Hollow Empire

by Sam Hawke

  “One Darfri. Dozens of Speakers sided with Hadrea and An-Ostada but no one with that woman.”

  “Maybe, but we know nothing about her and where she came from, so we can’t be sure there aren’t more like her. Sjistevo’s right about that—someone taught her. And anyway, what did An-Ostada report back last time? That it was Darfri business, we just needed better education, better funding, more official recognition of Darfri practices. That’s not an investigation. She was looking for the wrong thing.”

  “Jov, I know we have our issues with An-Ostada, but even if you’re right about this being significant, forgive me, but what good are you going to do trying to figure out what’s going on with spirits? You’re not a Speaker, you’re not even Darfri.”

  I almost laughed. “I’m not going to go alone, of course.”

  A pause. “Hadrea,” he said softly. “But she was with An-Ostada, and—”

  “And she didn’t believe it was being properly handled, even then. Maybe An-Ostada didn’t trust her with her thoughts, but either way, Hadrea wasn’t satisfied the local people were doing anything that could damage the spirits to that extent. And there’s a woman in the hospital right now who’s been trying to tell anyone who’ll listen that the spirits have been murdered.”

  He leaned forward, frowning. “Murdered?”

  “The woman’s got a bad head injury she didn’t treat properly,” I admitted. “The physics did something to put her to sleep while they try to get some swelling down. It’d be better to properly question her when she’s had some treatment and rest, or she’ll sound like she’s raving. But Hadrea took her seriously and I think we should, too.

  “But listen, it’s not just the spirits. Like I was trying to say at the meeting, there’s other rumors, too. I met a man from your own lands last night. Lot’s Rise. His aunt vanished just before the villages noticed the well was drying up and the crops failing. She was a Speaker, Tain. He thinks the spirits took her. He went searching for help and got turned away everywhere, including here in Silasta, but in the process he met others.” Now he was listening, not just reacting, I pulled out the map and my notes from the Darfri man. “Look at this. There’s a pattern to it. Here are the spots An-Ostada reported dead spirits. And here are the places he’d heard of missing people.” I traced the affected spots, concentrated on the north and east of the country, predominantly in Oromani and Iliri lands. Almost every missing person was from a town or village close to or right in a place listed in An-Ostada’s reports. “Not every place, but I have a feeling that if I go to these places, I’m going to find more missing people.” I frowned. “There’s something happening here and I don’t think it’s natural. People on the estates are scared, they’re asking for help and they’re not getting it.”

  Tain stared at the map, rubbing his forehead. “What do you think is happening? You think spirits are taking people, somehow? Is that even how Darfri magic works?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. Hadrea scoffed at the idea but she also agrees we have to look into it.” My hands clenched and unclenched in the same half-excited state I’d felt when the man described it to me. “This is something, Tain. I can feel it.”

  “All right, I accept that. There’s a pattern there I can’t deny. But Jov, it can’t be your immediate priority. There’s someone attacking us within the damn city, by all the fortunes!”

  “Yes, and whoever they are, they want us concentrating on that, don’t they? They want us scrambling and afraid and mistrusting.” I tapped the map. “I think they’re linked. You heard what Sukseno said. The Hands targeted Darfri on purpose. The drug has an effect on Speakers, and that woman used it against us. It’s not a coincidence, Tain. There is a connection here, I can feel it.”

  Tain took a long, slow sip of tea. He might have a short temper but he was always capable of listening, of working things through, and I could see he was giving it proper consideration. And then he turned his sharp gaze on me over the rim of the cup and said, “How does Hadrea know what effects Void has on Darfri Speakers? The physics haven’t even tested it on animals yet, let alone people.”

  “She’s used it.” I sighed. “It works a bit like feverhead, I think. She used it to help her when she was at the arena. Kalina saw her and she admitted it later.”

  “That’s bloody dangerous.”

  A prickle of irritation flickered up at the force in his tone. “Yes. You might recall I’ve been fairly outspoken about the health risks of taking these kinds of narcotics. Even when people have noble intentions.”

