Hollow Empire

by Sam Hawke

  And, I remembered now, squeezing the girl’s hand and wiping her hair back from her forehead with my free hand, Hiukipi had been there, in the guest box. If Jov and I hadn’t stopped that first explosion, every Talafan in that area would potentially have been killed. My heart beat faster as I thought it through. Who had been there? It suddenly seemed critically important. Hiukipi and Kokush, certainly, from the Talafan camp; not the ladies, and not Ectar, and I’d not seen the latter among the wounded or dead, thankfully. The King of the Doranites, and at least a handful of Chieftains. Some of the westerners, though they had been behind the Talafan and I couldn’t remember who I had seen; not the High Priestess, I would have known her by the veil, nor Abaezalla. Some Marutian Dukes? Had there been any country missing, unrepresented? I’d have to ask someone who was there to report back. But who would be evil enough to murder not just all those powerful people but also hundreds of regular spectators?

  I had always imagined our ultimate enemy to be a pragmatic, ruthless type, someone seeking further power or wealth. That, after all, was the most common form of evil one saw in everyday life; rich families jostling for position in the Council and in business, ambitious professionals politicking and manipulating to succeed within the Guilds, even business owners taking advantage of their staff to gain greater profits. Treating others as less deserving of rights or privileges than themselves. This I was used to, could extrapolate to governments attempting to grow by force or wealth ever more powerful within the continent. But this was no mere callousness, not just a disregard for the lives of the powerless, but actively targeting them. This was beyond Aven’s hatred for our family and Tain’s, beyond the passionate anger that had driven Hadrea’s Darfri peers to destruction. This was someone who wanted everyone here to suffer.

  As the thought crossed my mind a sound rent the air, a tortured cry of pain, distant but so intense it cut through over the background of wails and tears and shouts in our little hospital area. Heart hammering again, I struggled to find its source. But not for long.

  It was Minister Kokush, and he was howling with a sound that felt like teeth clacking and metal scraping. Like worlds ending. It grabbed something deep inside me. I ran toward him. He was trying to lift a body, or what was left of one, and his face and torso were covered in blood and gore. The composed, controlled man I had met—who had talked me through a breathing attack not long ago—was almost unrecognizable, and not just with grief. When he looked up at me, hysterical and unseeing, shouting prayers and begging his god for help, the dominant emotion radiating from him was bone-melting fear.

  “Minister Kokush,” I cried, racing over. “Minister! What has happened?”

  But I’d seen now what he was holding, the ruins of the person he had recovered from one of the stands, and the sight of the long clumps of bloody, fair hair attached to broken skull and red meat where a face should have been turned my own knees to water.

  The Princess had snuck out from her cage one last time. And now she was free.

  INCIDENT: Attempted poisoning of Chancellor Sara Iliri and Credola Jenia Iliri

  POISON: Geraslin

  INCIDENT NOTES: Series of novels and short stories by an anonymous writer known only as “Y” (sometimes reported as “J”) sent to Chancellor and her sister C. Jenia, both of whom were avid readers. Sisters hosted series of literary parties where guests were encouraged to read and discuss literature. At end of one such event sisters both collapsed and showed difficulties breathing. Based on symptoms I examined the books and discovered liberal use of geraslin ink. Chancellor and C. Jenia made full recoveries. Unclear whether intentional poisoning or not. Librarians have been asked to match style of prose with new editions in library. Update: author remains unknown. Status of poisoning remains unclear.

  (from proofing notes of Credola Ettenna Oromani)

  15

  Jovan

  Recovering the injured and dead was a grim duty, especially when any shifted beam or cleared rubble could reveal the face of a friend, a peer, a child. The deeper we delved into the piles of debris the less frequently we found the living, but there were moments of hope, too, when a sudden cry or moan revealed life where we had expected death.

  Tain, cut and bruised and soot-stained as he was, somehow kept up relentless optimism, though whether it was genuine or simply a stream of encouragement to his fellow workers, it wasn’t clear. “There are spaces and pockets all through this,” he said, perching briefly to examine a section. He looked thin, and sweat glistened on his forehead. “We could still find people. We’re not giving up until we’ve checked everywhere. Just in case.”

