“So she took the bait?” Jaz asked, somewhat surprised. She was waiting in the Captain’s office when Qiste finished interrogating her cousin, tossing a dagger and catching it. It was coated with Bomues – the potent type – just to add an extra level of motivation for the catch.
“The offer is genuine. We really do want to put the Anzabos back into the position they were. Eventually. It will take time for them to rebuild. Until then, they can serve the Empire in other fashions. Having them spend their time hunting a valuable asset of ours is waste of resources for all involved.”
“I figure they’re probably hunting all of you as well, they’re just mostly focused on me because I’m a traitor to them, and always will be.”
Qiste shrugged. “Every spy worth talking about is a traitor to someone. That’s the entire point of being a spy; we earn someone’s trust in order to betray it to those to whom or what we’re truly loyal. The way I understand it, Rena was taking you to be tortured and murdered when she was captured, and everything that followed was simply an investigation into that fact.”
Jaz sighed. “That’s not how they’ll ever see it.”
“But that’s how the Whisperers see it. You may think yourself a traitor because of the outcome, but we know you’re loyal. Both to your family, and the Empire,” Qiste insisted. “It’s such a shame that those things came into conflict, but that’s not your fault.”
Jaz caught her knife again and threw it into the wall in frustration. “Let’s agree to not discuss this ever again. My cousin? Has Rena agreed to stop chasing me?”
“She’s agreed to bring our offer to those who might be receptive of it,” Qiste said. “That’s enough to work with for now. Even if we just stand back and watch who she approaches, it will give us an idea of where the various factions within your family are falling out.”
“And my mother?”
“Will have the same opportunity as every other Anzabos,” Qiste insisted.
“She’ll never let it go,” Jaz said, sighing.
“Perhaps, perhaps not,” Qiste admitted. “However, removing half or more of her power base will help to ensure that she never succeeds, I’m sure.”
“There’s something you’re not telling me,” Jaz accused. “I can smell it. Come on, out with it. I’m a big girl.”
Qiste chuckled. “You’re definitely improving. Very well. Tharn was assaulted just after we left by remnants of the Anzabos.”
Jaz chuckled. “I’m sure that went well. I hope you didn’t kill any more of my kinsmen.”
“Some of the residents were a little enthusiastic in their defense of the village, I’m sure, but I was not informed of any fatalities on either side. There’s only so much you can fit onto a pigeon scroll, but they would have told me if anyone important had died. Your mother was there, however.”
“Of course she was. I’ll bet she was the one who broke into my cottage and threw a poison dart at my empty bed, while the rest played decoy for her. That’s exactly like her,” Jaz sighed, retrieving her dagger from the wall. “If you’re really going to insist on this foolishness of me following Baturya around, then I’m going to say goodbye to Rena and Juri. Then I’m going to go sleep in their stable so that they can’t sneak off without me.”
Qiste shrugged indifference as to her antics. “It was concerning enough that our agents neglected to inform us that Baturya had vanished from Shefdon. We need someone reliable to keep an eye on him. Someone with a connection already established, so that we don’t upset whatever comes next.”
“And if he’s about to kick the civil war off the spit and into the fire?” Jaz asked.
“Then it’s probably very important that we know what he’s up to so that we can prepare for that eventuality,” Qiste answered. “There is nothing more dangerous than an Agent on the loose. The chaos that an Agent causes isn’t always logical, but it does follow certain patterns. We don’t expect you to understand. Simply keep your eyes open and report everything at each listening station you pass by.”
“I know my assignment,” Jaz said, leaving the room. “I just hope I don’t meet anybody who wants my head on a platter while I’m doing this foolishness for you.”
~~~~~~~~~~
“So, are you going to try to kill me a third time, or will you take the offer?” Jaz asked through the door.
Rena turned from the bed and looked at her cousin, then turned back to face the wall. “I haven’t decided yet,” she admitted. “And it might not be my decision. All I’ve agreed to so far is to relay a message to a few clansmen. I’m guessing you’re not sticking around?”
“Tharn is no longer safe for me. There’s another safe house south of here. It’ll be nice to live where I can smell the sea again.”
Rena snorted. “Shefdon smelled of shit, not the sea.”
Jaz chuckled. “Your nose just wasn’t sensitive to appreciate the bouquet that a city like that provides. Salt, rotten fish, shit, unwashed bodies … I miss it. It’s a shame I can never go home again.”
“What do you want, Jaz?”
“Just to say goodbye. They’ll be holding you until I’m well underway, but they won’t let us talk again. Although you can probably get a message to me through the same methods they told you to contact the Whisperers,” Jaz explained.
“Why would I want to talk with a traitor?” Rena challenged.
Jaz sighed. “Fine. I tried.”
Rena did not hear her cousin stalking away, but when she turned back to the door, there was nobody there.
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
~~~~~~~~
Unoro stepped onto the ship, noting nervously how it shifted beneath him with the movements of the ocean. A young porter carried his luggage for him. He was a little surprised to admit that he was looking forward to the journey. He still felt the pall of Kasbel’s death looming over him, but having a goal gave him something to focus on. Something to distract himself with.
His cover story was that he had resigned and was heading west to seek a new opportunity. He carried with him a generous severance, both in coin and in writs of credit to be cashed in various banks of the west. It was more than generous, in fact, and only his honor prevented him from spending it on himself rather than his mission.
Personally, he had always thought Shajita was a spoiled little shit. Unoro had entered the Makavian’s service after Baturya had left it, but he had heard the echoes of rumors of how the boy had been treated by the young master to whom he had been companion. It was really quite despicable, he thought. It was one thing to work a slave hard, but completely different to beat and humiliate them for no valid reason. The other servants agreed with him, but it had not been their place to intervene.