  We glared at each other, and he was the first to look away.

  “I know you’ve been using darpar again,” I said. “You think I don’t know the signs? Me, of all people?”

  He stuck his hands in his armpits, arms crossed across his chest, and continued to look off to the side. I was too tired to have patience with this sulky-child behavior, and he must have realized that because even as I sucked in a breath to admonish him, he turned it into a sheepish smile, albeit one gone in an instant. “Guilty. I did use it. But it was just to get through the last few days. Someone’s always asking something, every hour of every day, it seems. I just didn’t have the energy to get through on my own.”

  “Well, we can’t expect you to be awake day and night,” I said, mollified. “I know you want to do your best, but you’ll be no good to us if you collapse. Darpar isn’t a substitute for sleep. It’s just a temporary mask you can fool yourself with. We’ve had enough two-day recovery sleeps for my liking, thanks.” I didn’t ever again want to sit by the bedside of a person I loved, wondering if they would ever wake.

  “I’ll get some proper natural sleep tonight, I promise,” he said. “I don’t think I have a choice.” He looked so tired, so fragile, that a trickle of doubt found its way into my resolve. His health hadn’t been perfect since the poisoning during the siege. Was leaving him now, in the most stressful time since then, really safe? But then, all the proofing in the world couldn’t help him from losing weight and energy when he simply wasn’t eating or sleeping enough. I would charge Dija and Kalina and even his personal servants and staff if necessary with making sure he rested more.

  Tain, too distracted to notice my reaction, was frowning in thought. “How is An-Ostada going to react if we send you out with Hadrea? She thinks Hadrea should be prohibited from using fresken at all, you know. She calls her ‘a danger to every human in this city.’”

  “And people call me melodramatic,” I muttered. But discomfort swirled in my belly. With everything that had happened in the interim, I had pushed aside the unpleasant truth about Hadrea’s involvement with the rogue Speakers, and had never found the time to explain it to Tain. But now was a time for honesty. “Yeah, I think they’ve, uh, reached the end of that relationship,” I said delicately. “Neither of them has been entirely honest with us about how the training was going.” I explained what we’d learned, trying hard to keep the hurt and betrayal I’d felt the day I learned of Hadrea’s involvement in the boat incident out of my voice.

  But his face reflected that feeling all the same. “Does she have any concept of the amount of work her mother and I and our allies on the Council have done over the past few years to push back against this sort of thing?” he asked dully. “The number of fights I’ve started, the times I’ve staked my honor on it?”

  “I think she does,” I said. “But things got bad with An-Ostada, Tain. I didn’t realize how bad. I think we might have made a mistake with her appointment.”

  “It wasn’t our call. She was nominated, we just endorsed it. The Council can’t be meddling in matters that only exacerbate tensions we can’t afford to exacerbate. It’s not our—”

  “Yeah, not our business,” I replied, weary of hearing it. “I know. I’ve heard that a million times. And maybe it wasn’t, but it’s everyone’s business if it’s put us all at risk. We’ve left the country vulnerable by leaving Darfri matters outside the Council. She’s supposed to be training new Speakers,
not alienating them and forcing them into bloody rebel splinter groups, and she’s supposed to report to the Council on issues that affect everyone, not hide problems from us.”

  Tain frowned. “She’s not been exactly forthcoming, I agree. But neither has Hadrea, you said so yourself. So shouldn’t we confront An-Ostada with this?” He shook the map. “Make her explain it?”

  “I don’t trust her to handle this,” I said flatly. “Hadrea’s right. An-Ostada’s rules and traditions might well be there for a good reason, but none of that means shit if the other side is using it against us. She can’t manage this problem. She’s so busy trying to make sure she distances herself from people misusing their powers that she’s no good to us in protecting against them. That woman came from somewhere. I’d stake my honor it’s connected to what’s been happening on the estates. I want to go there, Tain, and I want to do it quietly, without anyone—and I mean anyone except my family, and maybe Chen—knowing where I’ve gone. Let the city think I’m sulking in my apartments, too ashamed of the dishonor of losing my Council seat. Let everyone in the Manor think you’re spectacularly angry at my little stunt. Let the public speculate about feuding Councilors. Hopefully the traitor believes their plan worked.”