  Erel, too, worked tirelessly beside us, his small form capable of wiggling into tight places. “I’m going to check down there,” he told us, pointing to a gap. It was the first he’d spoken in some time and his voice came out croaking like a rusty gear. I’d never seen him so quiet, but then he was only a child, still, and too young for the horrors we’d all seen tonight.

  “Company,” I muttered, gesturing over his shoulder. Two men approached: Moest and the head of the diplomatic office, Vesko, a bald man with a cane. Tain wiped his hands on the side of his clothes, watching the group trot up with a degree of impatience.

  “Nothing back from the scouts yet, Honored Chancellor,” Moest began without preamble, propping one foot on a pile of rubble and handing Tain a waterskin. “And nothing visible from any of the walls, but it’s full dark so I can’t guarantee anything. We’ll keep a full watch up there all night.”

  “How far out are we sending the scouts?”

  While Moest’s attention was on the Chancellor, showing him positions on a map by lamplight, I took the waterskin and had a swig. Nothing but clear, too-warm water, a balm against the ashy bitterness in my mouth. This Warrior-Guilder, at least, did not seem to be trying to murder us, which was a pleasant change.

  “All right,” Tain said wearily when Moest finished. “The priority is getting everyone we can out of here safely and the injured treated, but as soon as we’ve handled that, we need to know what’s coming next.” He recovered the waterskin from me and took a long drink, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Behind him, Erel emerged from the gap with a few extra scratches but no new wounded or dead. “Vesko, I assume you’re here to tell me what’s happening with our international guests.”

  “The King of Doran and his Chieftains were unharmed in the blast, Honored Chancellor.” He was a tiny man, frail, with thin skin stretched over his bones and expensive-looking spectacles that magnified his eyes like a giant, delicate beetle. “They remain in the arena, continuing to assist in the rescue efforts. His Majesty does not seem predisposed to, er, point fingers, shall we say? But we will need to manage that relationship very carefully. If we show what they perceive to be weakness in our management of this crisis, the Doranites will be well poised to take advantage.”

  Tain nodded. “And the Talafan?”

  Vesko cleared his throat with a little hem sound. “Ah. Yes. Yes, Honored Chancellor. The Talafan have left the arena. The Crown Prince was…” He stopped, his chin quivering, recovered control, and continued. “I think it is safe to say His Highness was incandescent with rage at the loss of his sister the Princess. I did not understand a great deal of what he said to me, but it seems rather apparent he is blaming us for this terrible, terrible tragedy.” We all avoided one another’s gaze. I had caught a glimpse of the remains of Princess Zhafi, and it was a sight that might have haunted me for the remainder of my days had I not seen fifty such atrocities in the last hour alone. If Hiukipi, who in Kalina’s assessment had cared for his sister only as a useful prop in his empire-expanding machinations, had been incandescent, it was nothing to what the Emperor might be. His favorite daughter, the most publicly beloved member of his family, lost to an attack in our capital? We would be lucky if Talafar didn’t march on our borders in retaliation for that alone.

  Tain took another drink then passed the skin back to me. I accepted it gratef
ully; the effects of the darpar were wearing off, leaving me with a deep thirst and increasing shakes. Tain glanced back at the section he’d been searching, starting to look impatient. “All right. What else?”

  Vesko consulted a note. “We have confirmed the early reports that the High Priestess of Perest-Avana did not attend the ceremony tonight, and remains safely in her accommodation with a number of her staff,” he said. “I have assigned some of my people to definitively confirm none of the Marutian or Tocatican delegation were harmed, but we are still waiting on a response from them. There was that unfortunate piece of shrapnel that injured the Costkati Grand Emissary, but I understand the wound is not serious.” He looked up, regarding each of us in turn with those huge eyes; an uncomfortable, assessing, unblinking gaze. “I cannot emphasize enough what a diplomatic disaster this is and will continue to be, Honored Chancellor.”

