In the cathedral basement, Xiatoktok groaned softly. He did that every now and again, as Gert the definitely-a-gardener stimulated the nerves in his body. His muscles would twitch and convulse, then relax. His new bone marrow was hard at work flushing away the poisoned blood, and Gert certainly didn’t mind draining toxins directly into a bucket when necessary. Gert wasn’t bored, but it had been a while (how long, he neither knew nor cared) and he was mildly curious about what was going on outside of the basement. Not enough to ask someone, but a tiny bit.
He looked over his patient. In Gert’s very expert opinion, he was fine. Not good, but fine. Good enough. Or at least good enough for Gert to get himself out of the basement. Yeah. That sounded good. He could go get some fresh air. See how Allie was doing. And Roberta. Yeah. Time to go. He nodded.
“Get up.” Gert said sternly, looking at Xiatoktok. The comatose figure groaned once more and opened his eyes.
Gentian was out visiting the city walls. Partially as a morale thing, partially because she liked the view. It was a brisk but sunny day, the sky a piercing blue that promised spring was coming on strong. She hardly noticed the spear in her hand any more, or the way it casually rested against her shoulder. It had become so much a part of her, she got anxious if it wasn’t immediately to hand. She didn’t know what she would do if… when… the Patriarch wanted it back. Try and have another made just like it, she supposed. It looked like a pretty basic spear. Should be easy.
She looked out west. A farmer on a plough cheve, its big hooves thundering as he whipped it along. And he had damn well better stop whipping it or he might just find himself the one getting whipped! She turned to one of her guards, pausing when she saw the farmer start waving. She couldn’t hear quite what he was saying, but it sounded like he was yelling.
The city guards went out to meet him, calming him down and firmly relieving him of the bit of rope he was using as a whip. They conferred, and led him into the City. Giving Gentian an odd look in the process.
“Find out what that’s about.” She ordered a guard. He caught up a few minutes later.
“It seems… that one of our Xia mercenary companies has gone slightly mad. It seems that they are hanging everyone they think might be a GNUF collaborator.”
“Heavens! Who? Where?”
“He didn’t know the name of the company, Concubine. And Colmbe.”
Gentian paused for a moment, thought it through, and paused again. “Colmbe? The place with all the criminals?”
“That is a fair description of Colmbe, Concubine.”
“Well… it’s not good that they are hanging people, but why does some random farmer care?”
“I’m afraid that they have started… aggressively investigating potential collaborators to the collaborators. They are no longer limiting themselves to just Colmbe.”
’Te had finally put out all the fires that sprung up while he was on the road. Always such a mess, but what could you do? He glanced at the short stack of new Mother Malima illustrated stories. It seems that Xiachoii had made some investments in the publishing industry. Variant covers were an impressive, if sinister idea. She also sent home a selection of little charms, easily mass producible, as well as a small selection of prayers suitable for compiling into a small pamphlet. Very nice. A little… delicate to circulate in Cold Garden, but nice.
It was an act of savagery to start branding homegoods with a little outline of a girl with a big sack of treasures. Xia owned companies, of course, selling things like little girl branded blankets. For cheap. Marketed directly to the slums, in fact. She had cut some kind of deal with a heat stone supplier to make palm sized stones, safely sealed and boxed, for sale to the impoverished of Red Mountain. Again, with the little girl logo. He had seen the early numbers. She was already turning a thin profit. Very thin, by design, but to be profitable in less than two months?!
It seemed that he might have to do something a little more formal for Xiachoii. She had definitely graduated from “project” to “protegee.” ’Te made a note to clear out any other bastards that might be sniffing around her. Not that he was worried she would accept their offer. Just so everyone understood that she belonged to him.
A secretary burst through the door. “Expert! News from Colmbe!”
’Te smiled. “That was fast.” He was looking out a window, so only the city doves saw how hungry the smile was.
All across Cold Garden, rumors spread. The Xia had gone mad with rage. They were mad as hell about the Night of Burning Tears, they were mad as hell about their convoys being raided, and they were really, truely, inescapably furious about Xiatoktok being poisoned. Rumors started swirling about the dread practices of the Xia- “The Blood Hunt.” “The Reaper’s Dram.” “The Law of Five and Nine.” All complete nonsense, but spoken of with whispered authority by hundreds of “wise” mouths.
It soon made its way to the Chanticleers, and almost as quickly to the City Council. An emergency meeting was convened. It presented a thorny problem. On the one hand, these were not Cold Garden people. They were criminals, and the criminal adjacent. Mostly. But they also couldn’t afford to start alienating the surrounding towns. They were relying on those farmers, and the food that came in on those roads. They couldn’t just ignore it. But how were they going to stop it? Hell, the mercenaries weren’t even on a City contract! Which did raise the question- who was paying for this operation? Because the Xia mercenaries had a reputation for not stirring a single inch without payment in advance.
Stolen novel; please report.
An aid whispered in a counselor’s ear. She leapt to her feet. “Well stop him! Get him in here at once!”
The aid scurried off under the questioning gaze of the great and good.
