Shield and Crocus (23 page)

Then he called for a controlled retreat, consolidating their forces. He threw the vault door closed again and locked the spindle wheel handle in place with another guard’s halberd. [
It’s decided. We’re leaving. Someone make me a new door on the south side of the building
.]

[
I’m on it
.] Sapphire jumped fifty feet over the crowd and landed by the south wall. She hammered on the wall, forming dents with each blow.

Aegis shouted to the crowd at the top of his lungs.

“We cannot take the vault, and there are more guards coming. We have to leave, now!”

Shouts of disappointment and anger rolled across the crowds, threads twisted and turned ugly, gold and purple threads fading.
And just like that, we lose them.
Some would remember the money, the thrill of momentary success, but most would just return to their lives, this day forgotten.

The haft of the halberd cracked, then the vault door swung open. Guards poured through the door, pushing Aegis’s troops back. They filled the room around the citizen’s army and pressed the flanks.

[
We’re getting heavy pressure from the vault. Tell the citizens outside to scatter and fade, head to the back alleys. They can’t chase everyone. Sapphire, get that door as fast as you can.
] hoping to give Dlella’s forces something else to worry about, he took out father’s flame wand and shot a few gouts at the tables, chairs, and nearby wall.

“Grab as many wounded as you can!” Aegis shouted as he led the retreat from the vault door and Sapphire’s position at the south side of the building. He searched the crowd for Dlella, hoping she’d retaken the field, but the Millrej was still missing.
Damn
. He picked up a wounded Ikanollo and a limp Pronai and hauled them over his shoulders.

As he approached the side wall, Sapphire’s boneshattering roundhouses tore out chunks of brick.
That’s enough.
“out the hole, now. Scatter ranks! Keep yourselves out of the guards’ hands. Live today, fight tomorrow. This is just an early blow for the revolution, many more will follow. You are all heroes. Remember this day!”

Aegis continued to encourage the people even as he urged them to run, passing wounded through the hole while holding off the massing guards.

[
Hole’s open on the south side, vault guards closing in. Update from the outside?
]

[
We’re caught in a crossfire. Dozens have broken and are running through the back ways. We can’t hold for long.
]

Aegis heard Sabreslate snicker through the telepathic connection. [
Won’t need to. Meet me outside the bank door and I’ll get us out of here.
]

The moments stretched long as Aegis ushered the rest of his people out through the hole, fighting off three or more guards at once to cover their retreat. The executor’s forces grew more bold, feeling the tide turn in their favor.

Aegis swatted spears and swords away, always in motion. But the more he had to fight, the less he could lead.

Sapphire held out a hand as the guards closed in. “Grab hold, it’ll be faster.” Aegis tore a glaive out of a guard’s hands and swept four more guards’ weapons with it, his swing ending a thrust to an Ikanollo’s collarbone. He jumped back and reached out with his right hand as Sapphire wrapped her huge hand around his wrist. He grabbed with his shield hand to protect his shoulder and Sapphire leapt high over the melee, taking the smaller Shield with her.

Crossbow bolts followed them as they arced through the air, but the shots went wide. They landed by the door, beside Sabreslate and a hovering Ghost Hands. Outside, Dlella’s forces had merged and surrounded the door.

Ghost Hands maintained a force field by the door, keeping the exterior forces at bay. [
Go ahead. I’ll hold them off and take the high road out.
]

Blurred Fists appeared out of nowhere, and they were all assembled.

“This was just the beginning! The days of the tyrants are near an end!” he shouted toward the crowd. The crowd was a mob no longer, just dozens of scared and wounded people running for their lives.
I failed them today.

Sabreslate called for the Shields to circle up. They joined hands inside the shrinking bubble of protection. As one, they sank into the ground, the cobblestones rushing up to greet them. Aegis wished the stones could wash away the sting of failure. They’d done so much, assembled a force of hundreds, with little to show for it.

If it weren’t for Douk, I’d drown in boredom. I’d also be down fifteen pounds from the recovery.
instead, Wonlar was well fed by constant servings of gossip and an endless supply of tea, pastries, and salads.

It had been three days since the failed bank attack. The Shields were licking their wounds and waiting for another opportunity.
I’m going on the next mission, no matter what Selweh or anyone says.

The summit was fully underway, and Wonlar could sometimes see a hammer floating overhead, waiting to drop.

