Godslayers

With Kives dealt with to Kuril’s satisfaction—my brain was still replaying the pig’s dying squeal—we adjourned to Kuril’s office to plan our next steps. We were joined by Roel and by Bofa, who was pushing her chair. I couldn’t see her legs under her skirt, so I had no idea if her muscles had atrophied significantly. Then I realized I was thinking like a primitive and checked the etheric resonance of her legs. According to the significance of the wound, the nerve damage to her leg wasn’t going to get better, but the muscles were still in relatively good condition—aside from the stab wound, of course, which was going to take a while for her body to fix.

Or, you know, about fifteen minutes with a medical translator.

The guilt must have shown on my face. Roel caught me looking and scowled at me. I flashed her an apologetic smile and took a seat.

Kuril also sat down. She gave the desk a considering look, glancing up at Bofa for a moment. She frowned and shook her head slightly.

“Well, then,” she said. “It’s about time I got everyone up to speed. I apologize that I have been so busy recently—by the way, Roel, Ajarel informed me how everyone interpreted the long hours in my office, and I just want to clarify that I’ve only been having sex with Bofa during the evenings.”

Roel tilted her head, then slowly nodded. The new information didn’t make her any less miserable.

“The reasons I’ve been in effective seclusion are quite complicated, but the short version is that we are all doomed unless we can change a lot of things very quickly.”

“Doomed?” I said, giving voice to the worry and surprise on Roel’s face. “It’s, uh, not like you to be so hyperbolic.”

“It’s simple mathematics,” said Kuril. “The price of iron has been increasing for several years, and it’s impacting our ability to do business. I have determined that our financial situation is increasingly fragile. The House will be vulnerable to collapse and ruin within two years.”

“I thought we were untouchable!” Roel burst out. “We’re invested in the city itself.”

“We have been outmaneuvered,” said Kuril. “I thought I had the complete picture and I did not. For your benefit, Ajarel: we still have substantial holdings in the city, but most of our income is earned through commissions—self-locking doors, water valves, counterweight pulleys, and so on. Our earnings have been stable, if not on the rise, for several years. What’s troubling me are the numbers from the craft guilds.”

Kuril spread out several sheets of paper, each with columns of precisely-annotated data.

“These are the bellwether guilds of economic activity in Vitareas. Delve reports a slight increase in business over the last three years. Loam shows an increase of earnings, roughly of proportion eight parts to the hundred per year. Tree, meanwhile, has lost nine parts to the hundred over the same timeframe, and Quarry has fallen to seventeen from their position three years ago. Do you understand the significance of these indicators?”

“Uh… no.”

“Economic decline,” Kuril said immediately. “Delve and Loam are the most stable of the guilds. Delve because the Jenneretti have skillfully curated the city’s industry to require a constant supply of metal, and Loam because the city will require food no matter the circumstances.”

Roel looked like she knew all this already. I tried to make sure I was getting everything so as not to give her more reasons to be upset at me.

“On the other hand, Tree and Quarry,” Kuril continued, “are more beholden to the city’s fortunes. Quarry has it the worst—when the wealthy stop building, Quarry has to rely on city projects for income, and since the completion of the second aqueduct we’ve had nothing but the usual maintenance projects for them. Tree is in the same situation—a laborer struggling to buy bread has no business for a carpenter. As the treasurer of Vitares, I use these as indicators of the financial stability of the rich and poor, respectively.”

“So the farmers are charging more for food and people aren’t buying as many nonessentials,” I summarized.

“That’s the apparent conclusion,” said Kuril. “As for our doom, I was discussing iron prices with Bofa, and we started to have some troubling disagreements.”

Bofa nodded solemnly.

Discussing iron prices! I tried not to smirk. He was truly the perfect man for her: they were both incredibly boring.

“These records,” she said, moving another pile to the center of the table, “are the earnings reports for Hammer and Wheel. We tend to follow Tree, whereas Hammer is relatively insulated from economic effects; however, they’ve experienced a loss of nine parts to the hundred. That’s the first thing that didn’t make sense—Hammer comprises most of Delve’s business, so they shouldn’t be moving in different directions like these numbers imply.”

“How bad are we doing?” I asked. House Vitares did business through the Wheel guild, but I hadn’t heard anything about business being tough.

“We aren’t,” said Kuril. “In the past three years, Wheel has seen an increase of thirteen parts to the hundred. And that tells me that something is wrong with the numbers.”

“Not gonna lie, economics isn’t my strong suit.” Roel glared at me. Sorry, kid, I never got the chance to take Macroeconomics. “So how are we doomed?”

Kuril pointed to the Delve sheet. “Iron, copper, and silver are produced in normal quantities.” She pointed to the Hammer sheet. “But the main consumer for these materials isn’t able to purchase them at quantity. Wheel’s metal consumption is a fraction of Hammer’s; we can’t account for a gap this large. So someone else is purchasing them, and it’s not in my records.”

“Another House,” said Roel. Kuril nodded to her.

“Meanwhile, the citizens of Vitareas are hoarding food and refraining from furniture purchases, but they’re hiring engineers as if the aqueduct were pouring silver instead of water. Either the records are wrong, or someone is paying citizens to buy from us.”

“You think it’s the same House?” I said. “Why would they do that?”

“Think about it,” said Kuril. “What happens if they continue for a year or two, then stop?”

Roel gasped. “At this rate, we’d lose a third of our income. We’d be ruined.”

