Брайан Макклеллан - Wrath of Empire

“In a pinch, yes. But I don’t know every Dynize name, and you don’t know every Kressian, Fatrastan, or Palo name. I’m not going to look for every single name – just the ones I’m curious about. It’ll be a couple hours of work at most, and might save me a boatload of time in the future.”

Or, Michel added silently, I could just look for the latest entries in her address book . But that wouldn’t allow him to get his hands on the census data. He waited for Tenik to tell him he was being obtuse, watching carefully for an ounce of suspicion.

Tenik shrugged. “If you wish. There is a single book that lists every civilian that came over with the army. I can get a copy to you within thirty minutes. I’m not sure it’ll be as helpful as you think, but I’ll provide it.”

“And someone to help me compare the names,” Michel added, hoping it would allay any suspicion.

“Of course.”

Tenik headed to the door, but stopped suddenly and turned to Michel. Michel swallowed hard, waiting for a sudden accusation, but Tenik had something else on his mind. “A warning to you, my friend.”

“Eh?”

“Ichtracia has been asking about you. Your stunt with Forgula last night has piqued her interest.”

Michel’s throat began to feel tight. “She doesn’t have better things to do?”

“Most of the Privileged are with the army,” Tenik said with a shrug. “Ichtracia remains with the government because of her grandfather’s wishes, but there isn’t a lot for a Privileged to do in a new seat of government. Aside from the odd task that comes her way, she finds … other diversions.”

“And you’re worried I might be a new diversion?”

“Just warning you that she’s been asking around, is all.” Tenik raised his eyebrows. “However, I suppose everyone’s been asking around about you. Before, you were a curiosity. Since you confronted Forgula, you’ve suddenly become very interesting.”

Tenik left Michel alone with the contents of Forgula’s pocketbook, which he spent the next little while glancing through once more before there was a knock on the door. A young woman arrived with the census data Michel requested. She was one of Yaret’s Household clerks who’d picked up a little Palo and Adran, and they spent the rest of the evening comparing Forgula’s address book with the census data.

The work was tedious. They marked each person as either Dynize or Fatrastan, then went back through and double-checked all of the names. Only thirteen – all of them written in at the end of the address book – were Fatrastan, and most of those were readily recognizable sympathizers already helping the Dynize stabilize the government.

Michel didn’t much care about the information. It might be useful, but his real goal was to look through the census data himself. He scoured it whenever his assistant didn’t need the book. He sorted through the tiny writing, poring over it like he might check the books of a crooked accountant, looking for any sign of this “Mara” whom Taniel needed smuggled out of the city. After four hours he bought himself some more time with the book by ordering his assistant to triple-check the list that they’d made, and at the end of the fifth hour he gave the book to her and sent her back to the Yaret Household.

He stood by the hotel room window in frustration, watching as the evening guard did their rounds. He considered his path to this place, wondering at the idea that he was now working for a powerful Dynize minister, and he tried to imagine where Taniel and Ka-poel were now.

He wished that Taniel was here. He had questions – questions he hadn’t known he would need to ask.

The first had to do with all the data he’d just scoured. Of the thousands of civilians who had come over with the army to occupy Landfall, he couldn’t find Mara. And not just the Mara … but he couldn’t even find a Mara. It was as if the name itself didn’t even exist.

Which forced him to wonder what the pit he was going to do if he couldn’t even find this woman.

The Yellow Creek jail was one of the few brick buildings in the city, positioned just behind the mayor’s office at the end of a long street that terminated a hundred yards later at the base of one of the mountains. It was bigger than Vlora expected, with over two dozen holding cells guarded by a handful of deputies, all of whom kept a wary eye on Vlora as she was led down the hall to the last cell on the right.

Unlike the other cells, this one had several small windows, with real glass instead of bars, and a real bed and desk tucked into the corner. Taniel sat cross-legged on the bed, shoes off, jacket tossed over a chair as if he was staying in a hotel room instead of a cell. His brow was furrowed as he drew in his sketchbook, and he didn’t look up until the cell door was unlocked.

“Afternoon,” he said cheerfully.

Vlora paused in the doorway, noting that the guard had left the two of them alone. “Looks like you’re living the high life in here.”

“It’s a cell for important people,” Taniel explained.

“And you are?”

“A man with money.”

Vlora took the chair and pursed her lips at Taniel. “And you mocked me for paying for two rooms at the hotel.”

“Nobody’s perfect.” Taniel flipped the page in his sketchbook, then lifted his chin, looking down his nose at her. She remembered that look.

“You’re not drawing me,” she said.

“Of course not,” he replied as he began to sketch.

Vlora let it go. “Do they know who you are?” she asked quietly.

“They think my name is Tampo.” He paused to adjust the glove on his right hand, revealing a bit of red skin.

“And that?” Vlora asked, nodding at the hand.

“One Palo deputy knows who I am. She’s a Daughter of the Red Hand and knows the passwords, so I can trust her, but I haven’t been able to get much more than the city gossip and good meals. Speaking of which, I heard you met with the other big boss. Why do they call him Brown Bear Burt?”

“Has a big bearskin on his desk. Claims he got a lucky shot off at an Ironhook grizzly years ago and the name stuck.”

“And Burt? It’s an Adran name.”

“No idea. Palo here call themselves anything they want. How did you hear that, anyway? The gossip in this city is out of control.”

Taniel glanced up at her with a frown, pausing, before continuing his sketch. Vlora turned her face the other direction to annoy him. He didn’t seem to mind. “There’s ten thousand people crammed into a tiny valley in the middle of nowhere. Not much to do here besides poke your nose in other people’s business. Did you find it ?”

Vlora shook her head. “I’ve checked two of the big valleys and a dozen of the little ones. Been at it all morning, too. But there are a few things you need to know.”

“What’s that?”

“There’s another powder mage in Yellow Creek.”

Taniel looked up sharply. “Oh?”

“A man named Nohan. Claimed he was in the Starlish Cabal. Ever heard of him?”

“I haven’t. Starlish, eh? They integrated their cabal, what, four years ago?”

“Six,” Vlora corrected. “Privileged and powder mages, fighting side by side in a royal cabal.”

“Times change.” Taniel shrugged. “You met him?”

“He came on to me last night.”

“And how did that go?” Taniel asked with a smirk.

“He’s on Jezzy’s payroll, but he suggested that the three of us team up and slaughter the entire city and steal all the gold we can carry.”