Ghosts of Koa, The First Book of Ezekiel (44 page)

They could rest here for a minute. The ventilation system in the cellar was separate from the shop itself and ran roundabout underground until it let out into open air a half block away. The fire would eventually reach the basement, but as it was made of stone, the blaze would spread much more slowly. They'd be out and safe by then.

She turned on a flashlight and illuminated Manja, who was curled up in her lap and coughing. Hard.
 

"Come on," she said softly. She laid the girl across her knees and smacked her palm into her back. Manja spat out phlegm with each hit. When the spittle had turned from gray to nearly clear, the girl stopped expelling.
 

"Better?"

Manja nodded weakly and then sat up, wrapping her arms around her neck.
"I wanna go home, Zeeky," she murmured. She was trembling, the tears running down her face, staining Zeika's shirt. "Take me home."

Zeika nodded, a lump expanding in her throat. The fire above them groaned as it devoured their lives, breaking the wooden shop with dry snaps, tossing the pieces to the floor. They were alive, at least. But their livelihood, their escape, their dream...

She let out the sob that had been crawling up her chest. She clutched Manja tighter and closed her eyes, the beat of the girl's heart locking back the rest of her sorrow. Together, they listened to their shop burn.

Xakiah stifled a yawn as he leaned against the bookshelf of Persaud's study. He was reading a
Kovačić
novel, waiting for the old man to finish his letters. He really needed to get a move on and find Mikhail Beige. All these side trips were bothersome, even if they were extremely profitable. Killing the Demesne Five barterer had put ten grand in his pocket, easy, and all he'd to do was show up. Child's play, just as Vassal Moss had said. Shame that it wasn't his job, though. He would have done it differently. Fire was a terrible way to go. The bodies writhed and screamed so. But Persaud obviously had his reasons.

He glanced at the spry old man as he flipped to a new leaf and continued pitter-pattering away on the parchment. He was writing letters to the Commissioner of Demesne Five and to the High Halls of Deis, Pact, and Eyre, detailing how the raid on the girl's forge had gone hostile after they'd discovered Koan paraphernalia. She had sworn an allegiance to Koa and to death before pulling her weapon on them. Struggles ensued, shots fired, a kerosene lamp gets shattered in the ricochet of bullets, and, well... there you had it.

It was too bad, really. A waste. Innocent or no, the girl had nerves of steel and a face to die for.
 
Still, it wouldn't do to have Azures-- high-born ones at that-- falling over themselves for a Civilian.
Fighting
over one, even. Absurd. He wasn't exactly sure what all the fuss had been about, but it would have only been a matter of time before the conflict between Rai and Morgan escalated to violence. They might have embarrassed the whole of the Alchemic Order. Persaud had been practically obligated to discard the toy of distraction.
 

Xakiah smiled. The tortured look on Rai's stupidly spoiled face had been delicious as he'd watched his toy burn-- worth so much more than Azure dollars--

The door opened, and Xakiah was already pulling his Beretta when the unannounced man stepped over the threshold and into the office. The pen in Persaud's hand went silent, and Persaud looked up, eyeing the newcomer over the top of his spectacles. Xakiah caught the old man's gaze and relaxed, leaning back against the shelf and re-holstering his gun. Mostly.

"Where is it?" The lull in Sal Morgan's tone was soft, his gaze borderline predatory. He closed the door behind him. Locked it. "I won't ask you again."

Xakiah did all he could to hold back a laugh. This was an unexpected treat. Morgan was fuming,
visibly
angry, for the first time in all the years Xakiah had known him. The sight was amusing, to say the least. Moreover, most men would never dream to lock themselves in a room with him. Tax collector, or not, this man had balls.

Persaud screwed the cap back onto his fountain pen and smiled. "Congratulations on your political and alchemical advancement, Councilman. We toasted your success at the Halls of Deis. We Vassals always take pride when a new Silvern comes into the fold."

