“What does this have to do with Ichtracia?”
“I’m getting to that. This was all Sedial’s plan—his grand proposal. Many think of him as a great man for ending the civil war.”
“And?”
“Ichtracia does not think he is a great man. When she was just a child, she accused her grandfather of murdering her family—her brother, her father, her sister. Officially, they all died to separatist assassins. Her accusations were swept under the rug, but she never recanted. Those rumors that she doesn’t like her grandfather are wrong. She loathes her grandfather.”
“Yet she still serves him.”
“Because she is a patriot. She does not serve him, she serves all of Dynize. She knows as well as he does that bringing back our god is the best chance of reunification.”
Michel held up one finger, trying to catch up with all of this. “I thought the godstones were used to create new gods, but you’re speaking of resurrection.”
“Of course. We brought his remains with us. Sedial is confident that the combined power of the stones, and of his bone-eyes, will bring our god back.”
Something about that troubled Michel, but he wasn’t entirely sure what. “So what does any of this have to do with me sleeping with Ichtracia?”
“Because Ichtracia has made a practice for over a decade of taking to bed anyone she thinks will annoy Sedial—generals, ministers, bodyguards. Half of his enemies in the capitol have gone through her rooms.”
Michel frowned. “Should the promiscuity bother me? Because I’m a spy. Believe it or not, I’ve seen worse.”
“Not really,” Yaret said with a shrug. “That is expected of Privileged. They are a force of nature in that way. But Ichtracia uses Sedial’s enemies to annoy him and then she discards them. Many of those ex-lovers died under mysterious circumstances. Some even by Ichtracia’s hand.”
That was worrisome.
“Between Ichtracia and her grandfather,” Yaret continued, “sharing the former’s bed is doubly as dangerous as sleeping with any normal Privileged. It’s something I wanted to warn you about personally.”
Michel shook his head, trying to decide what he would do about Ichtracia. He’d spent much of last night in a drunken stupor trying to figure out why Taniel had left out so much information about “Mara,” and his suspicions had begun to deepen. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said.
“Good. I have use for you, Michel, and I expect you to have a long and fruitful career in my Household. Don’t disappoint me.”
Michel wondered how long that would actually be if he confirmed that Ichtracia was Mara and convinced her to leave with him. His heart hurt briefly at the idea of leaving Yaret and Tenik behind. He liked them, and he had grown into a place within Yaret’s Household that, aside from the danger of Sedial, was actually quite fulfilling. He cleared his thoughts and plastered a smile on his face, getting up to look through the rest of the maps he’d taken from the Millinery. “I have the same hopes,” he said.
CHAPTER 53
Vlora awoke in the darkness. She was immediately aware of the pain, crying out involuntarily. She gasped, choking on her own saliva, trying to make sense of where she was.
A light flickered into being and drew closer, and she was soon able to make out Little Flerring’s face cast in shadows. Flerring laid a hand on her shoulder, pushing her down. “Moving is a really bad idea right now,” she said.
“Powder,” Vlora gasped.
Flerring withdrew, appearing a few minutes later. Vlora felt something pressed to her lips, and tasted the bitter sulfur of powder, then felt the grit between her teeth. The powder trance took effect immediately, running through her blood like fire, snuffing away a thousand pains until they were a dull throb in the back of her head. She forced herself to lie still and calm her breathing, letting the trance do its work.
“Better?” Flerring asked.
“Much,” Vlora said. She tried to sit up, but the effort caused a sweat to break out on her brow without accomplishing anything. “How long have I been out?”
“It’s a bit past one in the morning now. So maybe sixteen hours or so?”
“What’s the damage?”
Flerring held a lead ball in front of Vlora’s face. “That’s the bullet I took out of your back. Embedded in the muscles back there. It didn’t hit anything important, but I can’t imagine you’re going to have full use of your upper body for some time. I’m not a great surgeon, but I think I got all the pieces of your shirt and jacket out. Hopefully that’ll help avoid an infection.”
“You think?”
“I’m paid to blow stuff up, not perform impromptu surgery on powder mages. What the pit happened down there? I heard something yesterday about a duel, and then I woke up to see the whole damned city on fire.”
Vlora tried to think. The powder trance was great at deadening the pain, but she’d experienced enough blood loss to leave her brain in a confused fog regardless of the powder. “I dueled Jezzy’s champion—that powder mage I’ve been fighting with—and killed him. Jezzy accused me of cheating and then one of her boys shot me in the back. Once that gun fired, all pit broke loose. Jezzy and Burt’s people all started shooting.”
“I heard Jezzy’s dead,” Flerring said. “They’re saying you killed her. Blew up the powder of the men standing beside her.”
Vlora tried to feel bad about it—but it was Jezzy’s man who shot her in the back. Likely on her orders. “She had it coming.”
“I won’t argue that. Her lieutenants are still fighting, though. There’s armed gangs battlin’ all across the city, while the poor bastard miners and businessmen are trying to put the fires out. Last I heard we lost most of Main Street and half the Gurlish quarter, and the fires are still going.”
Vlora took a deep breath and held it, listening. They were a couple miles outside the city, but if she focused, she could still hear the occasional musket shot echoing across the valley. “Sounds like the whole city is tearing itself apart.”
“I’ve got a pretty good view from above the cabin, and it looks like the whole city is tearing itself apart.” Flerring got up, and Vlora heard the pouring of a cup of tea. “Here, drink this. It’ll knock you back out.”
“I can’t,” Vlora protested. “I’ve got to get moving. I need to contact my men. I need to find Taniel.”
Flerring put her elbow on Vlora’s shoulder, keeping her down, then forced her mouth open with one hand. “Drink,” she ordered.
The tea tasted like horseshit and seemed to get everywhere but in Vlora’s mouth. Flerring mopped up the spills and sat back while Vlora coughed, laughing. “I’ve got that promissory note, but I’d much rather take you back to Adro in one piece, sister. Is Taniel still rotting at the jail?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll send one of my boys down. The deputies are gonna be working frantically to put out this wildfire you started. Shouldn’t be too hard to slip him out.”
Vlora almost protested that they needed him out legitimately, then discarded the thought with a sigh. What was the point? All their efforts at finding the godstone in secret had gone out the window. It was time for brute force. “Also, need you to send word to Olem. His scouts will have reported the fighting. He needs to know about Prime Lektor. If he brings the entire brigade in before we find Prime, it’ll get everyone killed.”
“I’ll send a few of my boys looking,” Flerring promised. “Until then, you need to rest.”
“I don’t have time to rest.”
Flerring grinned down at her. “You’re not gonna have a choice. Not with that tea and all the blood you lost. You’ll be out within minutes.” Without another word, Flerring blew her lantern out and shuffled off into the darkness.
Vlora lay still in frustration, staring at the ceiling, wishing she could move. She might be wounded, but she could still think. She had to formulate a plan to find Prime and figure out what she was going to do if they couldn’t destroy the stone with Flerring’s blasting oil.
She was halfway through the second thought when she again lost consciousness.