Sins of Empire

Chapter 47

“I don’t know how you’re doing it,” Vlora said, “and I don’t want to know. But I won’t talk to you while you’re wearing someone else’s face.”

She sat across from Tampo in the hackney cab, studying the unfamiliar face. This was Taniel; she knew it was. She should have known the moment they talked last week in the Yellow Hall but that face was too different and strange.

Over the years she’d seen sorcery the likes of which most Privileged could only dream, but she’d never witnessed anything like this. Her skin crawled, stomach turning. She should have been able to sense a fellow powder mage. She should have been able to feel the sorcery that hid his face in the Else.

She could do neither.

“Vlora,” Tampo began in a gentle, reprimanding tone of voice that she’d heard a thousand times when they were teenage lovers.

“I’m serious,” she snapped, trying not to throw up.

Tampo snorted, turning toward the window. “This isn’t like putting on a mask,” he said. “It takes hours to put back.”

“I don’t care.”

“Damn it, Vlora…” Several moments passed before he finally put his face in his hands and drew them downward, like a man washing his face in the basin first thing in the morning. When his fingers withdrew his face had altered, a series of subtle changes to his eyes, cheekbones, chin, and nose that left him a different man; Taniel Two-shot, hero of the Fatrastan Revolution and Adran-Kez War. Godkiller.

Vlora opened the cab door and vomited onto the passing cobbles.

She straightened, wiping her mouth, the taste of bile on her tongue, then ran a hand through her hair to find she was sweating horribly. That’s out of the way, she told herself. You’ve seen strange things before. Why does this bother you so much? She forced herself to examine Taniel closely, searching his face. This was definitely him.

“You haven’t aged,” she said.

“A side effect of Ka-poel’s sorcery,” Taniel said.

Taniel drew a pair of black gloves from his pocket and pulled them on over his fingers, drawing Vlora’s attention to his left hand. The hand must have also been hidden behind this glamouring sorcery, because it was now smooth and hairless, the skin the color of fresh blood. Vlora snorted, hardly allowing herself to be surprised. “You’re the Red Hand?” she asked.

Taniel gave her a wan smile.

With all the strangeness Vlora had just witnessed, she found herself especially drawn to the red skin. “How did that happen?”

Taniel put his hands in his pocket, pulling a sour face. “Also a side effect of Ka-poel’s sorcery. I had a run-in with a very powerful Privileged. He almost won. The kickback from Ka-poel’s protection turned him into a smear of blood and dyed my skin red. No idea why.” He touched his elbow. “Goes all the way up to here.”

Vlora shook her head in wonder. Taniel Two-shot was both the Red Hand and Gregious Tampo? A million questions went through her head, so many different things she wanted to say that it made her dizzy. Yet when she tried to speak, nothing important came out. “You’ve been busy.”

“You could say that,” Taniel agreed.

“So what? Are you immortal now?”

“Not that I’d like to find out.” He pulled down the collar of his suit to show a healed scar beneath his neck. “Getting shot still hurts.”

“Glad to hear some things never change, even when you ascend to… whatever it is you’ve become.”

Taniel frowned, looking back out the window and not responding. She could see the emotions leaping across his face, his lips twisting as he opened his mouth to speak, thought better of it, then tried to do so again with the same results. Vlora wanted nothing more than to reach across the space between them and punch him right between the eyes.

She managed to restrain herself. “You’re a son of a bitch, you know that?” From the startled look on his face, that wasn’t exactly what he was expecting her to say. She continued: “That shit you pulled on me in the Yellow Hall. Yapping at me from behind another’s eyes about our past. Telling me that the Palo hated me because they loved you so much.”

“None of that was a lie,” Taniel said.

“That doesn’t make it any less of a shitty thing to bring up after ten years.”

Taniel rolled his tongue around in his cheek. “I’ll admit, there was some old anger there.”

“Get over it,” Vlora said. “You’re supposed to be dead. And now I find you here, half a world away, up to your neck in… I have no idea what you’re up to your neck in. But I’ve been working for Lindet for over a year and a little warning would have been nice. I’ve been hunting the Red Hand. It would have been nice to know it was you!”