Wonlar had full reign of the basement, a kingdom made of crates and towering piles of coffee beans. Douk had brought down more furniture, all from the Post-Republic art movement. They were harsh, soulless, all hard lines and cold metallic hues. In one corner, Douk had brought out the seasonal supplies, preparing the multicolored flags of Midsummer’s March, the fifteen icons of the story of the plummet, and more. Each day Wonlar discovered some new knickknack stored away in a corner. Xera was a packrat, and there were supplies left over from parties ten years gone. She called it being prepared. Wonlar approved.

He spent the morning organizing stacks of Douk’s paperwork so he could have a proper desk when a familiar voice broke his silent calm.

“My friend, I have something you simply must hear!” Douk tromped down the stairs again, opening the conversation as he’d opened the last twenty.
Everything he tells me is “critical” or “amazing.” City Mother bless him for his enthusiasm.

“What’s happened this time, Douk?” Wonlar asked.

The flush and sweat of excitement played out on his face as he talked. “I just saw people taken away in a wagon, right in front of my own café! Just five ordinary people, chatting on the corner. I think they were deciding on what to order when they came in, but that’s just me. After all, why stand on the corner outside my café if not to come in and enjoy my fresh-roasted coffee, the camaraderie, and the wonderful food?”

Douk could ramble for the better part of an hour, given the slightest prompting. Wonlar found him most useful when guided. “The wagon, Douk.”

“Of course. It’s about as wide as the street and twice as long, painted in a garish green color that hasn’t been in fashion since the fall of Audec.”

“Why did they take them?”

“Some horrid made-up reason, said that the people were suspects in the attempted bank robbery.”

“But that wasn’t even in this domain.”
Is this one of the results of the summit?
if the tyrants were pooling their resources on law enforcement, extraditing across domain lines… “I know! The leader of the guards doing the roundup was a top-heavy Freithin woman. Her shoulders were covered in spikes and wider than a double-door. She said that they were working in collaboration with executor Dlella’s forces.”

If the Smiling King has recognized Dlella, Wonlar guessed the others had too.
We need to break up those meetings, keep the tyrants from cohering into a lasting partnership.
“anything else?”

“I saw inside the wagon. There were more than thirty people in there. They kept going down the street, picking up people at random. I heard patrons say they’d seen other wagons the last couple of days. How many do you think there are?”

Wonlar answered Douk’s question with another. “And where are they being taken?”

Douk glanced to each corner, and then shrugged guiltily, as if his ignorance were a failure.
You can’t know everything, my friend.
“I’ll ask people what they’ve heard, but I don’t imagine anyone who comes to my café would be one to know something like that. I can go out right away and speak to some of my acquaintances in the corporation.”

Wonlar shook his head. “Don’t put yourself out on this. It just means we have to track one of the wagons back to their holding location. Get a message out to Blurred Fists and see what he can do.”

“Of course! We can’t allow this to continue. And by we, I mean you, but really we, the city and its people. Can I bring you anything?”

“A new pen, more paper, and more tea. I need to think.”

Wonlar pulled out a map and tried to decide where this wave of kidnapped citizens could be taken. Candidates for the warlock Guard, subjects for COBALT-3’s experiments, wage slaves for Dlella, or new subjects for the Smiling King?

Douk nodded at Wonlar’s comment, and then scaled the stairs, reinvigorated by his continued involvement. One of these days his support was going to get him killed, and there won’t be any more pastries, no more protracted meetings over the smell of his Yehbu Grey roast. One fewer flower left to bloom when spring came again.

The newly self-minted executor slithered across the floor, deepening the sand mounds formed over weeks and weeks of nervous slithering. Dlella had claimed Nevri’s title, but not her actual office, not yet. Soon she would fully slide into the power gap left by Nevri’s timely passing.

One by one, the Lieutenants will swear to me, and I will take the corporation to places Nevri even dreamed of. Expand abroad to consolidate Ibje refinement, streamline supply chains, and crush the Shields for good.

Dlella’s office had marbled walls and no furniture save for a pile of pillows in one corner where she could recline. A broad window draped the room in sunlight for her afternoon naps, where she soaked up the warmth to stay energized.

The bank robbery had been thwarted, though not without losses. Consolidation was the current order of business. The summit was an excellent chance to forestall hostilities from the other oligarchs, take time to breathe, get the loyalty of Nevri’s other lieutenants. Backing Yema’s play to continue the summit gave her cache with him, and let her show her savvy to the others. She’d learned long ago from Nevri that while money solved most problems, only reputation could solve the rest.

She’d pushed back the Shields’ mob, but her work was not yet done. Not all of her former peers had come to their senses and sworn to her as the new executor.

