Брайан Макклеллан - Wrath of Empire

“The army at Windy River didn’t have a bone-eye,” Ibana said.

“Right. Logically, they should have broken faster, like these guys did when their bone-eye died.”

Ibana seemed to consider the conundrum. “Maybe they’re trained very well. Naturally tough. A bone-eye strengthens their will but makes them brittle so that when the bone-eye dies, they are temporarily weak.”

Styke turned to look at her, surprised by the observation.

“I’ve been giving this thought since Windy River,” Ibana admitted. “A few years back I read a book on the effect sorcery has on the human mind. It was mostly incomprehensible rubbish, but I took away a few things.”

“I’ll be damned.”

Ibana gave him one of her rare smiles.

“I mean,” Styke continued, “I didn’t know you could read.”

Ibana leaned over and punched him hard in the shoulder.

Gustar finished taking a report from one of his cuirassiers and turned toward them. “A Privileged, a bone-eye, and an entire brigade shattered in exchange for a few hundred men? That’s a damned fine trade, Colonel. Congratulations.” Gustar’s Riflejacks had taken the brunt of the Privileged’s sorcery, but he, too, seemed very pleased with the results. “I think the boys have earned a day off in Bellport.”

“I don’t disagree,” Ibana said.

Styke eyed the gates of Bellport. They had opened moments before, and he’d spied a small force riding out to greet them under a Fatrastan flag. “Strip the dead and wounded of supplies,” he ordered. “Grab everything we can carry from the Dynize supply train. We’ll camp here tonight and give the men leave in the city in the morning, then move the next day.”

In the meantime, Styke had personal business to attend to.

Michel sat on the floor of his room in the Merryweather Hotel in Upper Landfall. Since the occupation, the hotel had been taken over by midlevel Dynize bureaucrats unable to get a proper townhome near the capitol building. It was a posh place, far above his old pay grade, but he’d managed to use Yaret’s name to secure a room there – and to take advantage of the fact the hotel was well guarded and unlikely to be infiltrated by Blackhats attempting to take his head.

The contents of Forgula’s pocketbook were spread in front of him: seven Dynize ration cards, a bundle of cigarette rolling papers, a number of Fatrastan and Dynize coins, and a booklet filled with names and addresses on both sides of the ocean as well as a calendar of appointments.

It was the appointments that Michel had spent the last couple of days poring over. Everything in the book was written in Dynize shorthand and a sort of minimal cypher, and it had taken him and Tenik together two afternoons just to establish a working translation.

Michel stared at the calendar of appointments, reading over the last three weeks for the umpteenth time. He started from one point in time – the hour that Forgula met with Marhoush in Claden Park – and worked backward, trying to find a similarity between the three letters and two numbers she’d used to mark that appointment with any other appointment since the invasion. He was searching for a trail: evidence that Forgula had met with Marhoush many times in the past or would again in the future.

He finished his examination as the door to his room opened and Tenik slipped inside.

“Anything on Marhoush?” Michel asked, tossing the calendar of appointments on the floor.

“Nothing new,” Tenik answered. “He’s holed up in an old warehouse to the west of the industrial quarter. It seems he’s being cautious since we raided his last hideout.”

“Are we certain that he’s staying put?”

“As certain as can be. One of our people saw his face less than two hours ago. He has people coming and going, but seems to have remained in one spot himself.”

Michel snorted. “Damned fool. If he really thinks we’re on to him, he should be moving every chance he gets. Staying in one spot makes it easier to find him. I’ve been telling the Blackhats for years that everyone should have some espionage training.”

“I take it they didn’t listen?”

“They wouldn’t even let me give our actual spies enough training.” Michel rubbed his eyes. They felt tired and bloodshot after spending so much time staring at paper. He needed to get up, go out onto the balcony – maybe even take a walk. He dismissed the notion. No time – and no need to put a target on himself. It had occurred to him last night just how much of a risk he’d taken by following Hendres himself. He should have pointed her out to some of Yaret’s men and let them do the footwork. The more time he spent out among the populace, the greater chance he had of being recognized, even with his dyed hair and new mustache.

“Tell our watchers to keep their distance. I don’t want Marhoush getting spooked. The sooner he moves, the more chance we have of following him directly to je Tura.” Stifling a yawn, Michel wondered if he shouldn’t go spend the next few days watching Marhoush’s new safe house. He was, after all, the one who would recognize anyone else of importance.

There was just too much work to do.

“Any progress there?” Tenik asked, nodding at the calendar of appointments.

“Nothing,” Michel responded. He picked up the book, tapping a pen against a bookmarked page. “We have her shorthand here for the meeting with Marhoush, and we figured out last night her system for marking names, places, and dates. But I haven’t found a single match for Marhoush anywhere else in her calendar. She’s either never met with him before or this was the only time she actually jotted the meeting down.”

“And if it’s the former?”

“If it’s the former” – Michel tapped the pen against the page – “then maybe our first guess was right. Perhaps Forgula is attempting to turn Marhoush directly. She’s not a traitor, or up to anything more insidious than recruiting an enemy. Which is exactly what we’ve been doing.”

Tenik seemed doubtful. “Either way, Yaret wants to know.”

“That’s fair.” Michel continued to tap away, considering his options. There might be something in this calendar that he missed – a hidden message jotted between the lines. Invisible ink. Even sorcery. But Forgula didn’t have easy access to that kind of sorcery and this was, after all, just a calendar. She wasn’t high-ranking enough to think it would be lifted by a pickpocket. This was probably a dead end.

He tossed the calendar aside and picked up Forgula’s thin address book. This wasn’t in shorthand or lightly ciphered, not like the calendar. It was simply a list of contacts and addresses, just like any government aide might carry with them. He’d flipped through it twice now and nothing had struck him as peculiar. But late last night, it had given him an idea.

“Do you have access to census records?” Michel asked.

“I do.”

“I need the records of all the bureaucrats and civilians who came over from Dynize.”

Tenik’s eyebrows furrowed. “What do you need those for?”

Michel shook the address book over his head. “Because I want to compare her address book to the census records. If I can eliminate all the people who came with you from overseas, then I’ll be able to tell who her local contacts are. From there, we can find out if any of them are known Blackhats and we’ll have a new trail to follow.”

Tenik walked over to the window, pushing aside the curtain and looking out for a few moments before answering. “Can’t you differentiate between Fatrastan names and Dynize names?”