“Well.” Michel swallowed hard. “I’m impressed.”
Tenik snorted. “Why are you still here, Michel? I warned you, didn’t I?”
“You did.”
“I keep my promises.”
“Yeah.” Michel eyeballed the soldiers again, then glanced over his shoulder at those behind him. Definitely no way out. It wouldn’t be long before Ichtracia began to wonder what was taking him so long, but it might still be ten or twenty minutes before she came down to check. He considered running, but even if he could get past the soldiers, the look in Tenik’s eye told him that he would definitely get shot in the back.
“I’m either killing you or taking you in,” Tenik said regretfully. “Pick one.”
“You’re not going to ask why I wanted to meet?”
“If you come in, you’ll be telling us a lot of things.”
“It doesn’t look like I have much of a choice.”
“There’s always a choice,” Tenik replied. “You have two right now.” He lifted his hand, and Michel turned to see a carriage pull up to the end of the alleyway behind him. The windows were shaded with drapes matching the decoration on the soldiers’ cuirasses. Michel even recognized the driver as one of the Yaret Household, though he couldn’t remember the woman’s name.
He realized that Tenik was giving him a choice—an out. Michel could run. He could be gunned down in the street. It wasn’t a pleasant choice, but it was still a way to save himself and all the information stored in his head. It was a way to avoid the endless tortures that Sedial had no doubt planned for him.
“Does Sedial know that you’ve found me?” Michel asked.
Tenik gestured once more to the carriage.
If Michel got into that carriage, he was a dead man, and everyone he knew would die along with him—Jiniel, Emerald, Mama Palo’s entire organization. He would spill it all to the bone-eyes. He tensed, spreading his feet to prepare to run.
“Tenik,” a voice suddenly called. “Please stop the theatrics. Bring him over here.”
Michel turned in surprise to find the carriage door open and Yaret himself peering out from within. The Household head motioned impatiently. “If you want to talk to me, Michel, you’ll have to do it quickly before Sedial’s spies know that I’ve left the house. Now, come!”
Michel considered one more dash to freedom—or death—before turning toward the carriage. He joined Yaret within. The carriage was rolling before he’d even sat down, and he could hear Tenik giving instructions to the bodyguard from the running board. He laid his bag across his lap and met Yaret’s eye.
Yaret looked much the same as he had when they’d last met, if a little worn around the edges. He gave Michel a fatherly smile and shook his head. “Tenik told me that you’d changed your appearance drastically, but I didn’t believe that it was this much. No wonder you’re still avoiding detection.” He glanced down at Michel’s two missing fingers and clicked his tongue, but did not comment on them. “I like you, Michel, but your immediate fate depends very much on whatever it is you wanted to tell us.”
Michel let himself relax into the carriage bench, taking on an air of confidence that he did not feel. The winds had just shifted, and he could sense that this was now a negotiation rather than an execution. “Tenik told you who I really am?”
“He told me that you’re claiming to be a Palo freedom fighter. Though whether that’s your real identity or not, then”—Yaret gave a small shrug—“I find it strange that you’re now fighting the Dynize, when it seems from my perspective that we have given you Palo a hundred times more freedom than you ever had beneath the Kressians.”
“That’s… a discussion we can have later,” Michel said.
“If there is a later.”
“I think there will be.” Michel reached into his bag and fetched the purge order that he’d set aside from the main bundle. He handed it to Yaret. “I stole this from Ji-Noren’s apartment yesterday morning.”
“You robbed Ka-Sedial’s best dragonman?” Yaret said in disbelief. He reached into his breast pocket for a pair of reading glasses, clicking his tongue again. “You’re one bold…” He trailed off as he got the glasses onto the bridge of his nose and opened the envelope. Michel watched his eyes flick across the page and the blood drain from his face. Yaret rapped on the ceiling. “Tenik!”
“Master?” the response came.
“Stop the carriage and join us.”
The instructions were followed, and Yaret’s cupbearer was soon sitting next to Michel. Yaret gave him the letter.
