Guns of the Temple (The Polaris Chronicles Book 1) (24 page)

Taki stood in front of the Old Bretagne hotel, feeling grimy and sour from his journey. It was a stately place, with a roof done in tile rather than thatch or daub like so many others, and even had some surviving glass windows. He wondered if the Minister would meet him in a room with those windows, for surely she was a wealthy woman. Working for her might not be so bad. Perhaps she would notice his skill and override Hecaton’s wishes. With a noble behind him, he would then have the power to help Lotte. He would even buy out his squadmates if they were extra nice to him. With a jaunty smile, he entered the building.

Showing his passes to the courtiers bought him an escort to a third-floor suite that he entered with trepidation. The shag carpet looked almost alive and seemed about as trustworthy as quicksand, though he knew that fear to be unfounded. Still, he watched his footing with care. So preoccupied was he with not being swallowed whole by a predatory rug that he almost missed Amilia Gillette staring quizzically at him from her seat on a couch by a sweeping set of glass bay windows.

“I assume you’re Natalis,” she said. “Don’t worry, the floor won’t eat you. I, however, might.”

Taki stiffened at the sound of her voice before clumsily dropping to one knee and bowing his head. Her skin was as darkly hued as Karma’s.

“Milor—” He cursed himself inwardly. “Milady.”

“’Minister’ will do, Natalis.”

“Minister, I arrive as bidden. What service would you have me render?”

“Can you actually factor?”

“Yes, Minister. I am the purser of my unit and can perform multiplication and division for a legion.”

“If I gave you a round of Browning Machine Gun and told you to divide it amongst a company, how would you do so?”

“The major receives three Old Nayto Standard. The captain, two. Assuming three lieutenants in a company, each receives five rounds of Luger. Sergeants get a round each, or ten reloads in the same caliber. Corporals, five reloads apiece. You will have a surplus of four reloads left to go to the company paybox for later.”

Amilia narrowed her eyes.

“It seems Mezeta didn’t deceive me, after all. Report to the archives. Ask the librarians to show you the transaction records of the three major ordnance exchange guilds for the last ten years. With this information, I want you to conduct an experiment.”

“An experiment?”

“Yes, an experiment. Milligrad doesn’t materialize out of the ether, so this is entirely a fiction. But I want you to plot out what would happen if it did. Use the figure of two million rounds of Luger injected into the currency pool. I want to know how badly the guilds would suffer, in particular. How much debt they would call in, and from who. Do you think you are capable of this exercise?”

Taki frowned. It was within his faculties to do so, but why would she waste his time on such fanciful speculation?
Don’t question the noble. Just do as she asks, and you’ll be rewarded,
he thought to himself. He raised his head. “I am.”

Amilia nodded, and for the first time Taki saw what could have been mistaken for a smile on her face.

“Good,” she said. “And I want to make something very clear. While you are in the capital, you are under my employ. I will compensate you fairly, and well. In exchange, you will not utter a word to anyone about this, Natalis. This is just a bout of frivolity, after all.”

Taki wrapped the knit scarf around his neck and made sure it was snug. Doing so would keep the drafts out and keep him from accidentally catching flame from his candles. The still air within the Vallianos archives was throat-scratchingly dry, and the ambient temperature hovered near frost level. If he set himself or the books on fire, no help would come for him this deep in the subterranean stacks.

He had now been poring over the accounts for days, tracing the flow of money from Athenaeum to the Cloud Temple and back. Like any other part of the Dominion military, polaris were compensated through block payments of ammunition. Part of the monthly shipment was expended to fulfill battle obligations, and any surplus left over was distributed to the soldiers to keep as their pay. While milligrad was the uncontested standard of currency, there was also substantial traffic in reloaded cartridges, and this actually made up the vast majority of transactions. It made sense to him. Warriors used a lot of ammunition in the commission of their duties. With an ingrained reluctance to fire the shiny “good” ammunition, that meant a lot of trading of milligrad for less sought-after varieties. Most of it ended up back in the hands of the guilds, which were in turn the main creditors for Dominion nobility.

