Tomorrow, the Killing

9

I wasn’t expecting to come back to the Earl and find Hroudland and Rabbit waiting for me at the bar. If I had, I probably wouldn’t have showed – I’d have found my way to the docks, lit up a twist and hoped for a breeze.

They were the only people in there, the rest of the coterie out for the morning, trying to take care of a day’s worth of errands before the sun made travel too uncomfortable. That meant I wouldn’t be able to count on Adolphus’s muscle if things went sour – but it also meant I didn’t have to bother with any pretense of amiability. ‘What the fuck do you want?’

Rabbit belched out a giggle, and Hroudland answered me with an easy lilt to his voice. ‘You know, Lieutenant, there’s really no need to begin the conversation in such a combative fashion.’

‘I suppose that’s something else we’ll need to disagree on.’ I rolled up a cigarette. The flare of the match was an unnecessary aggravation in the heat. ‘Let me make it easy on you, because I know dialogue isn’t your strong point. Adolphus ain’t here.’

‘Not looking for Adolphus,’ Rabbit piped in, a smile swelling his lips, looking for all the world like a child spoiled with a secret. ‘We’re here for you.’

‘Why, Rabbit, is that you over there? You cheeky devil, hiding in the back, so quiet I’d never even notice! And then you start dribbling nonsense and ruin the whole effect! You don’t want to see me, Rabbit, because I don’t want to see you. I was fairly clear on that point, last time we spoke.’

Rabbit laughed again, laughed and blushed, and Hroudland took over the reins. ‘The big man wants a word with you.’

‘I’m not sure who you’re referring to.’

‘Commander Joachim Pretories.’

‘Is he really what you’d call big? Guess we’ve got a different sense of scale.’

‘I don’t want to argue with you, Lieutenant.’

‘Well, I’m in no mood to dance, Hroudland – and since you don’t want to argue and I don’t want to dance, I’m not sure what’s left for us.’

‘The commander just wants a few minutes of your time. Surely that’s not such a sacrifice.’

‘You haven’t factored in the opportunity costs – a few minutes of my time is like a decade to you or Rabbit. Who knows all the extraordinary things I could do with a half hour? Write a sonnet maybe, or find a cure for the flux.’ I shook my head. ‘If you think about it that way, it’s actually quite a lot that you’re asking – more than I feel like offering.’

‘The commander said I was to insist.’

‘He said you were to insist now, did he? You hear that, Rabbit? The two of you are supposed to insist.’

‘That’s what the captain said,’ Rabbit agreed.

‘That’s what he said all right.’ I stubbed out my smoke. ‘You so sure you could compel my attendance?’

‘No,’ Hroudland said. ‘Not at all. Which is why I’m hoping you’ll do the smart thing, and come for a little walk with us, rather than push this into a direction it doesn’t need to go.’

That was in fact the smart thing to do, even if it was Hroudland saying it. And if Hroudland wasn’t sure he and Rabbit could force my attendance, I wasn’t sure they couldn’t. And it would be a damn stupid thing to die over, because I felt like taking the weather out on two men I vaguely disliked.

‘You’ll buy me an ice on the way over, Rabbit?’

Rabbit laughed, the same as he had with death thick in the air. ‘Lieutenant wants to know if I’ll buy him a ice!’

Rabbit was an easy audience. It was one of his few positive qualities.

The Association for the Advancement of the Veterans of the Great War – or the Veterans’ Association if you were a fan of brevity, or simply the Association if you were really obsessed with the concept – was an institution claiming to represent those unfortunate souls who had found themselves manning the trenches during the Empire’s last foray into mass suicide. It was founded by Roland Montgomery six months after the Humbling of Donknacht loosed a quarter of a million former soldiers back upon the homeland they had killed to protect. When Roland died two years later, it had been taken over by his long-time second, Joachim Pretories, and he’d spent the interim turning it into a respectable political power. For all its pretensions it was a typical corporate entity, nominally advocating for the rights and privileges of its members, in practice cadging for the few lucky souls at the top.

For a while it had been something else. But then things used to be different all over, back in the day.

They headquartered in an old banking house in Offbend, a few stones’ throw from the Old City, or one really good throw for those well practiced in throwing stones. It was a beautiful structure, four floors of white brick on a cobblestone square. A wooden platform had been erected in the middle of the arcade, a focal point for their frequent rallies. A handful of men stood stiffly outside the entrance, their attempts at loitering spoiled by too many years in the ranks. They nodded at my escort and allowed us inside.

