“I'm quite happy to help you with that,” she said, “because I know you'll never be able to do it. If I thought you could do what you say...” She smiled. “But you might accomplish much, and on the way you can be of assistance to me.”
“And what do you want?” he asked. “More power?”
“That would help. But let's get back to Sacrus. They—”
“They're your enemies,” he said. “I'm not interested in helping you settle a vendetta.”
“They're your enemies, too, and I have no vendetta to settle,” she said. “In any case I'm not interested in making a frontal assault on them. I just want to visit for an evening.”
Bryce stared at her for a second, then burst into laughter. “What are you proposing? That we hit Sacrus?”
“Yes.”
He stopped laughing. He shook his head. “Might as well just march everybody straight into prison,” he said. “Or a vivisectionist's operating room. Sacrus is the last place in Spyre any sane person would go.”
Venera just looked at him for a while. Finally, she said, “Either you or one of your lieutenants works for them.”
Bryce looked startled, then he scowled at her. “You've said ridiculous things before, but that one takes the prize. Why could you possibly—”
“Jacoby Sarto said something that got me thinking,” she interrupted. “Sacrus's product is control, right? They sell it, like fine wine. They practice it as well; did you know that many, maybe most of the minor nations of Spyre are under their thumb? They make a hobby of pulling the strings of people, institutions—whole countries. I'm not so big a fool as to believe that a band of agitators like yours has escaped their attention. One of you works for them—for all I know, your whole organization is a project of theirs.”
“What proof do you have?”
“My ... lieutenant, Flance, whom you have yet to meet, has spent many nights walking the fields and plazas of Greater Spyre. He knows every passage, hedgerow, and hiding-place on that decrepit wheel. But he's not the only one. There's others who creep about at night, and he's followed them on occasion. Many times, such parties either started or ended up at Sacrus.”
Bryce scoffed. “I've seen a nation that was controlled by them,” Venera continued. “I know how they operate. Look, they have to train their people somehow. To them, Greater Spyre is a ... a paddock, like the one where I keep my horses. It's their school. They send their people out to take over neighbors, foment unrest, create scandals, and conduct intrigues. I'd be very surprised if they didn't do that up in the city as well. So tell me I'm wrong. Tell me you're not working for them. And if not, look me in the eye and tell me that you're impervious to infiltration and manipulation.”
He shrugged, but she could tell he was angry. “I'm not a fool,” he said after a while. “Anything's possible. But you're still speculating.”
“Well, I was speculating ... but then I decided to do some research.” She held up a sheaf of news clippings. “The news broadsheets of Lesser Spyre are highly partisan, but they don't disagree on facts. On the run-up to my party I spent a couple of afternoons reading all the news from the past couple of years. This gave me a chance to check on the places and properties that your group has targeted since you first appeared. Quite an impressive list, by the way—but every single one of these incidents has hurt a rival of Sacrus. Not one has touched them.”
Bryce looked genuinely rattled for the first time in their brief acquaintance. Venera savored the moment. “I haven't been deliberately neglecting them,” he said. “This must be a coincidence.”
“Or manipulation. Are you so sure that you're the real leader of this rabble?”
Bryce began to look slightly green. “You don't think it's me.”
Venera shook her head. “I'm not totally sure that you aren't the one working for them. But you're not—” she almost said competent, but turned it into—"ruthless enough. You don't have their style. But you don't make decisions without consulting your lieutenants, do you? And I don't know them. Chances are, you don't really know them either.”
“You think I'm a puppet.” He looked stricken. “That all along ... So what—”
“I propose that we flush out their agent, if he exists.”
He leaned forward and now there was no hesitation in his eyes. “How?”
She smiled. “Here, Bryce, is where your interests and mine begin to converge.”
* * * *
“I'll speak only to Moss,” said the silhouetted figure. It had appeared without warning on the edge of the rooftop of Liris, startling the night guard nearly out of his wits. As he fumbled for his long-neglected rifle, the shape moved toward him with a lithe, half-remembered step. “This is urgent, man!”
