The Palace Job (9 page)

"Yeah, I figured that—whoah, hey, afternoon, there!"

Merigan of Woodsedge lay on a bed of soft grass near a sparkling pond in the middle of a clearing. He was flushed, drowsy eyed, and about half dressed. "I'm sorry!" he said, pulling his pants up. "I was..."

Loch smiled at Merigan. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Mayor Merigan. The lady who was with you..."

"I, um, er..." said the young mayor of Woodsedge.

"Virgins, huh?" Kail asked. "So that's not just a myth?"

"Be at peace," Loch said as Merigan finished dressing. "We're friends. I know that she spoke in your mind, and in your dreams."

Merigan coughed. "She said that she had to leave, that our time together was precious, but she was as the last melting snow of winter, flowing away in the river of —"

"Did she head off in any particular direction?" Kail asked. Merigan pointed.

"Damn it, she should still be back there with him," Loch muttered as they hiked deeper into the woods. "She
never
leaves that quickly."

"Well," Kail said behind her, "if it was Merigan's first time, it might not have taken that long."

"Thank you, Kail."

"That's the thing about guys that age. They can pretty much—"

"Thank you,
Kail." Loch found another small animal trail. "She couldn't have gotten far."

"Broken branches over there," Kail added. "Big ones. Must be getting close to ogre territory. I hope they're still feeling peaceful."

Then they came into a clearing, and both Loch and Kail were silent.

Our time together was precious,
said the pale ogre female with the glowing horn to the young ogre male who'd thrown the fight,
but I am as the last melting snow of winter, flowing away in the river of spring.
Loch heard the words clearly in her head, which was disconcerting.

She'd take any distraction she could get at the moment, though, given that neither of the ogres were wearing a stitch of clothing.

The young male ogre grunted something in response. Loch and Kail backed away.

"So... also a virgin," Kail said after a moment, leaning against a tree.

"I'm trying really hard not to think about it."

"Weird how her voice just pops right into your head, though."

"Definitely." Loch found a good place to sit. "From what I've read, the horn isn't really a solid bit of bone. It's magical energy. Did you see how it shimmered?"

"Sorry, Captain, I couldn't see anything but naked ogre private bits."

Loch sighed and went back to trying to get the image out of her head.

A few minutes later, the unicorn trotted into the small clearing where they waited. The air shimmered around it, and a moment later, it was a small, slender woman with ash-blond hair and the same rainbow-shimmering horn set in her pale forehead.

She saw Loch and gasped. "Little One!" Her horn shone in delight, and she pulled Loch into a warm hug.

"It's Loch, for the moment," Loch muttered, hugging Ululenia back.

"Little One?" Kail asked.

"She did some work for my father," Loch said. "Helped make the river flow cleanly again."

"Little One?"

"We've got a job, Ululenia," Loch cut in. "We could use a shapeshifter, and I thought of you."

"Whatever you did to Jerl's mind could be helpful, too," Kail added.

"Does this job benefit the untamed realms of nature?" Ululenia asked.

"It's going to pay
really
well," Kail said after a moment. "Well enough to buy a lot of nature for yourself."

Ululenia frowned. "Is there any chance that young muscular virgins will be involved?"

Loch's lips quirked into a grin. "I can probably arrange that."

"Wonderful," Ululenia said with a warm smile, her rainbow horn flaring in the middle of her pale brow. "When do we start?"

In the town of Ros-Aelafuir, a pair of scruffy men in nondescript clothing looked at the town jail, which had a large hole in one wall. The town's former sheriff was being held in the basement until the jail was repaired.

"And nobody cleared it with the local contacts?"

"Nope."

Riffe exhaled slowly. He hated small towns. "Did you get a description?"

"Yep." After a short silence, Ketch, the local contact, coughed and said, "Mousy girl and an Imperial fellow. They didn't register."

A mousy girl and an Imperial. While that might be traceable, it didn't put Riffe in a good mood. "Can you give me anything else to take back to the boss?"

There was a thoughtful pause. Or, Riffe suspected, simply a pause.

"Mousy girl and the Imperial met up with a pair of Urujar outside town," Ketch finally added. "And the Urujar
did
register."

"Perhaps," Riffe suggested slowly, "you could get me their names."

"I could look," Ketch said grudgingly.

"I'd really appreciate it," Rife said with infinite patience. Ketch stalked off, leaving Riffe to look at the hole in the wall.

Jyelle had passed the word for regional directors to watch for a pair of Urujar right after the news of the Cleaners breakout had come around. She'd been furious. Evidently they'd crossed Jyelle a few years ago. Riffe tried not to think about such things. He prided himself on fast hands, keen eyes, and a complete disregard for matters worth killing people over.

Riffe's keen eyes noticed something in the shadows near the wall. Dust from the wall's shattered frame skittered and sprayed whenever the wind blew, but in the dull afternoon light, it looked like the dust was billowing
around
something. Something that wasn't really there. Maybe magic.

Jyelle didn't pay him enough for this. Rife stepped back, but the wind gusted again, and this time the dust billowed around something closer, a shape moving
toward
him.

He turned to run.

The blade went cleanly across his throat.

Four

Father Bertrus was surprised when the clergyman's weekly game of
suf-gesuf
picked up a new addition, but not disappointed. Sister Desidora was a pretty woman whose short-cropped auburn hair framed a cheerful face tanned from travel. Her olive-green robes were unadorned, but that was only prudent in these troubled times.

