Arcane mercenaries gener.., p.10
Arcane Mercenaries: General, page 10
“Sina might be sick as well, Grant,” Rienne added.
“We will have to move quickly,” Jafran said.
“Where are they?” Grant asked.
“Both are in Semturm,” Rienne answered.
“Get me out of here.”
Captain Vanda Vitova approached the bars. “I need your cooperation before I consider anything.”
“I’ll help you.”
16
RELEASE
“I’ll let you have a few moments with your friends, Grant. But I expect a written agreement before I click that lock on your cell one inch. I know your reputation with contracts.”
The rest of the party withdrew to the upper stairs as Jafran and Rienne waited for them to close the door.
“Captain, it is terrible. I’ve seen nothing like it.”
“What happened, Jafran?”
“Alenann recalled most officers from Varenne to Semturm.”
“That’s almost three days away, Jafran. What was the emperor thinking?”
“He needed a strategy session, captain. He had generals, colonels, and captains attending from across the Empire. You weren’t… available.”
“Grant, they are getting excellent care. The emperor has a dedicated team of doctors working to help the sick. I’ve seen nothing like it,” Rienne said.
“How many are sick?”
“Only the Touched,” she said.
Grant stepped away from the bars and placed his back against the cool wetness of his cell wall. He couldn’t spend more time in this dungeon. “Does anyone else suspect Sina is Touched?”
“She is not being kept with our mercenaries. She’s in the imperial house and under the best care the emperor can provide his granddaughter. The best doctors are there, but they don’t know how to help,” Jafran said.
“What the hell am I doing in this cell block?”
“We wanted to ask the same question. I mean, it’s not every day that we come down here and share this ambiance with our esteemed leader. I mean, how would they even take you in?” Rienne asked.
“I surrendered.”
“That would do it,” she said.
“Jafran, I’m in trouble here. I didn’t know it would play out this way.”
“You rarely do.” That was about as close to a rebuke from Jafran as Grant would get, but it stung.
“What do we do about my imprisonment?”
“From what we heard upstairs, there’s a lot of discussion about what you did. That knight guy says good things about you from your early days. You’ve got to tell me the story about how you met—”
“Rienne, the captain does not have enough time to tell stories.”
“Right. But I’m sure it’s a good story.”
“He’ll have time later. Once we figure out how to get him out of prison.”
“Ok. Well, they have lawyers reviewing charges, and the list is impressive. I didn’t think anyone could put together that kind of rap sheet in just a couple of weeks—”
“Rienne, I’m right here. I’m aware of what’s going on.”
“Right. But Kamil and Vanda are good people. They see more than just your criminal activities within the city. They want to help, but you have to cooperate,” Rienne said.
“We could always break out of here.”
“We wouldn’t make it to the border, captain. Between the betrayed underground and Bohem’s military, we’d be in front of a firing squad in about a day. We need to think of a different plan,” Jafran said.
“What do they want with me?”
“You’ll help them hunt down the leadership. The Syndicate, right?” Rienne asked.
“I already told them that, Rienne.”
“Guess they want to be sure. Be right back.”
Rienne’s slight frame bounded up the stairs, and she banged on the door for release.
“Travel must have been brutal, my friend,” Grant said as he watched Rienne’s limitless energy take on the poor Maro captain.
Jafran looked toward the stairs and rolled his eyes. “You have no idea, captain.”
They couldn’t continue the discussion with the return of the Maro official party. Grant waited quietly for them to take their positions around his cell.
“I’m told you’ve agreed to cooperate with us fully, but I want you to guarantee your cooperation.”
“Of course,” Grant said.
“We can draw up a contract for your review.” The voice came from one bureaucrat who accompanied the captain.
“Look, I agree to work with your team. You’ve got a campaign against the organized crime business in the capital. I’ll willingly help, and as soon as I’m done, I have to leave immediately to Alenann.”
“Only the king can pardon you of the crimes you committed in Maro,” the barrister said.
“Got it.”
The Maro leadership glanced toward each other, each surprised by the short negotiations. Grant didn’t spend time on contracts with his mercenary company. Ez did that work. He had to get out of here and back into the field.
“What else can you give me about the Talons?” Vanda asked.
“You mean more than what I gave Sir Kamil?”
“You get out of here faster if you help us bring down their leadership. Our agents couldn’t get close enough to the Syndicate, but you got them together in the opera house.”
That’s why they wanted his help. The watch could take down the foot soldiers and even disrupt the flow of illegal operations. The failed operation brought the Syndicate together, and Maro nearly captured them.
“The Syndicate is like the Republic of Nanteene. Leaders run specific divisions focused on a particular type of crime, and when they meet, they vote on a course of action.”
“They have divisions?” Vanda acted genuinely surprised. Her intelligence should have revealed at least that much. They were too focused on operations.
“They have leaders for everything from beggars and pickpockets to major operations. The Syndicate leaders don’t interfere in each other’s business. I guess the small monopolies are profitable.”
“That’s what was going on when we entered the opera house? A vote?”