  He ran his hands through his hair and sat there, still, for a long time. “All right,” he said softly. “You’re not a Councilor and you’re traveling on your own lands or mine, you don’t need anyone’s permission. Just tell me this. What do you think you’re going to find?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know exactly. But this time I’m not going to sit around and be surprised when we find out too late.”

  He blew out a long, slow breath, his eyes on the map, his hands, anywhere but me. “And what am I supposed to do without you?” he muttered, so softly I barely heard. My heart hurt, but I stood up to leave, pretending that I hadn’t.

  INCIDENT: Attempted poisoning of Chancellor Caslav Iliri

  POISON: Hazelnode

  INCIDENT NOTES: Private party to celebrate birth of C. Nara Ash’s twin great-grandchildren. This proofer sampled dish intended for Chancellor, detected hazelnode presence in smoked fishpaste, spilled kavcha on meal, and staged argument with Chancellor to facilitate his exit from party. Observed behavior of other guests and based on this suspect Credo Chys Ash responsible for poisoning. Due to relative ineptitude of attempt and likely non-fatal dose, will recommend C. Chys be made subject to a minor scandal and required to return to estates. Marked for discussion with Chancellor.

  (from proofing notes of Credo Etan Oromani)

  20

  Kalina

  Jov and Hadrea left the city as anonymously as we could arrange, with Chen’s assistance with the Guards at the gate and a cover story of a wealthy merchant family sending their heirs out of the city to safety. It was not an uncommon story, and Jov was banking on no one expecting him to leave the Chancellor in these circumstances. We’d said our goodbyes in private, just the four of us and Dee, to minimize the chances of anyone recognizing our faces at the harbor.

  “We’ll come back as soon as we can,” he’d reassured me. “You know I wouldn’t leave if I didn’t think—”

  “I know,” I’d told him, and I did. Tain had done a poor job of masking his anger and hurt—he’d never been terribly good at hiding his emotions—but I understood why Jov needed to go. From a strategic viewpoint, it made sense. It didn’t make it any easier to press him and Hadrea close one last time, though, and have the sour fear in my chest that something could happen and we might never see each other again.

  They’ll be all right, I told myself, like a mantra. Jov was smart and cautious and Hadrea fearless and tough. They’ll be all right.

  I slept poorly over the next few days and woke unrested, symbols moving through my mind and dreams of blood and water and fear clinging to me like cobwebs I struggled to shake off each morning. Fear and boredom were a bad combination, and with every day that nothing happened, my dread only grew.

  Every lead we had seemed to fizzle into nothing. The scientists analyzing the seized drug could say only that its core ingredient was likely organic material from an unknown plant. None of my Guild colleagues had any revelations about the assassin’s origin; in such a short time the Council’s interest in him had clearly waned. He was an enigma, but not one anyone seemed to have any great urgency in unwrapping, convinced as they were that he was merely a hireling. Like Sukseno he remained in the Guardhouse, and it pleased me to know Aven was still sitting isolated in jail, unaware Sukseno had been arrested and her escape plan was in ruins. But it was only a small pleasure, because he would give no further information without her release, and no one on the Council had any appetite for that.

  Someone had tipped off the Hands, or else they had reacted with spectacular swiftness to the initial raid; no further Hand premises were discovered through the tunnels, and no more arrests were made, no more drugs or money recovered. The few Hands who had been caught were visibly terrified and could not be threatened or cajoled into admitting to so much as a childhood memory of the Wraith or her whisperers. The determination council could and would convict them, but they wouldn’t give their employer up.

  The cleanup at the arena and the damage to the surrounding structures continued, but as days went by with no reports of further attacks or signs of approaching armies, normal city functions began returning. Shops reopened, as did the markets and factories, even if many businesses were still directing their efforts toward repairs. Moments of peace, where I could almost fool myself into forgetting how we teetered on the brink, came unexpectedly: morning tea with Dee, a habitual joke at Tain’s expense, resting from obsessing by reading the book of Talafan poetry that had been delivered to our apartments a few days prior, with a short handwritten note from Abae. If she hoped to ingratiate herself with us as a distraction from her delegation’s suspicious “illness” during the closing ceremony, I would not be fooled, but I enjoyed the poetry without resentment or suspicion.