“Where did you get this?” Tenik demanded breathlessly as soon as he’d finished reading.
“Ji-Noren’s apartment,” Michel answered.
“Could it be a forgery?” Yaret asked.
Tenik glanced sharply at Michel, studying him for a moment, before cautiously shaking his head. “This is the imperial seal. This is Sedial’s scrawl. This is his signature. This is the emperor’s signature.” Tenik sniffed the paper. “It’s even the powder Sedial uses to dry the ink. If it’s a forgery, I’ve never seen the like.”
Michel reached back into his bag and produced the bundle of purge orders. He gave them to Tenik, who immediately began to open each, listing off the Household names aloud and setting them aside. “Master,” he said to Yaret, “these are all our allies. Our relatives. Everyone we—”
Yaret cut him off with a raised hand and turned back to Michel. “You know what this means, don’t you?”
“Sedial is about to consolidate his power,” Michel replied. “And he has the emperor’s backing to do it. He’ll wipe out anyone who might oppose him in the future.”
“Not just here. He’ll have sent five times this many orders back to Dynize. The rest of my Household will be in danger.” Yaret inhaled sharply and seemed to struggle to gain control over his emotions. He narrowed his eyes at Michel. “You risked everything to bring this to us?”
Michel didn’t answer.
“You knew that Tenik would follow through on his promise to kill you. Even now, we could take you directly to Sedial and hand you over in an attempt to get this sentence commuted.” Yaret shook the envelope under Michel’s nose.
“I figured that was a possibility,” Michel admitted.
“But you did it anyway.”
Michel glanced sidelong at Tenik. “I’m pretty good at reading people, and neither you nor Tenik struck me as the type to betray someone trying to help you. And as Tenik said to me—for the space of a summer, you were my friends. My family. I may be a spy, but I’m not a monster. I’m not going to stand aside and allow your Household to be slaughtered simply to save my own skin.”
Yaret tapped the envelope against his chin, looking down at the pile of purge orders in Tenik’s lap. There was a sudden knock on the door. It opened a crack, and one of the soldiers stuck his nose in. His eyes were wide, his tone frightened. “Master.”
“What is it?” Tenik asked sharply. “Speak up, man. Is it the Great Ka?”
“No, it’s… I can’t entirely be certain, but I think that there’s a Privileged watching us from the rooftop.”
“A Privileged?” Tenik asked. “Who could possibly…?”
“She looks different, but I think it’s Ichtracia.”
Both Yaret and Tenik looked at Michel. He swallowed his unhappiness at the discovery and shrugged. “She’s with me. You probably shouldn’t make any sudden moves until I leave the carriage.”
To his surprise, Yaret began to chuckle, waving his hand to dismiss the guard. “Remain where we are,” he ordered. “Let me know if she approaches or puts on gloves.” As soon as the door had closed again, he glanced at Michel. “You turned Sedial’s granddaughter.”
“I’m not sure if I turned her,” Michel replied, “or just gave her more choices.”
Yaret sighed, staring at the purge order in his hand. “This,” he said, tapping the order, “is not unexpected.”
“Master?” Tenik asked, a note of warning in his voi
ce.
“It’s all right. Michel may not be on our side, but he’s not our enemy, either. At least, not to the Yaret Household.” He studied his fingertips for a moment, clearly coming to some decision, before continuing. “Michel, for almost two years we have been planning on removing Sedial from power.”
Michel scoffed. “You what?”
“It’s been a long time in the planning, with the utmost secrecy, known only to the Household heads involved in the plot and their closest cupbearers. Most of the names on this purge are in on it.” He gave Michel a sad smile. “Together with our allies back in Dynize, we’ve been planning a bloodless coup that would force Sedial into retirement, destroy his hold over the emperor, and keep us from extending this damned war to the whole of the Nine.”
“When,” Michel asked flatly, “did you plan on doing this?”
“That’s the trouble with conspiracies among many,” Yaret admitted. “We haven’t actually agreed yet. Before he uses the godstone, that’s for sure.”