A few minutes later, a gardener assisted Xiatoktok into the Council chamber. Xiatoktok’s robe was simple, white, unadorned, and completely wrinkle free. He took small, slow steps. The gardener led him to a small table and sat him down, poured him a cup of water, and stepped back. Xiatoktok took a polite sip, and looked up at the Council.
“So. How may I assist the Council today?” His voice was raspy. Thin. But very steady.
He was quickly brought up to speed, though still puzzled on some points.
“Are you quite sure that they wrote “By Oak, Ash and Thorn” on every fifth body they crucified along the road? Because both the crucifixion and the note sound terribly unlikely.” Xiatoktok asked.
“Our sources haven’t been able to confirm that. The other leading report is that the eldest and youngest are being executed with spikes hammered through the top of their heads- iron and gold respectively.” A Councilor said.
Xiatoktok quietly closed his eyes and sighed at that. “Well that one is definitely nonsense. A story spread by Ireneus in his book. It was never as common as he made it sound. That method of execution was strictly used in inter-Clan conflicts and hasn’t been in use for five millenia.”
“So you don’t believe the reports have any weight to them?” Another Councilor asked.
“On the contrary, I am quite convinced something is going on, and it likely involves Xia mercenaries executing people.” Xiatoktok’s voice was calm. A little firmer now, having had some more water. “I understand your problem. Would you be willing to leave this with me? I should have it cleaned up in two weeks. I am accounting for travel time, you understand.”
Several of the Councilors shook their heads with irritation, still more looked immensely skeptical.
“President Xiatoktok, with all due respect, you woke up from a coma, what, an hour ago? You will understand why we might just be reluctant to leave such a… complex problem in your hands.” One of the politer ones said.
“I understand entirely. On the other hand, I believe that I have some effective solutions that will ease the political situation while improving the security situation. Solutions available to me by virtue of my position and seniority in the Clan. It will take some preparation, but truthfully, I may simply be able to order them to stop, and to resume patrolling the road.”
That got him some looks.
“Just order them to stop.”
“Yes, Councilor.”
“And they will do that will they?”
“Probably, Councilor, with a little preparation on my part. Politics and all that.” Xiatoktok replied.
“All the executions, and flensing of skin and brewing blood wine?” She pressed.
“Frankly sounds a bit Ma to me, Councilor. But if they are doing that, I will tell them to stop. And I will be obeyed.” His eyes were completely steady. His hands rested loosely on his lap.
“And just why is that, President Xiatoktok?” The Councilor pressed.
“Because I’m holding all their money, Councilor. And because I will go forth with the weight of the Clan behind me.”
Xiatoktok stepped out of the carriage in front of the Bank. As much of the staff as could be made to fit in the courtyard had lined up on either side of a spotlessly white carpet. Two junior tellers kneeled on either side of him to remove his shoes.
“XIA!” Xiatokmai bellowed.
“GLORY! GLORY! GLORY!” The staff yelled.
“XIA!”
“GLORY! GLORY! GLORY!”
“XIA!”
“GLORY! GLORY! GLORY!”
To the sound of roaring cheers, Xiatoktok returned to his bank, walking steadily and alone on a spotless road.
“You were conscious for five minutes and already sorting out the City’s problems. Legend. Absolute legend. The whole Clan is about to riot, they’re so proud. Xiatokja is going to be unbearable on several levels.” ’Te patted ’Tok on the shoulder. “Gods above and below, it’s good to see you, old man.”
“Thanks. Look, whatever Gert did to my biochemistry to let me hold it together is about to tap out. I can literally feel my body teetering on the edge of collapse. Here’s what I need you to do. Have a bed arranged for me here in the bank. Inform my wife and concubine that I am here, and on the mend. Collect all information pertaining to whatever madness ’Rou is up to in Colmbe. Prepare a report of all the projects, boards and committees I was on, with the most urgent fires on top. Any other matters I should be made aware of, also put it in writing and prepare it for my perusal later.”
Xiatoktok took a deep breath and pressed on. “Gert said I should expect to sleep eight hours exactly, then have four hours of autonomy, then back to sleep for eight hours. We should expect this pattern to persist for weeks, and possibly months. Get ready to make accommodations. Also, have a courier sent to Mazelton in New Scandie. His presence is required urgently. Gert’s doing his best, but the radiological damage is far from healed.”
’Te looked at ’Tok, his trademark acidic grin hanging from his face. “Gods it’s good to have you back. You will have all of that when you wake. Some of it might even make you laugh. I’ll see to it.”
“No need to work too hard, that’s what the secretarial pool is for. Speaking of.” ’Tok rang the bell on his desk. “Duty!”
There was a slightly longer than usual pause, and one of his secretaries came in. Xiatoktok looked the man dead in the eyes. “Tea, two cookies. You know the type I like. Xiatokte and Xiatokmai will have some further instructions for you shortly. I expect you will continue to assist them in the same commendable fashion you have always conducted yourselves in.” His voice carried out the office door. “That will be all for now.
The secretary took a moment to remember how to speak. “Yes, President. It will be my, and our, honor.”