Брайан Макклеллан - Wrath of Empire

Michel cleared his throat, trying to collect the proper words to explain a week of watching a building with nothing to show for it. He decided to tell it straight. “We’ve been following a man named Marhoush for a week,” he reported. “Marhoush is the second-in-command to a Gold Rose named Val je Tura, who I believe has remained in the city.”

“And you hoped Marhoush would lead you to this Tura?”

“Je Tura,” Michel corrected the vernacular gently. “Yes, that is what we hoped.”

“And has it?”

“It hasn’t,” Michel answered.

Yaret’s eyes flicked to Tenik with a clear unspoken question. Michel took that as his cue to forge ahead before Yaret could make assumptions about complete failure.

Michel said, “Marhoush didn’t lead us to je Tura, but he did lead us to someone equally intriguing.”

“Intriguing or useful?” Yaret asked, using the Adran word for both.

“ ‘Intriguing’ is the best term,” Tenik said, stepping in. “But I think it could be useful.”

“Well?” Yaret asked Michel.

Michel hesitated. In the Blackhats, he would have done his due diligence before such a meeting. He would have found out Forgula’s friends and enemies, whom she was useful to, and why. He would have known ahead of time whether her meeting with an enemy of the state was a surprise, a given, or something else. In short, he’d have a pretty good idea how Yaret would react to the news and whether it needed to be sugarcoated or spun. But Dynize politics was still an unknown, as was Yaret himself.

“We saw Marhoush meeting with Forgula,” Michel said. “We weren’t close enough to overhear the conversation, and Tenik didn’t think we should bring them in for questioning.”

Yaret glanced at Tenik, who gave a small nod. “Well.” Yaret tapped his chin. “One of Sedial’s cupbearers meeting with an enemy of the state. That is intriguing.” Yaret paused to sweep his eyes across the half-empty bookshelf on the other side of the room. “You were right not to bring them in. What do you make of this, Michel?”

Michel was surprised to be asked. This was no longer his territory. He simply didn’t know enough about the Dynize to create an informed opinion. But that wouldn’t keep him from trying. “I’m not certain,” he began. “It’s possible that Ka-Sedial has turned Marhoush and that Forgula is the intermediary. It’s also possible that je Tura is negotiating some kind of deal – again with Forgula as the intermediary.”

“Or …?” Yaret asked. The question was a single word, but it held, at least in Michel’s mind, a world full of menace.

How, he wondered, did the Dynize react to accusations of treason among their own people? “Or,” he finally said, “Forgula has been turned by the Blackhats.”

“Forgula is Sedial’s creature through and through,” Tenik said quietly. “I don’t think she would betray either him or the emperor.”

“I agree,” Yaret said, sitting up and leaning toward Michel. “But it’s also a possibility that we can’t entirely eliminate.”

Michel found himself nodding along.

Yaret continued. “Ka-Sedial’s Household is not supposed to concern themselves with spies and enemy agents. Sedial oversees the military and the temporary government on the emperor’s behalf. I do not –”

Yaret was cut off by a rap on the door. He nodded to Tenik, who opened it to reveal one of the youths Michel had noticed loitering in the hall earlier. “Pardon, Minister,” the girl said, “but Ka-Sedial is here to see you.”

“Now?” Yaret asked with some surprise.

“He is at the door, sir.”

“Send him in.” As soon as the door closed, Yaret stood and straightened his pants and jacket, rolling his eyes. “Do you have demons in any of the Kressian religions?” he asked.

“We do,” Michel answered curiously. “Uh, should we go, sir?”

“There’s an old saying in Dynize: Speak a demon’s name and he will appear. No, I’d like you to remain.” Yaret cleared his throat and clasped his hands behind his back, smiling at the door. Tenik took Michel by the arm and pulled him to one side just as the door opened.

Michel had heard more than a few things about Ka-Sedial’s singular meeting with Lindet just before the invasion began. Sedial was rumored to be an old man, but Michel had not expected him to be in his late seventies, wearing a teal cloak over a comfortable-looking maroon tunic. Sedial walked with a cane, though it was not clear if he actually needed it, and he had a grandfatherly but slightly hawkish face, with sharp eyes and smile lines in the corners of his mouth.

If Ka-Sedial noticed Michel and Tenik standing to the side, he did not give any indication. “My friend,” he said warmly to Yaret, taking Yaret’s offered hand in both of his.

“Good afternoon, Sedial,” Yaret said in a gentle tone. “I didn’t expect your visit. I apologize for the mess.”

“Oh, no need. I’ve been cleaning the bookshelves in my own new home. So much Kressian and Fatrastan rubbish. It’s a pity they wasted so much paper!”

The two men shared a laugh as if they were old friends. Michel watched the sides of their faces carefully, and despite the warmth of their conversation he thought he spotted a glint in the eyes of each man.

“My friend,” Sedial said, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye, “I was just passing by, but the truth is that a grave matter has been weighing on me for several days.”

Yaret spread his arms. “If there’s anything I can do …”

“There is.” Ka-Sedial’s face hardened. The change was almost immediate, like an actor switching masks in the middle of a street performance. The grandfatherly look was gone, replaced by severity chiseled out of marble. “I want the Gold Rose.”

Michel couldn’t help but frown. He wasn’t certain how much communication went on between the Dynize ministers and their Households, but it made sense that Ka-Sedial would know about Yaret’s quest for Lindet’s spies. Did he really micromanage this badly, or was there something more sinister going on?

Michel saw Yaret’s body tense slightly, but Yaret continued as if he had not noticed the change in Ka-Sedial’s expression. “We’re making progress on our search,” he said assuringly. “We believe we’re looking for a man named Val je Tura. Unless …” He paused. “If you’re looking for the item we used to open the third floor of the Blackhat archives, I believe the minister of artifacts has it now.”

“I’m not interested in the artifact,” Ka-Sedial said, “nor this supposed je Tura. I want your pet Blackhat. The one who gave you the Rose.”

Michel heard his own sharp intake of breath and fought to suppress the sudden hammering of his heart. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tenik glance at him with concern, while Yaret and Sedial ignored the noise as if he were a piece of furniture. Michel barely trusted himself to breathe, waiting for the moment Yaret pointed in his direction and ordered Sedial’s bodyguards to haul Michel off. Michel did not know much about Sedial, but Taniel’s warnings about the bone-eyes still echoed in his mind. And he still had the bruises from Forgula’s beating.

“Whatever for?” Yaret asked curiously.

“Because he’s a spy,” Ka-Sedial replied, as if that were all the reason in the world.

“Yes, I’m aware he’s a spy. That’s why he’s valuable.”

“He’s still a spy.”

“Ah.” Yaret seemed to consider this as if it were new information. “I think I see where the confusion is. You believe he’s still working for the enemy?”

Ka-Sedial gave the cold smile of someone who knew that Yaret was acting a fool but could not think of a way to politely break the facade. “I believe that is the case, yes. Some of my Household are concerned that you’ve given him too much trust too quickly.”