Heroes of the Empire, page 16
part #3 of Unari Empire Trilogy Series
Rossum sat in an empty chair next to the desk and filled out the form. He didn’t include anything sensitive, except for one sentence. He wrote “I have been in contact with one of the protest organizers, but have yet to have substantive meeting.” This was a lie, but it was the only thing that might attract the interest of prying eyes. He looked it over and handed it back to Rayom. “Is that it?”
“That’s it,” she said, focusing on the page and starting to tap the code into the transmitter. “It will be in Bolik in a few moments. Do you want confirmation?”
Rossum shook his head and stood. “I’ll just try and find my way out of here.”
Rayom didn’t look up, much less smile, at the joke. “Have a good day, sir.”
It didn’t take Rossum as long to get back to the elevator as he thought. The room had a certain rhythm to it, almost like music. Once you felt it, the comings and goings of the employees made more sense.
He arrived in the corridor to find Dyer stepping off the elevator. “Do you have dinner plans?”
Rossum almost lied and said he did, but thought better of it. “Not yet.”
“Mr. Lewis wondered if you’d like to dine with him again, now that you’ve got a feel for the city.” Dyer folded his hands in front of him, almost like he was praying.
“That would be fine,” Rossum said, wondering what was up. “Same place, I assume? About the same time?”
“Yes,” Dyer said. “Should I send a cab?”
Rossum shook his head. “That won’t be necessary, now that I have a feel for the city.”
~~~~~
This time it was Rossum’s turn to wait. He was expected, at least, and welcomed into the club like a regular member, shown to the small private dining room where he and Lewis had dined before. The high-backed chair was soft and comfortable, and the wine was crisp and being paid for by someone else. There were worse ways to pass the time.
When Lewis finally arrived, it was with furrowed brows and a frustrated expression. “I really must apologize, Mr. Rossum,” he said, eyes settling on the small plate of round pork dumplings on the table.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Rossum said, gesturing for Lewis to sit, like he wasn’t the one who was a member here. “They brought them without my asking. The wine, too. It seemed rude to let them go to waste.”
“Of course, yes,” Lewis said sitting. He took one of the dumplings and sighed. “Still warm.” He popped it in his mouth, closed his eyes, and savored.
Without asking, a waiter came and filled Lewis’s wine glass, then topped off Rossum’s. “The special, sirs?”
Lewis nodded. “As always.” After the waiter left, he said, “In your work, I imagine you spend a lot of time talking to people.”
“Of course,” Rossum said. “I’d like to think I’ve developed some good people skills after all these years.”
“I’m sure you have, but,” Lewis said, pausing for a drink of wine, “do you have any tips to get someone to stop?”
Rossum chuckled. “Stop?”
“My lateness is due to a meeting scheduled at the end of the day. ‘Just fifteen minutes,’ he’d said, ‘that’s all I need.’ An hour later and I was about to start climbing the walls.”
“I’d have thought you had people for that?” Rossum specifically had Dyer in mind, running interference for the boss when time was up.
“Normally, yes, but the end of the day was somewhat hectic, and things did not go according to plan.” He took another drink. “Thus, I apologize for being late.”
“Not a concern,” Rossum said. “I have time.”
“Yes, it seems you do. Tell me, have you learned anything of interest during your time in Cye?”
Rossum immediately thought that Lewis must have read his telegram or, more likely, Dyer read it and gave him the highlights. He’d play dumb for now and try to smoke out Lewis’s loyalties. “So far, I haven’t seen much that I couldn’t have read in the papers.” He paused. “Some of them, anyway.”
“You don’t mean the Tribune?” Lewis looked as if Rossum had asked if they were having cat for a main course.
Rossum tipped his head one way, then the other. “In my line of work, it’s all about collecting intelligence and then sifting it, trying to sort the truth from the background. That means reading everything I can get my hands on.”
“Shameful that the emperor continues to let them publish,” Lewis said, finishing his wine. “I mean, in normal times, certainly, having contrary voices is healthy. Gods, it’s necessary, isn’t it? But when the fate of the Empire is at stake, actions should be taken.”
