Knives of Bastion (An Empire Falls Book 2)

by Harry Leighton

  “He dead?” Zedek said.

  Trimas bent over him. “No. Still breathing but unconscious.”

  “Then I think that’s our cue to leave,” Zedek said.

  *****

  A list of numbers, written on a page…

  Karina looked at the ledger, then at the ones arrayed around her, then back at the original list. It should be so simple, a list of numbers. But there was so much doubt. What if the scribe had made an error, what if the numbers were wrong?

  She could recalculate them, of course, but what if the figures to be used were wrong, what if she introduced an error.

  So a list of numbers, on a page, which told her something, a vitally important fact that could underpin a situation.

  Assuming it was right.

  She stood, leaving the candles lit but now behind her, and went to the letter. It was laying on a second table, off to one side, a table that contained water and spirits.

  A letter from Kellan.

  Some people would have read his letter and called themselves geniuses. Genii? It didn’t matter. They would look at their actions in having spotted Daeholf and his friends, having sent them to Bastion, and been confident they were a genius for causing the destruction of the underworld which was so strong in Bastion.

  Karina didn’t consider herself a genius.

  She considered herself someone who hated vastly unforeseen circumstances, such as three newly employed men wreaking havoc, even if it did benefit her. She would have to watch this group, perhaps even cease employing them, because they were extremely dangerous.

  Order was feared by many people on the outskirts of the law because they associated it with judges and hangings. Karina knew that order served the outskirts just as well. Chaos, however, aided no one for very long.

  She folded the letter up and tucked it into the shoulder of her dress.

  Decision made.

  That was the odd thing about order and chaos. Order held things together and allowed operations; chaos blew it apart but, it you could ride it for just the right moment, you would come out ahead.

  Karina usually came out ahead, and she knew what the chance was here.

  Whirling round, she picked up a heavy coat, put it on and marched out of her property, unaccompanied along the street. Unless you counted the guards silently following, of course.

  She soon came to a building, made a polite enquiry, and was shown into a library and issued with wine. She smiled, took the goblet, and emptied it into a plant when the room was empty. The owner never read these books. Such a waste of finances.

  She would have read them all.

  The man who entered had more hair than Karina, tied in tails down the back of his head. This had a significance to his old soldiers, and it was they who made him useful. Not a criminal, more a lender of hired help.

  “It is nice to see you Karina, if unexpected.” He smiled, revealing gums.

  “I have a business proposal which arose this afternoon, and I wish it to be agreed before tomorrow morning.”

  “Even if it means interrupting me.” His gummy smile again, but his eyes told the story. There was only one person in charge here, and she had been generous in not summoning him to her property at this time of night.

  “Indeed.”

  “What is the situation?”

  “Have you heard of Bastion?”

  “Yes, northern, cold, ruled by someone very able.”

  “You may speak openly, unless you believe there are spies in your house.” In which case remove them.

  “You are pushing your tendrils into it.”

  “Indeed. Something has happened, Bastion is open.”

  “Open? To…” Well she was here, wasn’t she. “To us?”

  “Yes. A surprise, and I am considering mobilisation. I am considering a full scale attempt on Bastion’s underworld.”

  Air blew through gums. “I don’t know if we have the spare men.”

  “We do,” Karina corrected.

  “Then do we have the spare money?”

  “We do.”

  “Then can we risk taking our eyes off local operations?”

  “We can.”

  “I have to ask, Karina, if this is all true, why come here at night?”

  “I am asking your opinion. I want to see if we’re thinking alike. Based on the fact we could try it, would you try it?”

  “No point being in this business if we didn’t.”

  “Exactly. Which leaves us in an interesting position.”

  “Er…”

  “We need a team arranged, we need orders and ranks, we already have plenty of money in place. We need to move the plan forward very quickly.”

  “How is that interesting?”

  Karina smiled now, a full set of teeth. “Don’t you find it exciting?”

  “Oh, right, yeah, sorry,” and he realised he’d actually become scared of what this woman wanted.

  It was one thing to want to leap into a chaotic city…

  It was another to have all the resources held back in case something like this happened to, well, happen.

  What other contingencies could Karina cope with?

  “We will need a captain,” he said.

  “Kellan is operating in Bastion already,” Karina explained. “He is informed.”

  “Oh.”

  “You work here. Where you’re not suspicious. Mostly not suspicious. One day I’ll have you shorn and then you can go outside the walls.”

  “Harsh.”

  *****

  “You're working too hard again.”

  Elena looked up from her untouched dinner at her brother. This was the first time she'd been home at a reasonable time and that was only because she was tired. He was probably right. “You're probably right,” she said across the table to him.

  “No probably about it. And you've let your food get cold.”

  “Sorry. I did remember the bread though.” She tucked in. Cold or not, she realised she was hungry.

  “You did. But from the look of you you've not been eating properly either.”

  “When did you become my keeper?” Elena said. She regretted her tone almost immediately.

  “When you started overdoing it again,” Regis said patiently.