“You’ve been working for Lindet killing the people I’m trying to protect.”

“So I’m your enemy?”

Taniel pursed his lips.

Vlora went on. “You’re a Palo now, then?”

“My wife is.”

Vlora snorted. “Ka-poel – I assume you mean Ka-Poel – is Dynize. I remember that much. I’ve still got your letters. Been using them to navigate this stupid place and…” She let out a sudden laugh, unable to help herself. The irony of using Taniel’s letters to aid in her campaign against people he was fighting for was just too much. She got herself under control, trying to get her mind to focus. A million questions, but only some of them were truly important. “The Palo getting organized. All the grief and worry they’ve been causing Lindet. That was you and Ka-poel?”

“Most of it,” Taniel admitted. “And Pole considers herself Palo. She was raised here, you know.”

“If that was the two of you, why didn’t I run into more resistance when my Riflejacks were putting down uprisings in the swamps? Even you could organize the rabble better than what we faced.”

If Taniel noticed the backhanded compliment, he did not acknowledge it. “By my count, there are over seven hundred Palo tribes stretched across the whole of Fatrasta. Probably more that we don’t even know about. Uniting them is a giant pain in the ass. We barely have a line of communication to those out in the Tristan Basin, let alone the wilds beyond them.”

“Just enough to get them riled up, eh?”

“Not intentionally,” Taniel said.

One question down. “All right, so that wasn’t you out in the Basin. Then what the pit are you doing here? You say you’re protecting the Palo? Uniting them? Why?”

“To give them a fighting chance against the Kressian incursion.”

“You are Kressian,” Vlora said. She could hear the anger in Taniel’s words, and she felt her own rise to match it.

“I’m dead, remember?” Taniel said. “Besides, the Palo need all the help they can get. They’re not stupid. They’re not lacking in courage. They just don’t have the training to stand up against Lindet.”

“So you’re fomenting a revolution?”

Taniel’s face twisted. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“Indulge me.”

“First of all, Lindet is brilliant, and I don’t use that word lightly. In terms of planning, she’s on par with my father.”

“Everyone knows she’s smart,” Vlora conceded.

“No. She’s brilliant. She has all of Field Marshal Tamas’s ability to plan and none of his moral qualms.”

“Tamas had moral qualms?” Vlora asked, half-joking.

“Compared to Lindet? Yes.”

“You’re Taniel-bloody-Two-shot. Why don’t you just put a bullet in her head and be done with it?”

“That’s what makes this complicated,” Taniel said. “Lindet has contingencies for everything, including powder mages. She’s accompanied by at least two Privileged at all times. Yes, I probably could kill her with Ka-poel’s help, even though she’s also got contingencies against blood magic. But this country is a tower of cards, and killing Lindet will make the entire thing fall down – she’s made certain of that.”

“I thought you’re only worried about the Palo.”

Taniel made a frustrated sound. “I’m worried about Fatrasta, both the Palo and the Kressians. The fates of everyone who lives here are tied together. I won’t cut off my nose to spite my face. Ka-poel and I have spent the last five years trying to figure out how to remove Lindet from power and the best we’ve come up with is outright revolution.”

“And here I thought you were trying a peaceful route,” Vlora said sarcastically. She wasn’t sure what to make of this – any of it – but she didn’t like it. It seemed almost funny that ten years ago she would have been on board with a coup in a heartbeat. She would have been idealistic, hopeful, determined – just like Taniel sounded. She was the one who’d changed, not him. No, not funny, she decided. Terrifying.

“I am,” Taniel insisted. “Mostly. Uniting the Palo is the first step to a peaceful revolution. Our goal is to force Lindet into a corner. I’ve studied her moves for the last twelve years and I readily admit she’s smarter than me. But I’m not an idiot, either. I can see patterns. Everything she does is for Fatrasta. Not the people, or the country, but the concept. She wants this country to work and so far it’s done so by her will alone. If the whole of Fatrasta turns against her, she will abdicate.”