  Dija, to her consternation, was required to return to school, and the apparent return to normal routine sat oddly with me, too. How could we go to school and work and the markets and the theater like our hearts had not been brutally torn apart? It was not like it had been during the siege, where staffing the walls and shoring up defenses had been a citywide preparation. Ordinary people couldn’t be expected to prepare for the kind of attacks we were facing now. People had to eat, and be clothed, and they still needed tea and conversation and distractions, perhaps now more than ever.

  So while I studied reports and sent enough messages around the town asking for updates—from the scientists, from the physics, from the Guild scholars and librarians—to fund a princely lifestyle for the Guild messengers, much of the city went about its business as usual. Perhaps more somber and fearful than usual, but life went on.

  And my unease and fears for my brother and Hadrea, and for all of us, only grew, and my temper frayed further. I forgot to laugh in the right places when Lara told me an amusing story about her son, until she faded off into offended silence, and I snapped at Sjease when I stumbled stepping around them in the kitchen and they caught my arm to help me. They both accepted my gruff apologies; guilt turned my stomach when their wounded looks turned sympathetic.

  “I think I’ll collect Dija from school,” I told them with false brightness, stretching my back out with a shuddering yawn. “I think a bit of fresh air will do me good.”

  “You’ve been very cooped up the past few days,” Sjease agreed, but their eyes were shrewd and concerned, and I knew they weren’t fooled.

  “I’m just … worried.”

  Sjease squeezed my shoulder in understanding. “Me, too. It’s the uncertainty, isn’t it? Not knowing what’s going to happen.”

  I supposed, after all, that was exactly how our enemy wanted us to feel. Dread and complacency, afraid and helpless, and knowing we were not adequately prepared for whatever was coming.

  * * *

  “It feels
strange being there,” Dee told me, an echo of my own thoughts, looking back over her shoulder at the school as we walked away together a short while later. “Everyone’s just trying to act like normal, but it isn’t normal.”

  I felt a rush of affection and connection. “Sometimes it’s easier to do that. It’s exhausting being afraid all the time. Eventually you get a bit numb to the terrible things that happen, and it gets easier to just try to pretend.”

  We walked along together, Dee kicking a stone along the street, her head down. We were walking along a main thoroughfare and I steered her farther to the side of the road, conscious of the carts and animals and runners moving at pace toward the center. “Anything wrong, Dee? I mean, anything specially wrong? You’re very quiet.”

  My niece turned her serious round face up at me. “It’s just…” She stared off down the street, thoughtful. It was a busy afternoon in the lower city, and traffic was moving swiftly past us as we walked. There was a heaviness to the air suggesting impending rain, and a corresponding urgency in the passage of pedestrians and vehicles alike. Two women with baskets on their heads wove past us, one of them cajoling the other to speed up. “—not spending the evening trying to dry this out even if you want to—” I heard as they swept past. In the thick of it I glimpsed a pale northern face, watching us from across the street, and felt a brief spike of fear. But when I looked again it was only a Talafan man I didn’t know, in Silastian-style clothes, walking in conversation with a friend.

  Dee seemed oblivious to the surroundings, caught up in her own head. I gave her time to think; nothing worse than someone demanding your emotions on their schedule. Eventually she said, “I feel like … like the teacher’s assigned us a really hard problem, and given us the information we need, but I can’t … but I’m looking at it, and I don’t know where to start. And the afternoon’s going on and on and the class is running out of time, and I know I should be able to work it out, but I just can’t. So I feel kind of sick and embarrassed and a bit desperate.” She took off her glasses and rubbed them on her tunic, adding in a mumble, “I feel like that all the time. A few days ago all this stuff changed, and I want to help and do my part but I don’t know what to do.”