Foreign Devils (24 page)

‘I do, Mister Brassus,’ I said. ‘Other than the beating your boys gave me, you’ve been quite civil and have my thanks.’ I sigh. ‘Put me in touch with Andrae or one of Cornelius’ contacts and they can vouch that I wasn’t there to interfere with the sovereignty of your charter or to interrupt the flow of silver.’

He laughed. ‘Of course they’ll vouch for you! If they were trying to compromise Tempus they would not inform us of their intentions.’ He sighed in turn. ‘I will level with you, Mister Ilys, Tempus is embattled. Our Imperial Charter was established years ago when the political landscape was quite different here in the west. You understand that each Tempus Union representative is, in their person, part of the Imperial protectorate. Our president, Mister Aureus, is the protectorate’s governor. We have no land other than small holdings within cities, our offices, but no real territory to rule. The protectorate is simply
people
. Why? Because, in a bit of legal chicanery – I can admit this – it gave us the power to legally use brutal force – even lethal force – and protect our interests without falling under the auspices of the Ruman army.’

‘I remember, Mister Brassus. It was a different time, back then, wilder and more dangerous. Not to mention the threat of stretchers. Tempus did a lot of good for us, delivering messages and protecting those early settlers.’

‘Yes. I remain proud of our heritage and history, even now,’ he said. ‘But times are changing, and there are more and more calls against that charter. If there is enough of a caterwaul, it’s possible Tamberlaine will revoke it. That has kept you alive, too. Had we executed you, especially now after that damnable article, it would be tantamount to thumbing our noses at the Ruman courts here. If I execute you, it will have repercussions I cannot know politically. If I turn you over, I create a precedent of ceding rights of our charter to local Ruman law.’

‘Seems like you’re in a shit position, yourself.’ I tsked. ‘My sympathies.’

‘And so, I delay in hopes that you can answer enough of my questions so that we might quietly make this problem go away,’ he said. ‘So I ask once more, why were you on that boat?’

I shook my head, sadly.

He nodded, tight around the eyes. ‘You wouldn’t consider escaping, would you?’

I laughed, ‘That would solve everything, wouldn’t it?’

He laughed, too. ‘Yes it would, Mister Ilys.’

‘Tempting, but I don’t think I’m tall enough to get over the walls around this building. And, oh, there’s that off-chance that some passing Tempus guard might shoot me in the back. What I don’t understand is why you don’t just kill me and make it look like I tried to escape.’

His expression turned near green at my words. He opened his mouth as if to speak, shut it. When he had himself under control, he said, ‘You have mistaken me for a man with no honour, Mister Ilys.’

‘No, I figured as much,’ I said, smiling at the man. There is nothing more precious to a damned Ruman than his opinion of himself.

‘Then, sadly, we remain at an impasse, Mister Ilys,’ he said. Brassus uncrossed his legs and stood. ‘Is there anything I can get you? Is the food adequate?’

‘It’s fine. I could use some tabac. And whiskey would be nice.’

From his jacket he withdrew his pack of cigarettes – Mediera’s Gold – and handed them to me. ‘Sadly, I cannot provide whiskey for you. A Tempus representative cannot—’ his expression took a remote look, and he recited, ‘“Provide, transport, sell, or store any wine, beer, liquor, mead or intoxicating liquid” as that charter was given the Divangeo and Mielle companies.’

‘Damnation. It’s like you’re more of a prisoner than I am, what with all the charters and laws tying your hands. How the Hell do you have a drink?’

‘Very carefully, Mister Ilys,’ he said moving to the door. ‘Very carefully.’

He did not lock or shut my cell door as he left.

A week later, Brassus entered. His expression was guarded. ‘You have a visitor, Mister Ilys. Would you care to receive him?’

‘A visitor?’

‘An official visitor.’

‘Who is it?’

‘A man named Reeve.’

‘Reeve? ’Course I’ll see him. Send him in!’

Reeve was one of our companions when we faced Agrippina in the White Mountains and learned of the death of Isabella, the Medieran noble whose death had, in essence, started the oncoming war.

Brassus left, walking a little stiffly, and in a moment, the big Northman strolled in, limping slightly, in his Ruman uniform, greave-boots, balteus with leather apron, crossed pilum cap.

‘Looks like they got you running errands, Aedile Reeve.’

‘Praetor now, little master. They bumped me up after the donnybrook with the
daemons
and stretchers.’

