Emperor's Edge Republic (72 page)

“That ought to be enough,” Dak said. “Go get them, men.”

“Watch out for a woman smelling of brandy and wearing a man’s shirt,” Mancrest called after them.

That earned a strange backward glance from the squad leader and a quirked eyebrow from Dak as well.

“It’s a long story,” Mancrest said. When the quirked brow didn’t lower, he added, “It’s been a harrowing evening. If we hadn’t been lucky, you might have pulled our bodies out of a tank full of apple juice.”

“I was wondering about the odor,” Tikaya murmured.

The corporal drummed his fingers on his leg. “Shall we target that big building over there, sir? None of our men have gone in that direction.”

“That’s the cider mill,” Mancrest said. “I don’t think anything is in there except a lot of expensive equipment. And maybe a man Sicarius tied up, though I would guess that his comrades have found him by now. That’s probably what alerted everyone out here.”

“Hold steady until our men return,” Dak said.

The soldiers were already marching prisoners out of the orchard and past the remains of the smoldering bunkhouse. Several men and women left the main house via the windows, only to run into their own iron security fence. The team who had remained outside the dwelling captured these people without trouble—most of them were in nightclothes, with more than one running around barefoot. Tikaya wondered what had prompted them to allow the priests to set up on their property. Or had blackmail been involved?

A soldier jogged up to the lorry. “Sir, should we also tie up the people from the house?” The captured priests had been bound and ushered into the cargo bed. “They’re not wearing robes. One said he’s Lord Edgecrest, and that we’ll be in trouble for trespassing on his property.”

“Truss him and toss him in too,” Dak said.

“Yes, sir.” He jogged off, but was met by a second soldier before he could return to the house. They had a quick conversation, and the first man returned. “Uh, sir? One of the people in the house is... uhm.”

“What?” Dak asked.

“I bet I can guess,” Mancrest said. “You ever meet your uncle’s first wife, Colonel?”

“Sauda?”

The soldier nodded. “Sauda Shadowcrest. The men are bringing her out now.”

“She’s here?” Tikaya asked. “I thought she was in jail.”

“So did I,” Dak said. “In fact, I told Rias to visit her after... was that just yesterday we had that meeting?”

“I think so. Time has become a blur.”

“A lot has become a blur,” Mancrest said—he was still sitting on the floor. “I’m not sure if it’s because I’m tired or because I hit my head falling into that tank.”

He didn’t look well, but there wasn’t much that could be done at the moment. Tikaya doubted the lorry had blankets or any supplies meant to make men comfortable. Turgonian military vehicles all seemed to run toward the sparse and utilitarian.

The front door opened, and the raven-haired woman who walked out managed to look regal even in a robe and with two armed men escorting her. The men marched her out to the lorry. Tikaya didn’t know if the woman would recognize her. Sauda gazed into the cab for a moment, then dismissed everyone with a haughty sniff.

Before Dak could question her, another soldier trotted out of the house.

“Sir, there’s a vault door at the end of the upstairs hallway, and it looks like someone has been shooting at it.”

“A
vault
door?” Dak asked.

“Yes, sir. Like you would find in a bank.”

“Sounds like where Amaranthe might have run off to,” Mancrest said. “Based on the bullets. She has a knack for getting herself in trouble.”

“Sauda, do you know what’s behind the vault door?” Dak asked.

The woman crossed her arms, sniffed again, and gazed toward the orchards.

“Answer him.” One of the soldiers gripping her arm gave it a shake.

Dak lifted a quelling hand toward the man. Maybe there were rules against physically interrogating warrior-caste women. Tikaya wouldn’t mind giving her a shake...
more
than a shake. A few arrow perforations might loosen her tongue.

“He never took me there, nor told me what he did when he spent time inside,” Sauda said.

“He?” Dak asked. “Is this Serpitivich, by chance?”

Tikaya frowned at him. “The vice president and... this woman? But where did Lord Mancrest, the
elder
Lord Mancrest, come in? I thought they were... sharing hammocks.”

“Oh, I’m guessing she was sharing hammocks with a lot of people,” Dak said.

Sauda gave him a scathing look, but did not refute the comment. Tikaya remembered Rias describing his former wife as unfaithful, though he had blamed himself—or at least accepted some of the blame—due to his long absences at sea. Maybe the woman simply had a pathological flaw.