“Citizen Fanning! I—uh, yes, let me make the call.” He ran over to the speaking tube and hauled on the bell cord next to it. “She's back—wants to talk to the botanist,” he said. Then he turned back to Venera. “How did you get up here?”
“Grappling hook, rope...” She shrugged. “Not hard. You should bear that in mind. Sacrus may still hold a grudge.”
Shouts and footsteps echoed up through the open shaft of the central courtyard. “Tell them to be quiet!” she hissed. “They'll wake the whole building.”
The watchman nodded and spoke into the tube again. Venera walked over to look down at the tree-choked courtyard far below. She could see lanterns hurrying to and fro down there. Finally, the iron-bound rooftop door creaked open and figures gestured to her to follow.
Moss was waiting for her in a gallery on the third floor. He was wrapped in a vast purple nightgown, and his hair was disheveled. His desperate, unfocused eyes glinted in the lantern light. “W-what is the m-meaning of this?”
“I'm sorry for rousting you out of bed so late at night,” she said, eyeing the absurd gown. We must look quite the couple, she mused, considering her own efficient black and the sword and pistols at her belt. “I have something urgent to discuss with you.”
He narrowed his eyes, then glanced at the watchman and soldiers who had escorted her down here. “L-l-leave us. I, I'll be all right.” With a slight bow he turned and led her to his chamber.
“You could have taken over Margit's apartments, you know,” said Venera as she glanced around the untidy, tiny chamber with its single bed, writing desk, and wardrobe. “It's your right. You are the botanist, after all.”
Moss indicated for her to take the single wooden chair; he managed one of his mangled smiles as he plunked himself down on the bed. “Wh-who says I w-w-won't?” he said. “H-have to get the sm-smell out first.”
Venera laughed, then winced at the shards of pain that shot through her jaw and skull. “Good for you,” she said past gritted teeth. “I trust you've been well since I left?” He shrugged. “And Liris? Made any new sales?”
“W-what do you want?”
Tired and in pain as she was, Venera would have been more than happy to come to the point. But, “First of all, I have to ask you something,” she said. “Do you know who I am?”
“Of c-course. You are V-Venera F-Fanning, from—”
“Oh, but I'm not—at least, not anymore.” She grimaced at his annoyed expression. “I have a new name, Moss. Have you heard of Amandera Thrace-Guiles?”
His reaction was comically perfect. He stared, his eyes wide and his mouth open, for a good five seconds. Then he brayed his difficult laugh. “Odess was r-right! And h-here I thought he was m-mistaking every new face for s-somebody he knew.” He laughed again.
Venera examined her nails coolly. “I'm glad I amuse you,” she said. “But my own adventures hardly seem unique these days.”
The grin left his face. “Wh-what do you mean?”
“Not that you have any obligation to tell me anything,” she said, “but ... surely you've seen that there are odd things afoot in Greater Spyre. Gangs of soldiers wandering in the dark ... backroom alliances being made and broken. Something's afoot, don't you agree?”
He sat up
straight. “Th-the fair is full of rumors. Some of the l-lesser nations have been losing people.”
“Losing them? What do you mean?”
“When the f-first of our people v-vanished, we assumed M-Margit's supporters were leaving. I th-thought it was o-only us. But others have also lost people.”
“How many of yours have left?” she asked seriously.
He held up one hand, fingers splayed. Five, then. For a miniature nation like Liris, that was too many.
“Do you have any idea where they went?” she asked.
Moss stood up, walked to the door, and listened at it for a moment. Then he turned and leaned on it. “Sacrus,” he said flatly.
“It can't be a coincidence,” she said. “I came here to talk to you about them. They ... they have one of my people. Moss, you know what they're capable of. I have to get him back.”
Her words had a powerful effect on Moss. He drew himself up to his full height, and for a moment his face lost its devastated expression; in that moment she glimpsed the determined, intelligent man who hid deep inside his ravaged psyche. Then his features collapsed back to their normal, woebegone state. He raised shaking hands and pressed his palms against his ears.
