If Ka-Sedial noticed Michel and Tenik standing to the side, he did not give any indication. “My friend,” he said warmly to Yaret, taking Yaret’s offered hand in both of his.
“Good afternoon, Sedial,” Yaret said in a gentle tone. “I didn’t expect your visit. I apologize for the mess.”
“Oh, no need. I’ve been cleaning the bookshelves in my own new home. So much Kressian and Fatrastan rubbish. It’s a pity they wasted so much paper!”
The two men shared a laugh as if they were old friends. Michel watched the sides of their faces carefully, and despite the warmth of their conversation he thought he spotted a glint in the eyes of each man.
“My friend,” Sedial said, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye, “I was just passing by, but the truth is that a grave matter has been weighing on me for several days.”
Yaret spread his arms. “If there’s anything I can do …”
“There is.” Ka-Sedial’s face hardened. The change was almost immediate, like an actor switching masks in the middle of a street performance. The grandfatherly look was gone, replaced by severity chiseled out of marble. “I want the Gold Rose.”
Michel couldn’t help but frown. He wasn’t certain how much communication went on between the Dynize ministers and their Households, but it made sense that Ka-Sedial would know about Yaret’s quest for Lindet’s spies. Did he really micromanage this badly, or was there something more sinister going on?
Michel saw Yaret’s body tense slightly, but Yaret continued as if he had not noticed the change in Ka-Sedial’s expression. “We’re making progress on our search,” he said assuringly. “We believe we’re looking for a man named Val je Tura. Unless …” He paused. “If you’re looking for the item we used to open the third floor of the Blackhat archives, I believe the minister of artifacts has it now.”
“I’m not interested in the artifact,” Ka-Sedial said, “nor this supposed je Tura. I want your pet Blackhat. The one who gave you the Rose.”
Michel heard his own sharp intake of breath and fought to suppress the sudden hammering of his heart. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tenik glance at him with concern, while Yaret and Sedial ignored the noise as if he were a piece of furniture. Michel barely trusted himself to breathe, waiting for the moment Yaret pointed in his direction and ordered Sedial’s bodyguards to haul Michel off. Michel did not know much about Sedial, but Taniel’s warnings about the bone-eyes still echoed in his mind. And he still had the bruises from Forgula’s beating.
“Whatever for?” Yaret asked curiously.
“Because he’s a spy,” Ka-Sedial replied, as if that were all the reason in the world.
“Yes, I’m aware he’s a spy. That’s why he’s valuable.”
“He’s still a spy.”
“Ah.” Yaret seemed to consider this as if it were new information. “I think I see where the confusion is. You believe he’s still working for the enemy?”
Ka-Sedial gave the cold smile of someone who knew that Yaret was acting a fool but could not think of a way to politely break the facade. “I believe that is the case, yes. Some of my Household are concerned that you’ve given him too much trust too quickly.”
“Oh? I had no idea that the way I run my Household was under scrutiny.”
“I—”
Yaret continued before Ka-Sedial could interject. “If my Household is under imperial review, I would like to know immediately. If it is not, I would like to know why your underlings are watching me. The amount of trust I put in someone I’ve welcomed into my Household is entirely up to me.” Yaret’s voice continued in a gentle manner, but there was a new bite to his words.
“You’re not under imperial review,” Ka-Sedial reassured him.
“I’m glad to hear that.”
“But I’d like you to consider handing over the Gold Rose for questioning.”
“He gave us entry to the Blackhat library.”
“True. But we have no idea what other secrets his head may hold.”
Michel felt his hackles rise while the two discussed him. He wondered whether Ka-Sedial knew that the man they were discussing was literally in the room. Sedial had given no indication. The thought concerned Michel, and he wondered if Yaret had known this conversation was coming—and if so, why Yaret wished him to stay in the room for it.
Yaret’s genteel facade finally broke. “I will not hand over a member of my Household to be tortured.”
