Michel was so furious at Taniel that he couldn’t think straight. He spent the night drinking at one of the few bars left in the city where he was fairly certain he wouldn’t run into either a Blackhat or a Dynize; then the next morning he went to Yaret’s new residence in the old bank. He stood outside, wishing he was still buried in a bottle of whiskey before running a hand through his hair and straightening the collar of his jacket.
Whatever was going on with Sedial, Ichtracia, or anyone else, Michel needed to finish what he’d started here in Landfall. Eliminating the Blackhats to the last man would make his chances of survival go up, so eliminate them he must. He held a large valise that he’d fetched less than an hour ago, and opened it once more to confirm the contents before heading inside.
He found Yaret and Tenik in deep conference in Yaret’s office. Both men looked up as Michel entered.
“You look like you got hit by a carriage,” Yaret said.
Tenik sniffed. “And you smell like a brewery. I know where je Tura is hiding.”
“Oh?” Yaret asked.
Michel went to Yaret’s desk, clearing off the papers into a messy stack and tossing them on a chair before opening the valise and producing an armload of two-foot-long cylinders. He opened one at random, discarded it, then another before producing a large roll of paper that he spread out across Yaret’s desk.
“What are these?” Tenik asked.
“Maps of the catacombs beneath Landfall.”
The two men stared at the paper in stunned silence. “Why haven’t we been using these all along?”
“Because I didn’t know they existed. The thought struck me at about four o’clock in the morning—Lindet was as good at keeping records as you, maybe even better. There are hundreds of miles of natural and man-made catacombs in the plateau. Most of the larger tunnels were sealed off decades ago, but there are plenty of entrances around the city.”
“Yes, we know. We’ve been searching the damned things and haven’t found anything.”
Michel held up one finger. “I had two thoughts. One, that Lindet would have mapped those catacombs and stashed the maps in the Millinery library. They weren’t important enough to take along, so they would have been left behind. It took me less than an hour to find them once I realized.”
Tenik swore.
“My thoughts exactly. My second thought was that we’ve been looking for an operation—dozens of men moving around supplies and powder and sleeping in the catacombs and all that.”
“Right,” Tenik responded. “And again, we haven’t found any sign of that.”
Michel leaned over the table toward Tenik and Yaret. “But we’re not looking for dozens of men. What if it’s just je Tura? Maybe two or three others at the most?”
“There’s no possible way he could have conducted all these bombings without serious help,” Yaret protested. “He blew up my house!”
“A barrel of powder in the basement,” Michel proclaimed. “I bet if you send someone to dig around in the ashes really carefully, you’ll find a hidden tunnel that connects to the catacombs. Plenty of places in the city have them. Shopkeepers use them for storage. If je Tura is moving through those tunnels—if he has maps like these, or a seriously good guide—he could evade our soldiers indefinitely. Think about it. We would easily find evidence of dozens of men down there, but if he’s carrying no more than a bedroll, a pack, and a lantern, he’ll leave absolutely no sign of his passing.”
“And the powder?”
“An off-the-books cache? A forgotten storehouse? I haven’t met je Tura, but I’ve heard rumors that he’s a strong son of a bitch. He could carry around a couple of barrels of gunpowder himself—certainly enough to set up in your basement.”
Yaret snorted in disbelief. “You’re telling me that hundreds of Dynize soldiers are being foiled by the work of one man?”
“With all the evidence—or lack thereof—it’s the only solution we have left.”
Tenik rubbed the back of his head, staring at the maps, looking as irritated as Michel felt. “So what do we do? He went off the schedule he arranged with Forgula the moment Forgula wound up dead. He’s striking at random throughout the city. Do we just hope we get lucky?”
“Not a chance.” Michel tapped on the map he’d rolled out. “We go in after him.”
“But we’ve tried!” Yaret said in frustration. “We can’t find him.”
“We have maps now. We start at one entrance, we take in a thousand men, and we flush the bastard out like we would rats in a basement. At the very least we might be able to find his damned cache of powder. But if we’re lucky, we corner him and catch him.”
Yaret pursed his lips. “Four thousand.”
“Eh?” Michel asked.
“Four thousand men. These tunnels are extensive and layered atop each other. I want at least four thousand men all searching them at once. A full-on manhunt.”
“Damn,” Tenik breathed. “We can’t possibly …”
“We’ll have to ask Sedial for manpower,” Yaret said. Michel could see in his eyes that he was on board and determined. Only Tenik seemed skeptical.
“We can’t trust Sedial’s people,” Tenik said in a hushed voice, as if Sedial himself were listening. “He won’t want je Tura brought to light, lest he confirm that he was working for Sedial indirectly this whole time. It’s another loose end.”
“Then assure Sedial that we’re hunting for the kill,” Michel said dispassionately. “There aren’t more than a handful of Blackhats left in the city. We can afford to shoot to kill when it comes to je Tura, and if Sedial thinks that evidence will die with him, then he’ll give his help.”
“And we lose a bargaining chip against Sedial,” Tenik said unhappily.
“Is that more important than making sure more Dynize don’t die to je Tura’s bombs?” Michel asked.
After a moment of silence, Tenik nodded. “You’re right. Yaret?”
“You have my full authority,” Yaret said. “Begin the hunt first thing tomorrow. Get Sedial’s help. Requisition every lantern in the city, and have our cartographers begin making copies of these maps. Go!”
Tenik was gone without a word, leaving Michel alone with Yaret. Without waiting to be asked, Michel sank into Tenik’s chair with a sigh, a sudden headache appearing where his post-realization adrenaline rush had occupied his mind over the last few hours. He rubbed his eyes, wishing a pox upon all hangovers, and put his head down between his knees.
“You look in rough shape,” Yaret said kindly.
Michel looked up. It was not a comment he expected from a superior. “Stressful day yesterday,” he said, hoping it ended the conversation. He didn’t want to explain the sudden conflict he had with Ichtracia, or the fact that he’d been eavesdropping on Sedial—though, to be honest, Yaret would probably enjoy the latter.
Yaret picked something off his shirt. “I, uh, heard you’ve been spending quite a lot of time with Saen-Ichtracia lately.”
Michel hesitated a moment before answering. “She saved my life.”
“And you show your gratitude by plowing her senseless for three days?” Yaret shook his head, then waved a hand at Michel to forestall a reply. “No, no. Don’t explain yourself. That actually makes far too much sense when it comes to a Privileged. Forgive my crassness as well. Frankly, I’m more than a little delighted by hearing that someone Sedial hates has found his way into Ichtracia’s bed, but I do like you, Michel, and so I think you should be warned.”
“About the dangers of sleeping with a Privileged?” Michel asked, adopting a pained expression. “I’m not entirely ignorant.”
Yaret’s half smile disappeared, replaced by a serious look of concern. “No, by sleeping with Ichtracia. Not because of Sedial,” he added quickly. “At least, not directly.” Yaret shifted in his chair and sighed. “I won’t insult you by explaining why we’re here. The godstone, all of that. As a high-level Blackhat, I assume you know.”
“I know a bit,” Michel said slowly, wondering where this was going. “I know the godstone’s purpose and that you want it. Not why you want it.”
“Sedial ended our civil war by killing the rival emperor and then promising to reconcile both sides by creating a new god. That’s why we’re here. To bring peace to our country, we must resurrect the god that died to start our civil war. It was the only proposal that we could all agree on, so we spent well over a decade preparing to invade Fatrasta and seize the stones.”