“Yes. Mistress Trayana wanted a vote of no confidence in the Talon leadership. She runs the smuggling business in the warehouse district, and I’d bet she owns the docks on the river.”
“Good. But what about Mistress Mariana?”
“She’s not the only one to watch for. They have two Touched in their employ. Mariana appears to have the Touched ability to put people to sleep.” Jafran drew in his breath—Touched didn’t reveal their exact power. Each person had the common ability to heal quickly and avoid things like disease. The Touched also had a unique power; based on Grant’s extensive experience, no ability had ever been duplicated. “The other is her bodyguard and lieutenant, Cyril. From his accent, he’s local to Maro. He’s dangerous as a killer and Touched. He can move things with his mind.”
“That’s not possible….” The words left the captain’s mouth before she realized what she was saying.
“Spend much time around the Touched?” Grant gave her his first smile. “Most of what we can do wasn’t considered possible.”
“The fear of these new powers started the Mage Wars,” Rienne added. “In fact, it started in—”
“Thank you for the lesson.” Vanda turned away from Rienne. “How do we take down an organization with two Touched?”
“You can take it down, captain, but the Touched will build it back up. They’re careful, thoughtful, and dangerous.”
“I want them out of the city or under our control.”
“Two Touched? Not if they don’t want either of those. They’ve worked together for a long time, right under the noses of law enforcement. Why do you think that would change now?”
“Because I have a Touched officer in our prison. And I have his friends from the Arcane Mercenaries close by.”
Grant should have seen this trap coming. He cursed himself for not signing a contract and making sure he had terms he could live with. Grant and Jafran couldn’t get involved in a long-standing battle between law enforcement and criminal activity. Maro was too far away from Semturm and his friends.
“That’s a pretty high bar, captain,” Grant said. “I’m not sure we can fight this war.”
“Looks like bars are part of your problem, captain.” The grin was firm. She wouldn’t back down.
“You can keep hitting them where it hurts. Go after their profits and make the environment hostile to their operations. They’ll find easier ground. You don’t need me for that.”
“Nice try, but that’s not good enough.”
Grant’s eyes sought Jafran’s face. His friend shrugged. As a good first sergeant, he’d follow his boss’ direction no matter where it went, but he couldn’t influence this decision.
“You want me to be bait?”
“Now we have a good plan.”
Then one lawyer added, “And then we can discuss the offer for immunity.”
Grant sighed and agreed.
17
MARO NEGOTIATIONS
Grant knew Jafran and Rienne wouldn’t like his plan. It was risky to act alone, but he couldn’t figure out another way to avoid spooking the Talons. A Touched individual could believably escape prison, and he couldn’t waste time concocting an elaborate ruse. No one still languishing in the dungeon could counter his story.
Ez and Sina occupied his thoughts, and getting out of Maro was his priority.
His conversation with the Talons about the forced plan against the compound haunted his thoughts, and he recalled a quote about history repeating itself. Inadequate intelligence, rushed planning, and insufficient resources were a recipe for another disaster. Grant’s impromptu effort was worse than anything the Talons attempted. He pushed aside his misgivings and committed to the operation. Grant hoped for better results than the brawl in the compound, but hope was a terrible strategy.
After swapping his blood-stained, punctured shirt for a clean black one, Grant checked his composure in a mirror. He looked as bad as he felt. Restless nights, infrequent meals, and too much alcohol hollowed his face and left his clothes hanging off his thin frame. His sunken eyes resembled a skull, and Grant barely recognized himself under the bushy beard. No one would mistake him for an officer of an elite unit.
Jafran handed him a new sword encased in its leather scabbard, and Grant nearly waved it off. It was Maro’s military issue, but it fit his cover story. His body ached as his first sergeant helped him with a long blue jacket favored by the junior soldiers in the army. The wool would hold back the cold, and the plain brass buttons wouldn’t draw attention. The best Grant could do with his hair was run his wet fingers to tame its wild strands and cover them under his sweat-brimmed hat.
Before Rienne could draw a breath to comment, Grant slipped out the back door of the town hall.
The city streets seemed as dangerous as any battlefield. Every person who cast a glance his way was a potential informant. Anyone who lingered on the sidewalks and alleys could be a potential attacker paid by the Syndicate. Grant kept a steady pace and tugged up the collar of his jacket, but he avoided drawing on his Touched abilities.
Dodging puddles and avoiding other pedestrians gave Grant’s mind ample time to process his new battlefield. Who were his allies in this mess?
Sir Kamil Sklenar was an honorable soldier loyal to his battlefield companion, but he was firmly seated in the power structure of Maro. Captain Vanda Vitova and her cohort were waging a successful war against the underworld, but Grant was still a criminal in her mind. The Syndicate could be an ally against the failed Talon operations, but he couldn’t contact them. To the survivors of the opera house, Grant was a fellow prisoner, but Trayana cast doubts on his loyalty. Grant could only trust Jafran, and Rienne might be the second.
He had to get out of Maro and beyond the borders of Bohem.
Time passed to the rhythm of Grant’s marching through the damp street. The city blocks looked familiar as he approached the run-down section of Maro. He found some familiar landmarks and took a deep breath as he spied the Three Coins Bar, the dive where he left a body on the floor.
