Брайан Макклеллан - Wrath of Empire

“He’s trusting you,” Tenik said quietly, “because he knows having a high-ranking foreigner in his Household will annoy the pit out of Ka-Sedial.”

Michel swallowed. He liked Yaret, but something about his relationship with Sedial was personal. He knew enough about Households to realize that if Sedial decided to destroy Yaret, Michel would go down with him. It was not a pleasant thought – and more reason to find Taniel’s informant and extract her as quickly as possible.

“Where do you want to start?” Tenik asked him.

Michel thought for a moment. “I’m going to give you a list of Blackhat safe houses. I want them all watched – and I want Marhoush followed. In the meantime, I need to get closer to Forgula.”

“How?”

“I’m not sure. Do the Dynize have social entertainment?”

Tenik raised an eyebrow.

“Something like boxing or horse races – a place where Households can intermix?”

“We have … well, the best translation is war games. Very popular among all castes.”

“And Forgula?”

“She supports one of the players.”

“Can you take me to one of these games? I don’t need to meet her – I just want to observe her.”

“Is tomorrow soon enough?”

Michel took a deep breath. He didn’t need to just climb the ranks of Yaret’s Household. He needed to enter Dynize society. Anything that let him mix with more people would give him a better shot at finding Taniel’s informant. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Vlora met Taniel in the hotel great room for breakfast. He sat in the same place as the night before, in the one quiet corner with his back against the wall, sketchbook on his lap and two plates of eggs and hash in front of them. He pushed one over to Vlora without looking up from his sketch.

She dropped down across from him and craned her neck. Taniel was drawing the hotel manager.

“Do you remember that discussion we had last night about being circumspect in our mission here?” he asked quietly.

Vlora dug into the eggs and hash. “Do you remember when I told you not to be a smug prick?” she replied between bites.

Taniel sucked on his teeth and finally looked up. His face was serious, brows knit in worry.

“Sorry,” Vlora muttered into her meal.

“Everyone’s been talking about your fight with Jezzy’s men,” Taniel said. “In here, out there. It’s the latest fun bit of gossip. Our only saving grace is apparently there are so many fights every day that people will have forgotten about yours by tonight.”

“They tried to recruit me for their club brawl,” Vlora said defensively. “And they weren’t being nice about it. What would you have me do? I didn’t take it far enough to give away who I am.”

“But you did draw attention.” Taniel nodded across the room to an older woman leaning against the hotel bar. She had an easy manner, with a quality pistol and sword at her belt and epaulets on a faux uniform jacket. She was staring at Vlora and Taniel. “That,” Taniel said, “is the Yellow Creek sheriff. The good news is that she’s apparently the only impartial bit of law in this town – and she’s given you a pass because Jezzy’s boys have a habit of coming on too strong. The bad news is she’s now going to watch us closely.”

“Until something else draws her attention.” Vlora sniffed the tin mug in front of Taniel and found watered wine. She lifted it to the sheriff and downed the rest.

“Hopefully soon,” Taniel said.

Vlora fetched beer for the two of them, not trusting the water in a place like this, and returned to her seat. “You’re in a mood today,” she said.

“I spent half the night wandering the town,” Taniel said. “I don’t sleep much these days.”

“Can’t?”

“Don’t need it.”

Vlora felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end, and was reminded that as much as she wanted to think Taniel was still the boy she’d befriended two decades ago, he was now something more than human. “And?”

“And I can’t find the damned thing.” Taniel flipped his sketchbook closed in frustration, as if he’d expected to waltz into town and discover the godstone within hours. “I can sense it, and that should be enough. Once Pole knew what we were looking for, she tuned me into the same sorcery as the godstone in Landfall. I should be like a bloodhound to this thing, but instead I’m just walking in circles.”

Vlora sipped her beer. He did expect to find it immediately. “Why do you think that is?”

“No idea. It’s like trying to follow sound in a fog.” He got up and stashed his sketchbook, his eyes focused inward on thoughts he did not share. “I’m going to head back out and –”

Taniel was interrupted by the sound of a crash, and the front door of the hotel suddenly burst open. Vlora turned to look for the commotion and her heart fell. It was that asshole Dorner from the night before and the friend whom she’d dragged down the stairs. Dorner stumbled around the room, clearly drunk, trying to speak with his half tongue. His companion steadied him and pointed at Vlora.

The sheriff perked up. “Boys,” she said warningly.

They ignored her and came straight toward Vlora. Vlora stood up and lay one hand on the pistol in her belt. Neither man had a weapon in hand, but both had swords on them.

Taniel stepped between Vlora and the two, barring them both with his arm. “Can I help you fellas?” he asked.

Dorner stabbed a drunken finger toward Vlora, mumbling something. His companion translated. “My brother here lost his tongue to this bitch. We’re gonna take hers and see if it fits.”

“Everyone needs to calm down!” the sheriff said loudly. She was still ignored.

“I think that’s unnecessary,” Taniel said. “Let me buy the two of you a few rounds and we’ll talk about some way less violent to solve this whole thing. I think that –”

Dorner shoved Taniel hard in the chest, and both men went for their swords. Taniel crashed into Vlora’s table, and before either she or the sheriff could respond, his sword was in his hand.

“Calm down before someone gets –” Taniel began.

Dorner leapt forward, sword flashing, his companion on his heels. Taniel thrust once, pivoted, and pushed before either man could take two steps. The movement was so quick that Vlora could barely follow it. The two men twitched and tumbled, stuck together by Taniel’s sword like chickens on a skewer, dead before they hit the floor.

The room was deathly silent, all eyes on Taniel. “So much for keeping things quiet,” Vlora muttered under her breath.

The sheriff approached, pistol in hand, circling the two bodies and leaning over to put her fingers to their necks one at a time. “Dead,” she proclaimed.

Slowly, Taniel pulled his sword out of the two and faced the sheriff. Vlora could see the fight in his stance, the tension in his legs like a snake coiled to strike. She had no doubt that he could wipe out the whole room before anyone made it to the door, and the thought frightened her.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to disarm yourself,” the sheriff said.

“It was self-defense, ma’am,” Taniel said.

“I saw that,” she replied, “but we’re gonna have to put it in front of a judge. You need to disarm and come with me.” The sheriff’s voice wavered. She could see that same tension in his legs that Vlora could, and she was scared.

Vlora waited for him to move. Whatever he did, she would have no choice but to back him up. Things had panned out about as badly as was possible and she couldn’t think of a way to turn it around.