Брайан Макклеллан - Sins of Empire

She returned her gaze to Mama Palo. The old woman continued to smile, and Vlora wasn’t the only person who’d caught on to it. Lindet eyed her warily while her Privileged searched the crowd with the same deftness as Vlora. They seemed satisfied with the absence of a threat, but remained vigilant.

Vlora’s next check of the crowd caught sight of something peculiar, but it wasn’t at all what she expected.

Standing near the edge of the park, leaning against a tree with his arms folded, lips pursed, was Meln-Dun. The Palo businessman smoked a cigarette, his eyes glued to Mama Palo, and Vlora couldn’t help but wonder why he was here. He needed to be in Greenfire Depths, securing his power base – making sure his family and business were still intact. Had he already managed it? Was he here out of spite? To be sure that Mama Palo did, in fact, hang?

“Careful, lady, you’re gonna fall,” the boy next to Vlora warned.

She reached out to steady herself against the trunk of the tree and forced herself to settle down and watch the execution, though she couldn’t keep from looking toward Meln-Dun. It would be wise, she decided, to check in with him, make sure everything had gone smoothly.

She was about to climb down from the tree when she spotted something that made her skin crawl: A pair of dragonmen stood less than fifteen paces behind Meln-Dun. They were powerful-looking Palo in gray, tailored suits and tinted spectacles, and they might have easily been mistaken for Palo businessmen but for the unmistakable black tattoos visible at their wrists and collars.

And behind them, almost close enough to touch the pair, was Gregious Tampo. Tampo was dressed to the nines and twirling a cane like he didn’t have a care in the world. Vlora wasn’t sure which she was unhappier to see – Tampo or the dragonmen – and then, like the final piece of a puzzle fitting perfectly, everything fell into place.

Tampo had been at the party. He was in Mama Palo’s inner circle. Those dragonmen were there with him. And as she watched, they pushed through the crowd toward Meln-Dun.

Vlora almost knocked a pair of kids off the branch as she leapt from the tree. She landed in a crouch, the pain of the impact barely registering through her powder trance, and tried to shout a warning.

“Meln-Dun! Meln-Dun!”

Lindet had just begun to address the crowd, her voice amplified by Privileged sorcery, and Vlora’s words were swallowed in the responding angry mutter of the mob. Vlora shoved her way through the crowd, tossing a powder charge into her mouth and chewing it into a mush of paper and grit, feeling the sorcery course through her veins.

She kicked and shoved, catching brief glimpses of Meln-Dun through the crowd. The dragonmen were almost upon him, and then she lost all sight of them as the crowd began to churn in response to Lindet’s speech.

She arrived at Meln-Dun’s tree, pistol drawn, only to spot him entering an alley with the two dragonmen. Gregious Tampo was nowhere to be seen.

She gave chase, her mind working desperately. Were the dragonmen not here to rescue Mama Palo? Were there more of them behind the gallows, preparing to spring a trap? Vlora hesitated, wondering if she should warn Lindet, but dismissed the notion. Lindet, after all, had two Privileged up there with her. Meln-Dun was unprotected.

Vlora dashed down several alleys, jumping to see over the heads of the sprawling crowd, catching glimpses of gray suits from time to time. She had gone nearly a block before catching sight of Meln-Dun walking into a small café followed by the two dragonmen. She charged along, her pistol held discreetly at her side, eyes scanning the traffic for any sign of Tampo or more of the Dynize.

She reached the entrance of the café, checked the pan of her pistol, and immediately ducked inside. Any moment she wasted might mean Meln-Dun’s life.

The café was a long, narrow room. A handful of Kressians occupied chairs, sipping their noon tea. At the far end Meln-Dun and the two dragonmen slipped into a corner table while a Palo waiter brought them iced tea.

Vlora froze in the doorway. Meln-Dun didn’t look like he was in danger.

Meln-Dun leaned over to one of the dragonmen and said something, to which the other chuckled. He slapped the dragonman on the back and lifted his gaze toward the doorway. Behind her, back in the park, Vlora heard the unmistakable sound of a trapdoor opening, and the angry response of the crowd as Mama Palo was hanged for her crimes.

Vlora’s breath felt as if it had been snatched away from her as she understood – or thought she did. Meln-Dun’s family and business had never been in danger. The attacks on her men had been feints to lure her to Meln-Dun’s side, and she had walked right into his trap, helping him take down Mama Palo to secure power in Greenfire Depths, taking advantage of her eagerness to carry out Lindet’s task. The dragonmen weren’t working for Mama Palo.

They were working for Meln-Dun .

All that passed through Vlora’s head in an instant as Meln-Dun’s eyes met hers. The Palo leapt to his feet, face turning red. Vlora hesitated, uncertain which of the three men across the café to put a bullet in. She’d come here thinking she would protect a friend, but she wasn’t entirely sure if she could kill a single dragonman, let alone two. This was not a good fight.

“Kill her,” Meln-Dun ordered.

The two dragonmen leapt from their seats. A café patron screamed, and Vlora spun toward the door, ready to run. She’d lose them quickly in the street, get back to the fort, and –

She collided with a man’s chest, bouncing off it like she’d just run straight into a brick wall. She looked up to find Tampo in front of her, and snatched for her sword. His mouth opened, but she had no intention of letting him say a word. This was no coincidence; this was…

The thought was arrested as he snatched her by the wrist before she could fully draw her sword. She snarled at him, tugging, unable to so much as move.

“Sit down, Vlora,” Tampo said calmly, shoving her to one side. She landed in a chair, almost tumbling to the floor, and was ready to come back up and at him in half a second only to find he had already stepped past her.

The cane in his hand clicked, and he drew the sword hidden within in a single, swift motion. The first dragonman moved impossibly quick, almost as fast as a powder mage, bone knife coming out and stabbing toward Tampo’s chest.

Tampo was faster. Like a mongoose snatching a snake by the throat, Tampo skewered the dragonman through the center of the chest, picking him up and throwing him at his companion like he was no more than a rag doll. The second dragonman dodged the flying body only to have Tampo grab him by the wrist, producing an audible snap with a single twist, and driving the dragonman’s head into the brick wall with the force of a draft horse’s kick.

The whole fight was over in a handful of seconds. Meln-Dun fled out the back even before the dragonmen had reached Tampo, and Vlora moved to give chase only to have her arm caught by Tampo. The lawyer manhandled her out of the café and into the street before straightening his jacket casually and linking arms with her forcefully. She tried to pull away, but to no avail, and soon found herself walking briskly away from the scene of the crime.

Tampo whistled softly to himself, as if murdering a pair of legendary warriors without breaking a sweat was just another item on his to-do list, right next to a reminder to pick up a loaf of bread. Vlora stopped fighting him by the time they reached the next street over. She was in a daze, her mind tied in knots by what had just happened.

She knew of only one man capable of manhandling a powder mage, one man who might conceivably move so bloody fast. She’d not seen nor heard from him in ten years, and the last time they’d met he hadn’t been entirely human anymore – and he’d had access to the kind of mysterious sorcery that might even be able to change his face and hide his sorcery.