The Broken Man

by Brandon Jones

  “A delicate situation indeed,” Josen said. “But I can’t imagine you, as enterprising and lovely a woman of business as you are, haven’t found a solution to this particular conundrum.”

  “Relax that florid tongue of yours, Broken Man,” she said, but did not look entirely unpleased. “Of course I have a solution, but it is not without complications of its own.”

  “Go on.”

  “You say that you’re wanting for money,” Madame Junishu said, her tone earnest. “Does this mean that despite a pair of successful jobs, you are out of funds? Or are simply burdened down with less gold than you would like to be?”

  “The latter,” Josen said. He had no desire to explain to her the disappointing result of their last two jobs.

  “Good. You are both in full health? The pair of you and anyone else you might need to work with on this job?”

  “Yes,” Josen said. He glanced questioningly at Akelle, who just shrugged.

  “Are there any of the Passbound cities where you cannot, for any reason, effectively work?”

  “I don’t believe so—”

  “Yes or no. Be certain in your answers.”

  “Um, then… no,” Josen said.

  “Are there any objects you are morally opposed to stealing? Groups or people you would be opposed to steal from?”

  “The Lightmasons and their attendant lightrods spring to mind,” Josen said, thinking hard.

  Madame Junishu shuddered. “Certainly not,” she said. “Anything or anyone else? The Church perhaps? Or other known thieves and crime lords?”

  “No,” Josen said.

  “And do you have any other limitations or moral compunctions of which I should be aware?”

  “I’m sorry,” Josen said. “But is there a reason behind this interrogation?”

  “Silly boy. I am selecting a job for you. I am narrowing a rather extensive list down to a choice few jobs I think you suited for, based on your strengths as I know them and your answers to these questions. I need to know, for instance, if you are squeamish or faint at the sight of your own blood, but not others’. It would be helpful to know if you have an intolerance to milk, or a sensitivity to pollen, or would swell like a blowfish if you are stung by a wasp. I need to know anything you think might prevent you from accepting or carrying out the job I will assign to you, because once the job is assigned, there is no taking it back, no trading for another job.

  “After the job is assigned, you will have a designated period of time in which to deliver the item to me. If the item is not delivered within the designated time… Well, we’re back to the same conundrum I explained before. Messy endings.”

  “Ah,” Josen said, taken back. “So then … I give a blind answer right now. And if I say yes and can’t fulfill on the job, you send someone to kill me?”

  “You’re very bright.”

  “Sorry,” Akelle said, breaking his silence for the first time since entering Madame Junishu’s house. “This is crazy. Why would anyone agree to that?”

  Madame Junishu turned her head in Akelle’s general direction and smiled a wide, predatory smile. “Because, sweet thing, I’m very picky about the jobs I assign this way—only the best jobs for the best thieves. And believe me, the risk is worth the reward. I have no reason to offer you a job I think impossible. Speaking of which, I think I have just the one for you two—one I’ve had on the shelf gathering dust for quite some time now.”

  Josen could feel his ego being stroked, but he could also hear alarm bells, the same alarm he could see in Akelle’s eyes. Tempting as it was…

  “I’m sorry, Madame Junishu—”

  “Hush, boy,” she said, cutting off Josen’s refusal. “Here.” She felt along the table next to her chair, where a dozen or so bells were arranged in a neat line, from a tiny silver bell barely bigger than a thimble to a great brass bell that looked more like a club than a sounding implement. Madame Junishu selected one near the middle and gave it a shake.

  The door behind Josen and Akelle opened immediately. Gerult hurried to the Madame’s side and placed his ear next to her mouth to receive some set of instructions. He straightened, retrieved pen and paper from a nearby writing desk, and scribbled a short note. Gerult blew the ink dry, folded the note and handed it to Josen before leaving the room without a word.

  “Oh,” was all Josen said as he glanced at the number written on the paper, his eyes growing wider as he tried to wrap his mind around it. “You can’t be—”

  “That is my offer—the reward, at least. No, I don’t want to hear your answer now. Think on it.”

  “But—” Josen began. But he had no words.

  Akelle snatched the paper from his hand and dropped it, as if the paper was as hot as live coal. “Starving hells!” he said as he retrieved the paper, looking at it again more closely, blinking in disbelief. After a moment he pocketed the paper reverently, face transforming from shocked to thoughtful.

  “If the money piques your interest sufficiently,” Madame Junishu said, only the barest hint of a smirk on her lips at their reactions, “simply return here for the details of your job. If I don’t hear from you in, say… one week, I’ll consider the job refused, and you don’t have to worry about any of my vague, looming threats. We can both go on our merry ways with one less stress in our lives. But I won’t offer this particular job again. Choose wisely. Good day, gentlemen.”

  Chapter 31

  “Sam and Barret really came through,” Josen said to Vale.

  Vale stood with her arms folded, scowling at the huge machine working its way down the road. The day was hot and sunny, not a cloud in the sky, except those made by the machine. Huge plumes of smoke rose out of a cylinder at the front of the machine, rising high into the air and trailing behind it.