“You’d better be ready to act quickly then, because it’s active.”
“It can’t be,” Tenik protested. “He’s supposed to tell us.”
Michel shook his head. “I’m almost certain he’s managed to activate it and is only waiting until he has the third stone in his possession. Ichtracia agrees with me.”
Yaret waved the purge order at Tenik. “I think we should set aside any trust that we have left for the Great Ka. We shouldn’t be surprised that he’s moved forward in secret. And this… this changes everything.” He pressed his fingers against his chin, staring at the paper, deep in thought.
“Will you act?” Michel asked.
“I’m not sure if we can. Our conspiracy to remove the Great Ka from power has been so carefully planned. We seek to avoid another civil war at all costs. We planned to weaken his public support, distance him from his allies, and then force him to resign.” Yaret flipped the envelope back open and read through the purge order once more. “Eight days. I don’t know what we can do.” He gestured. “Michel, you should return to Ichtracia before she gets nervous. I don’t want an incident.”
Michel looked at Tenik, half expecting the cupbearer to object to his being released. But Tenik seemed to have already forgotten he was there.
“I’m sorry,” Michel said.
Yaret looked up. “Don’t be,” he said with a smile. “I’m not sure if I or any of my Household will be alive by the end of next week. But at the very least, you’ve given us a chance to fight for our lives. Thank you. Now, go, before the People-Eater gets twitchy.”
Michel stepped out of the carriage and glanced up to see Ichtracia’s relieved face looking down at him from above. Not only had she spotted the carriage and followed it, but she’d managed to flank their position from high ground. He felt a stab of pride, and headed down a nearby alley away from the carriage. None of the soldiers stopped him as he left.
He was able to fetch Ichtracia, and the two of them were halfway across the city before they spoke again. “I almost had a heart attack when you didn’t show up on that rooftop,” Ichtracia finally said.
“But you found me. Thanks for that.”
“I take it that Tenik was grateful for the news?”
Michel walked to a café and sat down, ordering two iced coffees. He didn’t want to stay out in public for too long, but he also needed a shot of energy. The encounter with Yaret had left him feeling emotionally exhausted. “It was Yaret. He came out to see me in person.”
“Oh?” Ichtracia snorted. “Sedial did say the old fool liked you more than he should have.”
Michel turned to Ichtracia. “Does Sedial have any idea that there’s a coup planned against him?”
“No one would dare.”
“Yaret just told me. Dozens of Household heads are in on it.”
“You’re joking.” Ichtracia sat back in her café chair, watching his face carefully. “You’re not joking. Damn. No. As far as I know, he has no idea. I never thought the Households would have the guts to oppose him.”
Michel took his coffee when it arrived and drained it, then stared into the cup. He felt troubled, cursed by the feeling that he would never see Tenik or Yaret again. “I got the impression that they’re not going to get the chance. They’ve been planning for years, yet Sedial is going to strike too quickly.” He waited until Ichtracia finished her coffee, then stood up, trying to cast the Yaret Household from his mind. He couldn’t spare them anything else. He couldn’t afford to. “Let’s go. We have work to do.”
CHAPTER 47
Despite everything that had happened—the Midnight Massacre, the arrival of the special envoy, the loss of her sorcery, and her own deeply disruptive emotional swings—Vlora felt herself nervous with excitement. She stood in the stirrups against the protests of her aching body to watch the horizon, and every time the army stopped, she would consult her maps.
They were nearing the Hadshaw River. She recognized this territory now, the flat plains replaced by gentle, rolling hills, with the shadowy specter of the Ironhook Mountains to their west and the true foothills to their north. She and Taniel had swept through here a few months ago on their mad dash to Yellow Creek. All of that felt like a dream now, and it saddened her to remember the sorcery in her veins like lightning, pushing both of them on long after their horses dropped from exhaustion and they were forced to trade with the locals for new ones.
Burt’s arrival at her side in the middle of the afternoon was sudden, if not unexpected. He rode up to her as she examined the horizon, a cigar clamped between his teeth, and studiously examined the same horizon until she lowered her looking glass.