‘I’ll tell the commander you’re here,’ Hroudland said, disappearing into the back. I took the time to inspect my surroundings.

The entrance hall was big enough to hold a few hundred people, though at present there were barely a dozen occupying it – apart from me and Rabbit, there were a handful of men seated at a long wooden table, waiting to cater to the needs of paying members. Trophies of our conflict hung on the wall, captured pennants and Dren weaponry, tapestries depicting major battles. I spent a moment inspecting these last, though I had trouble recognizing myself in the ranks of proud spearmen chasing the fleeing enemy into the distance, or in the mounted officers leading the charge. Hung over a huge fireplace was a portrait of the Association’s founder, staring down at his children, blue eyes stern but supportive.

His father’s name could have earned him a spot away from the front line and the dangers of combat, but that hadn’t been Roland’s way. Indeed, no promotion seemed sufficient to force him back from the front. By the time I’d met him he was well on his way from man to myth, and if the first had ended three years after the armistice, face down in the Low Town mud, the second had only continued to grow. A decade on and his was still a name to conjure with amongst anyone who’d ever served in the ranks.

Hroudland opened the back door and waved at us. Rabbit and I followed him down a narrow corridor, up a flight of stairs and past several more watchmen, stopping in front of the commander’s quarters. ‘Through here,’ Hroudland said. ‘When you’re done we’ll take you back to your bar.’

‘Rough neighborhood like this, I need someone to protect my virtue.’

Hroudland shook his head, glad to have me off his hands. He opened the door and I headed inside.

Soldiering is not a profession that lends itself toward the glorification of violence, nor of those who practice it. The flux kills more men in an hour than the most skilled warrior could account for in the entirety of his bloody existence, and no amount of bravery or strength is proof against a stray artillery shot. Afterward, trying to impress a girl in a tavern, you might spin a yarn about some squadmate who could down a dozen Dren single-handed, might even say that squadmate was you. But at the time, while it mattered, you knew all that was nonsense. One sword doesn’t swing the outcome of a battle – there were too damn many of us for any particular individual to play much import. A man was either solid – which was to say if he was next in line when you went over the top, you didn’t check to make sure he followed – or he wasn’t, in which case you hoped he’d die soon and leave the rest of the squad his rations. Anything beyond that was fodder for the broadsheets back home.

Even so, Pretories had acquired a reputation not simply for being a solid man, but an excellent one. I could remember Roland waxing poetic as to the number of times his life had been saved by the uncanny ability of his second-in-command that he feared for nothing so long as Joachim Pretories stood behind him. But then, Roland had said a lot of things.

Credit due, Joachim had kept himself together, a trim forty, the touch of gray in his hair offering an appropriate note of distinction. Of course that didn’t mean the core hadn’t rotted. Ten years playing politics is like five spent smoking wyrm, and though the grip he held out to me was attached to a sizable bicep, he had the smile of a man who grinned for a living.

‘Lieutenant, good to see you again,’ he said, walking me to his desk. ‘Would you like some whiskey?’

‘I’ve recently turned teetotal.’

‘Water?’

‘I’ve sworn that off as well.’

He took a seat across from me and poured a few fingers of liquor into his own glass. ‘Hroudland said you weren’t happy to have the boys round your place.’

‘But you called me anyway. Guess that makes you a real glutton for punishment.’

‘I’ve been called worse.’

‘I’m sure that hurt your feelings. What is it you want me for, Colonel?’

‘Commander,’ he corrected.

‘I didn’t realize the Crown promoted decommissioned soldiers.’

‘I’m the Supreme Commander of the Great War Veterans’ Association, by the will of my brother soldiers.’

‘I voted myself Emperor of Miradin, but ain’t no one sending me any rents.’

‘I’m having trouble figuring where this animosity comes from – I hadn’t thought I’d done you any particular harm.’

‘The world has been cruel to me, Joachim – I take it out on whomever I can.’

He backed off my abuse with a laugh, more evidence he’d turned politician. The man I’d known would have dropped me over half of what I’d offered. Or tried to. ‘I’d hoped we could keep this conversation civil, but as it seems you’re too busy for simple courtesy, I’ll get right to the meat of it.’ He poured whiskey through a forced grin, then set the glass back down on the table. ‘Rhaine Montgomery,’ he said.

Cold fingers ran up the base of my back, but they didn’t show on my face. ‘You’ll need to add a verb for that to count as a full sentence.’

‘I’m told she’s in Low Town.’

‘Were you?’

