The Raike Box Set

by Jackson Lear

  Lavarta looked my way. “When your captain broke you into four groups to chase down the vampires, which group were you in and what was your role?”

  “Primo Delta.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “You were the leader of the ambush team?”

  “Yes.”

  “What was your rank in the company?”

  “We didn’t use any. We had the Captain and everyone else. Mages, rattlers, enforcers, squeezers, swift-talkers, and closers.”

  Zara said, “There’s usually only one swift-talker and one closer. Raike was without a peer.”

  Lavarta squinted at me, deciding fairly quickly that I was not gifted enough to be the face of the company. “So you were chosen to lead the deltas based on … age? Experience?”

  “I didn’t ask.”

  “Were you Primo Delta before then?”

  “No.”

  “Afterwards?”

  “Yes.”

  “What happened to the previous one?”

  “We’d elected him Captain.”

  Lavarta settled into a moment of nodding and milling things over.

  Alysia asked: “I understand that every battle is different and vampires are certainly a difficult enemy to engage with for anyone, but why would a cohort of six hundred not be able to defeat twenty vampires?”

  “I’m not saying anything against them because of an ‘us and them’ attitude, but all of our ex-military guys after our fight with them said, ‘thank fuck I had you all backing me up instead of the assholes in the army.’ They all said that. They all knew the army better than I did. I’m taking them at their word.”

  “What about archers and a cavalry?”

  “They’re useful but not a forgone conclusion that you’re going to win. You have a lot of problems when fighting a single vampire. Every soldier you have is a weak point, and the bigger your force is the more weak points you have. You’ll stay on the high ground or somewhere that’s advantageous to you. The vampires don’t need that. They’ll come in and take two soldiers on duty before you realize they’re there, steal them away, toy with them, decide which one to kill and which one to turn. As soon as one starts to kiss the afterlife and breathes the darkness, they’ll tell them everything about your army and the camp. Who their leaders are, what experience they have, who’s on duty when, where, and how best to sneak in.”

  Lavarta shook his head. “My people are loyal.”

  “Perhaps, but have you ever seen a friend fall in love with drug and drink? It’s the answer to everything they’ve been looking for. Whatever problems existed in their world no longer matter. Whatever obligations they had are a thing of the past. The only difference here is that no vampire ever goes back to being a human. Every taste of blood is supposed to be as intoxicating as falling in love.”

  I carried on. “So you’ve lost two already. One’s dead, the other has been turned into one of them. The rest will strike at night. Your camp will have a long perimeter. They’ll jump the wall, attack four or five of you, and leap to safety. This will sound the cries of attack. Everyone will be up, on guard, ready for more. They might leave it for that night or they might hit another group of you, attacking in all directions. In. Kill. Out. Those walls you’ve built won’t stop them from getting in. They’ll only stop you from being able to get out. And if you open the gates they can out-run any attack you send their way.”

  “What about daylight?”

  “It hurts their vision, certainly, and gives them something of a headache, but it’s not like Anglaterra is as sunny as Ispar, is it? The only solution once you realize that there’s a problem is to meet them on their home turf and hope like hell that you’re up against a young one, because something that’s been around for hundreds of years has learned more about fighting dirty than any of us ever will.”

  Alysia tapped her husband’s elbow. “You should hire him.”

  “I’ll pass,” I said. “One vampire encounter was enough.”

  “Every job you take is making it harder for you to stay in Syuss, isn’t it?”

  I peered back at Alysia, unsure of where she was going with this.

  “Apparently there are bounty hunters after you.”

  Lavarta returned to scowling. “What?”

  “I’d rather die in the warmth of Syuss than being chased through the dreary forests of Anglaterra by vampires.”

  Alysia sent a look to Lavarta. He grumbled in return. “I’ll think about it.” Which sounded like a clear ‘no way in Hell’ to me. Finally, we were on the same page.