He said something, almost unintelligibly; after a moment Venera realized he'd said, “Are they toying with th-these recruits?”
“No,” she countered hastily. “My man is a prisoner. The recruits or whatever they are ... Moss, Sacrus has a reason to want an army of its own, possibly for the first time. They've finally discovered an ambition worth leaving their own doorstep.” She said this with contempt, but in her imagination she saw the vast glowing bubble of nations that made up the principalities of Candesce. “They don't have the population to support what I think they're planning. But it wouldn't surprise me if they've been recruiting from the more secretive nations. Maybe they've always done it but never needed them all before. Now they're activating them.”
Puzzlement spread slowly across Moss’ face. “An a-army? What for?”
Venera took a deep breath, then said, “They believe they have the means to conquer the principalities of Candesce.”
He stared at her. “A-and do they?”
“Yes,” she admitted, looking at her hands. “I brought it to them.”
He said nothing; Venera's mind was already racing ahead. “Their force must be small by my standards,” she said. “Maybe two thousand people. They'd be overwhelmed in any fair fight, but they don't intend to fight fair. If we could warn the principalities, they could blockade Spyre. But we'd need to get a ship out.”
“Uh-unlikely,” said Moss, with a sour expression. “One thing I d-do know about Sacrus is that they have been buying ships.”
“What else can we do?” she asked tiredly. “Attack them ourselves?”
“Y-you didn't come to ask me to h-help you do that?”
She laughed humorlessly. “Buridan and Liris against Sacrus? That would be suicidal.”
He nodded, but suddenly had a faraway look in his eye. “No,” Venera continued. “I came to ask you to help me break into Sacrus's prison and extract my man. I have a plan that I think will work. Margit told me where they keep their ‘acquisitions.’ I believe they view people as objects, too, so he's likely to be in that place.”
“Th-they guard their lands on the ground and a-above it,” said Moss skeptically. But Venera smiled at that.
“I don't intend to come in by either route,” she said. “But I need a squad of soldiers, at least a score of them. I have some of the forces I need, or I will,” she half smiled. “But I need others I can trust. Will your people do it?”
Now it was his turn to smile. “S-strike a blow against Sacrus? Of c-course! But once the other nations who've l-lost people find out it was S-Sacrus stole them, y-you'll have more allies. A d-dozen at least.”
Venera hadn't considered such a possibility. Allies? “I suppose we could count on one or two of the countries whose debts we forgave,” she said slowly. “A couple of others might join us just out of devilment.” She was thinking of Pamela Anseratte as she said this. Then she shook her head. “No—it's still not enough.”
Moss gave his damaged laugh. “Y-you've f-forgotten the most important faction, Venera,” he said. “And they have no l-love for Sacrus.”
Venera rubbed her eyes. She was too tired and her head hurt too much to guess his meaning. “Who?” she asked irritably.
Moss opened the door and bowed slightly as he held it for her. “You c-came in s-secret. You should return before Candesce l-lights. We will assemble a force f-for you.
“And I will t-talk ... to the preservationists.”
* * * *
14
“This is the window she was signaling from,” said Bryce. He had his arms folded tightly to his chest and a muscle jumped in his jaw. Long tonguelike curls of wallpaper trembled over his shoulder in the constantly moving air. “I watched her send the whole message, clicking the little door of her lantern like she'd been doing light codes her whole life. She didn't even bother to encrypt the message.”
Venera had gotten the story out of him in fits and starts, as memory and anger distracted him in turn. Cassia had been one of Bryce's first recruits. They had argued with their foreheads together in the dark bars that peppered Lesser Spyre's red-light district, and defaced buildings and thrown rocks at council parades. It was her urging that had led him down the path to terrorism, he admitted. “And all along, I was a project of hers—some kind of entrance exam to the academy of traitors in Sacrus!” He slammed his fist against the wall.
“Well.” Venera shaded her eyes with her hand and peered through the freshly-installed glass. “In the end, you were the one who fooled her. And she's the one pent up in a locker downstairs.”
