Michel took a coin out of his pocket. He flipped it, caught it, and looked at the result. How, he wondered, did Tenik resist looking at that result every time? It was a natural human urge, wasn’t it? To know how something ended?
Before Michel could ponder the question further, the doors opened and a stream of people began to pass him. No one seemed to really notice his presence, which, he decided, was probably for the best. He recognized most of the people either from the game he had attended the other week with Tenik or from figures he’d seen stalking these very halls over the last couple of weeks. The cream of the Dynize crop. If je Tura really wanted to cause some damage, he would toss a couple of grenades into that room during a war game.
Michel wondered if that would be on the list, eventually.
Michel spotted his target and climbed to his feet, body still hurting from Ichtracia’s healing, the pain kept partially at bay by horngum. His hands shook slightly from a case of nerves, and he wondered why he was here rather than standing in a dark corner to watch the proceedings. He reminded himself that he had made plenty of accusations before. This was just far more public than he was used to. He would just have to get used to it.
“Forgula,” he called sharply.
The people closest to him stopped in their tracks and turned, some of them doing a double take as they saw him. Forgula, her head bowed to listen to the words of a woman beside her, searched for the source of the summons until her eyes met his. All around her, the stream of people gradually ground to a halt.
Her lip curled slightly, but she bowed her head again and nodded to the man to go on, turning a cold shoulder toward Michel.
“You probably shouldn’t enjoy this,” Michel whispered to himself, stifling a smile. “Devin-Forgula a Sedial!” he barked.
Everyone had stopped by now. People were looking curiously between Michel and Forgula, the latter of whom finally pulled herself away from her companion and strode through the crowd toward Michel. She came up sharply, chin raised, glaring down her nose at him. “Shouldn’t you be in a cell, spy?”
“Not me,” Michel said, tapping the front of his jacket. She looked down, seeing the way he was dressed for the first time—a teal uniform, worn by ministerial servants on official business. It was similar to a Dynize soldier’s outfit, though the cut of the pants was slightly different. This one had been tailored specifically for Michel just yesterday and it fit him rather splendidly. The jacket bore the crest scroll of Yaret’s Household, and beneath that a small stitched cup.
“Why are you wearing that uniform?” Forgula demanded. She scowled at him, and he could see the first inkling in her eye that she knew something was off. “You have no right.”
“I have a lot of right,” Michel responded. “I saved the Yaret Household from a bombing. Hadn’t you heard?” Michel knew for a fact that she hadn’t heard. The last time she saw him, he was being carted off by Ichtracia just before the bombing. At his request, everything about his activities the last few days had been kept quiet. As far as anyone knew, Yaret had barely escaped the bombing because of an anonymous tip, and the Blackhat spy Michel Bravis was in Yaret’s custody and being questioned.
“You didn’t save them,” Forgula said. She was uneasy now, lacking conviction. This had taken her completely by surprise.
Don’t smile, Michel. “I did, actually. You remember that day, don’t you? It was just earlier this week. You and your cronies tried to chase me down, even though I could barely walk. It’s all right, though. Fortune smiled on me, and I still managed to warn Yaret about the bomb.”
“You could only know about that bomb if you were the one to plant it.”
Everyone was watching now, as if glued to the floor. There wasn’t a sound within forty feet as people strained to hear the conversation. Michel was using his best Dynize, though he had to throw in a Palo word once in a while. He was certain that everyone was getting the gist. “Or,” Michel said, “if I found this.” He drew out the list of addresses he had stolen from her files. It was fragile from being caked with his dry blood, so he presented it to her in a stiff folder. She reached for it involuntarily, and he snatched it away. “This,” Michel said, “is a list of addresses that includes—”
“I know what that is,” Forgula hissed, glancing desperately at the crowd around her.
Michel went on in a louder voice. “It’s a list of addresses that includes every location that has been attacked since the bombings started. It was found among your files last week, and is written in your—”
“Shut up!” Forgula said, grabbing Michel by the wrist.
“Unhand me,” Michel responded coldly.
“Give me that.” Before he could stop her, Forgula snatched the folder out of his hand and opened it up, staring at the list of addresses. There was a rustling nearby, and several soldiers took up positions along the edges of the hall, watching Forgula carefully. Michel almost wanted her to run, just to see what would happen. Yaret had ordered his men to be emphatic if necessary.
Michel took a half step toward her and lowered his voice so that only she could hear. “The thing is, if you’re going to spread a rumor that I was shot by a Blackhat, you should consider the fact that there were no other witnesses besides me and the shooter—and you didn’t hear about it from me. Also, having me shot by a Blackhat contradicts your story that I’m still working for them. Never cross your narratives and”—he tapped the folder in her hands—“never keep a copy of addresses where you intend to have people killed.”
To Michel’s left, a door opened and Tenik emerged with four more soldiers, taking up a position close enough to snatch Forgula if she attempted to attack him.
There was a sudden commotion, and then three emphatic clicks on the marble flooring. A corridor opened in the throng of people to reveal Ka-Sedial standing just inside the war game arena, a scowl on his face, quietly demanding to know what was going on. When his eyes fell on Michel and Forgula, he immediately began to stride toward them, cane in hand. Ichtracia stood just behind him, following with a curious look on her face.
Michel swallowed his nerves and glanced at Tenik, who gave an almost imperceptible nod. Waiting until Sedial was almost upon them, right as the Ka’s mouth opened with a demand, Michel gave a quick, respectful bow and spoke first. “Great Ka, thank you for coming. We have a grave matter to bring to your attention.”
Ka-Sedial glanced from Forgula to Michel to Tenik, the irritation on his face fading to something more neutral in the space of an instant. The old bastard knew a trap when he saw one, and he would wait to see how this played out before publicly castigating Michel.
Which was all Michel needed.
“What matter is at hand?” Sedial asked.
Michel bowed again. “By order of Yaret, we have come to arrest Devin-Forgula on charges of murder and treason.” He half expected Sedial to bark a reply—to sweep in to cover for his cupbearer. Instead, the old man simply lifted his chin and narrowed his eyes as if to say, Continue. So Michel did. “We have evidence that Devin-Forgula has conspired with enemies of the state in order to kill off her rivals among the Dynize.” Michel so very much wanted to say “your rivals,” but he kept to his script. This had to fall on Forgula’s shoulders, and hers alone. “The bombings conducted by the Blackhats over the last few weeks were coordinated by Forgula.”