“She was trying to bribe my father,” Deret said. “She wants control of the
Gazette
for Serpitivich and his priest goons.”

“Goons.” Sauda sniffed. “Hardly that. With their connections, they almost handed him the election. Against anyone except Rias, Serp would have won.”

“And he still intends to win,” Deret said, “isn’t that right?”

“We’ll see.” Sauda smiled slightly. “The night isn’t over. You people haven’t won yet.”

Tikaya thought of the plant, of Rias and her daughter. Did the woman know something she didn’t?

“Tell us about this vault,” Dak said. “Is Serpitivich there now? And what does he do inside?”

“If he’s responsible for the poisonings,” Tikaya said, “maybe it’s where he keeps his collection.”

Sauda shrugged a narrow shoulder. “I have no knowledge of the vault’s contents. Perhaps the priests would know. They are his zealous followers.”

“You’re only here for the social status of being seen with him if he becomes somebody, is that right?” Dak asked.

Sauda, gazing toward the orchards again, did not respond. It was as if she couldn’t care less what happened here—what happened to
her
. Maybe she had some plan already. She had escaped from jail once, after all.

Dak ground his jaw back and forth for a moment, then waved toward the rear of the lorry. “Put her in with the other prisoners, and make sure there are plenty of guards back there.”

“Yes, sir.”

The soldiers ushered Sauda away.

“What do you think?” Dak asked Tikaya.

“Me? About what?”

“Is she lying, misdirecting us, or hiding something?” Dak shrugged. “Knowing any of those things would be useful.”

“I’ve never spoken to her before and don’t have a baseline by which to judge. I couldn’t tell if she was lying, but she certainly didn’t seem trustworthy.”

“Ah,” Dak said. “I thought you might have some insight, since you two married the same man.”

“You don’t know much about women, do you?”

His expression grew wry. “Not... as much as I’d like.” Dak waved to one of the other soldiers. “Brekker, show us to that vault, will you?”

“Yes, sir.”

Dak hopped down and invited Tikaya along with a wave. “Perhaps what she won’t tell us we can find out for ourselves. Mancrest, you want to stay in there?”

“Yes, but if someone helps me to my feet, I’ll come anyway. This story will have to be in the paper as soon as possible.”

“I could have one of my men write up a report with the pertinent details,” Dak said.

“I’ve read your men’s reports,” Tikaya said. “You’re offering him a punishment, not a good turn.”

“That’s... probably a fair assessment.”

Dak and Tikaya helped Mancrest up, and the soldiers led them past the gate and through the front door where a final young man was being shoved out, his wrists tied behind his back. He glowered sullenly at Tikaya’s group. Dak glowered back, and the young man lost some of his menace, shrinking away from the big colonel.

“You should have tried that glare on Sauda,” Tikaya murmured as they continued inside.

“I did. She either wasn’t paying attention or didn’t find me intimidating.”

“I assure you you’re quite intimidating.”

“I’d take that as a compliment coming from a man, but I’m not sure I want women to find me intimidating.”

Tikaya and Dak jogged through a living area, up a set of wooden stairs, and into a hallway with floorboards that creaked beneath their boots.

“In that case,” Tikaya said, “you might want to get a nice eye patch to wear. That scar gives you a sinister cast.”

“I tried eye patches. They made my hollow sweat and itch. Besides, having a sinister mien isn’t a bad idea if you’re the chief of intelligence. It intimidates the enemy. And helps keep your own men in line, right, Sergeant?”

“Yes, sir,” the man leading them said before stopping at the end of the hall. A secret panel was propped open, revealing the silvery metal of a very modern vault door.

Dak touched a splintered hole near the edge of the panel.

“Bullet?” Tikaya asked.

“Yes.” Their soldier guide pointed to a tiny dent in the metal vault door, then walked back down the hall to a place where wallpaper had been gouged free. A cartridge was lodged in the wood paneling underneath. “It ricocheted. It looks like they shot a couple of times before realizing they were more likely to hurt themselves than the vault door. Judging by the reactions of a couple of the people we dragged out of bedrooms, they didn’t even know there was a vault door
here
.”

The soft scrapes of a pencil on paper drifted into the thoughtful silence that followed. Somewhere, Mancrest had acquired a notepad. He had already filled up the first page.

“Your threat to offer him a report seems to have inspired him to write,” Tikaya said. “Copiously.”