Vlora was not convinced. Something was bothering her about this whole exchange, and she couldn’t quite figure out what. “Was Mama Palo one of yours?” she asked.

“She was,” Taniel said.

“You let her die.”

Taniel’s eyes tightened. “Technically, you killed her.” He paused, blowing out softly through his nostrils. “I did not see you coming. Four powder mages accompanied by a Palo guide, right into the center of the Depths? That was ballsy, even for you. I would have stopped you if I had known it was coming.”

“You could have rescued her from the gallows.”

“To what end?” Taniel asked.

“To save an old lady’s life! To rescue the one person who’s been uniting the Palo against Lindet! To stop the Blackhats from having another victory. To…” Vlora trailed off, suddenly angry with Taniel for his lack of action, and angry with herself for being complicit in Mama Palo’s death. Taniel tilted his head to one side, and Vlora narrowed her eyes. “What?”

“The old woman who died wasn’t Mama Palo.”

Vlora opened her mouth, then closed it again. “You… son of a bitch, it’s Ka-poel, isn’t it?”

“Of course it is. The old woman who went to the gallows was named Cherin-tes. She’s been a figurehead from the very beginning, and she knew it. And before you call me a monster for letting her die, a sickness in her blood would have seen her dead within the year anyway. She knew the risks.”

“And Mama Palo?”

“It’ll take Lindet a couple of months, but she’ll eventually figure out that she missed.”

“That I missed,” Vlora corrected.

“Yup.”

Vlora scowled. She didn’t like the idea of leaving town and having rumors spread over the winter that she’d botched a job. It would be terrible for the Riflejacks’ reputation. The intangible thing in the back of her mind was still bugging her. It was floating just outside her awareness, like a moth tapping against a windowpane. Suddenly, she reached out and snagged it. “The Dynize,” she said. “Meln-Dun. The dragonmen. What’s the connection?”

For the first time since their cab ride began, Taniel’s face went stony, his eyes narrowing. “That’s something entirely different,” he said quietly.

“Is it a problem for you?”

“The Dynize are clever. They’ve been very subtle about their infiltration of the Depths. We’ve been watching them, keeping our distance, but if I’ve put the pieces together right, and Meln-Dun tricked you into helping him remove Mama Palo…”

“He did,” Vlora growled.

“… and Meln-Dun has some sort of deal with the Dynize…”

“Seems little doubt of that,” Vlora interjected.

“… then Ka-poel and I are going to move against them soon.”

Vlora did not envy the Dynize who would be caught up in that purge. She knew what Ka-poel was capable of when she was angry, and if the sorcery disguising Taniel was any indication, she’d progressed even further since then. “Why are they here?” Vlora asked.

“We don’t know.”

“You don’t know, or you won’t tell me?”

“Both. We have our suspicions, but…”

Vlora waited for him to finish the sentence. He didn’t. “You don’t trust me,” she finally said.

“You’re working for Lindet.”

“You just told me a lot more damning information than a few suspicions over Dynize spies.”

“Compared to our suspicions, all of this is inconsequential. Besides, nothing I told you could help you fight us. The Blackhats have been trying to catch the Red Hand for years. The only way I survive is by making certain there’s nothing to capture.”

“Taniel Red Hand, huh?”

“Just Red Hand. Taniel’s dead, remember?”

Vlora found herself troubled, wondering what suspicions Taniel could have about the Dynize that were even more sensitive than his war with Lindet. “The Riflejacks don’t work for Lindet anymore.”

Taniel’s eyebrows rose. “Is that so?”

“We handed over Mama Palo. That was our job. I refused further employment.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Taniel said, sounding genuine.

Vlora waited for a few moments, then said, “What are your suspicions?”

Taniel gave her a tight smile. “How would you like a job?”

The question shouldn’t have taken Vlora off guard, but it did. She reeled mentally, taking a deep breath and leaning back in her seat to get her wits about her. She’d made up her mind to leave Fatrasta, maybe forever, and she was ready to board a ship by the end of the week. “What kind of a job?”