Of greater note was the warhammer that rode on her hip, catching the light with a glittering sparkle. Where an ordinary warhammer looked much like a long-handled carpenter's hammer, this great weapon had a thick silver hilt inlaid with rivulets of tiny rubies, and a massive double-hammer head of solid platinum, banded with strips of rune-carved gold just behind the head. Desidora claimed it as a religious artifact of her order, a weapon of the ancients that she was carrying to a border shrine.

So taken was Father Bertrus by the pretty woman that he neglected to ask which deity she worshipped, and by the time he realized it, he was too embarrassed to ask. The other priests had already shown up by then, big bluff Cordagar who headed the sparring shrine of Io-fergajar, stout old Hesna who oversaw the birth-houses of Jairyur, and even rangy old Sholrin who tended the local forge of Pesyr. They accepted the new addition with courtesy (and gentle flirting on Sholrin's part) and asked for news.

"I 1
prop Ghylspwr up here, if no one minds," Desidora said as the others drifted toward the
suf-gesuf
table. Then, with a smile, she added, "I assume that a temple of Ael-meseth is safe enough that I need not request a storeroom?"

Bertrus chuckled. "We do imbibe a bit, Sister, but rarely are we rendered insensate. And should anyone trouble us here, I should note that these humble chambers lie directly over the temple vault. A number of strapping acolytes will ensure our protection."

The chambers were, in fact, opulently decorated, as the Republic had been kind to Ael-meseth in general and Father Bertrus in particular. The table was inlaid with elaborate copper swirls that formed fanciful patterns of dragons and griffons cavorting, and every cup in the room was made of gold.

Desidora laughed, and Bertrus dealt the first hand. Cordagar raised without even looking at his hidden cards, as was his tradition, while Hesna traded in one hidden card and two of her showing cards. Sholrin examined his hidden cards carefully and eventually kept what he had. It was the new priestess's turn, and she frowned at her cards for a long moment.

"I'm so sorry," she said, embarrassed. "I haven't played in... Perhaps I should fold and observe the first hand—"

"Kutesosh gajair'is!"
shouted the warhammer.

"Oh, hush!" she called back. "I'm trying to relax!"

"The artifact speaks?" Sholrin looked at the silver warhammer with newfound respect.

"That's up for some debate," Desidora said wryly. "It may have held the mind of an ancient sage in centuries past, but now it merely spouts gibberish." She shook her head.

The others agreed that the gifts of the ancients and the gods were sometimes confusing, and Desidora did eventually decide to stay in. It turned out to be lucky that she did, as she neatly swept the hand.

Bertrus was quietly troubled. Sentient magic was rare and often dangerous. When the ancient lands had been tamed by the Old Kingdom colonies that would later form the Republic, many artifacts had been destroyed; it was said that the founders nearly destroyed Heaven's Spire itself rather than take it as the home of the Voyancy.

They played several hands without incident. Desidora was better at
suf-gesuf
than she had implied, and Bertrus wondered if perhaps she was a wandering priestess of Gedesar. They'd been visited by one of the thief-priests once. Cordagar had nearly killed the little swindler.

"What news have I missed in my travels?" Desidora asked. "I heard there was some trouble on the Spire—something to do with escaped prisoners?"

"That was last week," Sholrin muttered while flipping the cards out to each of them. They all paused to check their hidden cards. "The news up there these days is about the Glimmering Folk."

"Really? How exciting! I'll raise twenty, I think," she said dismissively, then smiled in interest. "Have the Glimmering Folk returned, then?"

"Kun-kabynalti osu fuir'is!"
shouted Ghylspwr from his corner of Bertrus's opulent chamber.

"Quiet, you!" Desidora shook her head. "Oh, is the three of swords a shared card or one of Sholrin's open cards? I thought it was shared. In that case, I shall fold this hand."

"They have not returned in great numbers," Hesna said, while Sholrin caught Bertrus's eye with a knowing smirk. "One of their lords, Bi'ul, has come from the shining realms to meet with the Voyancy, though."

They finished the hand, and Cordagar took it neatly. They played another round in silence, with Sholrin and Bertrus watching and Hesna slowly catching on. "It seems that I have been out of touch with the reports," Desidora admitted. "My order has little dealing with the Voyancy, while it seems that you four are
quite
in the Voyancy's favor."

"Men who serve the spirits must also serve the material world." Bertrus smiled. "And the Republic is a great nation, Sister. In the Empire to the east, only those of the proper caste may rule, while here, any man—or woman," he added with a tolerant smile, "may rise as far as his ability takes him, regardless of his birth."

"How surprising, then, that all twelve of the Voyants come from noble houses," Desidora murmured, looking at her cards. "I will stand."

"Kutesosh gajair'is!"

"Actually, this should be my last hand," Desidora said quickly. "I might as well make it memorable. I will raise forty."

Sholrin grinned widely. "It is not the fault of the Voyants that they are best suited to lead. Indeed, their training in the noble houses likely gave them excellent preparation for politics. Or would you have unlettered laborers deciding the course of the Republic?"

"I simply do not see how the Eastern Empire's caste system is so different," said Desidora, "if both result in rich men ruling poor men. This Lord Bi'ul of the Glimmering Folk, is he meeting the people on the ground, or is he up on the Spire, with the wealthy heirs of the old kingdom?"