He didn't look mollified. The false attack plan had been Venera's idea, after all; all Bryce had done was bring his lieutenants together to reveal the target of their next bombing, a Sacrus warehouse in Lesser Spyre. All three of the lieutenants had expressed enthusiasm, Cassia perhaps most of all. But as soon as the planning meeting broke up she had come down to this disused pantry midway up the side of Buridan Tower—and had started signaling.
Venera could see why she would have favored this room for more than its writhing, peeled wallpaper. From here you had a clear line of sight to the walls of Sacrus, which ran in uneven maze-like lines just past a hedge of trees and a preservationist siding. From the center of the vast estate, a single monolithic building rose hundreds of feet into the afternoon air. Venera imagined a tiny flicker of light appearing somewhere on the side of that edifice—the rapid blink blink of a message or instruction for Cassia. Bryce was having the place watched round the clock, but so far Sacrus had not responded to Cassia's warning.
“'Target is Coaver Street warehouse in two days,’ she told them.” Bryce shook his head in disgust. “'Urge evac of assets unless I can change target.'”
“You've done well,” said Venera. She turned and sat hip-wise on the window casement. “Listen, I know you're upset—you feel unmanned. Fair enough, it's a humiliation. No more so than this, though.” She held out a sheet of paper—a letter that had arrived for her this morning. She watched Bryce unfold it sullenly.
“'Vote for Proposition forty-four at Council tomorrow,'” he read. “What's that mean?”
She grimaced. “Proposition forty-four gives Sacrus control of the docks at Upper Spyre. Supposedly it's a demotion, since the docks aren't used much. Sacrus has modestly agreed to take that job and give up a plum post in the exchequer that they've held for decades. Nobody's likely to object.”
Bryce managed a grim smile. “So they're ordering you around like a lackey now?”
“At least they respected you enough to manipulate you instead,” she said. “And don't forget, Bryce: your people follow you. Cassia recognized the leader in you, otherwise she wouldn't have singled you out for her attention. She may have been manipulating you all this time—but she was also training you
.”
He grumbled, but she could see her words had pleased him. At that moment, though, they heard rapid footsteps in the hall outside. Gray-haired Pasternak, one of Bryce's remaining two lieutenants, stuck his head in the doorway and said, “They're here.”
Venera spared a last glance out the window. From up here the airfall was an insubstantial mesh of fabric where ground should be. Rushing clouds spun by beneath that faint skein, which she knew was really a gridwork of I-beams and stout cable—the tough inner skeleton of Spyre, visible now that the skin was stripped away. A small jumble of gantries and cranes perched timidly at the edge of the ruined land. The official story was that Amandera Thrace-Guiles was trying to build a bridge across the airfall to rejoin Buridan Tower to the rest of Spyre.
She followed Bryce out of the room. The truth was that the bridge site was a ruse, a distraction to cover up the real link between Buridan and the rest of the world. In the few days that had passed since Venera's conversation with Moss, a great deal of activity had taken place in the pipeworks that Venera and Garth had used to reach Buridan Tower the first time. A camouflaged entrance had been built near the railway siding a few hundred yards back from the airfall's edge. A man, or even a large group of men, could jump off a slow-moving train and after a sprint under some trees be in a hidden tunnel that led all the way to the tower. True, there were still long sections where men had to walk separated by thirty feet or more lest the pipe give way ... but that would be fixed.
As she and Bryce strode down the long ramp that coiled from the tower's top to its bottom, they passed numerous work sites, each comprising half a dozen or more men and women. It was much like the controlled chaos of her estate's renovation, except that these people weren't fixing the plaster. They were assembling weapons, inventorying armor and supplies, and fencing in the ballrooms. Bryce's entire organization was here, as well as gray-eyed soldiers from Liris and exotics from allies of that country. They had started arriving last night, after Bryce gave the all-clear that he'd found his traitor.
Analog SFF, May 2007 Page 19
