“With your permission?” I asked. Salina nodded, though her eyes flashed. The herb was bitter in my lungs, but with the first pull I could feel my thoughts slow from a sprint to a mere run. “Eld, will you explain to her? I’m making a mess of this.”
“When did you develop self-awareness?” he asked.
“It’s only temporary,” I assured him.
“Uh-huh. Signora,” he said, turning back to Salina, “what Buc is trying to say is that your information on us … it’s not enough to blackmail us with. We only take on cases that interest us, cases that no one else can solve, cases that matter.”
“How did Salazar’s case of missed payment matter?” she asked.
Eld blushed and glanced at me. I exhaled my third and final pull. I was at a swift jog now; I didn’t want to slow to a walk. I didn’t want to know what it was like to be normal.
I glanced at the tiny bit left in my hand and sighed. It’s one of the few expressions I can do well. So well, it almost felt real, even to me. “Everyone makes mistakes,” I said. I wasn’t going to tell her the truth, not with that judge wandering around waiting to order us shot. “Not me, usually, but you caught me on a bad day.”
“Well, if the charge of murder and the threat of having your brains blown out isn’t enough to encourage you, perhaps our circumstances will. All of our agents have failed … in one form or another.” She gestured around her. “You’ve seen the merest hint of our resources. You know the Empire is involved as well. Let that sink in for a moment and let me know if my case meets your criteria.”
I crushed the last bit of kan between my hands and watched the flakes fall to the floor so she wouldn’t see the interest in my eyes. The Empire failed. I nodded after I’d schooled my face. “Point taken, continue.”
“You’re familiar with the sugar trade and its origins?”
“Vaguely,” Eld said. “It’s supplanted kan as your number one commodity; that is common knowledge.”
“It grows mainly on the Shattered Coast,” I added.
Salina looked at me. There’s that smile again. “Yes, and while there are minor merchants and even another trading company in production there, we dominate the plantations. Six months ago ships started disappearing. Look.” She produced a key from a hidden pocket in her dress and turned something within the table. There was a loud click, then the sound of gears spinning. The tabletop began to rise and slide to the side, revealing an intricately diagrammed map of … the world. Gilded lines of latitude and longitude ran across its length, intersecting with a gold star that marked Servenza. Squares within the table, out to sea, opened to reveal tiny wooden ships.
The map rose to the table’s previous height, then the tabletop slid back beneath the map and disappeared from view as everything snapped into place with a final click. Salina’s smile faded.
“It was a few at first, here and there, but it’s still a wild sea dotted about with scores of islands, some that haven’t even been charted yet.” She turned the key again and dozens of ships began to move across the map, driven by the gears spinning beneath the table. Several sank down in their squares, replaced by open water. More began to disappear, and yet more, until the seas looked a lot less crowded than they had a moment before.
“Accidents happen,” Eld supplied.
“Just so. Unfortunately, the numbers continued to grow, so three months ago we started looking into this seriously. Especially when we noticed that the only ships disappearing were those carrying sugar.”
“What other cargoes do your ships carry?” I asked.
“A few exotic fruits, some special varieties of kan, things of that nature,” Salina said. “None of those ships have disappeared. And from what our”—her eyes flicked to the captain and back again—“spies can tell, the other trading company’s ships seem unaffected as well.”
“The other trading company?”
Salina hesitated and the captain stiffened before inclining her head ever so slightly. “Normain.”
Eld whistled.
“We are at peace, no?” I asked. Something didn’t quite make sense. True, Normain was one of the few powers on the coastal mainland that had not only held out from Imperial rule, but had managed to grow its territories inland as well. No small feat, given the Burning Lands bordered them on two sides. But for all that, they weren’t the naval power the Empire was. So why risk their colonial holdings over sugar?
“We are,” the officer said. “If Normain is aware of their advantage, they haven’t shown it yet.”
“Yes,” Salina said. “Plus, there have been no signs that they’ve been hoarding sugar. Quite the opposite, in fact. That’s the only reason our own slackening of supply hasn’t been remarked on until now. But the whispers have started. Our stockpiles are running low and we’ve only one ship we’re sure will make landfall within the week. That only gives us a fortnight until we run out of sugar.”
“And then?” Eld asked.
“And then the nobles have to drink their tea bitter, like the rest of us,” I said. “And no sweets after dinner. Oh bother.”
“Hardly,” Salina said, drawing the word out in a high tone that erased any doubt she was herself a commoner. “Then our stock plummets and our shareholders are ruined.”
“Isn’t one of your largest shareholders the Empress?” I asked. Her face blanched. I grunted. “The fucking Empire itself? This?” I gestured at the shelves around us. “And that out there? All financed by sugar and backed by the Imperial lira?”
“So you see,” Salina said, her voice drawing tight, “why we must find the reason why our ships have been disappearing, and put an end to it. Immediately.”
“Well, within a fortnight, anyway, aye?” I asked.
“You really are the most perfect arsehole,” she said.
4
“I can have you on a ship within the hour,” the woman said, ignoring my too-wide smile.