“Don’t you think it’s good for people to be able to read different opinions?” Rossum asked, trying to make it sound like a philosophical inquiry, rather than a practical one. “The emperor’s point of view will win out in the end, right?”
Lewis shook his head after pondering for a moment. “You can never tell with people, with the masses. You know that, in your line of work, surely. Most people can barely run their own lives, and now they think they can run an empire?”
“It does cause concern,” Rossum said. “But don’t you think that the Empire will come out of all this stronger, more unified, if people get to hash that all out in public?”
“Is that what this is? What the so-called Lady Belwyn is doing?” Lewis said her name like it was a curse.
“I thought we were talking about newspapers?” Rossum asked. He didn’t know what to make of Belwyn and didn’t want to have to put up any more of a front than he was already maintaining for Lewis. “She’s a woman, she can be dealt with. But shouldn’t what she thinks be heard? Imagine if her demands, or whatever, were printed on the front page of the Tribune, for all to see. And then the public found them wanting. Wouldn’t that be more effective, in the long run, than just forcing her to be silent?”
Rossum hoped he hadn’t gone too far. He was learning about Lewis and his view of things and wondered what that said about Obert’s. He wanted to keep pushing just enough to get information, but not so much that Lewis thought he might believe what he was saying. Rossum thought he did, but he was certain he could hide that for a few more moments.
Lewis pointed a utensil at him. “That’s a dangerous way to think, Mr. Rossum. Get in bed with agitators, you never know what might happen. Keep that in mind as you continue your work here.”
Rossum knew just what he meant. The only thing of importance Rossum had put in that telegram was that he’d met with a protest leader. Now here was Lewis, conveniently and out of the goodness of his heart, surely, telling him to avoid such things. This was the proof Rossum needed that Lewis was keeping tabs on him. He hadn’t met with anyone yet, only mentioned the possibility of it in the telegram to Obert. So much for confidentiality. “Fine advice, sir, thank you,” he said.
Suspicions confirmed, Rossum steered the discussion to lighter topics. Lewis was happy to go there, and they finished a very pleasant meal. Rossum had a hard time enjoying it, knowing now that he was even more on his own than he could have imagined this morning.
Chapter 17
“Once again,” Brixton said, arms crossed, “I must object.”
“And once again, your objection is overruled,” Belwyn said. She was getting tired of this. “I know this isn’t a court of law, but once an objection has been overruled, that’s it, isn’t it?”
Valpari nodded slightly beside her but didn’t say a word.
“At least let me go with you,” Brixton said. “No offense to Hagan, but I’ve spent my life ready to do violence on behalf of others. You will need protection.”
“No offense taken,” Hagan said politely, “but sometimes the best protection is to avoid the need for violence altogether.”
Belwyn had to jump in before the two of them began fighting over her like schoolboys. “Hagan is my most trusted associate,” she said sternly and without qualification. “I will need his skills and advice once we reach the city. Besides, the Widows’ Army will continue to need your organizational skill, Brixton.”
“Valpari has grown more than capable of performing those duties,” he said with a huff.
“She has the responsibility for command in my absence. She will need you here, more than I will in the city.”
She hoped that was true. Without Brixton, she never would have made it this far. He could have done his job and stopped her and Hagan when they were escaping from Neven. Not only did he let them go, he aided them and came with them. In the wild, neither she nor Hagan would have survived without his knowledge of foraging and how to live off the land. He had gone on to play his part in escaping from the Flame Reapers and when the Widows’ Army was in its infancy. He was the one who took on the task of organization and coordination, without Belwyn ever asking. He made the army run.
That said, the fight to find out who was behind the Port Ambs bombing had always been hers, with Hagan’s assistance. Like Brixton, he could have stopped her from even starting down this path. He could have ratted her out to Chakat’s handlers, to those in the palace that would have shut down her inquiry before it got started. Instead, he had aided her at every turn, even while sometimes pushing back against some of her choices. He had lost his position in the palace, lost the only life he’d ever known, to help her pursue this goal.