‘And I’m told you’re looking for her.’

‘You’re well informed.’

‘Look, Lieutenant, there’s no reason for you to play coy. I know that the general asked you to try and find his daughter and persuade her to come home. I know this because he told me. He told me because we’ve known each other most of my life, because his son was the closest friend I’ve ever had and the best man there ever was. We all want the same thing here.’

‘Which is?’

‘Rhaine out of Low Town. Back home, in Kor’s Heights. Safe and free of trouble.’

That was certainly what I wanted, though I was unprepared to speak for anyone else. ‘Who’d make trouble for her?’

‘The world is a dangerous place.’

‘I sometimes have that inkling.’

‘Rhaine is . . . an impressive young woman. But she’s out of her element, as would be obvious to any cutpurse who happens upon her.’

‘So you’re concerned that she might be mugged on the way to market?’

‘This conversation would go much quicker if you stopped pretending to be a fool. Roland Montgomery was murdered by powerful men, men who feared his crusade would bring them to ruin. I don’t imagine they’ve forsworn violence in the twelve years since his death, and I’m quite certain they’d happily send Rhaine to meet her brother, rather than see her make them any trouble.’

‘On that at least, we very much agree.’

He nodded firmly. ‘I called you here today to let you know that the Association stands ready to assist you in your task.’

‘And what exactly is it you think you can help me with?’

‘Have you met Rhaine?’

No point in being honest. ‘I haven’t yet had the pleasure.’

‘She can be rather . . . single-minded in her thinking.’

‘I’m getting that impression.’

‘The point being, if you do find her, I’m not at all certain she’ll listen to what you have to say. And if she doesn’t, if you can’t get her home, I’d like you to come back and tell me.’

‘What would you do that I couldn’t?’

‘We’re not entirely lacking numbers. The very least I can do is detail a few men to look after her. The greatest tragedy of my life was my failure to keep Roland safe. By the Firstborn and all his kin, I won’t make the same mistake with Rhaine.’

Prevarication is not an easy thing to do competently, for all that most of us get plenty of practice. We blink, look away, scuff at suddenly discovered flecks of grime. And that’s just with little things – ‘I was at the bar with Seinfreid all last night. I’ll have those five coppers for you tomorrow.’ Try lying for your life sometime, feel how tight your collar wraps around your throat, that desperate itch on the palms of your hands. Even people who are professionally dishonest usually don’t have any particular talent for it, getting by on balls and vigor.

To do it right, I mean to do it really well, you’ve gotta believe. You’ve gotta wrap your arms around it, hold it with both hands, take it as a lover. You’ve gotta build the rest of yourself around this false core, till it’s as automatic as breathing. Till if someone shook you awake in the middle of the night your first words would confirm white as black. Credit where it’s due, Pretories had it down to a two-step. If I hadn’t known otherwise, I’d have trusted him. It was impressive, in a certain amoral way.

But then, I wasn’t exactly an amateur when it came to deceit. ‘If it’s all the same, I think I’d like that glass of whiskey now,’ I said.

‘Of course,’ he smiled, and poured me a few fingers.

I drank it slowly, making a show of my concern. ‘I didn’t want this gig, Commander,’ I said.

He nodded sympathetically.

‘I’ve got my own work in front of me, and it doesn’t include sprinting after a self-destructive heiress.’

‘I don’t imagine.’

‘But the general needed something from me, and I told him I’d do what I could.’

‘You’re an honorable man.’

The bullshit was waist high and rising. ‘The point being, I’m happy to let someone more competent take over, if I thought they could handle it.’

‘Go on.’

‘I’ve made some inquiries into Rhaine’s whereabouts.’

‘And?’

‘Nothing yet, but something will shake out. In truth, I don’t imagine finding her to be the problem. Convincing her to return – or protecting her if she won’t go – that’s going to be the sticky part. And I wouldn’t turn up my nose at help, if it comes to that.’

‘We’ll be here to offer it,’ he said, shaking my hand firmly and leading me to the door.

I stopped in the front hall for a moment, preparing to face the heat and staring up at Roland’s portrait. It was life-sized, but somehow I remembered him as being bigger. One of the men milling about noticed my attention, propped himself up from where he’d been sitting, and approached me. No easy task, as he was amidst that unfortunate but sadly not uncommon coterie of veterans that had come back from Nestria with less body than they’d left. He took the hat off his head with the hand that wasn’t crippled and held it to his chest. ‘Hell of a man, wasn’t he?’

I rolled my eyes and hurried out.