Брайан Макклеллан - Wrath of Empire

“Enterprising.”

“He sure seemed to think so. He didn’t take my rejection well.”

“I’m guessing you did it with your usual grace?”

“I called him a coward.”

“Well done,” Taniel said without a trace of sarcasm. “Sounds like it was warranted.”

“It was, but it means that we have a powder mage to look out for. I tried to make it clear I wasn’t his enemy, but he took the ‘coward’ bit personally and we beat the shit out of each other.”

Taniel squinted at her over his sketchbook. “Oh yeah. I didn’t notice that shiner when you walked in. So we have a rogue powder mage with a grudge in addition to all this other shit.” He finally set down his charcoal and rubbed his eyes, leaning back in the cell bed. He let his gaze wander around his cell, his cool demeanor broken by a distasteful sneer. “This is incredibly inconvenient.”

“I would appreciate help.”

“I tried bribing the sheriff to see the judge earlier,” Taniel said. “No can do. And she made it very clear that the moment I’m out of this cell, we won’t be welcome in this town anymore.”

Vlora quelled a rising frustration. “Meaning I have to look for this thing on my own? And I only have until you get out?”

“Sounds like it,” Taniel said with an apologetic smile.

“You’re the one with Ka-poel’s damned compass in your head.”

“Little good it’s done me. I spent a whole night looking for the artifact. All I can tell is that it’s here. I don’t know where, though. One other thing …” He hesitated. “The sheriff says there’s a good chance they’ll try to hang me. The local judge has been trying to crack down on violence.”

“Pit,” Vlora breathed. She wasn’t worried for Taniel’s fate. She was worried that he would kill a whole lot of innocent people when they tried to carry out the sentence. The ticking clock in the back of her head just got louder. All she could do was hurry. She made a sour face, thinking back to the figure she recognized in the street last night. “What can you tell me about the Predeii?”

That got Taniel’s attention. He closed his sketchbook and set it to one side, scooting to the edge of the bed. “That’s not a question I want to hear,” he said intently. “I don’t know anything about them, not any more than you – powerful Privileged that were responsible for summoning the gods to give order to the Nine, then responsible for the chaos that occurred once the gods left.”

“How powerful?” Vlora asked.

“Worth half a royal cabal on their own, is what Bo told me,” Taniel answered. He tilted his face to one side, watching Vlora cautiously. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“I saw Prime Lektor last night.”

Taniel leaned on his fist, swaying to one side. “No,” he breathed. “We can’t afford to have them involved with this, too. You’re absolutely certain?”

“I recognized him in the street,” Vlora said, suddenly feeling less sure of herself. “It wasn’t until a couple hours later that I realized where I recognized him from. I think it was him, but I won’t be sure unless I see him again.”

“And I’ll bet my boots he’ll recognize you if he sees you first.”

Vlora swore under her breath. This damned city seemed to be getting smaller every day. First the spat between the big bosses, then a powder mage, and now a mythical Privileged older than her birth country. “If it is him, it can’t be a coincidence.”

“He’s here for the stone.”

“Of course. What else could it be?” Vlora asked with a shrug. “An ancient sorcerer doesn’t just happen to show up in the little frontier gold-rush city where we’re looking for an ancient artifact of great power.”

Taniel looked like he swallowed a lemon. “We’ve got to find him. Shit, I wish Ka-poel were here. Prime Lektor might be more than even I can handle. I’ve fought one of the Predeii before and couldn’t kill her.” He paused. “ Why would Prime Lektor want the stone?”

“Power?”

“He’s an academic. Maybe he’s trying to keep it out of Lindet’s hands. Maybe he just wants to study it.”

“That,” Vlora said, “is too stupidly optimistic for me. We have to assume he’s an enemy.”

“Agreed.”

“Do I try to put a bullet in his head?”

“If that’ll even work,” Taniel snorted. “Pit.”

“You could get out any time you like,” Vlora pointed out.

“With violence,” Taniel admitted. “But yes. The city will close to us the moment I leave this cell, either by force or judicial order. I’ll cool my feet for the time being, and see what kind of information my Palo friend can get me. I’ve got to be careful who I trust with the Red Hand information. I still have quite a bounty on my head.”

“I’m going to look for Prime Lektor. If he’s here, then he might already know where the godstone is.”

“Be careful,” Taniel warned, raising his finger. “We don’t know what he’s capable of. One of those Predeii carved through half of Tamas’s powder cabal back during the coup.”

Vlora remembered. Those people were her friends and comrades. “She took them by surprise,” she said, hoping there wasn’t too much hubris in her bravado. “I intend on taking him by surprise.”

“And that powder mage?”

“Him, too.”

Taniel scowled, his expression uncertain. “I should get out of here.”

“No,” Vlora said. She could do this. She had to do this. Taniel’s help would be ideal, but she still didn’t fully trust his motives. If she could make this victory her own, it would be worth so much more. “You can’t attract attention. I’ll find Prime and the stone by the time you’re out of here.” She stood up. “But I need to use every minute to do it.”

Taniel took her hand, surprising her. “Vlora,” he said seriously, “don’t get yourself killed. There’s more going on here than we know. My Palo friend says that the Palo Nation has a presence here, but he doesn’t know anything else. If we can contact them, we might be able to get some help.”

Vlora didn’t know the first thing about getting in touch with agents of this Palo Nation. “I’m not exactly a welcome figure in the Palo community.”

“They don’t give a shit about the southern Palo. They only care if you can help them.”

“And can I help them?” She really didn’t like the sound of that.

“Maybe.” Taniel seemed torn. “I’ll see what I can find out from here. Just … be careful.”

Styke was greeted by the mayor of Belltower as he entered the old city gates the day after the Mad Lancers relieved the city. The mayor was an older gentleman with the dark skin of a Deliv, distinguished in tails and hat, with spectacles perched on the end of his nose. He wore a red sash proclaiming his title, and he was on foot surrounded by a small entourage of dignitaries dressed in their churchgoing best. As Styke rode through the gates, the mayor swept off his hat and bowed.

There was a part of Styke that reveled in his fame, that enjoyed the women, booze, and money his reputation had gotten him in his youth. But being thanked had always felt strained and awkward. He tipped his hat in return and gave a small wave to the dignitaries.

“You’re Colonel Styke,” the mayor said.

Styke glanced over his shoulder, hoping that Ibana would arrive with some kind of emergency that needed his attention. Ka-poel lurked on horseback a few dozen feet behind him. Other than her and Celine, there were only a few of his lancers riding in to see the city, and they slunk off quickly without making eye contact.