‘You’re in better health than the last time I saw you,’ said I.

A grin split his big, generous face. He moved his arm in a tender circle. ‘Broke me like a ceramic bowl, mark ye, but fitted me back together again afterwards. I breathe fine now, my arms work, and I can sit a horse so Marcellus can order me about.’

‘It’s good to see you.’

‘And good to see ye, though ye’ve been in better circumstance.’

‘You gonna get me out of here?’

Reeve nodded. ‘That runs right alongside my orders, Shoestring.’

‘How did Brassus take it?’

‘He hasn’t, yet. I came alone from the garrison.’

‘One man?’

‘That’s right, a praetor, to boot.’

‘Will he find that insulting? He’s not a bad man, just trapped by his own honour.’

‘I might be able to reason with him,’ Reeve said, and winked. ‘You have anything?’

I looked around the cell. I’d been there for more than a month by then and hadn’t a thing other than an extra set of clothes, Tempus issue. ‘No. Not a thing.’

‘Then let’s put the memory of this shabby little place behind ye,’ Reeve said. ‘Come with me.’

He walked back out where he had entered. I followed, pausing at the door. I hadn’t left my cell even once in the last sheaf of days and it took a moment to force myself to cross the threshold. But cross it I did.

The outer office looked like a counting house, a wall of tall scriveners’ desks flanked by a large table. Two open doors showed gentlemen’s desks, nice paintings of woodland scenes and leather chairs. Armed Tempus guards stood around, jackets unbuttoned, looking at ease, and a few more clerical men, styluses in hand, all turned to look as we entered. Hands went to Hellfire. Brassus stood in one of the office doors.

‘That man is a Tempus prisoner,’ Brassus said.

‘No longer,’ Reeve said, stepping forward. ‘I have come to collect the little fellow.’

‘You are just a praetor. You don’t have the authority to take this man. He has murdered a Tempus employee and he is in my charge.’

‘No longer, I’ve come to fetch him.’

‘You are trying my patience, sir. I did you a courtesy as a member of the Ruman army by allowing you a visit.’ Brassus said. ‘But removing Mister Ilys from these premises is not going to happen.’

‘That’s fine, then,’ Reeve said. He turned to me. ‘Return to the cell they gave ye, Shoe. I will return shortly.’

I hesitated.

‘Thank you for understanding, Mister Reeve,’

‘That’s Praetor Reeve to ye, Lieutenant,’ Reeve said. He made a clicking sound in his mouth and shook his head. ‘It’s a damn shame, too. But I will return to ye, with company.’

Brassus grew still. ‘Company?’

‘Surely, ye did not think the fifth Occendentalia will allow ye to keep one of their own, a favoured son, beloved by Senator Cornelius himself?’

‘That is no concern of mine,’ Brassus responded. ‘Within the Imperial Charter given Tempus by Tamberlaine himself we are within our full rights to—’

‘Ye precious charter will be good for wiping ye arse, shortly, when I return with a few mates.’

‘Are you threatening me, Mister Reeve?’

‘I don’t make threats, friend. It lowers folk’s opinions of ye when ye do. I make
promises
,’ Reeve said. ‘And I promise ye, I’ll return with a half century of men to remove Mister Ilys from yer nice little jail cell.’

There was a moment of stunned silence in the room and all eyes went from Brassus to Reeve and back. There was an indefinable settling of Brassus’ shoulders, as if some invisible weight had been lifted from him. And he smiled, showing teeth.

‘You would take him by force?’

‘If necessary,’ Reeve said.

‘Then I must relinquish him to you now.’

Reeve looked surprised. ‘Just like that?’

Brassus stepped forward. ‘Thank you, sir,’ he said, shaking Reeve’s hand. ‘You have forced an issue and relieved me from any fault in this matter.’ He turned to me. ‘Mister Ilys, it has been … interesting … coming to know you,’ he said and we shook hands in turn. ‘Delvinus, bring Mister Ilys’ effects, please.’

After a moment, a junior Tempus officer scrambled out of the room and returned shortly with a wooden crate full of my possessions, including my guns and money.

I went through it.

‘There’s something missing,’ I said.

Brassus raised an eyebrow in answer. The man had expressive brows, that’s for sure.

‘My orders.’

‘Ah, yes,’ Brassus said, turning. He entered his small office and then returned bearing the leather portfolio and handed them to me.