“I’m not sure yet. I might need an army sometime in the next couple of years. I could put you and the Riflejacks on retainer and have you wait around up north. Could come in handy.”

It sounded like a mercenary’s dream job. Be paid to wait around for pending orders. They wouldn’t have to keep up appearances, manage a garrison, or anything. Her men wouldn’t like the prospect of staying away from home for another two years – but they’d love the freedom of terrorizing the brothels and pubs of northern Fatrasta on someone else’s krana.

“We’re planning on heading home,” Vlora said. She could hear the hesitance in her own voice, and Taniel pounced on it.

“I’ll pay you whatever Lindet was paying you.”

“You’ve got money?”

“Remember how we agreed to split the inheritance after the war? You got the domestic holdings, I got the foreign ones?”

“Yes,” Vlora said slowly. She could have kept it all if she wanted. Despite their falling-out during the war, she was still Field Marshal Tamas’s adopted daughter – and Taniel was technically dead. Legally, everything Tamas had before his death belonged to her.

“Did you ever bother to check those accounts?” Taniel asked.

“Not that I recall.”

“Tamas was fabulously wealthy. He was the king’s favorite for most of his life and didn’t so much as buy himself a drink if he didn’t have to. His foreign holdings could have bought him a sultanate in Gurla.”

“Wish I’d known that before I became a damned mercenary commander,” Vlora muttered. She ran through the logistics in her head, already drifting toward the problem of keeping her men sharp while on a sort of permanent leave, and avoiding Lindet’s questions. Northern Fatrasta might be like a whole different country, but it was still ruled by Lindet. But there was one thing stopping her. “I can’t,” she finally said.

Taniel had the temerity to look hurt. “Why not?”

“I’m not getting involved in another revolution.”

“It’s not going to be a coup.”

“I don’t care,” Vlora said. “A revolution is a revolution, and I’ve got no interest. I’ve seen the outcome of good intentions, and I’m not going to put either myself or my soldiers through any of it.”

Taniel frowned, looking pensively at his gloved hands for some time. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

The two of them sat in silence, eyes locked, studying each other. Vlora wondered what he was hiding – what he wasn’t telling her. What did he know about the Dynize and the Palo and Lindet? What were his plans? Taniel had never been ambitious, and beyond the defense of Adro she had never witnessed him involved in a cause to which he was truly committed. To what lengths would he go to reach his goals? More important, what were Ka-poel’s goals and motives in all of this?

A dozen more questions sat on the tip of her tongue, and a dozen times as many fears. Taniel was unreadable, but at least Vlora had once known him intimately; she might be able to foresee his intentions. Ka-poel was the truly terrifying one of the pair – both for her power, and her unpredictability.

Why were they here, struggling on behalf of a people who could not win a fight they did not want? Vlora guessed that the answer was in the question, that he and Ka-poel were the Palo’s only hope. But was there something more?

Vlora realized suddenly that they hadn’t moved for several minutes. Her throat went dry at the thought, her first instinct to be wary of ambush. “I’d like to return to the fort now.”

Taniel gave a sad nod and thumped on the roof of the cab. “Loel’s Fort,” he commanded.

“Won’t be going anywhere for a while, sir,” the driver responded. “Traffic’s all backed up.”

Vlora stuck her head out the window, looking up and down the street and a long line of cabs, carriages, and wagons. Drivers were shouting at one another, some standing up in their seats to try to see what the holdup was. Urchins darted among the wheels, taking the opportunity to snatch goods out of the back of wagons before retreating to nearby alleyways.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Not sure, ma’am,” the driver said.

Vlora chewed on her bottom lip, reassuring herself that this was a coincidence. It had nothing to do with her or Taniel. It wasn’t a trap of some kind. Her nerves were just strung too tightly. “Where are we?”

“Eastern lip, ma’am. Right above the bay.”

More than two miles’ walk back to Loel’s Fort, and the heat of the afternoon was getting worse.

