Брайан Макклеллан - Sins of Empire

Meln-Dun waited until the medic had finished the stitches and Vlora had dismissed him. Once they were alone the Palo businessman seemed to gather his wits a little better, soaking the fresh stitches with a washcloth and cleaning the blood from his face. Vlora watched him the whole time, silently urging him to spit it out. She needed him to talk. This could be her opportunity to turn him against Mama Palo.

“I made a discovery this morning,” he finally admitted. “Mama Palo is working with the Dynize.”

Vlora circled around Meln-Dun and took a seat behind her desk. She leaned back in her chair, absorbing the information. Part of her wanted to be surprised, but it was the final piece of a puzzle that she didn’t even know existed. Of course Mama Palo was working with the Dynize. They’d infiltrated the Depths, and Mama Palo ruled the Depths. If even the Blackhats knew about them then she must as well. It made complete sense that she was in cahoots with them.

“To what end?” Vlora asked, not caring if it revealed her previous knowledge of the Dynize.

Meln-Dun didn’t seem to notice. “I’m not entirely sure. Some of us have suspected it for months, but I wasn’t certain until this morning. I was at the Yellow Hall paying my respects when I took a wrong turn – the hall can be confusing even for those familiar with it – and entered a room with dozens of foreigners.”

“You’re sure they were Dynize?”

“Positive. Dynize and Palo may look the same to you Kressians, but to us the difference is as night and day. They didn’t seem at all happy to be found, and I hurried from the place in fear of my life. I returned home, then came immediately here. I thought the safest place to be would be among your soldiers. At least until I could get word from my people whether I was in trouble with Mama Palo.”

Vlora drummed her fingers on her desk, trying to decide what to do. Did she risk pushing him? “How can you be sure they came for you?”

“It would just be another reason,” Meln-Dun said. “My deal with you… Well, to be honest, I haven’t been entirely forthright. I told you Mama Palo knew about it, but I didn’t say she disapproved. Her anger over my defiance, and my discovery of her Dynize allies… that ambush was meant for me.”

So Meln-Dun had lied to her. The fact that he had been willing to work with her against Mama Palo’s wishes had to be a good thing, didn’t it? Vlora opened her mouth, then closed it again, rethinking her strategy. If she suggested an all-out coup against Mama Palo he might refuse. Some people could be mad about loyalty. But if he suggested it…

“I can offer you my protection while you’re here at the fort,” she said. “But beyond that I’m afraid there’s little I can do. My soldiers are here to keep the peace and help with construction efforts, not interfere in the politics of the Depths.”

“I appreciate it, but I –” Meln-Dun was cut off by a knock on the door. Vlora was surprised to find a Palo on the other side. “One of my assistants,” Meln-Dun explained. “May we have the room for the moment?”

Vlora waited outside for almost five minutes, pacing the fort office and drumming her fingers on the wall. Her heart was beating double-time. She had a decision to make, and she couldn’t hold Meln-Dun’s hand through it all. She needed to either prepare her soldiers for an all-out invasion of Greenfire Depths, or figure out a way to get Meln-Dun’s help in a coup against Mama Palo.

A sob broke her concentration. She crossed to her office door and listened for a moment, only for the door to open in her face. The messenger withdrew, leaving Meln-Dun looking pale and shaken. “I’ve just heard word from my quarry,” he explained in a monotone.

“Yes?” Vlora urged gently.

“Mama Palo’s men have seized my assets in the Depths. My quarry, my home, my family. You remember my business partner, Enna? She was found murdered in her home not a half-dozen blocks from here. To be so brazen!” Meln-Dun’s expression hardened. “This has gone too far. Mama Palo must be stopped. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know which is worse – that I must flee my own people, or the prospect of going to the Blackhats for help.”

This was exactly what Vlora had been waiting for. She leaned over Meln-Dun, trying not to appear too eager. “You know the Yellow Hall well?”

“Of course.”

“Mama Palo’s own chambers?”

“I do.”

“Then,” Vlora said, going to the door to summon a messenger, “I think we can help each other.”

Michel reached deep into the depths of his memory to find the tiny marble he’d stored there so many years ago. He handled it delicately, cracking it open like an egg and letting all of the thoughts, hopes, ambitions, and memories flood out into his mind. The outpouring of emotion was so sudden that, even though he knew it was coming, he lowered his head and began to weep.

It took him over an hour to regain control. He struggled to reconcile two different personalities with two very different sets of goals until, finally, they were one again and he remembered who he really was: Michel Bravis, a Son of the Red Hand and to his knowledge the only Palo to ever infiltrate the Blackhats to the rank of Silver Rose.

Taniel stood silently through the entire process, watching him curiously, a slight frown on his face. Michel used Taniel’s face as a lifeline to his old self – the one he’d been before he joined the Blackhats – staring back into those cold blue eyes while his breathing normalized and his hands stopped shaking.

Michel dried the tears from his eyes and within moments found himself laughing. It began as a chuckle, bubbling up unbidden and escaping through his clenched teeth, and was soon a wholehearted guffaw. He slapped his knees, bending over to try to catch his breath.

“What’s so funny?” Taniel asked.

Michel, once again, regained control. “It’s just I’ve barely slept in over a week trying to find the person who printed Sins of Empire , and after chasing him through the bloody streets I come to find out it’s the very man I work for.”

Taniel gave a sardonic smirk. “You almost caught me down in the Factory District. I would have felt a lot better about things if I’d known it was you on my tail.” His face finally cracked into a smile and he seemed to relax, sitting down across from Michel and reaching for the skin of tea.

“If I’d caught you, it might have compromised my cover.”

Taniel made a noncommittal sound. “Perhaps. Perhaps not.”

Michel considered all the close calls and lucky breaks over the last two weeks, and then tried to think of them from Taniel’s perspective. The whole thing had been a game of cat-and-mouse, only for them both to find out that there’d never actually been a mouse to begin with. It was a little humiliating, if he was being honest with himself, but he decided that if no one found out he could live with it in private.

“The face thing,” he asked. “Sorcery?”

Taniel nodded.

“I didn’t know that was possible. Can’t other Privileged detect that kind of thing?”

“It’s…” Taniel paused. “Very well done. Sorcery woven to cover sorcery. Not even another powder mage can detect me. Unfortunately, it’s going to take a long time to reapply now that I’ve let it drop.”

Michel winced. “Sorry.”

“You had no way of knowing,” Taniel reassured him. “Besides, I thought it important for you to see my face.” He suddenly leaned forward, peering into Michel’s eyes. Michel tapped his foot with nervous energy. He didn’t know everything about Taniel – there were a lot of rumors in the newspapers back during and after the Adran-Kez War, including the suggestion that he’d killed a god – but he did know that, at the very least, he was a powder mage not to be trifled with. “You do,” Taniel asked, “remember your mission?”