“We’ll need more information first,” Eld said. “The disappearances could be due to pirates, a change in the weather patterns—maybe the hurricanes are returning to their former strength after the past century of peace—and there’s still Normain,” he said, ticking off the points one by one on his fingers.
I grunted agreement. “Even leaving aside our neighbors…” The Imperial officer cursed under her breath. “The Shattered Coast is a labyrinth of remnants of lost civilizations, waters that turn compasses upside down, artifacts of the Gods—”
“To say nothing of an attempt at a hostile corporate takeover,” Eld added.
Hostile corporate takeover? That sounded interesting. With the kan in my lungs, my mind didn’t ferret out all the possibilities as quickly as it might have, but it let me savor them more. I found everything much easier to savor now that the judge in blood robes wasn’t staring at us from beneath that ridiculous wig. The lack of a gun pressed to my skull didn’t hurt either.
“We’ve already considered all of those,” Salina cut in sharply, ripping me out of my head and back to the present. Bitch. “In the end, it’s all speculation; the Shattered Coast is half a thousand leagues distant, and the only way to know for sure is to have boots on the ground.” She reached beneath the map table and pulled out a leaf of papers. “If it’s information you require, then I’ll make sure packets detailing our previous attempts are awaiting you. On board the ship.”
“We’ll also require payment,” I said. “We aren’t doing this for free.”
“An interesting case and saving your neck aren’t enough?”
“You said it yourself: You can’t solve the mystery from here. You need boots on the ground, and seeing as all your other boots failed, it’s not just any boots you need, but ours.” My mouth was starting to ache from smiling, but the expression seemed to infuriate the woman, so I kept it in place. “What was it you said earlier? Omnia cum pretio.”
“Very well. What is your price? I could return the pistole upon services rendered, removing the threat of blackmail.”
&nbs
p; “That’s a start,” I said. “You’ll also have our Imperial friend”—I nodded toward the older woman—“file a report with Judge Cokren before we leave, naming the mage as the murderer.”
Salina’s eyes snapped and it no longer hurt to keep smiling. Imperial law stated that in order to overturn a murder conviction where the previously convicted was deceased, there must be physical evidence suggesting a different offender. If she gave us the pistole, she would lose her evidence and, with it, the chance to hold the crime over our heads in perpetuity. If the report I’d just asked for was filed, it wouldn’t matter what judge she had on the payroll; we’d be free and clear. The treatise I’d read on that particular piece of law, between books forty-seven and forty-eight, had been dry stuff to be sure, but was proving its worth today. “Did you think we were fools?”
“No, I did not,” she said, nostrils flaring slightly. “If that’s what you require—”
“No, that’s what you so graciously offered,” I said. “And while we appreciate the sentiment, that’s not going to cut it. For someone employed by the most eminent trading company in the world, you surely don’t bargain well.” Eld hissed a warning. “Or is this your first time?”
“I tire of this game. Name your price and be done with it,” she snapped. “Or there’s still the judge.…”
My stomach growled loudly in the silence that followed. I ignored it, ignored Salina, and paused as if considering. But I’d known what my price was as soon as I saw the catalog system. Marten’s On Religion and Power was surely nestled somewhere in the two hundreds. One of the finest libraries in all the world, perhaps the finest, could never pass up such a seminal work. Marten was famed as a great orator, but as a writer, he was a bit dull and plodding. No one read Marten for the prose, but rather for the message.
Eighteen months ago I’d picked up that book, unprepared for the fire it would kindle within me. Marten outlined, in excruciating detail, the chaos wreaked upon the political landscape three centuries ago. That was when the New Goddess, Ciris, was discovered or awakened or whatever the fuck happened that brought her out of retirement; that’s when the Sin Eaters were born. The Dead Gods—no one knows how many there are or much about them, save that they are dead and the skeleton of one of them provides the architecture of most of the capital of Normain—and their followers had had little need for manipulation and subjugation until then, but the emergence of a rival deity had ignited a secret war that left all nations dancing on hidden strings pulled by either side.
I’m not a good person, and as much as Eld jests about my lack of introspection, I’m self-aware enough to know that. I don’t think good people are forged in the violence of the streets. I saw a child bashed like a rag doll against the cobblestone for dancing around a street gang while singing taunting songs and hurling made-up insults: you know, being a child. I think I was five, and lucky that all the child had already been beaten out of me, or it could have been my brains sprayed across the street. I’ve seen what hunger will make people do and I’ve done worse myself. And my sister. Sister.
My mind went blank.
Something flickered through my thoughts and was gone. I’m not a good person, and as much as Eld jests about my lack of introspection, I’m self-aware enough to know that … but if power can corrupt, it can also cleanse. If I had it my way, no child would see what I had seen reflected in the flames that danced before my eyes all those years ago, when I burnt my old life. With enough power, I can prevent another horror like myself from being created. Eighteen months ago I began to see clearly for the first time in my short years.
