Брайан Макклеллан - Wrath of Empire

“But we’ve tried!” Yaret said in frustration. “We can’t find him.”

“We have maps now. We start at one entrance, we take in a thousand men, and we flush the bastard out like we would rats in a basement. At the very least we might be able to find his damned cache of powder. But if we’re lucky, we corner him and catch him.”

Yaret pursed his lips. “Four thousand.”

“Eh?” Michel asked.

“Four thousand men. These tunnels are extensive and layered atop each other. I want at least four thousand men all searching them at once. A full-on manhunt.”

“Damn,” Tenik breathed. “We can’t possibly …”

“We’ll have to ask Sedial for manpower,” Yaret said. Michel could see in his eyes that he was on board and determined. Only Tenik seemed skeptical.

“We can’t trust Sedial’s people,” Tenik said in a hushed voice, as if Sedial himself were listening. “He won’t want je Tura brought to light, lest he confirm that he was working for Sedial indirectly this whole time. It’s another loose end.”

“Then assure Sedial that we’re hunting for the kill,” Michel said dispassionately. “There aren’t more than a handful of Blackhats left in the city. We can afford to shoot to kill when it comes to je Tura, and if Sedial thinks that evidence will die with him, then he’ll give his help.”

“And we lose a bargaining chip against Sedial,” Tenik said unhappily.

“Is that more important than making sure more Dynize don’t die to je Tura’s bombs?” Michel asked.

After a moment of silence, Tenik nodded. “You’re right. Yaret?”

“You have my full authority,” Yaret said. “Begin the hunt first thing tomorrow. Get Sedial’s help. Requisition every lantern in the city, and have our cartographers begin making copies of these maps. Go!”

Tenik was gone without a word, leaving Michel alone with Yaret. Without waiting to be asked, Michel sank into Tenik’s chair with a sigh, a sudden headache appearing where his post-realization adrenaline rush had occupied his mind over the last few hours. He rubbed his eyes, wishing a pox upon all hangovers, and put his head down between his knees.

“You look in rough shape,” Yaret said kindly.

Michel looked up. It was not a comment he expected from a superior. “Stressful day yesterday,” he said, hoping it ended the conversation. He didn’t want to explain the sudden conflict he had with Ichtracia, or the fact that he’d been eavesdropping on Sedial – though, to be honest, Yaret would probably enjoy the latter.

Yaret picked something off his shirt. “I, uh, heard you’ve been spending quite a lot of time with Saen-Ichtracia lately.”

Michel hesitated a moment before answering. “She saved my life.”

“And you show your gratitude by plowing her senseless for three days?” Yaret shook his head, then waved a hand at Michel to forestall a reply. “No, no. Don’t explain yourself. That actually makes far too much sense when it comes to a Privileged. Forgive my crassness as well. Frankly, I’m more than a little delighted by hearing that someone Sedial hates has found his way into Ichtracia’s bed, but I do like you, Michel, and so I think you should be warned.”

“About the dangers of sleeping with a Privileged?” Michel asked, adopting a pained expression. “I’m not entirely ignorant.”

Yaret’s half smile disappeared, replaced by a serious look of concern. “No, by sleeping with Ichtracia. Not because of Sedial,” he added quickly. “At least, not directly.” Yaret shifted in his chair and sighed. “I won’t insult you by explaining why we’re here. The godstone, all of that. As a high-level Blackhat, I assume you know.”

“I know a bit,” Michel said slowly, wondering where this was going. “I know the godstone’s purpose and that you want it. Not why you want it.”

“Sedial ended our civil war by killing the rival emperor and then promising to reconcile both sides by creating a new god. That’s why we’re here. To bring peace to our country, we must resurrect the god that died to start our civil war. It was the only proposal that we could all agree on, so we spent well over a decade preparing to invade Fatrasta and seize the stones.”

“What does this have to do with Ichtracia?”

“I’m getting to that. This was all Sedial’s plan – his grand proposal. Many think of him as a great man for ending the civil war.”

“And?”

“Ichtracia does not think he is a great man. When she was just a child, she accused her grandfather of murdering her family – her brother, her father, her sister. Officially, they all died to separatist assassins. Her accusations were swept under the rug, but she never recanted. Those rumors that she doesn’t like her grandfather are wrong. She loathes her grandfather.”

“Yet she still serves him.”

“Because she is a patriot. She does not serve him, she serves all of Dynize. She knows as well as he does that bringing back our god is the best chance of reunification.”

Michel held up one finger, trying to catch up with all of this. “I thought the godstones were used to create new gods, but you’re speaking of resurrection.”

“Of course. We brought his remains with us. Sedial is confident that the combined power of the stones, and of his bone-eyes, will bring our god back.”

Something about that troubled Michel, but he wasn’t entirely sure what. “So what does any of this have to do with me sleeping with Ichtracia?”

“Because Ichtracia has made a practice for over a decade of taking to bed anyone she thinks will annoy Sedial – generals, ministers, bodyguards. Half of his enemies in the capitol have gone through her rooms.”

Michel frowned. “Should the promiscuity bother me? Because I’m a spy. Believe it or not, I’ve seen worse.”

“Not really,” Yaret said with a shrug. “That is expected of Privileged. They are a force of nature in that way. But Ichtracia uses Sedial’s enemies to annoy him and then she discards them. Many of those ex-lovers died under mysterious circumstances. Some even by Ichtracia’s hand.”

That was worrisome.

“Between Ichtracia and her grandfather,” Yaret continued, “sharing the former’s bed is doubly as dangerous as sleeping with any normal Privileged. It’s something I wanted to warn you about personally.”

Michel shook his head, trying to decide what he would do about Ichtracia. He’d spent much of last night in a drunken stupor trying to figure out why Taniel had left out so much information about “Mara,” and his suspicions had begun to deepen. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said.

“Good. I have use for you, Michel, and I expect you to have a long and fruitful career in my Household. Don’t disappoint me.”

Michel wondered how long that would actually be if he confirmed that Ichtracia was Mara and convinced her to leave with him. His heart hurt briefly at the idea of leaving Yaret and Tenik behind. He liked them, and he had grown into a place within Yaret’s Household that, aside from the danger of Sedial, was actually quite fulfilling. He cleared his thoughts and plastered a smile on his face, getting up to look through the rest of the maps he’d taken from the Millinery. “I have the same hopes,” he said.

Vlora awoke in the darkness. She was immediately aware of the pain, crying out involuntarily. She gasped, choking on her own saliva, trying to make sense of where she was.

A light flickered into being and drew closer, and she was soon able to make out Little Flerring’s face cast in shadows. Flerring laid a hand on her shoulder, pushing her down. “Moving is a really bad idea right now,” she said.