“Not just us,” said Kuril. “Delve would suffer, though not crumble, I think. And House Voranetti would have a stockpile of materials to sell to anyone in Hammer who can’t balance their account books. Perhaps with loans.”

“You sound pretty sure about that,” I said.

“Did you suspect that perhaps the Henadim were conspiring to create an economic crisis aimed at the political rivals of the Voranetti?” Kuril snapped.

“They know you’re the treasurer,” I argued. “It was only a matter of time before you found out. Why would they be so blatant?”

“They’re not,” said Kuril. “We buy from the Jeneretti at fixed rates, per ancient compact. I never would have noticed, had I not decided to take on this particular consort.” She gave Bofa a very warm look. He smiled; I scrunched up my nose. “Another sacrifice to Kives is in order, I think.”

“It doesn’t matter either way,” said Roel. “Even knowing their plan, what can we do? It’s their grace-given wealth. They can do what they please with it.”

I took a deep breath, letting myself half-sink into the calm of meditation.

My interaction with Fisher this morning had seemingly developed another layer of communication. It wasn’t lost on me that Kuril would never have met Bofa if I hadn’t been around for her to delegate work in the first place. This too, it seemed, was Kives’s will.

It made sense, I supposed. I’d just happened to fall in with a House whose legacy was being threatened. Kives’s people went pretty big on the “having kids” thing—fair enough, given that fertility was one of her frequencies—but as she’d reminded Fisher today, you didn’t need children to have a legacy. My objectives dovetailed very nicely with hers for the moment.

Kives was probably trying to build up some credit with me and/or the team for when the final confrontation went down. Too bad it didn’t work like that. No mercy for soul-eaters. No quarter for aspiring universe-devourers.

But today, I’d play along.

“Okay,” I said. “Okay, this is fine.”

“Is that so,” Roel said acidly.

“Oh yeah,” I said, grinning. “We’ve got ‘em good. They won’t know what hit ‘em.”

Roel hmphed. “I suppose you have some brilliant plan where you go out and I stay home.”

Bofa put a gentle hand on her shoulder. I wasn’t able to hide a wince.

“It’s… not exactly like that,” I said. Roel fixed me with an unimpressed look. “Yes, I think you should stay home—let me finish! You need to be here because we’re bringing them to us. I propose we host a ball.”

“A ball,” said Roel.

“You wanted to find out the truth?” I said. “This is your chance.”

She examined me carefully. Slowly, uncertainly, she nodded.

*

The commander approved the op.

That wasn’t to say that my original proposal was flawless, or that she didn’t rewrite big parts of it with me before giving the okay, but by Galileo it was my op and she approved it. I felt like I could fly, or fistfight Cades, or drop-kick that fishy pirate guy off his own ship. You know, the big guy with the stupid forehead from the Kives op. I forget his name. Whatever. Point is, I felt really really good.

The one part of the plan the commander seemingly had no problems with was the part that just so happened to get Markus closer to Cades. I didn’t ask and she didn’t tell.

I spent most of a day holed up in Kuril’s office while she explained the various trade compacts between the big Houses of Vitares. I took notes, trying to keep my brain from seeping out of my ears while I built up a picture of all the major players. Kuril knew this stuff like the back of her hand. Together, we built a proposal our targets would accept.

Falerior was summoned to the estate. Kuril explained the job to him, with Bofa silently on her right and myself on the left, mirroring Falerior’s assistant Ekoula as we both took notes. Roel sat in on the meeting, staying as quiet as Bofa.

I amused myself during the proceedings by making Ekoula uncomfortable with periodic challenging glares. He always averted eye contact like it burned.

When the negotiations were completed, Falerior adopted a more formal tone, looking Kuril directly in the eyes.

“I understand what you ask of me,” he said. “Do I have your oath that this charge is made in good faith, and that you will accept the result of my judgment regardless of its conformance to your preferred outcome?”

Kuril’s tone was equally formal. “In the name of Vitares Steelsinger, you have my oath.”

“Witnessed, for House Vitares, by the ladies Roel and Ajarel, of the grace of the Vitaressi,” Ekoula rattled off. “Notarized by Oathkeeper Ekoula, of the grace of the gods.”

“Let justice be done,” Falerior concluded the rite.

“I’ll have payment sent directly,” said Kuril. “Thank you for coming.”

“I am at your service,” said Falerior, giving no hint of his thoughts. “My lady Roel.”

“Oathkeeper,” she said, a hint of warning in her voice. I felt a little warm at that. She might be mad at me right now, but at least she was on my side. Falerior nodded to her.

“Lady Ajarel,” he said, turning my way.

“How’s Lirian?” I asked. “Have you pulled out all her fingernails yet?”

A look of confusion clouded his perpetually bland expression. “Why would we do that?”

“Huh,” I said. “Is that not something you do?”

“If you’d like to learn, you’re welcome to come visit.”

“Definitely,” I lied. “Some other time.”

“Naturally,” he said, his polite smile returning. “Godsmile, ladies.”

I exchanged looks with the girls after he left. We were almost ready. All that remained was baiting the trap.

“Decision point,” I said. “Are we ready to, uh, release the bowstring?”

“Apt,” said Kuril, looking at Roel. “You’re the expert. Do you think the plan will succeed?”

Roel frowned. “To be honest, it’s normally a bad sign for the whisper if the playwright lets you know all the details before the plan is attempted.”

“And in real life?”

Roel considered. “I don’t see how anything could go wrong.”

The invites went out that evening.