Morgan stepped forward. "The body. I want to see the goddamned body--"

"Oh? And have your tastes in women-- hm, how do I say-- metamorphosed as of late, Councilman? I'd always thought you preferred them alive."

"Do not toy with me. We had a deal. Kill the buck. Spare the fawn. You betrayed the deal that you and your
pet
--" Morgan lacerated Xakiah with his gaze. "--received payment for."

Persaud sighed. "And I repaid you a thousand fold. It doesn't do well for any Azure to embroil himself in the antics of peasants. Especially a man of your stature. I did you a favor. All three of you."

"You don't know what you've done."

"I've restored your focus to matters of greater importance. The repeals of the Articles39, Councilman. The intel you promised our great Order. Having Civilian ties, especially to one so young, is a conflict of interest, don't you agree?"

"Ties? I legally adopted that girl. She was under my protection, and you brand her as a ghost of Koa and set her aflame. Do you know how that makes me look? An Azure Councilman harboring a Koan terrorist. My reputation-- everything I've worked for--"

"Your reputation... did you never wonder how it was that you even became a Silvern? The moment the Halls of Deis discovered that you kept Civilian wards, your climb to the top was over. Any Azure that patronizes Civilians-- no matter what his true use for them is-- will never be promoted beyond Proficient. We cleaned your slate, Morgan. We spared you the embarrassment."

Persaud sighed and shook his head, going back to his letters. "The girl was a wildcard anyway. She was Civilian underclass, just what Koa is looking for. With or without an Azure patron, she was destined for duplicity. You said yourself that she harbored a profound bitterness towards our kind. You think she would have ever appreciated your patronage? That she wouldn't have betrayed you at her first opportunity? She would have been a perfect mole for Koa, sleeping under your roof, sleeping with you, bringing them all the information they would ever need to dismantle us."

"That was my risk to take."

Persaud looked back up, his face puckered with condescension. "When you are a Silvern of the Alchemic Order, no risk you take is solely yours. You would do well to remember that, Councilman. Now. You are allowed to grieve the girl. Weep for her, hold a vigil, go hit a punching bag, if you require it, but rid yourself of these foolish and petty inclinations."
 

"She was mine!" Morgan raged. "She
is
mine, and she could very well still be alive--"

"Your commitment is admirable, Lord Morgan, but I'm afraid that you'll have to make due with the ashes. Now if you'll excuse me, I have my duties to attend. I believe you do as well." Persaud rose, folding his letters.

"I am owed a debt," Morgan said. "You
will
reconcile it."

Persaud's letters pinched closed beneath a tightened grip, and Xakiah swayed to a stand. This was beyond testicular steel. Morgan was courting death. He stealthily moved to the man's one o'clock, remembering the knife at his shoulder.

"Vassals owe debts to no one but the Order," Persaud said, a calm in his voice.

"Your Proficient was the one who started this rabbit hunt. He defied me and absconded with my property. As his Vassal, you are responsible for his deeds, and you will reconcile his debts. This is not my law, but the law of the Order."

"Well, well, someone's been reading his Canon. What a good little Silvern you are already. You're almost competent enough to shine a Vassal's shoes."

"I want Rai's head."

"Careful, Councilman," Persaud said. "Alchemical law or not, your vendetta against the boy does not override the honor you owe to the Silver Pact. Caleb Rai may be a rebellious fool, but he is still the son of one Lord Katsuro Kojira of the Nineteenth House. To speak ill of him is to speak ill of my master, of the Halls of Deis, and of the Order. Know your place. Stay your tongue."

"Bastards and mongrels do not receive the honor of the Houses. He is not bound by the same protection."

"Oh yes he is. As long as Kojira and I say he is. If you disagree, I encourage you to bring the matter to Kojira himself. To him and his thousands of armed guard in the 52
^nd
. The Lords of Deis so love audiences with their inferiors."

