Брайан Макклеллан - Wrath of Empire

“Let’s go see what kind of a catch we got.”

The captives had been taken to an abandoned warehouse about half a mile away. Michel and Tenik joined the captain of the soldiers just outside.

“We found Roses on four of them,” the captain said, dropping the medallions into Tenik’s outstretched hand. There were three Irons and a Bronze. “Two others seem to be Blackhats as well. The rest claim ignorance.”

“The cobbler?” Michel asked.

“He says he had no idea Blackhats were hiding in his attic.” The captain did not sound convinced.

“Did they tell you where Marhoush is?” Michel asked.

She shook her head. “The lot claim to have never heard the name.”

“Let me see them.”

Michel entered the warehouse through a side door and climbed up to an iron catwalk that crossed above the middle of the large, dusty space. He proceeded to a spot just above the group of prisoners. They sat on the dirt floor, hands tied, heads down, with a group of soldiers keeping watch. Michel leaned on the catwalk railing and examined them for several minutes.

“That one,” he finally said in a quiet voice, pointing to a woman whose lip bled from being smacked around by a soldier. “She’s a Bronze Rose. She used to be a Silver Rose. A year ago she was caught taking protection money from a family who had personal ties to Lindet. She was demoted.”

Tenik frowned at the information. “What does that mean?”

“It means she’s a greedy little piggy,” Michel responded. “Bring her.”

Tenik nodded to the captain. He and Michel headed into one of the second-floor offices on the opposite side of the warehouse, where Michel paced while he waited. Tenik leaned comfortably in the corner, flipping his coin, obviously pleased to be out of the heat. “You’re going to try to turn her?”

“I am.”

“For over a month, we’ve been offering rewards for anyone who will turn. Why would she do so now?”

“People don’t give up when they think they have options. Our dear Bronze Rose is down to just two, and I’m going to make sure she knows it.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the door opening and a soldier coming in with the Bronze Rose, whom he pushed to her knees in the middle of the floor. Her eyes went first to Tenik, then to Michel. She seemed confused to find a Palo and a mutt, rather than a Dynize torture squad.

Michel smiled at her gently, trying to recall her name. “Soreana, was it?” he asked.

“How do you know my name?”

“Because I used to be a Blackhat.”

The information took a moment to process before her eyes widened. “You’re him, aren’t you? Michel. How the pit did you find us already?”

“Because Lindet left a bunch of thugs behind, rather than spies.”

“You’re a damned traitor.”

She wasn’t wrong. Michel kept his smile and tutted. “Let’s not be so judgmental this early on, shall we?”

Soreana looked around the room, her eyes lingering on the Dynize soldiers standing by the door. Michel could see the same thoughts ticking through her head that had gone through his own in a few tight situations – How well tied are my bonds? How closely are they watching? Can I fight or talk my way out of this? He didn’t give her a chance to consider those options.

“Soreana, do you know where I can find either Marhoush or je Tura?” he asked.

She drew herself up – as best as she could while kneeling with hands tied behind her back. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Michel rolled his eyes. “Let’s have a quick rundown of your options, Soreana. If you’d like, you can play the good little Blackhat. If you do that, I’ll be forced to hand you over to the fine gentlemen outside, who will torture you for every scrap of information and then execute you.”

Soreana swallowed hard. The average Blackhat signed on to rough up neighborhood malcontents, not to embroil themselves in dangerous guerrilla warfare.

“Or,” Michel continued, “you can tell me what I want and I’ll make sure your pockets are filled with gold. We’ll give you a job or put you on the next ship to the Nine or give you a whole slew of other options.” Michel removed his pocket watch and looked at the hands. “I’ll give you thirty seconds to decide.”

Soreana looked from Michel to Tenik to the guard. She licked her lips.

“Ten seconds left,” Michel told her.

“I’ll be safe?” she asked.

Michel smiled kindly. “I’ve eaten better since I switched sides than I ever did under the Blackhats. The brothels are better, the pay is better.” Not precisely true, but a good enough set of lies for the moment. “Five seconds.”

He could see her waffling. He watched the last few seconds tick by, silently willing her to talk, then dropped his watch back into his pocket without bothering to hide his annoyance. “Sorry, Soreana. Take her away.”

“Wait!” She awkwardly surged to her feet, stumbling into the wall. “I’ll take the offer. Please.”

Michel glanced at Tenik, who shrugged as if to say, This is your game . “Yes?”

“Just promise me that no one will find out I talked.”

“I think that can be arranged. Where is je Tura?”

“I don’t know where je Tura is, but I can tell you about Marhoush.”

“Go on.”

“He switched safe houses two nights ago. He moved to the house on King’s Street in Lower Landfall. But you won’t find him there, not now. He’s supposed to be meeting with someone important in an hour.”

Tenik visibly perked up. Michel took a step closer to her. “Who? Je Tura?”

“I’m not sure. I just know it’s supposed to be in Claden Park at four o’clock. He’s been going to these meetings every other day for two weeks.”

“All right.” Michel took a deep breath. This was the next link in the chain, but he’d have to move fast. Claden Park was clear on the other side of the plateau. “I’m going to find you later and get everything you know about the Blackhats. For now, we’re going to make sure everyone downstairs thinks you’ve been executed. Give me your best scream.”

The fastest route across the plateau turned out to be surrounded by a dozen Dynize soldiers on the backs of galloping horses. Michel clung to his saddle in terror as they rounded the western base of the plateau and then cut southeast. They arrived at Claden Park with just minutes to spare, which Michel used to get his feet back under him before borrowing a looking glass from one of the soldiers and scouting out the north end of the park.

Claden was a bit of marshland that had, at one point, been part of a Brudanian lady’s estate. Early on in her life she’d filled in the marsh and had it planted with willows and beech as a garden for her sickly husband. Their great-grandson had bequeathed the land to the public – along with a generous endowment for policing and upkeep. Rumors had swirled for years that local industrialists were leaning on Lindet to develop it, and Michel wondered what would happen to the land under Dynize rule.

For now, it was still a park about the size of six city blocks. Traffic passed through a narrow road running down the middle, and a few squatters’ tents had popped up in the overgrown lawns. Michel swept the looking glass back and forth until he saw a middle-aged man sitting on one of the benches, surreptitiously reading a newspaper.

“Heads down,” he told the soldiers. “You need to look like you’re just passing by and not like you’re waiting for something. Do a circuit around the park, then head down that street there” – he pointed to a street leading to the industrial quarter – “and post someone at the corner to wait for my signal.”

Michel split from the group, Tenik in tow, and headed in the opposite direction around the park.