Grant tugged open the rickety door and cringed as the hinges groaned against his effort. The flickering fire spewed smoke into the main room instead of rising through the clogged chimney. Grant’s boots crunched on the packed earth floor as he approached the barkeep.
The owner dropped a mug on the floor and backed away from the wooden surface. He worked up the courage to speak, and Grant waited patiently for the barkeep to find his words.
“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t want any problems.”
“Not looking for more problems.” Grant removed his dripping hat and ran a hand through his hair.
“I never said anything. Nothing.” The barkeep rubbed his hands on his filthy apron as if he could wipe away his discomfort in the stains.
“Why would I think you did?”
“The way you left here. With those…”
“Talons?”
The barkeep gulped and nodded.
“I won’t be long, but I want you to listen to me. Carefully. Can you do that?” Grant glanced to each side, figuring the theatrics would help the man calm down. He leaned in and motioned for the man to move closer.
The barkeep placed his shaking hands on the bar’s surface for support and nodded.
“If Bruno, Sofie, or Cyril come through here, you tell them Grant is looking for them. I want a meeting.”
The barkeep nodded again.
“Repeat it back to me.”
“If Bruno, Sofie, or Cyril come in, Grant is looking for them.”
“Good. And if you know any other Talons, you can tell them the same.” Grant smiled and reached into his pouch for a few coins. Jafran thought of everything, and the bag was heavy enough to keep Grant’s operation running smoothly. “I still owe you for the body and the damages from last time. Here’s another coin to make up the difference.”
After slamming another coin on the counter loud enough to make the barkeep jump, Grant turned and walked out of the bar. Returning his hat to his head, he tried to retrace his steps from that fateful night. He only had to pause and ask for directions once to return to the Frozen Tower.
The common room of the inn was still in perfect condition. The floors had been swept recently, and every surface showed a fresh wipe-down. Grant hung his hat and coat by the door to keep the water from pooling at his feet.
“Welcome, traveler…”
“Yeah, I get that a lot. I wanted to say thank you for the last time I was here.”
“No thanks are required. I’m sure it was all a misunderstanding. That happens here in the Frozen Tower. Indeed, it does.”
Grant chuckled and pulled up a stool to the bar.
“I can get you a beer, good traveler.”
Grant wanted to say yes. Enjoying one last draft of this man’s fine selection couldn’t hurt. “A bit early for beer. I came for some information.”
“Oh, innkeepers around the world are quite good at collecting information. It’s my favorite part of the job. Yes, indeed, good traveler. I find it also pays well.”
Grant considered offering this barkeep a place in his mercenaries. He would be a fantastic quartermaster, chef, or even intelligence service chief. Heck, this guy could probably do all of them in his free time. Besides, this energy was sorely lacking in most military camps. He didn’t have time for recruitment, just a mission to complete so he could get back to Ez.
“I’m counting on it. You know the Trusted Talons, don’t you?”
The barkeep’s eyes shifted to the corners of his inns as if he was making a last sweep of the room before revealing secrets. “They’ve stopped by the inn for refreshments.”
“Then I need you to pass a message to any Talon that comes into your fine establishment.”
“Indeed. Consider it done.”
“Tell them that Grant is looking for them. I have information for them.”
“Ah, very good. Where will you be?”
Grant weighed the possibility that this innkeeper was providing information to a wide range of individuals with the right amount of coin. He counted on it. “The opera house.”
“Oh, very good.”
“And I probably owe you for my last visit here. I think many of us left in a hurry.” Grant reached into his pouch and grabbed six silver coins for the man. “Thank you.”
Grant scooped his hat and jacket up and headed out the door. He hoped the man was still in business if Grant returned this way. He’d stop by just to listen to the news and enjoy a splendid meal.
His next stop was the back of the opera house. He gave himself a fifty percent chance the Talons picked him up and had him followed since the first bar. Leaving messages in the last two bars where he met the Talons increased the odds of discovery to at least eighty percent. He’d take those odds any day and hoped the Talons were as impatient as he was.
Grant moved through the city streets as a man with a mission. The Syndicate and the Talons respected strength, and Grant wasn’t hiding. He second-guessed his plan of using the opera house. Would the Talons return to their old headquarters after the city’s raid? He wondered if the leadership would trust Grant, but the mercenary didn’t have other options. If the thieves went to ground, he would never find them.
He wanted to hunt them. Revenge fueled his pace as he remembered Mariana’s face as she delivered that blow to his side. His Touched abilities completely healed the wound, and he was ready for a fight. He wouldn’t give them another chance to ambush him.
Grant entered the alley behind the opera house and tested the doors. They were locked, and Grant heard the rattle of chains from the inside. Unless he planned on breaking down the door, he had to wait in the drizzle. He pulled up the collar to keep the dripping off the back of his neck and adjusted his hat.
Time passed, and the rain soaked through Grant’s overcoat. He doubted his plan as he stood in the elements, but Cyril didn’t let him down. Footsteps approached, and Cyril rounded the corner with a half dozen Talons.