  “Thank you,” Elena said sincerely. “This is good too,” she added, holding up a spoonful of stew

  “I'm glad you like it. It was better hot though.”

  “Maybe I'll try and get out earlier tomorrow too.”

  Regis laughed. “And give up a chance for work? I doubt it.”

  “This is a good opportunity for me. I know we discussed me earning my job back but neither of us expected it to happen this soon.”

  “I was starting to think how lucky we'd been, but after all our talk, you went right back to your old habits.”

  “Yes Dad.”

  “Don't,” Regis said, frowning.

  “Sorry,” Elena said, looking him in the eyes.

  “Okay.”

  “My task hasn't changed though. There's still a killer out there that I need to catch.”

  “Why you though? The city is full of watch.”

  “Because I'm in charge. If I don't get this resolved, and soon, it will be the end of my career. Then you'll be supporting us on a sharpener’s pay.”

  “I can do some more hours. Corin seems happy enough with my work. There's always plenty to do and I quite enjoy it.”

  “I'm really happy it is working out for you,” Elena said. “And having job satisfaction too is a real bonus.”

  “You'd know all about that.”

  “Oh, when we catch a criminal, clean the streets for that little while, it's very satisfying. It's my whole life.”

  “I'm sorry I ruined it for you,” Regis said sadly.

  “I don't regret a single action in that,” Elena said firmly, pointing at him with her spoon. “I never have and never will.” The spoon dripped on the table.

  “Never is a long time,” Regis s
aid, looking down at the drop of stew.

  “Then you'll just have to trust me on this,” Elena said, getting back to eating.

  “Okay. So are you making any progress at least?” Regis said, wiping up the spot with a finger.

  “Hmm?” Elena said from around a mouthful of stew.

  “The all-important case…”

  “Yes. No. Sort of.”

  “All of them eh? No wonder you spend all your time at work. Unravelling that lot must be confusing.”

  “The case is complicated is all. There's a new frustration most days.”

  “But you're getting somewhere with it?”

  “Yes and no.”

  “I thought justice was supposed to be certain?”

  “Well, there’s two killers. That makes it more complicated.”

  “Two killers?”

  “I’m sure I must have mentioned this before.”

  “If you did, I really can’t have been listening. So what makes you think there are two killers?”

  “In the main, there’s some irregularities with the bodies.”

  “Couldn’t just be the killer trying new things?”

  “It’s possible but experience says no.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Why the sudden interest with the minutiae?” Elena said, finishing the food and putting the bowl to one side.

  “Aside from the Thieftaker's death, this is still the hottest topic in the city. And it is particularly important to you. What sort of a brother would I be if I didn't show an interest?”

  “Ouch. I do ask about your time at the forge sometimes.”

  “I didn't mean it like that.”

  “I know. But I’ve probably not been paying enough attention to you.”

  “You’re busy. You can make it up to me when this case is solved.”

  “If it ever gets solved.”

  “What about your new friends, are they making any progress?”

  “Friends is a bit of a strong term for it.”

  “Because you’re swimming in them elsewhere?” Regis said, eyebrow raised.

  “Not exactly,” Elena admitted.

  “Let’s face it, recently if you’ve not been at work you’ve been with them.”

  “You have a point,” Elena said, musing.

  “So are they getting anywhere?”

  “They have some interesting insights actually. Their backgrounds have been useful.”

  “Well Bounty Hunters do have a different way of looking at things. Usually that’s because they’re turning someone innocent in though.”

  “They’re not your usual Hunters. Besides, it’s their background as soldiers that’s helping here I think.”

  “Did you say soldiers?” Regis said intently.

  Elena winced. Oh hell. Now she’d put her foot right in it. “Ex-soldiers,” she said firmly. “Did I not mention it?”

  “I think I’d have remembered,” Regis said quietly, face flat.

  “They’re different.”

  “They’re soldiers.”

  “Not anymore.”

  “Nor are the ones that attacked me.”

  “They hunt those sorts of people now. Make sure they pay for their crimes.”

  “They’re all the same.”

  “No. They’re not. Daeholf assured me he would have hanged the men on the spot if he’d been in charge of them for one.”

  “This Daeholf. You talk to him a lot then?”

  “Why?”

  “Because you seem to have told him all about me.”

  Elena looked at him. Shit. This was going from bad to worse, fast. There was no good way of explaining to Regis why she’d told Daeholf that now. She tried anyway. “I wasn’t telling him about you, I was telling him about me. He needed to know why I have the difficulties with the force that I do so that we could trust each other to work together.”

  “You trust him then?”

  “Enough to work with.”

  Regis thought on that for a moment. “I suppose I’ll have to trust your judgement on that. I’ll clear up then. You’re tired, perhaps you should go and rest,” he said, standing up.

  Elena studied him. He’d bent easier on that than she’d expected. This wasn’t over. “You’re right. That’s a good idea. Thank you,” she said, standing up. As she walked to her bed she couldn’t help thinking that she wouldn’t have made a slip like that if she was fresh. Maybe she should be getting more sleep.

