Sins of Empire

Chapter 41

Vlora sat alone and watched the sun rise over the half-built foundations of the tenement that, until just last night, her men had been preparing to erect on the rim of Greenfire Depths. A sleepless night contributed to her sense of deep melancholy, and she wondered if anyone would come along and finish these tenements after she was gone.

It was an encouraging thought. Perhaps Meln-Dun would see them finished, or another Palo businessman. Maybe even the Blackhats. After all, they’d already allocated the funds. But she didn’t know if it would happen, and she tried to tell herself she didn’t care.

Feeling empathy for the Palo people was not new to her. She had tried to break their spirit on the frontier, but she had instructed her men to show mercy and compassion, and attempted to leave the survivors with the tools to better themselves. Her role out there had not been as a governor, but as a suppressor, and she wondered now if she would have found something more fulfilling out of the former.

Despite that preexisting empathy, something about Greenfire Depths made her feel more conflicted over the arrest of Mama Palo than she had over putting down any number of insurrections out in the swamps. She couldn’t quite put her finger on why. Perhaps Vlora respected Mama Palo for her defiance. Perhaps she felt remorse over arresting an old woman.

She pushed the musings aside and picked herself off the street, walking through the tenement foundation and then over two blocks to look out on Greenfire Depths. She had more pressing things to worry about than rebuilding a city slum that held no real significance to her or any of her men. Far more important was how the Palo would react once they found out their leader had been taken by the Blackhats and sent to hang.

Vlora had tried to come up with a way to keep her name out of the story – she even considered making a personal request to Fidelis Jes – but she did not need to owe Jes a favor. Besides, they’d left too many witnesses and too much evidence behind. Everyone knew that the Riflejacks had the only powder mage in town, and all she could hope now was that no one figured out that she had three other mages with her as well. That was a trump card she preferred to hold on to.

No, the Palo would know exactly who had captured Mama Palo. Even if there weren’t outright riots, the attacks against her men would escalate beginning as soon as today, and she had to consider their safety. Meln-Dun might be able to restore order. Or he might fail. Or he might use the Riflejacks as a point of unification to bring Mama Palo’s former men under his control and turn all of Greenfire Depths against her. After last night, it wouldn’t surprise her one bit.

Vlora wondered if it was time to get out of this place. Perhaps even to return to Adro and mend some old wounds.

She walked back to the tenement only to find Olem waiting for her, accompanied by a familiar face: Fidelis Jes. Vlora offered the grand master her hand, which he shook perfunctorily. Jes did not look entirely well; in fact, a second look told her he was still wearing the same shirt as yesterday, his hair mussed, his eyes bloodshot.

“He said it was an emergency,” Olem said in a low voice, coming to her side.

“I see. I didn’t know you left the Millinery, grand master,” Vlora said.

“I do my best not to,” Jes replied. “Hold the pleasantries, this isn’t an honor, Lady Flint. I’m simply here to let you know that the Lady Chancellor is very pleased that you brought in Mama Palo so quickly. I myself am suitably impressed. I didn’t think you could do it.”

Vlora allowed herself to be pleasantly surprised. “Well, then. Thank you. I think.”

If Jes had meant the compliment to be backhanded, he didn’t show it. He turned away from her and Olem, studying the tenement foundation, clearly distracted.

“What will happen to Mama Palo?” Vlora asked.

“Oh,” Jes said with a dismissive wave, “she’s already been tried at a closed court this morning. I oversaw it myself. She’ll be hanged in the public square outside the capitol building at noon tomorrow.”

“I expected you to draw it out.”

“I would have liked to. Mama Palo could have made an excellent example. But publicly torturing an old woman wouldn’t have gained us much, and we’re not entirely monsters, despite what you may think.”

Could have fooled me.

Jes continued: “Noon tomorrow is enough time for the rabble to gather. Not enough time for them to organize.”

Vlora watched him fidget with his sword for a moment and noticed that he was wearing Ben Styke’s knife on his belt. Fidelis Jes had struck her from the beginning as a man who kept trophies. He had not, however, struck her as a man who fidgeted.

It was Olem who voiced her next question. “This isn’t just a congratulatory visit, is it?”

“No,” Jes replied, his voice clipped. He clasped his hands behind his back, still looking away from her and Olem. “This is a matter of some personal embarrassment, but Benjamin Styke has escaped.”

Vlora looked sidelong at Olem, who adopted a look that obviously said good for him, and shook her head. He scrunched up his face and dug in his pocket for his tobacco. “I assumed he was dead.”

“He was not,” Jes replied. “For reasons unbeknownst to me, the Lady Chancellor will not allow Styke to die. He was suitably chastised and returned to the labor camp in which he’s been incarcerated for so many years.”

“I thought he escaped that camp before.”

“It was more complicated than that. Regardless, we thought it was a good place for him.”

Vlora snorted. “But it wasn’t.”

“No,” Jes snapped, finally turning toward her. “The Sweetwallow Labor Camp was destroyed last night, the buildings burned to the ground, the guards slaughtered, and the convicts released.”

“You don’t think that we did it, do you?” Vlora asked, incredulous.

“No. We believe it was the work of Styke’s old comrades, the Mad Lancers.”