  “Oh, come on,” Josen said, grinning. “That thing is amazing. A machine that runs on steam? I didn’t even know such a thing was possible.” He shook his head, watching the machine—a steam tractor, according to Master Honai, the Kendanese man who had invented the things—turn off the road and approach a strange-looking, extra-wide plow setup. It looked like five plows hooked together, which was more or less exactly what it was. According to Barret, Master Honai claimed his steam tractor could pull up to six plows at the same time. The machine moved slower than horses but plowing six furrows at a time, meaning it could plow significantly more area in the same amount of time. Josen was being glib when he talked about buying a miracle two days earlier, but this probably qualified.

  Of course, now he needed to find a way to pay for the miracle, and this miracle wasn’t going to come cheap. Thus, the scowl on Vale’s face.

  “I still think this is a bad idea,” Vale said.

  “Of course you do,” Josen said.

  “Josen, at this point our success this season depends on your ability to balance half a dozen different schemes, one on top of another. The taller the stack gets, the more likely the whole thing is to come crashing down on both of us. Forgive me if I’m not optimistic about throwing one more disaster on that precarious pile.”

  “Fine,” Josen said. “I don’t need you to be happy about it.”

  “Are you kidding? Are you listening to anything I’ve said?”

  “Yes. Are all the papers in place to move the sheep? Abbahim says he has a herd he can have ready to move in a couple of days. Three or four at most.”

  Vale scowled. “He won’t see me,” she said. “His secretary puts me off when I try to make an appointment.”

  “We need those papers. If we can’t move those sheep, the rest of this will be for nothing.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. This whole scheme depends on so many ridiculous pieces working just right—”

  “Vale. Please.”

  “He won’t see me! What do you want me to do?”

  “Fine,” Josen said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Fine. Just… Can you at least get him to agree to sign the permits? Catch him in public with other people ar
ound, get him to say he’ll take care of it where other people will hear him say it?”

  “What good will that do?” Vale asked, suspicious.

  “Can you do it?”

  “I suppose—”

  “Good. I’ll take care of the rest. Just get him to agree. Out loud. In front of as many people as you can manage. Thank you, Vale. I need you to stay here and make sure everything works like it should with that tractor thing. If it works and Barret signs off on it, order six of them.”

  “Hold on—”

  “Pay whatever they ask,” Josen said, not slowing. He motioned to have his horse brought forward and mounted it. “Whatever it takes to get them working as soon as possible. Some of the lower drylands are already prepped with manure from our own animals. Have them start there.”

  “Where are you going?” Vale asked. “And what if we don’t have money for six?”

  “I’m going to throw a few more disasters on the pile,” Josen said with a grin. “And don’t worry about money. We’ll have enough.”

  “That’s not funny,” Vale said, grabbing the reigns of Josen’s horse. “Have you seen the Protectors yet?”

  “The Protectors? No. What would I have seen them about?”

  “Reverate Vasture’s been trying to keep it quiet, but several pieces were stolen at the Planting Gala. None of the really expensive stuff, but a few of the less distinctive pieces. The kind of thing that would be easy to sell, make a quick profit.”

  Josen swore loudly. “And they suspect me,” he said.

  “No one’s come out and said it,” Vale said, “and no one is implying that you did it personally—”

  “But it’s not exactly a secret that this season has stressed our finances,” Josen said, finishing her thought.

  “Be careful what else you throw on our pile of problems, Josen. Even if these steam tractors work, we’re not in the clear, and we’re not the only ones throwing problems on the pile.”

  * * *

  “Akelle, did you steal anything at the Planting Gala?” Josen asked as he pulled his horse to a stop at the barn where they had agreed to meet. He looped the reigns around a hitching post and turned to face his young friend.

  Akelle, who was reclined lazily against one of the several haystacks in the shade of the barn, sat forward at the accusation. “What?” Akelle said, looking genuinely surprised. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m serious, Akelle. If you did, I need to know. The Protectors are on the prowl, and Vale just told me we’re at the top of a short list of suspects. If you took anything, we need to offload it as quickly as possible—preferably in a way that implicates someone else in the theft.”

  Akelle scowled and waived a hand. “Are you kidding? Why would I have taken something from the Gala? I mean, I know I joked about it, but I don’t take things just to steal them. Impulsive has always been your thing, not mine. I didn’t take anything.”

  Josen watched Akelle for a moment, then nodded. He didn’t think Akelle would have any reason to lie to him about this. Besides, Akelle liked an audience too much to pass on the chance to brag to Josen about how he had done it. Of course, that Akelle hadn’t done it only complicated matters for Josen—took things out of his control.

  “Okay,” Josen said. He had too many other problems to worry about as it was. He didn’t have time to add a crime he didn’t commit to the list. “We have to take Junishu’s job,” he said.

  “I know,” Akelle said.

  Josen paused, mouth hanging open. He shut it and took a deep breath through his nose. “You know?”

  “I’ve been thinking about it,” Akelle said, not missing a beat, “and I can’t imagine Dania or Lukas Thorne turning down an opportunity like this—not out of fear of some old blind shut-in.”