“We will be fine,” she said, putting a hand on Brixton’s shoulder. “We won’t be all by ourselves, anyway. Mr. Askins has a background that suggests he can handle himself in unexpected situations.”
“Do we know that?” Brixton asked, taking a few steps back. “What do we really know about him? He could be an Imperial agent.”
“I don’t think that’s likely,” Belwyn said.
“But it is a possibility,” Hagan said.
Belwyn turned, blindsided by the comment. “Having second thoughts?”
He shook his head. “No, but we need to keep an open mind. So far, Chakat has sent bounty hunters to capture you, Imperial troops to stop you, Kelsor to reach out with essentially a bribe.” He nodded down toward her leg. “Then, most recently, he sent Neven to appeal to your patriotism, while sapping some of your numbers.”
“Not to mention the nut who tried to kill you in Jido,” Brixton added.
“It would be foolish to think the Emperor would stop now, without trying to work someone into your inner circle,” Hagan said. “I trust your judgment about Mr. Akins, but we should go into this with our eyes open and suspicions raised.”
“Wise advice at all times,” she said, hoping that was it. She was itching to get back into the city that had been home for so many years. “I think I’m a pretty good judge of people.” She made a point of making eye contact with each of them to drive home the point. “I believe Mr. Askins is who he says he is, a father trying to save his family.”
She shifted her focus to Valpari. “You have everything you need?”
“Yes,” Valpari said, a slight flutter in her voice. “I’ll be better when you’re gone.”
Hagan’s eyes went wide.
“That’s not what I meant!” Valpari put her hand to her mouth. “I mean that it’s one thing to be your adjutant, Belwyn. It’s another to lead this army in your place while you’re not here. It’s entirely different yet again to be in between the two. It wears on the nerves.”
Belwyn smiled and wrapped her in a long, tight hug. “That’s why I know you’ll be fine. Remember what we talked about, all right?”
She noted that Brixton and Hagan shared a look at that last remark, but apparently thought better of asking more questions.
Valpari nodded after Belwyn released her.
“Have everything?” Belwyn asked Hagan.
He hefted a small bag onto his shoulder and tossed her a similar one. “These should get us through.”
They all had an early supper before Belwyn and Hagan left. It felt to her like this could be the last time this would happen. Brixton, Hagan, and Valpari had been her rocks through the march to Cye, but now, just as they were outside the city, they were splintering. Her stomach heaved at the thought, but she forced herself to finish her food. Who knew the next time she’d have a chance to enjoy a meal with company this good?
When they were done, Hagan looked at his watch. “We should be going.”
Belwyn knew he was right. She stood, as did the others. “Take good care of my army,” she said to Valpari.
“Yes, ma’am,” she said with a mock salute.
Belwyn turned to Brixton. “Don’t worry about us. Just do what needs to be done and listen to Valpari.”
“To that latter, I say, also, yes, ma’am.” Brixton drew up straight and gave her a real salute, crisp and strong from years of experience. “As to the former, I can’t make any promises.”
She smiled. “I guess I’ll have to take that, then.” She turned to Hagan. “Come on.”
They had agreed to meet Aton at the edge of the camp, where the forest met the hills. To get there, they had to make one last walk through the camp. In a special issue of the camp newsletter prepared by Casal, Belwyn had explained why she was going into the city and that she had given Valpari her full support in command. As she and Hagan made their way through the camp, she could see head after head turn in their direction. Some women smiled and waved. A few wiped tears from their eyes. Still others seemed upset and muttered about what they were all still doing here. Belwyn had hoped that anyone who wasn’t fully committed had left when Neven provided the opportunity, but apparently not everyone had. She hoped they wouldn’t cause Valpari any problems.