‘Here you are, Mister Ilys. All your effects returned.’

‘My mule?’ I asked as I began sticking knives in boots and in sheathes.

‘I’m sorry, it’s been sold to pay for your incarceration,’ he replied. ‘You can, however, retrieve your saddle and saddlebags in the stables.’

He took a step back when he noticed my expression change. I am hard to anger, yet there it was, white hot.

‘I’ve had Bess for the last decade, and you sold her?’

‘You are a murderer, Mister Ilys. As far as I am concerned, you have very few rights while in the custody of Tempus Union. Be grateful you are alive.’

‘It could’ve been worse,’ I said, doing my best to let the anger release. It was hard going. Maybe it’s part and parcel of being
dvergar
– our memories are long and we hold to grievances like ticks to deer.

‘It will be, possibly, for you,’ Brassus said. He held a piece of parchment he must’ve retrieved when he got my orders. He read, “I hereby declare you, Mister Dveng Ilys, an enemy of the protectorate of the Tempus Union, having committed murder upon one of its citizens. Henceforth and forthwith, should you present yourself to any Tempus Union guard or office, or be recognized and sighted by same, you will be executed on sight and with extreme prejudice”’ He lowered the piece of paper. ‘Have a nice day, Mister Ilys. I will sign this after you are gone.’

Two scowling Tempus guards led us out of the offices, through the courtyard. In the stable’s tack room, I grabbed my saddle under the watchful glare of the guards. My pots, pans, and other outriding accoutrements were missing. I had to assume they all went with Bess. In addition to losing a month or more, I’d lost enough gear to make this a quite expensive sojourn. With my saddle slung over one shoulder, and my bags over the other, I walked heavily into the street beyond the walls where I smelled the first air of freedom in nigh on a month. Never mind it stank of horse dung and charcoal smoke.

‘My thanks, Reeve,’ I said. ‘I’m glad that ended without a bloodbath, though all the gods may damn that man for selling Bess.’

Reeve chuckled, as he limped down the street, away from the Tempus Union complex. ‘A bloodbath? Never any chance of that.’

I trotted as fast as I could to catch up, leather creaking. ‘What? Marcellus wouldn’t have pushed it any farther if Brassus had balked?’

‘No idea,’ Reeve said, taking off his jacket in the summer heat. ‘Haven’t talked to him.’

‘What?’

‘I’ve been on leave the past year, recuperating from grievous injury received in service to the Empire.’

‘You mean there were no legionnaires standing by?’

Reeve stopped, cocked an eye at me. ‘I like ye, Shoe, yer a good man and I’ll never forget yeh saving all our skins when that
daemon
-gripped stretcher was a’rantin’ and burning shit.’ He chuckled. ‘But Marcellus doesn’t know anything about this. I just read the
Cornicen
and figured out where ye were – I’ve got a favourite tavern right around the corner.’

It was all too much. ‘A bluff.’ I laughed until my ribs hurt. ‘Remind me not to play cards with you.’

‘An enemy of the Tempus Protectorate, ye are. Don’t thank me too much, my wee friend.’ Reeve patted my shoulder and said, ‘I imagine a spot of whiskey might sit well with ye, right about now.’

‘I think you might be right,’ I said.

TWENTY-ONE

4 Ides of Geminus, 2638 ex Ruma Immortalis

In the morning, I bought a skewbald pony from a transplanted horse-trader from the Gaellands. He spoke very little of the common tongue and communicated mostly through hand signals and whatever facial expressions managed to get through his massive, braided blond beard. Of the mounts in his paddock, he kept offering me the ones over sixteen hands high – those that would be near impossible for me to mount – without trace of humour or mirth at my obvious dislike of the larger horses. Finally, I stomped over to one sturdy-looking little fellow, spotted chestnut, and patted his neck. Eventually, the big Gael and I settled on a fair price and I paid and tacked out the horse.

As strong as the urge was to ride out immediately, heading south to Harbour Town where I figured Fisk would be, I forced myself to ride to the garrison and visit Andrae.

I only had to wait three hours until one of his bloodless secretaries led me into his office.

‘Ah, Mister Ilys! I thought you’d be mouldering in a grave by now!’ Andrae said, snatching a copy of the
Cornicen
on his desk and waving it around.