“You know,” he said in greeting, “I recognized you pretty early back at Yellow Creek. I’ve been to Adro and I’ve heard the stories and read the newspapers. But damn me if I’m not a little impressed.”
Vlora turned to him in confusion. “Oh?”
He gestured to the column marching past them. “A real-life Adran field army. As a kid who grew up reading everything he could about Field Marshal Tamas, this tickles the pit out of me.”
“I’ve always thought it much like any other field army,” Vlora said offhandedly, though even as she spoke, she knew she was lying.
“Nah.” Burt waved her off. “I’ve seen field armies. Fatrastans, Kez, Deliv. I’ve even seen the Dynize now. But there’s something different about Adran soldiers. A higher step, a more efficient march and camp. Did you know that on average an Adran army marches roughly three miles farther in a day than the next fastest army in the world?”
Vlora pursed her lips. She was sure she’d heard that somewhere. “Tamas’s reforms during the Gurlish Wars,” she told him. “We were already very good before he came along—we had to be, being the smallest nation in the Nine. But once he was field marshal, everything changed. He gutted the officer corps and began promoting by merit. He started using the Privileged cabal less in his campaigns. Speed and organization replaced the old system bent on gaining glory for noble officers.”
“It shows.” Burt nodded, ashing his cigar. “Anyway, I wanted to let you know that we’ve made contact with my irregulars.”
Vlora’s head came up. “We’re that close?”
“Just a few miles from the river,” he confirmed. “My boys are hurting, I’ve got to admit. They’ve kept the Dynize pinned down at the river, but the Dynize outnumber them significantly, and it’s beginning to show. I’m headed to their camp now to get the lay of the land.”
“I’m going with you,” Vlora said, the words leaving her mouth before she’d even considered them. She swore inwardly. She couldn’t make such rash decisions anymore. She needed to be thoughtful, cautious. What if this was a trap? What if the Dynize counterattacked while she was with Burt? “If that’s all right,” she added. “I’ll need to give a few orders and gather a bodyguard.”
“Of course,” Burt said, raising both eyebrows. “We’d be honored to have you.”
“Give me thi
rty minutes,” she said, turning and riding down the column.
She found General Sabastenien and Bo together on the side of the road, smoking their pipes while they stared off to the south. “Does every damn person in this army smoke something?” she asked as she approached.
“Ma’am.” Sabastenien greeted her with a nod. Bo raised one hand and furiously puffed up a cloud.
“You’re just the two I’m looking for. Anything to report on this business with the Dynize and Palo?”
“Nothing much new,” Sabastenien said unhappily. “There doesn’t seem to be a sorcerous aspect to the kidnapping—simply racial. The Dynize are grabbing all the Palo and sending them to the river. From there we can only assume they’re sending them downriver on keelboats.”
“They’d have to be going by the hundreds.”
“Thousands, more like,” Bo interjected.
“Forced labor?”
“I’m not so sure anymore,” Bo said, holding something out to Vlora. It was a yellowed handbill, decorated with a pair of freckled hands and the words DYNIZE AND PALO: COUSINS UNITED.
Vlora snorted in disbelief. “They’re kidnapping them to turn them into allies?”
“It certainly seems that way,” Sabastenien said. “Of course, we have no idea if all of these promises of equality actually mean anything. But if they do, the Dynize are clearly consolidating what they think of as their people. It could be for labor, for conscription, for census taking… pretty much anything.”
“But why kill the Kressians?”
“Purifying?” Bo suggested. “There was more than one shah during the Gurlish Wars who killed every Kressian that crossed her path. She believed that she had to cleanse the continent before her chosen gods could return again.”
Vlora shivered. “That is terrifying.”
“And it could have far-reaching implications. We haven’t heard of anything similar in the big cities yet, but if the Dynize decide to wipe out every Kressian on the continent, they have enough soldiers to begin at any time.”
Blood of Empire Page 40