  *****

  “I’ve never seen so many people.”

  Elena heard that hissed into her ear, and as that was only a few inches away from her nose she knew the woman had been drinking and shouldn’t be taken seriously. It was morning, it was cold, this woman shouldn’t be that drunk.

  Besides, more people came out to see the funeral of the governors, because they wanted to be seen to be loyal, and more came to see the swearing in of the governors because they wanted positions, and if Elena remembered correctly the biggest crowd she’d ever seen in Bastion had been the funeral of a playwright who was even performed in the imperial capital. So what they had was a very large amount of people but no record.

  Perhaps this woman was usually drunk in a gutter somewhere and really hadn’t seen this many people.

  Elena began walking now, three rows of people back in the crowd lining (some of) the streets as Vika’s coffin was paraded down the middle.

  Black horses, red flowers, a bouquet with the Governor’s colours at the top and a cart that had been freshly stained so as to look new. Given it only had one job, and that was city state funerals, it could have been wheeled out of storage and used straight away, but people like things shiny.

  It had been her decision to shadow the coffin, a dark brown with silver fittings which would be removed before it went into the tomb, to wait until the ground was soft enough to be dug six foot down, perhaps a few weeks.

  To shadow the coffin, scan the crowd, see if she could see any faces, or eyes, or anything that would be a clue to this Nightwalker.

  Or the killer of soldiers.

  The Governor had turned down an offer from ex-legionaries in the city to provide an honour guard, because he always liked to keep power in its respective baskets, always wanted civilians to keep their roles and the military theirs. Vika was a state power, so her guard would walk alongside, their uniforms fully shined, because people liked these shiny things too.

  In one twisted way Elena had been disappointed, because surely a load of soldiers out front would have let her scan the crowd for someone who hated them…

  She knew what she was doing was desperate. She knew her frustration with the drinker was born of the same. She was in uniform, and that was a blessing from God, but she had to keep that uniform and that required catching the killers, and while Daeholf had done remarkably with the documents he’d assembled, they still had no actionable clues.

  Find an elf.

  Find a soldier killer.

  In this entire city.

  When they looked like anyone else.

  A needle in a haystack would have been easier. You’d only need a pair of rooms to … silly, getting distracted.

  Look at the coffin, look at the people…

  A large turnout, but not the largest. A large turnout, because the underworld were happy to see her go, and the rest were sad, but more than a few would already be working on the Governor, or the criminals, building a new structure and world. More than a few.

  The city was shifting, so would this tide wash away the Nightwalker’s cover?

  Maybe if she kept looking at faces.

  A guard was standing with his back to the procession, looking at the crowd with contempt, when he locked eyes accidentally with Elena. Whoever this man was, his stare turned into outright hate, and he drilled it into his superior.

  Ex-military then.

  They still hate me, even though I am trying to stop their killer…

  And there it was, a twinge of remorse that her head’s new thought
was one of benefit to her: maybe, if I solve this, the world will let me back in.

  No, fuck them, Elena thought. Vika hadn’t yielded to the anger of the guard, she had seized it. Say what you want about the Thieftaker, she had risen to the top. Elena would not compromise to be a normal guard again.

  As she walked she passed a man stood on a wooden box, able to look over the crowd, and smiled at the book he held loosely open in one hand and the charcoal in the other. Some artist, capturing this for a work he’d no doubt try to sell the Governor. It wouldn’t surprise her if, even now, artists were harassing patrons into getting statues made.

  Statues. Painting. Always the whirring of society, and at the bottom … the dead.

  Vesek didn’t see Elena as she walked behind him and carried on, he was too busy trying to capture what he was seeing.

  Not the funeral procession, because that was horses laden down with flowers, as if the large span of red would turn into some sort of fucking carpet and fly this fool off to whatever heaven they dreamed of. Not the stupid selection of colours that made up a prominent bouquet, which seemed to be there to attract attention rather than commemorate anything. Not the guards, these petty half-soldiers with their breastplates gleaming even though they’d never go near a real battle.

  No, the strange look on humanity’s faces.

  A woman was dead, a woman who had devoted time and energy to keeping the city crime free.

  Well, of people like him, of course.

  And here they were, pretending to be upset, and actually he saw on all their faces a mixture of relief and everything they should publicly show.

  Oh how sad we are she’s gone, but so pleased she went before she took me.

  All over, on them all, relief and a mask of mourning.

  Respect, turned into fear, now gone.

  The funeral was a play, performed by these incessant life wasters, rather than the party they wanted. Because they all liked the law only as far as it avoided their own breakages of it and picked up other people.

  And could he capture this for his collection?

  Oh yes, he could.

  He could record the flaws in humanity perfectly, and how his people would know the weakness in them all.

  Not even just brutal life wasters.

  Actors.

  All actors.

  “That’s good,” a drunken woman said as she sidled past him.