‘Didn’t you think I could’ve used some assistance?’ I was in no mood for sparring or verbal feints. I leaned forward, snatched a cigarette from a pewter tabac holder on Andrae’s desk, and put it between my lips. I wandered over to his dry bar and poured myself a tumbler of whiskey. It had been a long night with Reeve and I was feeling a mite dry. ‘It’s not like I’m on an important mission to find an enemy of the state or anything.’

‘Ah. Sarcasm. How droll,’ he said, leaning back in his chair. ‘I am a busy man with countless things vying for my attention. If you must know, I imagined that you would be dead before I could do anything. However, once the article came out and I learned that you were not dead, I did have one of my agents make sure that your friend Lucious Reeve saw it and pushed him the right direction.’

I sat down in the seat opposite him and he leaned forward and placed a box of matches in front of me. ‘Seems like very little effort on behalf of one of Tamberlaine and Cornelius’ agents.’

Andrae cocked his head, looking at me closely. ‘A few hard realities might ameliorate your outrage at the way we handled the situation, Mister Ilys. First,’ he held up one long, articulate finger. ‘You are a half-breed
dvergar
and a minor officer in the Ruman auxiliaries. Should we have moved mountains to retrieve you, it would have drawn attention. Second,’ he held up another finger, ‘war is declared and the news of a renegade saboteur and engineer would be a heavy blow to the public perception of this conflict.’

‘Gotta make sure the people are behind it,’ I said, letting the sneer cross my face.

‘Tamberlaine, and by proxy Cornelius, are always aware of appearances, as I think you know. While our beloved Father wields absolute power, he does so on the motions of appearance. Should the public lose faith in him – and consequently his
power and authority
– the Empire’s authority and power is undermined.’

‘If you look hungry, you go hungry,’ I said.

Andrae pursed his lips and nodded reluctantly. ‘A very simple statement to sum up an extremely complicated idea but …
yes
.’

I occupied my mouth with whiskey and tabac for a while, staring at Andrae. He met my gaze, unblinking. He was, all things considered, an implacable man. I did not have to like him to respect him.

I said, ‘Any word on Fisk and Beleth?’

Andrae put his hands together and rubbed them briskly. Then he opened a drawer and withdrew a file.

‘Since your period of recuperation in Porto Caldo in Sextilius and subsequent incarceration, your friend has been quite busy. On the Nones of Sextilius, he arrived in Bear Leg, remaining there a day. On six Ides of Sextilius, he arrived in Brunnen village where he, and his companion, a Missus Lomax, bought food and took separate rooms.’ Andrae ruffled the paper. ‘On three Ides he arrived at Crastus Ferry, on the ferry from Brunnen, or so my agents inform me. From there, it’s not known where he went, however he did send – via your dear bosom friends the Tempus Union – a letter for you. Here. Quite a large one.’

He handed me an envelope, weathered and quite thick. It read,
Shoestring C.O. Legatus Andrae, Fifth Legion Hqrts, New Damnation.

Of course, the envelope had already been opened. I looked to Andrae who shrugged. Inside was a sheaf of parchment, dozens and dozens of pages, with a small note attached, obviously written in haste.

5 Nones Geminus, 2638 Ex Rume Immortalis

Shoe,

Re’c word that Beleth might’ve bolted to Panem near the Whites in hopes of circling around New Damnation and possibly Harbour Town. He wasn’t there but a whole slough of daemon-gripped folks were there waiting on us, caught us behind the livery where W and I managed to hold them off, killing two or three. Watch yourself. He’s left his little playmates all over and you can’t be sure about anyone. Stretchers have been acting strangely, too, pacing us on the trail but not attacking. You don’t need me to tell you to watch yourself around vaettir.

Spking of vaettir, I shpped the marked-up stretcher to SD in Harbour Town, sold t’other to exporter in N Damnation. There’s money awaiting you at the fifth’s treasury in my legate’s safebox. Inclded in this pcket is writ of introduction for you to access it. Also, incld are all of Livia’s mssgs to me, please place them there. New horse took a good dunking in Lake Brunnen during the crossing and all the old letters soaked & near ruined. I’m fearful for my wife (as you will read) and want to protect her mssgs to me. I know I can trust you with this.

Tmmrw we ride to Encantata & then on to Confluence and finally Harbour Town. I do not know what keeps you, but I hope this letter finds you well. I’ll leave word with SD as to my whereabouts.

I remain your friend,
Hieronymous Fiscelion Iullii

Andrae watched me as I read. Once I was through, he said, ‘You have some catching up to do and I imagine you’ll want to get back on the hunt.’