“He’s hardly a member of your Household already,” Ka-Sedial scoffed.
“He is,” Yaret insisted. “He proved his usefulness when he gave us the Millinery library. He is one of dozens of Blackhats that my people have managed to turn over the last month. Not only is he already the most valuable of those, but he has given me no reason to suspect that he’s a double agent. He’s actively working with my people to hunt down his former companions.”
“And you truly trust him?”
“ ‘Truly’? Trust is a sliding scale, Sedial. He has begun the journey of earning my trust in good faith. I will not break that faith.”
Ka-Sedial’s hardened expression took on an air of annoyance. He was clearly a man used to being given what he asked for. For his own part, Michel was shocked that he hadn’t been handed over already. “He need not be tortured,” Sedial said.
“I won’t give him to the bone-eyes, either,” Yaret said.
Michel tried not to panic at the idea. Ka-Sedial said, “You could oversee the questioning. All we have to do is make sure he’s spilled all his secrets. If he has, he can return to your Household. No harm done.”
“You and I have very different definitions of ‘harm,’” Yaret said quietly. “But I think you already knew that.”
Ka-Sedial watched Yaret for several moments. His face was still merely stern, but his eyes spoke of a bottled fury. “Don’t let our past disagreements cloud your judgment, my friend.”
“And don’t let your reliance on your sorcery cloud yours,” Yaret retorted. He spread his arms. “You control the military and the government. If you try to manage even more, you will run yourself into an early grave. None of us wants that, so I suggest you leave the espionage to me.”
Ka-Sedial snorted. “Think on my request,” he said before turning toward the door. He paused halfway through his turn, eyes locking on Michel and Tenik as if noticing their presence for the first time. He gave a slight frown and opened the door. Before he could go, Michel spotted a figure standing down the hallway—a striking young woman wearing Privileged’s gloves. She was obviously waiting for Ka-Sedial, greeting him with a nod as he emerged. For some reason her presence seemed to drive the danger of this situation home to Michel; the realization that he could be destroyed by two different sorceries or any number of mundane ways made everything just a little more terrifying.
The door closed and Michel found himself alone with Yaret and Tenik again. He glanced between the two of them, his throat dry. No one spoke.
After nearly a minute, Michel cleared his throat. “Thank you,” he said.
Yaret looked up from his own deep thoughts. “Hmm?”
“Thank you for not turning me over to them. I have no desire to be tortured, or subjected to sorcery.”
“Ah, yes.” Yaret waved off the thanks. “You are a member of my Household, no matter how early or tenuous. If I make a precedent of handing my people over to a rival Household, it will make it clear to everyone that I am no longer fit to be a Minister.”
Michel waited for an ominous follow-up. Something like, Don’t make me regret this decision, or Betray me and I will kill you myself. It never came. Instead, Yaret frowned at the door for a few more moments before saying, “Do you know why I asked you to remain in the room?”
“You wanted to show me that you protect the people who work for you?”
Yaret gave a genuine chuckle. “Nothing so serious, though I do make a point of doing so … No, I did it to annoy Sedial. He’s a prick, Michel, and I don’t really give a shit who knows it.”
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A long, awkward silence filled the room. Michel had the sudden realization that he’d just backed the underdog in a struggle he hadn’t known was going on. Yaret might have resources, but Sedial was in charge. This … couldn’t be good. “I think he’s up to something, sir.”
“Sedial is always up to something.”
Michel tried to piece together the fragments he had gleaned from his week with Tenik. “His underlings are meeting with a Silver Rose in secret. They tried to intercept me when I defected. I … sir, I know it’s not my place to say it, but if spying and counterespionage is your purview, Sedial is definitely making a play for your power.”
Yaret and Tenik shared a long look, and Yaret gave a sigh. “You’re not saying anything I don’t already know.”
“Doesn’t he have enough power?” Tenik asked. “He is emperor in all but name.”