  We reached their street. Alysia saw it first. Slowed. Zara next. Then Lavarta. “Shit.”

  I still had a hard time figuring out which house was theirs but the moment two soldiers with mohawk helmets came forward I knew. One of them approached us. “Sir. Ma’am. If I may ...”

  Whatever he intended to say was left hanging in the air as Lavarta bypassed him and headed through his front gate. Alysia remained behind. Zara stayed with her. I followed Lavarta inside.

  “Excuse me, sir?”

  Lavarta’s shoulders rose a solid two inches. His hands curled into fists.

  One of the mohawks followed us. “Sir!”

  Lavarta strode in through the open doorway, stopping in front of the fountain in the main reception room. Two handmaids stood together, ashen faced. The doors to Lavarta’s office on the left were open. Delen stood to the side, caught sight of Lavarta and practically jumped to him. “Commander, I’m sorry.”

  “What happened?”

  The mohawk scurried after Lavarta. “Sir, as I was saying ...”

  “Shut up Sergeant. Delen? What happened?”

  Delen answered. “They arrived half an hour ago. They went straight to your office and began searching through all the paperwork they could find. There’s a lieutenant here waiting for you.”

  Lavarta walked into his office. I followed. Rows of books lined one wall. Large scrolls laid above them, poking out of the shelf. They were separated into groups, held apart by thick wooden blocks. The desk was neatly arranged. Pens, ink, blotting paper, a small bowl of sand, and the bust of General Cormier.

  Beside one of the bookshelves, rummaging through the titles and flipping past the pages as though a secret message might fall to his feet at any moment, was the young lieutenant I had first bullshitted within the military police before seeing Kace. He had expected Lavarta’s entrance. He didn’t expect mine. He recognized me as the weak merchant from the day before. I recognized him as the couldn’t-be-fucked-doing-his-job investigator. He glanced back to Lavarta. “Commander.”

  “What are you doing in my home?”

  “I’m afraid that we have uncovered an alarming piece of information during the investigation. May I ask, how is this man connected to you?”

  “He’s not. Who are you?”

  “Then why is he by your side?”

  “I have asked you two questions in a row that you have answered not with a truth but with a deflecting question. Who are you and what are you doing in my home?”

  Orin froze for a moment. “Lieutenant Orin. I came to your home because the man by your side is a known criminal and has stolen something belonging to Steward Artavian. Not only is he not who he says he is but he has also delivered false information about the night Artavian was murdered. I find it troubling that you are now protecting him.”

  Lavarta crossed the room and snapped the book out of Orin’s hand. “You’re in my home.”

  “Technically, this home belongs to the army, sir.”

  “Where’s Lieutenant Kace? Why are you here instead of him?”

  “The lieutenant is presently occupied with this man’s past.”

  I asked: “Where am I known?”

  “I have no need to say.”

  “That’s bullshit and you know it. If I’m a known criminal then where am I known?”

  “Revealing that would jeopardize our information.”

  “You’re done here,” said Lavarta.

 
Orin gave a quick nod to Lavarta. “Of course. I do recommend that none of you leave the city. We will likely need to question you all come morning regarding this man you have associated yourselves with.” He gave a quick salute to Lavarta which the commander did not return. With an ungrateful grimace Orin turned and headed for the exit.

  Delen crept forward. “I’m sorry sir, ma’am. Try as I might, they had the authority to come in here.”

  “Yes, they did,” muttered Lavarta, as he peered at his bookshelf. “How many of them were there?”

  “I only saw three of them but I know there must’ve been a fourth. I kept the door to your office open just like you wanted. I kept my eyes on the desk for the whole evening. The military police came and I knew something was up straight away. Ursula answered the door. They had a writ that I couldn’t refuse. I led them to your office. Your bookshelf was immediate different. It couldn’t have been more than ten seconds. I didn’t hear anyone move about and the soldiers swear they didn’t see anything, yet when I left all the books on the shelf beside your desk were all vertical. When I got back, the farthest ones on the right had fallen to the side.”