“Corporal Natalis, it is refreshing to see your enthusiasm,” Amilia said as she approached from behind. Taki started, nearly knocking over a candle and catching his hair on fire.

“Minister,” he said, remembering to kneel.

“Rise. Have you gotten closer to confirming my suspicions?” she asked, not bothering to continue the pleasantries.

“Yes, Minister. Based on the accounts I’ve reviewed, a sudden influx of 'grad by an independent source would lead to chaos. The ordnance guilds would see their reloaded products rendered almost worthless overnight. In their panic, they will probably immediately start calling in debts, or at least refusing to lend. This will place the nobility and vassals, who engage the Guilds’ services the most, in an untenable position. They would either be unable to defend themselves, or forever cut off from necessary funding.”

“Is there anyone who would be untouched?”

“Possibly a few members of the diacheiristes. The basileus would suffer, but would not turn insolvent. Of course, with the Imperial Liberation Army at the walls, everything might turn out differently.”

“Very good. Can you have a report to me by the morning?”

“It’s already complete,” Taki said, gathering a sheaf of papers and presenting them to her. She hurriedly skimmed the pages and let out a satisfied grunt.

“Then I release you back to the Cloud Temple, Corporal. Tomorrow morning, you will be given travel passes for the journey back. You may return to your lodgings. Remember to extinguish the candles.”

She started to turn to leave.

“Minister,” Taki said, despite all of the voices inside insisting that he simply depart as ordered. It was stupid of him, but he needed to know. “Are you planning to crash the guilds?”

Amilia stopped, slowly turned, and stared at him. He had not asked her if she were merely planning to destabilize the nation’s currency. What he was asking was if she planned to usurp the basileus. Wrecking the economic foundation upon which all Argead lords rested their security was only productive if someone else stepped in to take control. Someone with power and the bullets to lend. Beneath her heavy robes, she wrapped her fingers around the grip of the small but powerful revolver held against her hip.

“And what if I am?”

Taki blinked. Now he had done it. He had disregarded every piece of advice that had kept him safe and comfortable for the last sixteen years and confronted possibly the second most powerful person in the country. Strangely, he felt relief, more than anything else.

“Do you think you would be a just ruler?” he asked. Amilia’s grip tightened on the revolver. Taki could easily overwhelm her in combat, but he lacked preparation and weapons, and she had the advantage of surprise. A well-placed round of .357 magnum could take any man down, even the exarch.

“And what constitutes justice to you, Corporal Natalis?” Her finger touched the trigger and tightened.

“A little while ago, I was sent to Kosovo, to aid the duke against rebels. He was supposed to be this big hero, but we were made to help his vassals kill an entire village of innocents. We could do nothing to stop it, for he was within his rights. Though it is blasphemy to say this, if the rebels hadn’t killed him I’m pretty sure one of us would have. While I don’t presume to know what justice really is, I now know what it’s
not
. I’ve always just gone along with everything because I didn’t care either way, as long as I was comfortable. But I can’t do that anymore, not if I want to sleep at night. I want to help change something.”

“Even if that means betraying your overlords?”

“I’m no traitor. But my overlords have to earn my allegiance.”

“Those are dangerous words, Corporal. Keep them close to your heart.”

“Understood, Minister.”

Amilia nodded. Her exhalation swirled tendrils of condensation in the frigid air. She let go of the revolver and brought her hand up to her mouth in thought.

“Come with me, then. I may as well show you the rest,” she said.

They exited the archives together, and emerged into the muggy night of inner Athenaeum. Amilia was not given to conversation, Taki realized. He was fine with that, as it was enough effort already to calm the fluttering of his heart. Before joining Tirefire the Lesser, he would have never imagined voicing his thoughts, much less to one of his betters.