‘What news of Beleth?’

‘He was spotted in Panem, as Mister Fisk pointed out, but possibly that was an attempt at misdirection or an effort to gain something. An expatriate Medieran nobleman and gentleman farmer died mysteriously – drowned – during Beleth’s time there and I cannot help but think that was not a coincidence, but I fear we will never know why. Later a man going by the name of Agares checked into a hotel in Confluence for one night only. I recently learned Agares is the name of a
daemon
that was bound in Latinum, in a small boiler room. It was Beleth’s ‘journeyman’ piece, before joining the Collegium,’ he shook his head. ‘I have had no more luck finding any more
daemons
he might have bound.’

‘Turns out he’s not that good at it, anyway. Or so Engineer Sapientia in Passasuego told us.’

Andrae made a note on a piece of parchment, drew a star by it and circled it. I realized by saying that one thing I might have brought Sapientia within the realm of Andrae’s scrutiny.

When he was through, he nodded and said, ‘That explains much. Most engineers bind hundreds of
daemons
in machines, thousands if you consider munitions. Beleth? Very few.’

‘He’s more interested in stuffing them in humans.’

Andrae inclined his head. ‘Yes, I inferred as much from Mister Fisk’s letter to you. I have informed Tamberlaine and Cornelius of this possibility and made recommendations to their security. What else can you tell me about the “
daemon
-gripped”, as Mister Fisk calls them?’

I ran down a short description of our interactions with them – the boy in Hot Springs, the Grantham woman in Passaseugo, the Tempus guard on the
Gemina.
I did not mention the curious help I received from the
vaettir
there. Not because of any desire to keep Andrae in the dark (well, not much of a desire, anyway) but more of a growing unease that the stretchers had some deeper purpose than killing settlers and eating young girls. There is more to their intelligence than simply hunger and instinct, I know that now.

Gynth. We are kin.

When I was through, I asked, ‘Any other news?’

‘You may purchase a
Cornicen
on almost any corner, Mister Ilys.’

‘News of your particular stripe, Mister Andrae.’

He narrowed his eyes, thinking. After a moment of inscrutable consternation, he gave an almost imperceptible shrug and said, ‘Your people are organizing.’

‘You mean
dvergar
.’

‘Yes. Under the guidance of a man who calls himself Neruda. Many tinkers and diggers—’

‘Don’t call us that. We are
dvergar
and there is more to us than just making trinkets and digging mines.’

He nodded. ‘My apologies. Many
dvergar
are migrating out of the larger cities and into the Hardscrabble Territories. Some heading for Tapestry, others Wickerware, some to Dvergar.’

‘Any idea why?’

‘A sort of independence movement. They’re calling themselves
The Vaettir
.’

I whistled. That’s a statement and a half. And one from folk who’ve never spent time out under the shoal-grass sky. ‘Why do you figure?’

‘I can only assume because they feel that’s more fierce than calling themselves
The Turkey Buzzards
or
Lickerfish
or some other form of life indigenous to Occidentalia. Would you fancy a reassignment, Mister Ilys? I could use some good intelligence on what they are planning. The silver and goods flowing from the
dvergar
settlements have stopped and a half century of legionnaires have not reported in for three days.’

‘A half century?’ I asked. ‘Marcellus must be hopping mad!’

‘He is mobilizing, but cannot allocate too many legionnaires toward subduing the
dvergar
in fear of separating his forces. The Medierans are quite numerous in the Bay of Mageras and are staging on Chiba.’

I whistled. ‘That ain’t good.’

‘Agreed. I fear this region is quickly going to—’

‘Shit?’

‘Yes, Mister Ilys. To shit.’ He straightened the papers on his desk. ‘What say you regarding the reassignment?’

‘Become one of your spiders?’ I feigned thinking about it. I would rather have a
daemon
squirming inside me than spy on my own people for this vile man. But I said only, ‘I think I will be of better use tracking down Beleth.’

For a long while, Andrae was still. Then he smiled, showing teeth. ‘Of course, Mister Ilys. I would not have you work against your conscience.’ A secretary entered, bearing a stylus and wax tablet. He handed it to Andrae – I could see the fresh marks of knifework on his forearm – said a soft word in his ear, and left.

‘You must excuse me. I have much to do,’ Andrae said.

I left him there.