  Lavarta moved to the bookshelf. Ran his finger along the spines of each book, checking them off one by one. He pulled at one, opening it up, and needed a moment to gather his thoughts.

  “What is it?” asked Alysia.

  Lavarta stepped back like a ghost had just kissed his soul, marking it for death. He held the book out for Alysia.

  She turned it over, falling deathly silent, and opened it to the front page. An inscription had been left behind, one I couldn’t read. She stared at the writing for an eternity, finally mumbling: “I gave this to you the day before we got married.”

  Lavarta nodded. “They’re targeting you.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “How did they know to use that book?” I asked.

  “I had it with me on my last tour.”

  “On you at all times?”

  “At camp.”

  Zara held her hand out for the book. Alysia passed it over. In a flash Zara had it examined, sniffed, her eyes darting over the rest of the office. “Where was this before?”

  “Near the window,” said Lavarta. “This side of the office is for strategy histories and the writings of generals, statesmen, and the like. I keep the philosophies over there.”

  Zara handed the book to me. I flipped through it. The writing was clear and precise. An even hand throughout and quite likely the same scribe from cover to cover. I too sniffed it. Admittedly, it helped that I found an indentation between the cover and first page as well as a fine fleck of red. “There was a letter in here. Sealed with wax.”

  “I’ve never kept a letter in there,” said Lavarta. “Search the house. Find anything that’s out of the ordinary.”

  “I’ll go too,” said Alysia.

  “No. You’re staying in my sight.”

  “I’m not a child. This is my home and–”

  “And nothing,” said Lavarta. “They’ve already killed someone and now they’re threatening you. You have two assassins beside you and I’m starting to think it’s not enough. We’re going to search the house and move out in the morning.”

  “Come on,” said Zara. We left the commander’s office, ventured past the main entrance, and into the atrium. An impressive number of house gods protected all manner of potted and hanging flowers. Together we moved from one pot to another, to one door and window, testing them all for weaknesses and ready-made failings. I had broken into enough rich people’s homes to know how I would tackle this, but it was curious to see Zara take a different approach. I looked for make-shift weapons and ways to get in. She looked for notes, letters, and books that could be used to incriminate her employers.

  “Who else have you been in contact with?” Zara asked me.

  “Plenty of people in the inn, in a couple of taverns, several people who know the short, fair-haired assassin employed by Gustali, several more who know where he worships, and even a few who know some sordid details about Caton’s under-the-table business dealings on behalf of the Gustali family.”

  “What did Orin mean when he said that you had stolen something from Artavian?”

  “He probably means the letter Artavian wrote to his folks. Martius had it. Martius gave it to me. I gave it to Alysia to read aloud to me. I gave it to Franco, Artavian’s father. It’s either that or they’re making shit up.”

  “I don’t suppose you provoked anyone unnecessarily today, did you?”

  I thought back to scaring the life out of Sergeant Muro last night. “Nothing unnecessary. I did tell a few people that the assassin wasn’t as careful as he thought he was and that I made a copy.”

  “A copy of what?”

  “I didn’t clarify. I figured he would know and be concerned that I had something he wanted.”

  “Do you?”

  “Nothing he doesn’t have already. I don’t suppose you know who he is?”

  “No.”

  We headed upstairs. Six bedrooms. Each one bigger than the any in the Governor’s Hand. Each with a soft feather bed and a desk. Two larger rooms occupied the rear of the home. One with two desks pressed into the corner, both littered with scrolls and papers. Two bookshelves on either side, both stuffed. As neat and tidy as Lavarta’s office was, this was the opposite. A lawyer’s sash lay over the back of the lounge chair. A pair of small, fine sandals hid below. In the corner, like they had been tossed aside by someone while lying down: a brazzier. A small table stood next to the lounge chair, splattered with lamp oil, candle wax, and water marks from a glass.

