flexibility.”

  “Ululenia!” Dairy looked at her in shock.

  She cut him with a look as she drew back her hand from the elf. “Was there something you wanted, Dairy?” He stammered awkwardly for a moment, and she let him, before finally saying, “I did not think so.”

  “Where’s your big black bird?” Loch asked Irrethelathlialann. “Don’t you want him around to protect you in case someone tries to read your mind?”

  “I’m certain we’re all far too civilized for that,” Irrethelathlialann said, still smiling.

  “And the wards would make it impossible, regardless,” Ululenia added.

  Veiled Lightning shook her head angrily. “I am pleased that you all find this so amusing.”

  “She doesn’t, usually,” Dairy said. “We’re trying to stop the war.”

  “Fascinating. So was I.”

  “Humans.” Irrethelathlialann looked over at Ululenia. “So hard for them to see past differences in the skin to see the truth that lies underneath, is it not?”

  Ululenia shrugged one shoulder in a way that accentuated the pale jade skin from her neck down past her collarbone. “Are you interested in what lies underneath?”

  “We are ready to begin the next round,” came the call from the table, and everyone looked at each other.

  Loch slugged the water, handed the cup back to Dairy. “Let me know.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She followed the others back to the table. Helianthia was already seated, a drink in one hand, and she looked at them all with curiosity evident even behind her golden spectacles. No one said anything.

  The dealer flipped out the cards. Loch took a hand with an obvious trio of nines. Helianthia went in hard against Irrethelathlialann on the next hand but came out with knaves and eights against what turned out to be three fours. Veiled Lightning caught two good hands in a row.

  The next hand showed nothing helpful in the flop. Veiled Lightning had what would have been a good start to a flush if the Elflands recognized a flush as a valid hand, which did nothing for her right now. Loch had the start of a possible straight, while Helianthia sat on a pair of tens.

  Irrethelathlialann had what looked like garbage. It took Loch a second to remember why he was raising instead of bowing out.

  “A concordance?” she asked. “Really?” As Veiled Lightning folded, Loch checked, redrawing a hidden card. Helianthia did the same.

  “If you doubt me,” he said, “you are more than welcome to offer me more money.”

  “It’s funny,” Loch said to Helianthia, “growing up in the Republic, we don’t have the concordance, and it feels unfamiliar. I don’t quite have the feel for how to guess my odds, the way I would if I were trying to decide whether to hope for an inside straight, or guess whether you had a third ten in your hidden cards.”

  “Gauging the odds of a concordance is difficult,” Helianthia agreed, “more a dance than a march, given how many factors are beyond control. The simplest question to start is to see how many face cards you have seen this hand, since Irrethelathlialann’s hidden cards must include one, unless he is bluffing.”

  “Veil had a queen.” Loch ticked it off on a finger. “Irrethelathlialann himself has a knave, as do I, and there’s a king in the flop.” She looked at her hidden cards. “At times like this, I wish I could somehow run the math in my mind, just see all the numbers spread out before me, telling me my odds of picking up this straight and whether he really does have that concordance.”

  The dealer flipped the next card out. “A seven, giving the Dragon’s servant a pair, if he does not, in fact, have a face card hiding before him. No help for the Urujar or the poet.”

  “It must be tricky, trying to guess whether you’re going to see more than just that pair,” Loch said to Irrethelathlialann as he raised. “On the off chance you don’t have a face card, that is.”

  “Oh, it’s easier for some than others,” he murmured, and clasped his hands thoughtfully.

  A moment later, he blinked and looked at his bare fingers.

  A laugh came from the crowd, and Irrethelathlialann turned to see Ululenia smiling. She leaned over to give him a bow, and as she did, a ring dangled from a thin golden chain on her neck, sparkling in the light.

  Irrethelathlialann burst out laughing. “Oh, nicely done!”

  “When you played with it, your mannerisms changed,” Loch said. “That little clasp of the hands was you activating the ring, tossing out just enough magic from whatever crystal you’ve got hidden inside it to sharpen your mind.”

  Helianthia’s dark face had gone the sickly color of old lettuce. “No elf would deaden his soul in such a fashion.”