As they navigated increasingly twisted roads and alleys, Taki realized that he was gradually going underground. The capital was an ancient place, and previous empires and kingdoms had extensively developed the warrens underneath. The first three hundred years of fallout from the Gotterdammerung had made life on the surface impossible, after all. Eventually, they arrived at a nondescript but rigid set of steel doors. There were no guards in sight. Amilia rapped briefly on a knock plate, and a small panel slid open to reveal a man’s eyes. He looked at the minister, slid the window shut, and opened the door.

The inside was underwhelming, though clearly massive in size. Just rows of stacked boxes under dim fluorescent lighting, and only a handful of sentries bearing the crest of House Gillette on their armor. Taki noticed, however, that they all carried functional, pristine Avtomat 74’s. Enough firepower to bring down a company of knights, and highly illegal for commoners to possess. The guards stood at attention while Amilia motioned for Taki to approach. As he did, she unlatched the top of one of the wooden boxes and lifted its cover for him to see. His eyes widened as he looked at fifty thousand rounds of golden milligrad.

“It’s not milligrad,” Amilia said. She handed him a round of 9-millimeter Luger. “But it’s very close.”

“I must admit, Minister, I can’t tell much of a difference,” Taki said, rolling the cartridge in his palm.

“The Ursalans have always enjoyed superior knowledge of the old world. However, with the recent wars we’ve seen more refugees coming over the borders. Among them were skilled alchemists who have developed ways to refine our manufacture of ammunition to this point. We can now make and draw brass into casings, coat lead with copper, and most importantly, cut powder smoke down to a quarter of what it usually is.”

“Much better than half-grad,” Taki said, handing the bullet back to her. “This many in circulation will make most of the reloaded rounds completely worthless. It will also drive the value of milligrad down. The guilds will cease to exist.”

“And when we dump these into the markets, I will have most of the lords in my debt, including the basileus. I think you can put together the rest.”

Taki nodded. It was a more potent plan than any attempt at seizing the Mitripoli by force.

“With utmost respect, why have you shown this to me?” he asked.

“You’re a low-ranking soldier in a disgraced unit. If you were to speak about this with your commanders, they would trepanate you because you’d have gone mad. And then, I would have others in my employ finish the job. Do we have an understanding?”

“Yes,” Taki said, smiling despite himself. “Yes, we do.”

“Good. I must remain here for a time. One of the men will see you out and back to the gates.”

Taki was about to rise, but something stirred in his heart. Something he knew was wildly, impossibly dangerous. Something he couldn’t fight.

“Minister, must I return to the Temple so quickly?”

Amilia tilted her head quizzically.

“You have done enough for me, and exposed yourself to great risk. To ask any more would be unjust.”

He sank to both knees and touched his forehead to the ground. It was an abject and pitiful gesture, but the only thing he could think of at the moment to disrupt her focus.

“I beg you to reconsider! I want to help you do more. I want to make a Dominion I can be proud to serve again. I don’t care about career, or reputation, or even my honor anymore. Throw my life away freely, so long as you put me to use. Please!”

Amilia was silent for what seemed to Taki to be an eternity. Finally, she bent over and lightly touched her fingertips to his head.

“You have a habit of speaking dangerously,” she said. “So, Natalis, could you kill a king? Could you bear that damnation?”

Taki shivered. “Gladly.”

“Then perhaps you can be of use. We will create that Dominion you desire so much.”

“You know what, I think I’ll go back to Kosovo and ask the Prince of Maladies to just kill me after all,” Draco said. His mastery slowed by bitterness, he sloppily gouged an eye from a large potato in his hands and set to work on peeling the greenish skin away. The latest crop was practically bubbling with solanine and he swore it was leaching into his skin. His guts rumbled and his head hurt. Though the others had dismissed the theory, he suspected that Imperial sympathizers were unearthing the roots too early and letting them sit in the sun to poison everyone.