“It is not quite that bad,” Yaret said with a gentle rebuke. He turned to Michel with an apologetic smile. “I realize you are getting a very swift—and possibly dangerous—introduction to our world. If you would like to remain with my Household but avoid the current scheming, I can send you back to Dynize.”
Michel was surprised at the offer. He’d never had a superior extend an offer of safety before—every day was always about what Michel could do to further the cause, no matter the danger. Yaret seemed to have a different respect for human life than Michel was used to. Funny enough, safety in Dynize would destroy Michel’s plans completely. “I believe I can handle it, sir. I promised to be useful in exchange for hostages. I’m not going to give that up.”
“Good,” Yaret said, giving Michel a tight smile. “Unfortunately, there are too many tasks and too few people to do them. I don’t mind telling you that I need someone with your skills right now.”
“Tell me how I can help,” Michel said. The farther I climb, the better chance I have of getting access to your records, he added to himself silently.
“I need you to keep looking for this je Tura, but I also want to know why Forgula is meeting with the Blackhats. Tenik will give you whatever assistance we can spare, including men to follow the Silver Rose.”
“I’ll get right on it, sir,” Michel promised. He waited for a nod of dismissal, then headed toward the door. He stopped with one hand on the knob, turning back. “Sir, I don’t mean to question fortune, but this seems … important. Why do you trust me with this already?”
Yaret chewed on the inside of his cheek, once again looking at the bookshelf he’d been in the midst of cleaning out. “Like I said, there are too few people to do too many tasks.”
Tenik took Michel by the elbow and pulled him out into the hall, which had emptied since Sedial’s departure. Michel scowled at the door as it closed, wondering what he’d gotten himself into.
“He’s trusting you,” Tenik said quietly, “because he knows having a high-ranking foreignor in his Household will annoy the pit out of Ka-Sedial.”
Michel swallowed. He liked Yaret, but something about his relationship with Sedial was personal. He knew enough about Households to realize that if Sedial decided to destroy Yaret, Michel would go down with him. It was not a pleasant thought—and more reason to find Taniel’s informant and extract her as quickly as possible.
“Where do you want to start?” Tenik asked him.
Michel thought for a moment. “I’m going to give you a list of Blackhat safe houses. I want them all watched—and I want Marhoush followed. In the meantime, I need to get closer to Forgula.”
“How?”
“I’m not sure. Do the Dynize have social entertainment?”
Tenik raised an eyebrow.
“Something like boxing or horse races—a place where Households can intermix?”
“We have … well, the best translation is war games. Very popular among all castes.”
“And Forgula?”
“She supports one of the players.”
“Can you take me to one of these games? I don’t need to meet her—I just want to observe her.”
“Is tomorrow soon enough?”
Michel took a deep breath. He didn’t need to just climb the ranks of Yaret’s Household. He needed to enter Dynize society. Anything that let him mix with more people would give him a better shot at finding Taniel’s informant. “I’m looking forward to it.”
CHAPTER 24
Vlora met Taniel in the hotel great room for breakfast. He sat in the same place as the night before, in the one quiet corner with his back against the wall, sketchbook on his lap and two plates of eggs and hash in front of them. He pushed one over to Vlora without looking up from his sketch.
She dropped down across from him and craned her neck. Taniel was drawing the hotel manager.
“Do you remember that discussion we had last night about being circumspect in our mission here?” he asked quietly.
Vlora dug into the eggs and hash. “Do you remember when I told you not to be a smug prick?” she replied between bites.
Taniel sucked on his teeth and finally looked up. His face was serious, brows knit in worry.
“Sorry,” Vlora muttered into her meal.
“Everyone’s been talking about your fight with Jezzy’s men,” Taniel said. “In here, out there. It’s the latest fun bit of gossip. Our only saving grace is apparently there are so many fights every day that people will have forgotten about yours by tonight.”