  “Oh, give it a whirl,” Tain said flatly. “What are we dealing with here?”

  “The most honored and important guests were here on our invitation, Honored Chancellor,” the man said. “Some of them came only because we encouraged it so strongly. They will be returning to their own governments with the news that not only is this city a chaotic and unsafe place to travel to or do business in, it is one fouled by internal and external treachery. This has potentially dire consequences for our relationships going forward.”

  “Not to put too blunt a point on it,” Moest said, scratching his beard with both hands now, as if there were tiny insects infesting it, “but if we’re attacked with the full force of anyone’s army, can we count on our allies to back us?”

  Vesko’s old face puckered up in thought. “We have treaties with Doran and Talafar, of course,” he said, “the latter the strongest in theory, because it agrees to aid the other in circumstances where a country is invaded. They should be obliged to come to our aid if, say, one of the western nations attempted a takeover. Just as we would be required to assist in equivalent circumstances. But of course, with what has happened now, who is to say what the Emperor might do?

  “Doran is a different matter. The King doesn’t have a standing army there, and though officially we are allies, that’s never stopped his rogue Chieftains making plays for our assets near the border with some regularity, as we all know.” He clicked his tongue. “The point is, though the King appears sympathetic at present, he would not attempt to force his Chieftains to ride to our aid if some external enemy attacked.”

  “So we can’t count on either of them,” Tain said. “Even assuming they’re not openly against us. What about the western countries?”

  “We have no formal arrangements other than in relation to trade and respecting borders. There is no formal alliance. Honor-down, Honored Chancellor, the way those nations bicker among themselves I think they would be a more dangerous ally than enemy.”

  “All right. Moest, what sort of state is our army in? If we had no allies standing with us, what would be our defense capability in the event of a full invasion?”

  The Warrior-Guilder gave a hollow laugh. “A full invasion, Honored Chancellor? I suppose that depends which army and how big it is. The Sjon army is well trained and disciplined, and notwithstanding the manner of his demise, there was a very fine warrior in charge of training for many years. I’d back my people in a three-to-one-odds fight, that’s for sure.” He looked off into the distance as if he could see an approaching army through all the walls and buildings. “As you well know, the city has withstood a siege for a time before, even poorly defended and unprepared as it was last time. We could hole up here for a while. But could we protect the entire country? The border cities, the villages? And can we defend anything when we have enemies walking among us? These are different questions.”

  “We decided two years ago we wouldn’t be a city that happens to be supplied by estates,” Tain said. “We’re a country. If our defense is just to hole up in the capital and abandon the rest then it’s not a defense.” He shook his head. “What you’re saying is we need our allies more than we’ve ever done before. And we’ve just alienated all of them. Shit. Fucking fucking mother of a fucking—” He remembered Erel—the lad had been so quiet, sitting shocked and still at our feet to catch his breath, that I’d also forgotten he was there—and mugged an apologetic face. “Sorry, Erel.”

  Despite everything, the boy’s mouth twitched. “I’ve heard worse, Honored Chancellor.”

  Tain ruffled his hair. “Your boss is probably a bad influence.” But he looked back across the ruined arena and the brief moment of levity passed. “Vesko, you’re going to need the most knowledgeable people in your office to help us untangle this. I know we went through this two years ago and it got nowhere, but we’ve got more information now. We need to know what all our neighbors’ military capabilities are and we need an up-to-date read on the relationships among the other countries.” He hesitated, then added, “Keep the number of people involved who aren’t local experts minimal. I don’t want stray Guards or servants within hearing range of these conversations, all right? We don’t have the luxury of trusting everyone right now, not after tonight. Whoever’s behind this, we’ve definitely got internal saboteurs as well, there’s no doubt about that anymore.”

  There was a sudden uncomfortable silence. None of us had been close enough to witness what had happened between the Darfri woman and Hadrea a short while ago, but I’d gotten details from Kalina and they frightened me. Treacherous Guards were one thing, and criminal gangs, even, but rogue Darfri turning their magic against their own was something we didn’t know how to address.