  “No poet would deaden his soul in such a fashion,” Irrethelathlialann corrected, still laughing. “Sometimes, out in the real world, it helps to be able to run the numbers a little.” He shook his head, grinning at Loch with the crystals in his cheeks glittering merrily. “Oh, you are a rare treasure. I had that ring warded to avoid alarms and everything.”

  “I imagine that was expensive,” Loch said. “Speaking of which, I raise six thousand.”

  “Check.” Helianthia shoved her chips into the pot. Her hand was shaking.

  “The only problem with putting your faith in the lovely little unicorn in the low-cut dress, Isafesira, is that you assume I needed the ring to beat you.” Irrethelathlialann pointed at Loch. “No straight. You’re hoping to draw inside, but you won’t, because Veiled Lightning had one of the eights you needed, and I discarded another.” He shifted to Helianthia. “You’re sitting on three, hoping for four, but even you know it won’t happen.” He sat back. “I can read your body language. I can read this one-stoned dealer’s movements as he shuffles. I can read the odds, even without the very expensive ring I’ll be peeling slowly from the unicorn’s lovely body later . . . among other things.” He slid his chips in. “Check. Next card is either a five or three. I raise twenty thousand.”

  The dealer flipped out the three of crystals as the last shared card. “One-stoned is a bit offensive.”

  Loch folded, smiling tightly. Helianthia did the same.

  “Ma’am,” Dairy said beside her as Irrethelathlialann raked in his chips, “you don’t look very good.”

  “I’m fine, Dairy,” she said in a low voice, not looking over.

  Dairy coughed. “Would you like a drink?”

  Loch looked over then. Dairy held a shotglass on a napkin with a pale pink liquid inside.

  “Yes, Dairy. Yes, I would.”

  Loch took it, raised it, downed it, and handed it back to him. It tasted sweeter than she liked and stronger than she needed, buzzing in her mouth and burning in her throat as it went down.

  And something in it crackled and hummed as well, and a moment later, Loch’s ears popped.

  And a voice in her head said, As the vixen covers her tracks, so have Tern and Hessler masked my voice to you, Little One. Whenever you are ready, we may show this elf how one actually cheats at cards.

  The good news where security golems were concerned was that they were fairly slow. As long as Pyvic kept running, the golems were in no danger of catching them.

  The bad news where security golems were concerned was that even Desidora and her magical hammer hadn’t been able to do much more than knock them a few steps backward.

  So they ran through the night, bolts hissing behind them and metal feet clanking. The glowlamps insid
e the gates had flickered and died a few moments after their fight had started, and Pyvic had lost track of time, concentrating only on staying alive and having somewhere to keep running to. They were in the western hedge garden now, which wasn’t quite a maze, but offered enough cover to buy them some time.

  “Suggestions?” In the darkness, the whole palace had burned like a brand, but now all the glowlamps were starting to dim.

  “We cannot survive against both the Knights of Gedesar and the golems,” Icy said. “Any guards not loyal to the enemy are likely dead.”

  “The mausoleum,” Desidora said between breaths. “There’s an entrance that should give us a way inside. Tern, Hessler, and I used it when we broke in last time.”

  “All right. We’re all dead anyway if we don’t get inside, so the mausoleum’s as good a place as any.” Pyvic looked over at Kail, who was scanning the hedges with a scout’s ready eyes. “Can you pick the lock?”

  “Besyn larveth’is!”

  “Good point,” Pyvic said, nodding to Ghylspwr. “At this point, we can probably just break the door down and be fine.”

  “I could pick the lock, though,” Kail muttered.

  “We all believe you,” Desidora said.

  “Kutesosh gajair’is.”

  “Well, most of us, anyway.” Desidora had recovered enough to breathe normally. She nodded and set off through the hedges with Pyvic and the rest in tow.

  They passed the stately mausoleum and reached a small servant’s entrance shortly after, sneaking through the hedges as far as they could and then finally dashing across a short stretch of lawn. By the time they neared the door, the glowlamps were almost entirely dead.

  “I’m guessing that isn’t good,” Kail said as the lamp by the door failed altogether.

  “They must be drawing power to prepare for the next blast,” Desidora said.