“They tried to recruit me for their club brawl,” Vlora said defensively. “And they weren’t being nice about it. What would you have me do? I didn’t take it far enough to give away who I am.”
“But you did draw attention.” Taniel nodded across the room to an older woman leaning against the hotel bar. She had an easy manner, with a quality pistol and sword at her belt and epaulets on a faux uniform jacket. She was staring at Vlora and Taniel. “That,” Taniel said, “is the Yellow Creek sheriff. The good news is that she’s apparently the only impartial bit of law in this town—and she’s given you a pass because Jezzy’s boys have a habit of coming on too strong. The bad news is she’s now going to watch us closely.”
“Until something else draws her attention.” Vlora sniffed the tin mug in front of Taniel and found watered wine. She lifted it to the sheriff and downed the rest.
“Hopefully soon,” Taniel said.
Vlora fetched beer for the two of them, not trusting the water in a place like this, and returned to her seat. “You’re in a mood today,” she said.
“I spent half the night wandering the town,” Taniel said. “I don’t sleep much these days.”
“Can’t?”
“Don’t need it.”
Vlora felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end, and was reminded that as much as she wanted to think Taniel was still the boy she’d befriended two decades ago, he was now something more than human. “And?”
“And I can’t find the damned thing.” Taniel flipped his sketchbook closed in frustration, as if he’d expected to waltz into town and discover the godstone within hours. “I can sense it, and that should be enough. Once Pole knew what we were looking for, she tuned me into the same sorcery as the godstone in Landfall. I should be like a bloodhound to this thing, but instead I’m just walking in circles.”
Vlora sipped her beer. He did expect to find it immediately. “Why do you think that is?”
“No idea. It’s like trying to follow sound in a fog.” He got up and stashed his sketchbook, his eyes focused inward on thoughts he did not share. “I’m going to head back out and—”
Taniel was interrupted by the sound of a crash, and the front door of the hotel suddenly burst open. Vlora turned to look for the commotion and her heart fell. It was that asshole Dorner from the night before and the friend whom she’d dragged down the stairs. Dorner stumbled around the room, clearly drunk, trying to speak with his half tongue. His companion steadied him and pointed at Vlora.
The sheriff perked up. “Boys,” she said warningly.
They ignored her and
came straight toward Vlora. Vlora stood up and lay one hand on the pistol in her belt. Neither man had a weapon in hand, but both had swords on them.
Taniel stepped between Vlora and the two, barring them both with his arm. “Can I help you fellas?” he asked.
Dorner stabbed a drunken finger toward Vlora, mumbling something. His companion translated. “My brother here lost his tongue to this bitch. We’re gonna take hers and see if it fits.”
“Everyone needs to calm down!” the sheriff said loudly. She was still ignored.
“I think that’s unnecessary,” Taniel said. “Let me buy the two of you a few rounds and we’ll talk about some way less violent to solve this whole thing. I think that—”
Dorner shoved Taniel hard in the chest, and both men went for their swords. Taniel crashed into Vlora’s table, and before either she or the sheriff could respond, his sword was in his hand.
“Calm down before someone gets—” Taniel began.
Dorner leapt forward, sword flashing, his companion on his heels. Taniel thrust once, pivoted, and pushed before either man could take two steps. The movement was so quick that Vlora could barely follow it. The two men twitched and tumbled, stuck together by Taniel’s sword like chickens on a skewer, dead before they hit the floor.
The room was deathly silent, all eyes on Taniel. “So much for keeping things quiet,” Vlora muttered under her breath.
The sheriff approached, pistol in hand, circling the two bodies and leaning over to put her fingers to their necks one at a time. “Dead,” she proclaimed.
Slowly, Taniel pulled his sword out of the two and faced the sheriff. Vlora could see the fight in his stance, the tension in his legs like a snake coiled to strike. She had no doubt that he could wipe out the whole room before anyone made it to the door, and the thought frightened her.