“I’ll see what’s going on,” Taniel said, getting out of the cab. Vlora got out after him, paying the driver before running to catch up.

“I’m heading back to my men,” she told him. “Olem will need help organizing our travel back to the Nine. You never really realize the logistics of moving a whole brigade until you’re actually in command.”

“Tamas loved that sort of stuff,” Taniel said wistfully. He tapped his cane on the cobbles, frowning up at the rooftops as they wound their way through the crowd. A stiff breeze came in off the ocean, nearly taking Vlora’s hat off. Taniel suddenly stopped and turned to her. “I’m not your enemy,” he said.

“And I’m not yours.” They stared at each other once again. They might not be enemies, Vlora thought to herself, but she couldn’t exactly call them friends.

“I’m glad. Does Olem know I’m still alive?”

“He does.”

“Tell him hello for me. Consult with him, if you’re willing. Reconsider my offer.”

Vlora bit her tongue. She knew that Olem would agree with whatever decision she wound up making. But as much as he hated ships and wouldn’t be looking forward to the voyage home, he had to be aching to see the Nine again. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Thank you,” Taniel said. He smiled to himself. “You know, sometimes I wish I had remained alive. That I’d just retired quietly and gone out into the world. That I could have stayed myself – I could have come back and visited, and Ka-poel and I could have taken dinner with you and Olem at a dockside club in Adro. I wish I could have lived a normal life.”

“I don’t think either of us would have been able to handle a normal life,” Vlora responded.

“No. Probably not. I…” Taniel trailed off.

They’d continued walking, albeit slowly, as they spoke, and the eastern edge of the Landfall Plateau had come into view. A crowd had gathered in the street, all of them pointing and talking excitedly, looking at something down in the docks below.

No, Vlora realized. Not the docks. Farther out, beyond the edge of the bay. She pushed her way to the front of the crowd, craning her neck to see. There was a ship out there, easily half a mile from the shore. It was immense, a ship of the line with three decks of guns on either side and a forecastle that would have rivaled a tenement in height. The gray sails were drawn, and even at this distance she could make out tiny figures scrambling around the deck.

“Why are they stopped so far out?” she asked.

“Look at the flag,” Taniel said flatly, stepping up to her side.

“What about it?” Vlora lifted her eyes, and it took a moment for the wind to catch the flag above the ship’s highest sail, unraveling to reveal a black background with a cluster of red stars arcing across the center. “Oh,” she whispered.

That flag did not belong to Adro or Kez or Brudania, or any of the countries of the Nine. It wasn’t the emblem of a Gurlish province or any colonial power on the world.

It was the flag of the Dynize Empire.

“Take powder,” Taniel said with a note of urgency.

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

Vlora removed a powder charge from her pocket, cutting one end with her thumbnail and snorting a little in each nostril. She rubbed her nose and returned the rest of the charge to her breast pocket. Within moments her senses had sharpened, and she was able to pick out the details of the individuals on board the ship as if they were a few feet away. Men and women scurried across the decks, preparing longboats for lowering. It was strange to see a ship entirely manned by people with the red hair and ashen freckles of the Palo, and she had to remind herself that they weren’t actually Fatrastan natives.

“What am I looking for?” she asked.

“The horizon.”

Vlora lifted her gaze, and what she saw took her breath away. Far out beyond the closest ship, miles and miles from shore where even the best looking glasses would have trouble spotting them at the edge of the horizon, she could see more ships. There were dozens of them, perhaps forty or more, and each was capped by a tiny black and red dot that could only be the Dynize flag.

“Since when do the Dynize leave their home country?” someone beside her asked.

Vlora wet her lips and turned to Taniel, speaking in a low voice. “Since when do the Dynize have a fleet?”

“They don’t,” Taniel said, dumbfounded. “They shouldn’t. This changes everything.”

Vlora was running in a moment, not even bothering to hail a cab as she sprinted down the street, ignoring the shouts that followed her as with powder-enhanced speed she blew past people. She had to get back to the Riflejacks and Olem.

Taniel was right. This changed everything.