The whole thing left Belwyn with an uneasy sense of occasion. She’d left the army before, when she and Hagan tracked down Marbin and retrieved the papers detailing the Port Ambs conspiracy. This time was different. The army had been in its initial stages then and was growing and moving on out of sheer momentum. It had a routine, moving from town to village to city, gathering members like a snowball rolling downhill. Everyone knew their purpose, where they were going, whether Belwyn was there or not. Now, with the army in camp and uncertainty all around, she felt like she was abandoning them. To what end? She needed to find Warrick and prove the truth of Port Ambs, back up the documents Marbin had died to get to her. Would that make any of these women’s lives better? Would it bring Coleman’s goals any closer? It was the uncertainty, more than anything else, that was dragging her down.
Aton wasn’t there when they reached the rendezvous spot.
Hagan pulled out his watch. “Shouldn’t be long.” After a few silent moments, he added, “Do you think this is the right thing to do, Lady?”
She fought off a grin. “No, I’m not sure we’re doing the right thing. I’m not really certain about anything anymore.”
“Do you think Valpari can handle Coleman?”
Belwyn laughed, harder than she thought possible right now. It felt like a weight lifting off her shoulders. “If he thinks he can push her around, he’ll be in for a rude surprise.”
After another long silence, Hagan asked, “Is there some sort of plan? An end game? Something you and Valpari have discussed?” The unasked part of that question was “without me?”
“I left her with instructions,” Belwyn said, ignoring the unspoken. “But I also expect her to use her best judgment. We’ll have to see how everything plays out.”
“I suppose we have to trust, don’t we?” Hagan asked, before adding, “since I doubt we’ll ever be back here again.”
Belwyn didn’t have time to ponder whether that was true. In the distance, two dull orange lights bobbed up and down. They grew slowly brighter and larger, until Belwyn could see Aton step out of the dark, hand lamp in each hand.
“Here,” he said, holding one out to her. “I thought you could use this.”
Belwyn took it before Hagan could take it for her.
“Are you ready?” Aton asked.
“As I’ll ever be.”
~~~~~
The River Sheddric was not one of the great waterways of the Empire. It trickled out of the hills around Cye and meandered through the city and, eventually, into the Bay of Delismis, named for one of the first Unari queens. It was navigable from just upstream of Cye to the Bay. It was there that Hoban the Just had built Port Ambs and where he would lose his life. Aside from its commercial value, the river never played much of a role in the life of the city. That was why, although she had lived in Cye for years, Belwyn had never been on a riverboat before.
Aton had led them down the riverbank, slick with mud and overgrown with weeds and brambles, to a spot where the ground sloped away under their feet. Hagan lost his footing but managed to catch himself before he fell.
“You all right?” Aton asked. When she didn’t answer, he said to Belwyn, “Sorry, I should have thought about your, uh, condition. Can you handle this?”
“I assure you, Mr. Askins, I can handle anything you put in front of me,” she said, displaying a confidence she didn’t really feel.
As they picked their way down the bank to the lapping river waters, Aton said, “Can I ask you a question? About your . . .”
“My leg?” She finished the question for him. “It was on the first page of the Imperial Tribune, Mr. Askins, it’s hardly an Imperial secret. No need to be delicate.”
“Sorry,” he said, “and call me Aton. I wanted to know if your new leg really works as well as that article said it does, after the time that you’ve had it.”
Belwyn noted that it didn’t appear he was aware Chakat had taken it away for a period of time. A petty indignity, but not one widely broadcast.
“You see, my daughter was born, premature, on the day of the Port Ambs blast. Her legs are basically useless. She has some braces now that help her get around, but I think about her equipped with something like what you have and wonder what she might do.”
This made Belwyn feel better about this man. He was willing to ask her personal, delicate questions in the name of making life better for his daughter. If this was a setup, maybe Chakat deserved to have her back in chains. “It’s been a miracle,” she said, “like a gift from the gods. You don’t know, but Chakat initially took it from me, when he banished me to Annanais. I got used to the old wooden one soon enough, almost convinced myself I didn’t miss the new one. Then I got it back and I realized just how limited I was. But . . .”