Achieving my goals will require a strength and hardness that would crack all but the hardest steel—and there is something in me that tends toward iron. Hard … but brittle. It has to be enough. It will be enough. Only a child could have been arrogant enough to plot a path to resew the very fabric of our society, clean the streets of their grime, and lift children out of the gutter. I am ten and seven and by the time I am ten and ten every child will be a normal child. If I was as old as Eld, I’d probably have abandoned those thoughts long ago or else drawn a blade across my wrists. Strength, hardness, but power also. The power of a nation. One not tied down by religious fanatics or insular politics. Some said the Kanados Trading Company was a nation unto itself and I intended to find out.
I pulled myself back to the moment just as Salina opened her mouth. “Our price is a writ of ownership in your Company,” I said.
“Stock?”
“No, a writ of ownership,” I repeated. “A stake in the Company.”
“You want to be given a place among our shareholders?”
“Aye, and a seat on the Executive Board as well.”
“Impossible!” I started to speak and she slammed her hand down on the table. “No, it is impossible. The shares are tightly controlled and it would take the Gods themselves in physical form to create another. And to sit on the Board?” She snorted. “Be reasonable or I’ll shoot you myself.”
“You’ll shoot us or you won’t,” I growled as I found myself marching past Eld and right up to the table. The Imperial officer started to move, but my outstretched hand stopped her. I would have shown my surprise at that, but it would have ruined the effect. “You’re no different in your trumped-up palazzo than the corner street tough. You’ve just got more expensive makeup. We’re in your power, so if you’d aimed to kill us, we’d be dead. We aren’t dead, so that was never your aim.”
I put my other hand on the table and leaned over it so we were face-to-face. “In two weeks your Company will go belly-up and your shares will be as useless as your Board. If we solve your mystery, that can be prevented and the Company preserved and its Board with it. To my mind, that should entitle us to a seat at the table. Especial services rendered and all that.”
We stared eye to eye, her nostrils twitching as if she were walking along the edge of the Tip after a feast day. “Solving the mystery won’t get us the sugar we need. It will be little help if you return a week late to tell us Normain is poaching our ships after all. Solve the mystery and I’ll give you the pistole.” She hesitated. “Solve the mystery and fix our sugar problem and you’ll be given equal share in the Company.” Air hissed between her teeth. “And a seat on the Board.”
“Done,” I said, offering my hand.
“And done,” she said, hesitating before taking it gingerly. Her palm was slick with sweat and I could feel her pulse beneath my touch. Either she was terrified of what she’d done or terrified that we wouldn’t be enough. I almost told her it should be the former, but she wouldn’t have believed me; they never believe a mere girl will do what’s needed. Eld’s the only one who’s ever believed in me, and beyond a knife in the shoulder I’m not sure he’s gotten much in return. But this time would pay for all.
Salina broke my grip and rang a small porcelain bell on the table. “Your writ will be on the ship, along with the information you requested.”
“Just like that?” Eld asked.
She looked past me and smiled, but there was no humor in it. “Your little friend,” she said, and I growled. “The signorina,” she corrected, “was right. If you fail, the share is meaningless. If you succeed, I believe I can convince the Board it was a small price to pay to stave off financial ruin.” She inclined her head toward the Imperial officer. “To say nothing of the Empire itself.”
“Always an afterthought,” the other woman murmured through tight lips.
“Like the signorina said, everything has its price. And ours are profits above all else.”
“Speaking of price,” I interjected before the captain could fire back whatever retort was on her lips, “we’ll need money for travel expenses.”
“Travel expenses?” Salina asked. “I’m providing the ship.”
“We’ll need supplies.”
“Very well.” She opened a drawer and pulled out a small purse with a pearl clasp. “You’ll need to submit an itemized list of expenses upon your return or e
lse we’ll expect to be repaid for every lire missing from this purse.”
“That’s going to be problematic,” I said. She raised her eyebrows. “Well, I’ve never been to the Shattered Coast, but from everything I hear, it’s wild and untamed.”
“It is all of that and more.”
“In my experience, limited as it may seem to you, money is often needed to loosen tongues.”
“Bribes?”
“Your words, not mine,” I said. I also left unsaid that we’d just watched her bribe a judge. “Given how such costs can add up quickly in Servenza, I expect that there, it must be twice as bad. And you’ll want us to move quickly, which means more…”
“Bribes, yes, I take your point.” Reaching into the drawer, she pulled out another purse. “Very well, we’ll forgo the itemized receipts for now.”
“So long as we’re speaking of difficulties,” Eld said, “Imperial lire may draw the wrong kind of attention. Especially if they are newly minted.”
“How did you know?” she asked.
“The sound of the bags on the table was too uniform,” I said. “If there were enough clipped lire in there, and even in Servenza the average on the street is three or four clipped to every one that’s not, the bags would have jingled more.”
“Doubloons are a neutral currency,” Eld added.
“Then make sure you visit a bank if you run out of them,” she said, setting a third purse beside those already on the table. This one jingled more. “Now, can we see about that ship?” She frowned. “Why are you smiling?”
“There’s a certain sound money makes. Can’t you hear it?” I picked up the purse with the doubloons and let it fall onto the table again. “Possibilities, possibilities, possibilities,” I sang in time with the jingling. She smiled uncertainly and I beamed right back at her. Possibilities sure, but what I heard was of one note.
The Sin in the Steel Page 3