Now that he thought of it, it was actually quite amusing the way the fates had changed the roles of master and slave upon the scion of the family he served. It was almost a pity that his quest was, at least partially, to see the spoiled little shit set free.
That part of the assignment would be easy, at least. He had seen the correspondence in which Baturya had all but begged the Makavians to retrieve their scion at their earliest opportunity. If it were not for the significant amount of legal fines that Shajita had accumulated, and the fact that a master remained responsible for the conduct and well-being of a free slave for ten years after an early manumission, there was little doubt that Baturya would have turned Shajita out already.
Walking somewhat unsteadily to the bow of the ship, Unoro looked out towards the west. He spent a moment wishing that Kasbel was making the journey with him, but after allowing himself to feel the sorrow for a moment, he put the emotion away and tried to look forward to the journey before him.
~~~~~~~~~
“Hello Juri,” Qiste said. “How does it feel to be a traitor?”
“I’m a patriot,” Juri said. “And I’ll go to the damn gallows with those words on my lips. You’ll be hanging one of your own, old woman, and you know it.”
“Oh, we were never going to hang you,” she said, grinning. “You’re right, of course. We know you’re loyal to the Empire. Are you still loyal, after she has seemingly betrayed you?”
Juri frowned, looking over from his cot for the first time. The cell he was in was small, and stank of a mess the previous occupant had made outside of the chamberpot. “You knew and you still accused me of--”
“We need a traitor. Or rather, we need someone to play traitor,” Qiste explained. “Of course, we’ll have to figure out something that you can do that we would actually consider a betrayal. But the exercise we put you through was necessary to prepare you for--”
“Wait, this was just another exercise?” Juri demanded, standing and turning a glare onto the door. “You-I killed Zinto because of what you told them! I had to!”
“Yes, it was most unfortunate,” Qiste agreed. “Fortunately Jazirqe was able to disable the rest of your pursuers before any of them caught up to you a second time. It’s rather a shame that all but she and Haso failed to see through the ruse, but none of them were particularly promising anyway.”
“You – you don’t care? You trained them for months and you just don’t care?”
“Juri, child, I’m much older than I look,” Qiste said, sighing. “And you were all warned. Trainees die in training. Usually at the hands of other trainees. It’s better to get such mistakes out of the way early than when they can have significant consequences.”
“Significant consequences? A man is dead because of a lie you told.”
“A thousand men are dead because of the lies I’ve told,” Qiste corrected. “Many times that, actually. A lot of them at the hands of people they trusted. That they should have trusted, could have trusted were it not for my words. Information, true or false, is the most deadly weapon there is, Juri. Some trainees need a hands-on demonstration of that before they can truly appreciate what line of work they’re in. You were forced to kill a man because of a lie someone else told. Will you ever kill another without viewing the context and making certain that it is truly necessary? Do you think that your other trainees will ever turn on their own without more convincing proof than was given against you? One trainee died, but perhaps a hundred men were saved.”
Qiste ruined her words by taking a bite of an apple. “Perhaps more. Or perhaps none. Only the gods see these things clearly, and we only ask them directly when we have a very important question. One man’s life doesn’t reach that threshold.”
Juri was struck dumb for a moment. The disregard she showed for the death of the man he’d killed in a training exercise troubled him. He’d never really believed that the trainees were in danger. Not until he’d been accused of some nebulous treason.
“I need time to think,” he said eventually. “I’m still a patriot, but I’m not certain I want to be a spy anymore. A small, shitty farm with a couple of rugrats is starting to look awfully appealing.”
“We can give you some time. In fact, I’d say you’re in an excellent position right now to evaluate your choices in life,” Qiste said, grinning.
“You’re going to leave me in prison knowing I’m innocent?”
“Innocent? Why, you killed a man! A fellow trainee! And that was before you kidnapped and held hostage a complete stranger,” Qiste reminded him.
“I had no choice! I was --”
“There is always a choice. You could have stayed and confronted the accusations against you. It would have defeated the exercise quite nicely if you had.”
“You said you were going to torture me,” Juri protested.
“Did I?”
“Goddamn it! Stop. If you want me to work for you willingly, just stop it with the games,” Juri shouted.
“Life is a game, Juri. It’s the biggest game there is,” Qiste answered. “But spycraft is a close second. Now, we’re going to leave you in prison for a few days while you decide what you want your future to look like. In a week, you’ll be brought before a magistrate. If you want to serve the empire in a way that few others will ever have the opportunity to serve, when asked of your innocence, you will admit your guilt. If you want to retire without having accomplished anything, simply demand a trial to face your accusers.”
With that, Juri was left alone to contemplate his future, as requested. An hour later, Jazirqe appeared to give him her perspective.
“Stop being an idiot,” she told him when he expressed his anger at his situation. “Zinto was an idiot who would have killed you if he’d had the chance. You did what you had to in the moment to survive. The blame for his death is on himself for not seeing through the exercise, and on the Whisperers for putting us through it. We were told every morning that spycraft was life and death, and that the training we were being put through was no less dangerous. That’s what they meant.”
“I still can’t abide the fact that it was all an exercise,” Juri protested.
“Would you rather that they have seriously intended to torture you for information that you don’t have, and then kill you afterward?” Jaz asked him. “Look, whatever they’re prepping you for, I’m guessing it’s something big. If you’re feeling sorry for Zinto’s death, then make it count for something. If you back out now, then he died for nothing.”
She left him to think about that. He didn’t sleep much that night. He didn’t sleep much the following week. What sleep he got was troubled and fitful, but when he was brought before the magistrate, he hung his head and pleaded guilty before even hearing the charges against him.