  “And we need the money,” Josen said, sitting against the haystack across his friend. “I just bought six steam tractors, and I’m not even sure how much they cost yet.”

  “What’s a steam tractor?” Akelle asked, caught between objecting to Josen having already spent the money and curiosity at something new and expensive.

  “A solution to one problem. The creator of another,” Josen said with a sigh. Vale was right. The situation was beyond precarious, and every fix he found required stretching himself a little farther. If any one piece gave out, the whole thing was going to come crashing down, and more spectacularly than even Vale could imagine. “I’ll show you sometime,” Josen said. “They’re pretty impressive. But right now, I need you to go back to Jurdon and accept that job for us. I have an idea that might take care of several problems at once, but I need to know what it is we’re supposed to be stealing first.”

  “You know, I thought you would,” Akelle said, a guilty look stealing across his face. “So, I, uh… took the liberty of accepting it already.”

  “You didn’t—”

  “I did! Josen, you know how I feel about the little jobs we’ve been running lately. We have all of the money and all of the resources we could ever want, and we’re doing nothing with them.”

  “Akelle—”

  “No! You used to talk about making a name for ourselves, about putting the Broken Man on the tongue of everyone in the Passbound Cities. You used to talk about Shade and Thorne and Dania, and how you wanted to be like them. Is that still what you want?”

  “You know I do, but—”

  “No, I don’t know that. You want to know why I took the job? The biggest reason? So you would have to think about something besides your stupid farm for one second. So that maybe you would remember what you are—what we are. Are you just Josen Oak, a Reverate, a Steward, a fancy farmer? Or are you the Broken Man?”

  “God’s tears,” Josen said, putting his head in his hands. He already said he wanted to do the job, but he was tired of being surprised. “What happened to you not being the impulsive one?”

  “Sorry, am I intruding?”

  Josen turned slowly, knowing what he would see before he saw it. Tori was standing behind him, clearly enjoying that she had managed to catch him off guard yet again.

  “How long have you been waiting?” Josen asked.

  “I got here about the same time you did.”

  “You know, you are—”

  “I’m here,” Tori said. She glanced around nervously, and then again, rubbing her hands in her lap as she did. “I’m here,” she repeated. “Akelle said you wanted to talk.”

  “Yeah,” Josen said slowly, looking at Tori more carefully, struck by how different she looked. She was still dressed in the well-made, practical style he had seen her in before, but her shirt and pants looked like they had gone far too long without a wash. Her eyes were bloodshot and tired, and she looked like she’d lost weight—far too much for a few weeks. “Tori, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she said without looking at him. She brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, but it immediately fell back. “What do you need?”

  “Are you sure? Because you look—”

  “Do you need something or not? Because if you made me come all the way to the Basin to check on how I’m doing, I swear—”

  “Whoa, whoa,” Josen said, hands up to ward off the sudden tirade, but Tori didn’t slow.

  “Do you know what I don’t need? Your concern. You chose to leave Ludon. You chose to leave because you felt like the people here needed you to fix their problems. You stayed to fix the more exciting problem while I went back to Ludon to try to figure out what in all the starving hells happened to us there.” Her eyes, already feverish, intensified as they locked on Josen’s. “I’ve been all over the Union, chasing down leads, learning everything I can about Aboran, the man that killed Saul. Remember Saul? He meant something to you once. He was the one who pulled your wretched carcass out of Ludon’s gutters when you and Akelle had nothing. It was Aboran that had Saul killed, and that’s only the smallest tip of what I’ve uncovered.

  “Josen, someone is about to make a big-time move—something huge—and i
t’s all centered on rub. The dealers, the distributers, everyone with half a brain and an ear to the ground is pulling back, waiting to see how it shakes out, whatever it is. I told you before to be careful, that I could feel something gathering strength. It’s here, Josen. It’s breaking around us right now. We just don’t know how yet. So you know what I don’t need? I don’t need to be one of your little projects. I don’t need you to fix me. I don’t need to be rescued. I’ll help you if I can with whatever scheme you have in mind. I’ll help you because I expect that you’ll pay me a big fat bag of gold and because we were friends, and that still means something to me.”

  Josen sat quietly for a long moment, looking at Tori. She was exhausted. She had worn herself ragged, and she was afraid. What he couldn’t tell was whether the ragged exhaustion had caused the fear or the other way around. For the moment, he supposed, it didn’t really matter.

  “Okay,” Josen said. “I have a job for you. Besides Hale and Winder, who works for you now? Gabe? Elae and Zyxis?” Josen asked, trying to remember some of the other teams he had met through Saul.

  Tori nodded. “Baethe and his boys too, along with a few others you don’t know. About eight teams total.”

  “Good,” Josen said. “How many of those can be ready to work within the week?”

  “I’m not sure—not without more information. You’ve never liked working with big teams,” Tori said, her eyes narrowing. Josen watched some of her outrage begin to bleed away as her mind latched onto the business at hand. “What’s this about? What are you after?”

  Josen looked to Akelle questioningly.