“Impressive since he didn’t even have a notepad before.” Dak plucked up a lamp that had been lit and left on a narrow hallway table, and walked to the vault door.

“I did have one, but it fell out in the tank,” Deret said, his pencil never slowing. “Just as well. It would have been too soggy to use.”

Tikaya noticed symbols etched around the wheel in the center of the metal door and moved closer as well.

“Those aren’t the usual numbers one expects,” Dak observed.

“No, they’re symbols from the Kriskrusian language. Old symbols used in religious ceremonies. Later on, by the time your ancestors came, they had switched to an alphabet.” Tikaya spread her hand to cover five of the symbols. “Those are the names for the gods. That one represents a house or one’s homeland. That one is the sun. There’s the moon.”

“You know them all?” Dak asked.

“Yes, I believe so.”

“Does that give you any insight into how to open the lock? Because I’m guessing we want to get in there.” Dak touched one of the dents the bullets had left.

“Er, no,” Tikaya said. “I don’t think so.”

“Sergeant, grab a couple of men and start searching the rooms. Edgecrest’s room first, then Sauda’s, and anyone else’s that looks promises. See if you can find the combination.”

“Ah, shouldn’t we just...” The sergeant cleared his throat and studied his commanding officer’s boots.

“What?” Dak asked.

“The woman may know the combination, sir. We could question her more forcefully.”

“I doubt she knows it,” Dak said. “Besides, the president might not be happy about having his first wife questioned forcefully.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll get my team searching.”

“You should also have them search for signs that someone has been making poisons,” Tikaya said. If the antidote to Rias’s illness wasn’t here in this compound somewhere... This would all have been a waste of time, leaving her farther away from helping Rias than ever.

Dak nodded. “As she said, Sergeant.”

The soldier jogged off, and doors and cabinets were soon banging up and down the hallway.

Dak removed his cap and pushed a hand through his short black hair. “Was that the right decision?”

“What?” Tikaya asked.

“Not interrogating Sauda.”

“I don’t think Rias would care to have any woman interrogated in the Turgonian way.” Tikaya shrugged. “If we don’t have any luck, we can always try later. I think you’re right, though, in that she wouldn’t know. I don’t get the impression she’s... bright enough to have masterminded all of this. Serpitivich is probably using her.”

“Yes. Good.”

Good that he was using her? Or good that Dak wouldn’t be expected to torture a woman for information? The latter, Tikaya suspected. It pleased her that the notion bothered him. With Turgonians... one never knew. She supposed he wouldn’t blink at the idea of interrogating a man. Such a strange people.

Mancrest shuffled forward to examine the symbols. “In the meantime, we could try guessing the combination.”

“There are more than thirty symbols,” Dak said. “That makes for thousands of permutations.”

Rias would have given the exact number of permutations. He liked solving quick puzzles like that in his head—and showing off that he could do so, or so Tikaya had always thought. He never admitted to such vanities of course.

“I’m going to see what tools we have in the lorry. Maybe something can open this, lock notwithstanding.” Dak waved for them to stay and jogged for the stairs.

“May I borrow your pencil and a piece of paper?” Tikaya asked Mancrest. “If I write everything down and play with them a bit, maybe I can guess a logical combination.”

“Without trying thousands of permutations?” Mancrest handed her the pencil and tore off a sheet from the back of his pad. The first page had someone’s grocery list on it; he must have pillaged it from the homeowner.

“Thousands supposes it’s a random combination. Humans are rarely random.”

“My night has certainly felt random.” Mancrest leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.

Tikaya felt sympathetic, but she soon forgot about him, her focus consumed by the symbols. She doubted opening the vault would reveal rows of poisons—and antidotes—lining the insides, but she worked on cracking the code as if that were the case.

• • • • •

Sespian sat beside President Starcrest, watching him steer the submarine while Mahliki operated the drill from the science station. He alternated between feeling useless, because he didn’t know what any of the switches did or what any of the gauges meant, and feeling guilty, because Mahliki had kissed him, and he was fairly certain her father had seen. Every time Starcrest looked in his direction, Sespian anticipated a glower and a stern my-daughter-is-not-to-be-pawed-over-by-the-likes-of-you lecture. But every time, Starcrest only moved a lever or pressed a switch, then returned his attention to the lake floor creeping along ahead of them.