The thought of a bunch of angry old veterans attacking a labor camp almost made Vlora laugh. She bit her bottom lip, glancing at Olem.

“Weren’t they disbanded ten years ago?” Olem said.

Jes ignored the question. “I want Styke recaptured, and I want his accomplices hunted down and executed.”

“And you want us to do it?” Vlora asked flatly. Even before he’d finished his sentence she began running numbers and logistics in her head, trying to decide how much work it would be to capture or kill a company of retired veterans. The Mad Lancers were legendary, but they were ten years past their prime. She didn’t doubt her men could handle them. But she wasn’t sure it was worth it.

“Your assignment regarding Mama Palo is over and we have paid you in a mix of bullion, bank notes, supplies, and letters of mark as requested.”

Vlora gave a low whistle. “Already?”

“Yes,” Olem confirmed. It was by far the fastest they’d ever been paid.

“I’ve even authorized a bonus, paid immediately, if you’re willing to take on another assignment this very moment,” Jes continued.

“Styke?”

“Yes, Styke.”

Vlora continued to run through logistics, but suddenly put a stop to it. What was she doing? She hated Jes, didn’t much care for Lindet or her government, and her men were about to have a significant population of the city turn against them purely by default. Besides, she liked Styke. He’d more than proved his mettle and she had no interest in chasing after him and putting him down like a mad dog.

She glanced at Olem. He’d managed to restore his card-playing face, but she didn’t even need to ask his opinion on a matter like this. “Is this coming straight from Lindet?”

“From me,” Jes replied.

“Not interested.”

“I’ll have Lindet on board with the idea by this afternoon.”

“Still not interested.”

Jes’s face reddened slightly. Whatever he was expecting, an outright refusal was not it. “Is it because of your relationship with Styke?” He took a measured breath, then said, “We’re rather low on manpower at the moment. I can provide you with a different assignment that will free up my own men to address this menace. We could have you continue your garrison of Loel’s Fort to keep the peace against the Palo.”

“My relationship with Styke, as I mentioned before, was as a sympathetic employer to an old crippled veteran. And no, I’m not interested in having my men picked apart by angry Palo for the next year. You can’t fight what’s going on in Greenfire Depths. You have to either make changes big enough to bring them around to your side, or burn the whole bloody place down.”

“You could garrison Fort Nied…”

Vlora raised a hand to cut him off. She was surprised that Jes seemed so eager to keep her on the payroll. Her impression of him was that he didn’t care one bit for her. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you’re trying to keep me around.”

“You’re… valuable.”

So are green-eyed vipers, but I don’t let them have the run of my luggage. “No thank you, grand master. I expect to give my men some leave, and then we’ll be departing Fatrasta entirely. Back to the Nine with us.”

Jes ground his teeth. “And no amount of money would sway you?”

“Not any that comes to mind,” Vlora replied.

“Well,” Jes said. He fumed openly, his jaw thrust toward her. “I’m sorry to hear that. You’ll understand that we don’t want an unauthorized army on our soil. You have two nights to remove yourself from Loel’s Fort and four to take your men out of the city. Good day, Lady Flint.”

Jes strode away, fists clenched, and Vlora turned to Olem the moment he was out of earshot. “Did that seem strange to you?” she asked.

“Very,” Olem said. “He is going to give himself an apoplexy.”

“Over one man?”

“Well,” Olem responded, “a whole company.”

“It has to be something else,” Vlora responded, though she couldn’t for the life of her decide what. He probably was worried about Palo riots, and he did know about the Dynize, though they were hardly a threat contained as they were down in Greenfire Depths. “There’s no way he’s going that mad over the prospect of a single group of retired lancers running amok.”

“The Mad Lancers were legendary,” Olem said. “They broke whole Kez armies back in their day.”

Vlora mulled that over. She’d witnessed legendary companies firsthand – some that lived up to their reputations, and more that did not. But even if every story was true, Jes’s behavior didn’t make any sense. Something else was on his mind. Something big. Styke was just the thorn that continued to prick him. “It’s not our problem anymore. Looks like we’ve overstayed our welcome, both with the Palo and our former employer. Start chartering us passage back to the Nine.”

“You were serious about that?” Olem asked.

Vlora hesitated. She had a lot of bad memories back home, some of which she’d been running from for more than five years. Perhaps it was time to head back and take those on. Or perhaps not.

“Check with the local chapter house of the Wings of Adom. See if they have any work for us. We’ll head home for the winter, then re-form the company in spring. Maybe head to Gurla.”

Olem touched the brim of his hat. “Right. Any specific action we’re looking for?”

“I’m sick of oppressing people,” Vlora said, glancing toward Greenfire Depths. “I’m sick of working for tin-pot dictators. Find me an underdog to fight for. As long as they can pay decently, of course.”

“That’s the kicker.”

“It always is.” Vlora took the cigarette out of Olem’s mouth and drew on it deeply before handing it back. She had a feeling in her gut, a twisting of her bowels that made her want to look over her shoulder. Their need to be gone from Landfall was suddenly desperate, and she resisted the urge to run back to Loel’s Fort that second.

“Something wrong?” Olem asked.

“Indigestion. I hope. Get the men ready to move out.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m taking a day off, then I’m going to see the fruits of our labor. I’ll come find you after Mama Palo’s hanging tomorrow.”