  On the desk: a small pot full of incense ash. An empty glass jug of spiced wine. A plate with crumbs left behind. Ink, ink, and even more ink. A basket of broken quills and mangled pen nibs. A stack of blank paper with the Kasera sigil as a paperweight. On the wall ahead of her, framed, was a sketch of Alysia’s mother and a letter written in a shaky hand, though free of crossed-out words.

  “You shouldn’t be in here,” said Zara.

  “Come on, of all the rooms in this place, this is the one I’m least likely to be able to sabotage.” I peered at the rows of leather books. “Are these for show, or has she actually read them?”

  “If they were for show they would be downstairs. This is Miss Kasera’s entire education, and it’s bursting at the seams.”

  I checked the window. Decent lock. Untampered. Checked outside as well. “No one came in through here.”

  “I know.” Zara picked up a folded sheet of paper, stuffed it into her clothes.

  “What are you doing with that?”

  “I left it for someone to find. They didn’t find it.”

  We reached the other large room on this side of the building. Giant bed. A metal tub at the far end. Two gargantuan wardrobes on each wall. I peered inside.

  “Don’t.”

  “I’m not going to steal anything.”

  “You don’t know what should be in there so leave it alone.”

  I pulled open another cupboard. “How many sets of clothes does one person need?”

  “Two.”

  “Then you should have a word to whoever owns these, because ‘excessive’ springs to mind.” I tried the cupboards on the opposite side of the room. “Holy shit.”

  “Hey!”

  “There’s a … there’s a whole other room here!”

  “Yeah. Stay out of there.”

  I peered inside. Beyond what should’ve been the rear of the cupboard was an actual room full of clothes. Two rows of them on each wall. A central island full of them as well. Dresses, tunics, gowns, cloaks, shawls, trousers, shorts, vests, robes, gloves … some silk, some cotton, some wool, leather, fur, or snake skin. Blues, greens, reds, whites, blacks, browns, grays, yellows, and every mix in between. Sandals, boots, socks of various shapes and sizes in addition to those.

  I stared back at Zara. “I have questions.”

  “She’s rich and powerful, from a rich and p
owerful family, and she’s married into another rich and powerful family. Everything in there is necessary.”

  Despite losing myself to the insane life that Alysia must consider normal, Zara and I found nothing incriminating or anything that seemed out of place.

  Alysia and Lavarta were downstairs at the dining table, toying with a late-night drink while Delen stood guard and Giulia waited on hand.

  “Anything?” asked Lavarta.

  “No, sir,” said Zara. “If they planted something in your book then Lieutenant Orin took it straight away.”

  Lavarta grumbled as the lateness of the evening took hold. “They’ve gone too far.”

  Alysia snapped at him. “Oh, because targeting you wasn’t going far enough?”

  “I never thought they actually wanted me dead. Not until now.” Lavarta looked my way, his eyes heavy yet wired. “I need to know if you are more trouble than it’s worth.”

  “It’s good that they’re scared,” I said. “Scared people make more mistakes than calm people. But if I were you, I wouldn’t even wait until morning to leave. You all should get out now. Let Delen and Zara ride you out of here in hiding if needs be. I can stay.”

  “They’re going after you,” said Alysia.

  “Better me than you. I think we can all agree on that.”

  I was met with a resounding silence.

  “I can tell you one thing,” I said. “Whoever is behind this is going to continue tightening the noose until they are satisfied that their threat has been understood. You should leave. All of you.”

  “Even with General Kasera coming here?”

  “Considering there was a choice between using General Renair instead of Kasera, and they went with the Kasera option, I wouldn’t bank on that working so well in your favor, especially since he’ll be along the border and not actually anywhere near Torne.”

  Lavarta peered back at me. “What is it you’re not telling me?”

  “Nothing you probably don’t know already. There’s been a smear campaign building against you for the last couple of months to discredit you.”