Morgan looked at him long and hard. "Where
is
your mutt of distinction?"

"He's in meditation, recalibrating his sense of self. I ask that you do not force me to recalibrate yours. You may not live to benefit from it."
 

"My life is not within your grasp, I'm afraid. It is not within anyone's grasp."
 

Morgan then smiled, and Xakiah tensed. It was a smile filled with secrets, and he didn't like it. Morgan looked at him, almost bored. He turned back to Persaud.

"Do you as you will with the mutt," Morgan continued. "You can kill me for my hubris. Take off my head before millions of Azures as an example. But my insolence will quickly be forgotten while your reputation as a poor breeder of Alchemists will follow you all your days."

Persaud smiled as he slipped the letters into his jacket. Then he straightened his cowl, propped his fedora back onto his head, and stepped into Morgan's space. Morgan didn't budge; in fact, his face was practically poisonous as Persaud placed his hands on his shoulders.

"Oh trust me. My reputation is the least of your concerns. Now, if you will, Councilman. Brother. Bring Demesne Five the justice and peace for which we all have so handsomely paid. And, of course, welcome to the fold." Persaud smiled, gave him a brotherly kiss on the cheek, and walked out, Xakiah following close behind.

Caleb hadn't even bothered to take off his hood and cowl before he went to his shelf and knocked books to the floor. He could barely think, barely breathe, but his body knew what he needed.
 
He grabbed the whiskey by its neck, yanked it out of its hiding place, and unscrewed the top. He slammed a glass on his desk and poured.

All he could see was the fire, her young and terrified face. The face of the betrayed... now turned to ash. He didn't realize how badly his hand was shaking, nor did he realize that half the bottle had been emptied, mostly onto his desk, until Luke burst in.
 

"Got your message. I came as fast as I--" Luke paused as he took in the dark pool of liquor on the mahogany. Then he looked at Caleb, eyes fearful and knowing. "What happened?"

Caleb's shoulders sagged, his jaw tightening as he gripped the edge of his desk. This wasn't any way to start a friendship. Still, someone had to know. So, he told him everything. "Persaud ordered me to torch the place," he finally finished. "So I did."

"With her inside?!"

"It-- the arson-- it was the only way I could keep her alive."

"By burning her?!" Luke snarled, slamming their door. "Seems a little counterintuitive, don't you think?!"

"She got out, Luke. I know she did."

"Bullshit! You know what you tried to do, but she could still be laying on that shop floor--
gone
--
 
with everything else!"

"No," Caleb shook his head. "You don't know her. She's smart. Resourceful. She survived the raids, the Ninkashi attack, the bombing of the Koan hollow; she's survived everything. I know she made it out."

"No. You hope she made it out. That's a big damned difference."

"Cotch would have killed her. I saved her the only way I knew how." Caleb put his head in his shaking hands. "Oh God..."

"Why the hell do you think I'm here?!"

"Neither of us could have protected her at every turn, so don't give me that shit about how your little Ethics Committee would have saved her!"

"Wow," Luke scoffed. "Your Vassal really did a number on you."

"Please, Luke, it's not even about Persaud. I know the inner workings of the Halls of Eyre better than anyone, and I promise you:
anyone
, Civilian and Azure alike, that is accused of conspiracy against the Order is served a death sentence right out of the gate. All that 'due process' shit is just a bunch of smoke and mirrors. I know from experience that it doesn't amount to anything."

"I believe in the proper path to justice--"

"Yeah?" Caleb finally turned to him. "Have you ever had to tell a mother that although you know her son is innocent, he's going to be found guilty anyway? That even though there wasn't enough evidence to convict him, there also wasn't enough to absolve him?"

"Caleb--"

"Have you
ever
had to tell a Messhen rape victim that the man who defiled her was going to walk because she isn't considered human, and our laws don't apply to her?!"

"You can't expect to save everyone--"

"Answer me!"

"No... no, I've never had to do that."