  Moest nodded at me. “Thanks to Credo Jovan here, the Captain of the Order Guards has two of the culprits in custody.” It felt like days ago I’d battled with them under the arena, not mere hours. “She’ll be interviewing them as a matter of priority as soon as the arena is secured. I’m guessing we’ll get some more information then.”

  “Don’t forget Aven,” I said, more harshly than I’d intended. “She’s up to her neck in this.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t deny it. I just don’t know if she’s the worker or the boss, if you follow. Don’t worry, no one’s going to forget her in a hurry.”

  “What’s your read?” Tain interjected. “Not officially. I’m not asking for formal advice. Just—what do you think? You’ve been a soldier a long time. Is this an internal or an external thing?”

  Moest let out a long, slow breath, and considered the horizon. “There’s angry people within the city right enough,” he said eventually. “And after what just happened, looks like there might be at least some Darfri rebels bucking for a second go. I don’t pretend to understand that side of things. But.” His gaze wandered over the wreckage of the arena. “I’ve never seen anything like this in all my years. Those bombs weren’t magic, they were made by people. And besides, there ain’t no rebels I ever talked to who’d sacrifice the common folk for the sake of making a point, and two of those bombs went off in areas packed with cheap seats and regular people. The Hands might have been involved in laying the bombs but they sure as shit wouldn’t be doing that for their own purposes, because it’s in their interest for this city to stay fat and stable and healthy. Better pickings for them that way. So, yeah. Like we talked about at Council, I think most likely we’re looking at someone external to the country who either has a real sincere grudge against us, or wants to weaken us with as much chaos as possible before they make their real move.”

  “We’ve done our share of terrible things to our own,” Tain said, “but the worst disputes Sjona’s ever been involved in with other countries are just border disputes. Who could have a grudge like that?”

  Moest shrugged. “You can consult the historians and librarians if you want to find out if we’ve ever offended anyone over something major, but I think we’d know about it if we did.”

  “So it’s the second option,” I said. “Some amoral bastard who doesn’t give a shit who dies as long as it’s bad for us.”

&
nbsp; “Just my opinion,” Moest said. “So we’re back to who might want to take advantage of a weakened Sjona to seize control of our resources and trade routes.”

  “Which takes us back where we started, then,” I replied, frustrated.

  “On the light side, internal sabotage aside, it means that unless they’ve turned enough of our people to murder the whole city, we’re still looking at an old-fashioned invasion force at some point.”

  “That’s the light side?” Tain asked wryly.

  “I’d take an open battle over this, any day,” Moest replied grimly, and we all fell into silent agreement. “Anyway, I’ve taken enough of your time for now. We can talk this all out in Council, eh? I imagine you’ll want a full Council meeting once all the Councilors are accounted for?”

  Tain, about to clap his shoulder in thanks and farewell, frowned. “Is anyone not? I thought everyone in the box was all right?”

  “Yes, Honored Chancellor, but like yourself, some of the Councilors were not in the viewing box.”

  “Salvea?” I asked. My mouth dried. Hadrea had been looking for her mother and brother last I saw her, but she had been confident they’d not been in the blast zones.

  “She’s fine,” Moest said, and I sagged in relief. “Unhurt. I saw her and her boy out personally an hour ago. And Budua and Marjeta didn’t come tonight and they’ve checked in to say they’re safe, and we’ve had reports that An-Jara is safe at home as well. But last I heard Credola Varina was missing, and Credola Merenda.”

  “Varina’s dead,” I said grimly. “She was with family in the stands, not in the box.” I’d seen her body myself. Varina, pride of the Theater Guild, and evidence that even the richest and most selfish of the Credolen could change and grow given the chance, had not survived the initial blast.

  Moest bowed his head. “That is…” He let out a grunt of expressive pain, and I felt it too, like a little hammer punching at my chest. I’d barely had time to process it when I’d seen it, but she’d taken a bad head wound and extensive burns, and the image was so seared into my mind that I wondered if I would ever be able to look back and remember her, vivid and bright, the way she had been. “That is grievous news.”