Брайан Макклеллан - Wrath of Empire

Beyond that one lead, none of Yaret’s Household had managed to get any closer to tracking down the source of the bombings.

“Marhoush hasn’t come outside for over a day,” Tenik observed. The Dynize had his feet up, his shirt off and wrapped around his head to shade it from the sun.

“He might have a secret entrance,” Michel responded. He’d spent the first two days scouring the area and consulting old maps to find out if that were the case. The basement of the cobbler’s shop might connect with the catacombs within the plateau, but he didn’t think they did. More likely, Marhoush had slipped out sometime the night before last when Michel was catching a little sleep and just hadn’t come back. He’d left one of Yaret’s Household layabouts to keep watch but didn’t know if they were at all reliable.

Michel would soon find out. He consulted his pocket watch, then glanced down the street, where he saw a squad of Dynize soldiers milling about in the intersection. They took their helmets off, exchanged skins of tea, and spoke freely among themselves. A similar scene was playing out in two other nearby intersections, and Michel couldn’t help but smile.

In the short time he’d been among the Dynize, he’d found out a great many things. One was that Yaret’s Household had access to hundreds, perhaps thousands of loyal soldiers that could be called upon in a pinch. Another thing he’d learned was that Dynize soldiers took orders very well. Give them a battle plan and they’d follow it. Explain how to properly stage a raid, and they’d follow your instructions to the letter.

“What happens if we don’t catch the Silver Rose?” Tenik asked. He took out his coin for the first time in two days and flipped it, caught it, then flipped it again.

“Depends on the size of the safe house and the number of Blackhats we pull out of it. If we catch even two of them, we’ll be able to start asking questions. They might put us back on Marhoush’s track or even help us find the Gold Rose.” He didn’t bother adding if we’re lucky . He was incredibly frustrated that Marhoush had slipped past him, and if this raid came up with nothing useful, he’d be out a week’s worth of work.

Which wouldn’t inspire confidence in his new boss.

Tenik lifted his hands, ticking off fingers as he spoke. “Iron Roses are the lowest rung – then Bronze, Brass, Silver, and Gold?”

“That’s right.”

“And you were a Gold Rose?”

“Only briefly. I earned my Gold Rose just before the invasion by tracking down a Palo freedom fighter. I was a Silver Rose for a couple years.”

“This Marhoush … how well do you know him?”

“Only by sight. We’ve met twice, I think.”

“You have a good memory?”

“When you’re a spy, you have to develop a talent for names and faces. It’ll save your life.”

“And how well do you know the Gold Rose he works for?”

“Je Tura?” Michel thought for a moment, picturing je Tura in his mind. “I saw him at the Millinery once. He’s a mean, stocky little bastard. Shorter than you and twice as wide. Carries a broadsword around with him.”

Tenik snorted. “Does he use it?”

“Often, from what I’ve heard. Chops off the hands of people who anger him, the feet of people who betray him, and the heads of his enemies.”

“And your people call us savages?” Tenik tilted his head to get a view of the street before getting comfortable once more. “There are always rumors about powerful people. Are any of them true?”

“I’m not sure. I didn’t believe half the rumors about Fidelis Jes until I began to work directly under him.”

“I’ve heard of this Fidelis Jes,” Tenik said. “He was one of the people our informants told us to be wary of as we tried to take the city. Was he a good master?”

Michel considered the threats and the morning duels. “I believe he was good at his job.”

“That is not the same as being a good master.”

“He was an asshole and I’m not sad that Ben Styke cut his head off.”

Tenik grinned broadly. “That is the answer I was looking for. You will find Yaret a much better master than that. When he dies, I’ll grieve as much as any of his family.”

Tenik had referenced Yaret as a good person or a considerate master on several occasions throughout the last week. Michel hadn’t spent any time with him since that first day, so he didn’t have a point of reference, but he doubted that Yaret could live up to the hype. Michel had worked under decent people and even competent Roses, but in his experience, the higher up the chain of command, the less room there was for basic humanity.

Michel kept facing the street but watched Tenik out of the corner of his eye. He’d come to rather like the man over the course of the week. Tenik was a wealth of knowledge about his people but seemed just as interested in learning about Fatrasta and the Nine as Michel was about the Dynize. He rarely turned Michel away from a question and had a quiet sense of humor that belied his sharp eyes and ability to grasp a concept or situation easily. He was also, Michel had found, oddly naive in certain ways.

The situation between the Palo and the Kressians was one of those.

As if he could hear Michel’s thoughts, Tenik suddenly said, “Are the Palo always treated like that?”

Michel glanced over to see Tenik watching the street. He followed Tenik’s gaze down to a Kressian man openly beating a Palo laborer about the shoulders with his cane, only retreating when one of the Dynize soldiers seemed to take interest in the altercation.

“Yes,” Michel said, returning to his examination of the cobbler’s shop. The Dynize soldiers relaxing at the various intersections began to put their helmets back on, saying good-byes as if they had finished a quiet afternoon break.

“You’re Palo, aren’t you?”

“Part,” Michel responded. He leaned forward, watching as the soldiers fixed their bayonets and shouldered their weapons, then began to walk swiftly toward the cobbler’s shop. Their counterparts on three different intersections began to do the same, forming a pincer movement that would cut off all four possible avenues of escape from the safe house.

Tenik didn’t seem to notice that the raid was going forward. “If you’re half Palo, and the Kressians treat the Palo so poorly, why do you fight for them?”

Michel had no interest in explaining the ulterior motives he had for joining the Blackhats and climbing their ranks. For one, it would raise too many questions. For another – well, the whole situation was a sore point, to say the least. He wondered briefly where Taniel’s people had hidden his mother and hoped she was well out of harm’s way. “Because,” Michel answered glibly, “I can still take advantage of being half Kressian to live a better life.” He directed Tenik’s attention to the raid. “Here we go.”

Dynize soldiers flooded the cobbler’s shop, the alley next to it, and the buildings on either side. They cut off every possible exit and kicked in the doors, rushing inside with bayonets ready. The raid was a complete surprise – Michel could tell from the lack of gunfire and the surprised look of the Roses as they were dragged into the street and held at musket-point. Michel examined each as they were brought out, praying that Marhoush would be one of the faces.

He wasn’t. Thirteen in total were pulled from the cobbler’s shop. Michel guessed that only seven of those were actual Roses – the rest sympathizers. A small crowd of onlookers began to assemble. The soldiers ignored them, dragging off their captives, and the traffic soon returned to normal. Michel waited for about five minutes before he signaled to Tenik.