Qazzi Fau was due presently, and her head was still dull from Aegis’ hammering fists, three days after the fact. She picked up the wide cup of medicinal tincture and took another sip, swirling the hot liquid around her forked tongue and letting it cool slightly before swallowing. The warmth coated her throat, and she felt pain leech out of her body as the hot liquid ran down her throat. Weakness was a luxury she could not afford. This she also learned from Nevri, one of a thousand lessons Dlella was putting to use as the late executor’s successor.

There was a knock at the door, and Dlella beckoned in her twitchy Pronai secretary. His shaking hands held a notebook and a pen.

“Qazzi Fau is here to see you, executor.”

Dlella continued her slithering route, feeling the sand give way to her tail. “Wait here for a minute, and then send him in.”

Let him know she’s in control. She needs his support, but as a subordinate, not the peer he used to be. Qazzi would bring with him the forces of the northwestern territory under his supervision, control of the Right Shoulder gate and the entrance taxes and tariffs that went with it.

If he broke faith with the corporation, there would be a civil war in her territory.
That cannot be allowed. He will swear to me or die.

Another knock, and Dlella said, “enter.”

The governor of Right Shoulder entered the room, one hand hanging on his sword belt. His Spark-touched eyes appeared as blank white orbs, but they could see color and texture perfectly well, along with the threads as any Ikanollo. His eyes saw one other thing as well—the future, possibilities, and likelihoods. That power made him a useful ally and a deadly opponent. He used it mostly in combat, but Dlella wasn’t sure if it extended outside of the martial arena.

Did he know how this meeting was going to pan out already, or is he uncertain as well?
Dlella hid her pain, hid her nerves.

She put up the perfect façade of an executor, unquestionable and all-knowing. They’d been equals, rivals, for years, but that ended today.

“Welcome. Please, take a seat.” Dlella opened her arms wide, and then settled back on her coils.

Qazzi took a place in front of her desk, assuming a wide stance, arms crossed. “I don’t want to squander resources on a succession war, so I’ve come to make a bargain.” To the point. She’d always appreciated that about him. “Tea?” she asked, continuing the niceties she knew he didn’t care for. But insisting allowed her to keep the conversation under her control and avoid his overbearing momentum.

“No.”

“Very well.” Dlella snapped twice and a rodent-kin boy rushed in with a pot of tea and two cups. The boy poured her a fresh cup and left the other cup empty at Qazzi’s side. “I will require the support of your security forces, full cooperation on administration and logistics, and forty percent of the transit taxes and tithes from the Right Shoulder Gate. You will accompany me to the summit and show your support. When they know you are under my protection, you will be able to continue your hunt for First Sentinel.”

Qazzi didn’t move, didn’t blink. He was nearly impossible to read. He let her words die out, waited a moment. He responded in a flat voice. “Twenty percent, and I will have full jurisdiction on hunting down the Shields. And, I want governorship over cane’s collar.”

Twenty?
Dlella swayed behind the desk, and took a sip of her tea. Qazzi didn’t move.

“Thirty. You’ll have jurisdiction inside my domain, but the hunt for the Shields is an all-city matter. I am cooperating with the other oligarchs. We are pooling resources so we can wipe them out before they regroup.

Nevri underestimated First Sentinel, and she died for her weakness. I will not be that foolish, and neither will you.” She tried to leave no room for disagreement in the tight cadence of her words. But would he fall into line? Qazzi drew his sword and held it up, caressing the blade with his free hand. “Twenty-five, and you will make it clear to the oligarchs that it is my blade that will take First Sentinel’s heart.”

He wasn’t threatening her. Or so she hoped. Qazzi regarded First Sentinel as the last great prey, the only one who had escaped him. He’d already killed one of the Aegises, but he’d never been able to keep the Shields’ aged leader in his grasp. First Sentinel was a reminder that Qazzi could fail. For such a cunning warrior, Qazzi exposed some weakness quite easily.

“Done. I’ll have the paperwork for the particulars sent to your office.” She imagined that if she made him do the busywork himself he’d likely just stab it and send it back in pieces. He was a warrior, not a bureaucrat. But he was a leader, and had some of the city’s finest killers on his payroll. And if she was going to be the executor, she needed to follow the proper channels, so that the foreign trade partners would acknowledge her. There’d be time to reshape the corporation soon enough.

“Watch your back, Dlella. Their desperation gives them strength. We will not play like Nevri did. This is war, and we will leave no survivors.” Qazzi sheathed his blade, then turned and walked out the door.

Former rivals for subordinates, former enemies for allies, and former annoyances for arch-enemies. Dlella’s had become an interesting life. She resumed her slithering route with a smile.