The Dragon Round (30 page)

Before he can say anything, Eles says, “Where is our general of the army? We pushed this meeting up to hear his news. Is it not so alarming that I must sit here squandering minutes?” Eles is so old and desiccated he reminds Livion of a chicken killed, plucked, and forgotten for a week in the sun. His voice, though, retains the sharpness of a beak.

“The general,” Ject says, “has been overstepping his bounds, arresting people in the Upper City, an alarming issue in its own right. While the general may conduct certain operations in the city, I ask the Council to remind him that his activities must be coordinated with the guard. For the public's safety.”

And for a cut of any prisoner's board
, Livion thinks, if Ject can have a prisoner sent to the guard's cells instead of the army's. Ject also gets a piece of a prisoner's service contract with a company after a conviction. Some of this coin trickles down to the guards, who call it the spoils of their daily war.

“I would like the Council to instruct the general,” Ject says, “when he deigns to appear—” As if on cue, a guard opens the chamber doors and Herse enters.

Unlike Ject's clothes, Herse's are rumpled, as if he has just returned
from an engagement in the field. He approaches the banc, adjusting his sash. When he was coming up through the ranks, Herse bore a kopis under his arm and his sash was as bedazzled as Ject's. Now he goes unarmed—the army is his sword—and his sash sports only one honor, the crossed spear and sword for basic weaponry, the first all soldiers receive and the one, Herse has explained, that binds them together in common cause for the city.

By declaring that Ayden, not a dragon, destroyed the wolf pack, that cause would be war.

Could Herse have been lying? Could he know about the dragon attacks too? A double dragon attack does seem less likely than an attack by privateers, especially with Solet coming up empty of late. As for other survivors, would Herse's forces silence them? Would he just pretend there were no survivors until it's too late to halt the war?

Livion knows the Shield has to make hard choices when it comes to protecting itself, like a captain has to when protecting his ship. Everyone, from Eles to the night soil man, knows the risks of impeding profit. It's business, not personal, just as someone has to supply the building materials in the wake of catastrophe. But to take a life, to start a war, to create the catastrophe; that Livion can't believe of them. He's worked beside them. He's taken their pay. He's devoted himself to them. And for all Herse's posturing, when Livion looks right at him, this man he's cheered on the hip-ball pitch seems trustworthy.

Who is he, a junior, to overrule them, regardless of what he may or may not know?

Ject opens his mouth to continue, but Eles recognizes Herse.

After checking that the rumor about
the shipment of cinnamon was true and the cargo was awaiting liberation, Omer heads for Livion's office. In the Round Square, he looks at the poor sods selling their junk and thinks,
Am I any better? Every day I unroll my own blanket and lay out the latest rumors. Sure I have a contract with the Shield, but that won't last. Maybe this cinnamon
is my chance
. He consciously avoids touching the pouch with his monthly and perk.
I have my stake. I could cover the harbor fees and buy the spice myself. Why shouldn't I get a taste for once? I could sell it to the Shield myself and ­double, triple, my money. When I put it like that
, he thinks
, I have to
.

To lift some other boats with his rising wave, Omer tosses pennies into several containers. Their merchants thank him with whispers. One battered and broken old drunk, having seen such gestures before, offers him for a penny more a shark's tooth engraved and inked with what could be a hook. He says, “With this you'll always have a fish in your net and a boy in your partner's belly. I'd bet a penny on it.” Omer declines, the drunk himself proof of its uselessness, and looks around. Where is the man with the huge blue shells? He would have liked one. What pearls must have come out of them!

Omer takes a shortcut to the docks, worried that someone may beat him to the deal. He darts through alleys, dodging teamsters and drunks, fishwives and brats, relieved to come around a corner and see the docks at the end of the way. Then a man blocks out the light. Two more rush up behind him. The man in front digs his middle finger into the corner of his half-red eye.

“Members of the Council,” Herse says,
“I'm late because Ayden has again reached inside our walls.”

“Not unlike yourself,” Ject says. “Your trespasses—”

“Take your seat, General,” Eles says. Ject complies, stiffly.

“Members of the Council,” Herse says again. “Bandits supplied by Ayden have robbed and murdered our traders on the road, and their privateers have savaged our shipping. They've put our border towns to the torch for not sharing the spoils of our markets with them. Company agents in Ayden have been detained and valuable secrets about company operations have been revealed. And a quarter hour ago my men arrested an Aydeni for entrapping one of our own soldiers.”

“Is this your news, General?” Eles says. “Another Aydeni detained?”

“No, but it shows the pattern of escalation that leads to my news. And I bring terrible news.” He raises his voice. “We haven't struck back because proof was tenuous and the costs of responding far outweighed the losses suffered. But they've struck at our wallets now. And our hearts.”

He pauses for effect—and to cue Rego to enter. The wispy man stops on the threshold so the guard can't close the door, and Herse says, “The Shield's wolf pack was attacked and destroyed by Ayden. They murdered two owners from the Shield, Mulcent and Sumpt, as well as Solet, a Hero of Hanosh.”

His words carry into the waiting area. Livion hears gasps, jabbering, and then footsteps as many leave to spread the word. Eles is about to tell the guard to stop them when the chairs and tables scraping in the chamber make him hold up his hand to keep the company representatives in place. They squirm and pout, worried someone else is already taking advantage of the news. Rego walks to the seat beside Livion, and the guard closes the door.

“This accusation,” Eles says, “should have been conveyed in private.”

“It isn't an accusation,” Herse says.

“Your proof?” Ject says.

“One of my patrols was told about two galleys wrecked on a beach near the Ynessi border. They investigated. At first they thought it was a dragon attack. However,” Herse pulls a folded piece of paper from his pocket, “I received word not two hours ago that my men captured one of the attackers. He was Aydeni, badly injured, and hiding in the woods, abandoned as lost. He was questioned, and he revealed their orders: destroy Hanoshi shipping.”

“Where is this man?” Eles said.

“The man didn't survive the questioning,” Herse says. “His wounds were considerable. We were lucky to find him alive.”

Ject says, “As much as I appreciate the general's yeoman investigative work, we must give careful consideration to any response.”

“I share the general's concerns,” Herse says. “Our evidence, however
alarming, is scanty. I would be happy to seek further proof, as well as indications of future Aydeni attacks, but I thought it better to address the Council now, with facts that are likely accurate when we might do something about them rather than later, when the facts may be more solid, but obsolete.”

Eles can't decide if he's looking at feed or feces. He says, “Let's hear from our sea general.”

Prieve stands. He is the third of the city's three generals, commanding the sea guard and the piers in the Harbor, that is, anything touching water.

As old as Eles but more robust, Prieve maintains a pre-League bearing. Livion's even heard him use the old courtesy words, such as “please.” He knows everyone who has ever docked in the Harbor by name, and he's been tested. He's arbitrated countless disputes because no one disputes his fairness. Since the rowers' guild was broken, he has even tried to improve the prisoners' lot. This has made him few friends among the shipowners and low people, who see a hard bench as a criminal's due, but every sailor and petty trader respects him, and he can collaborate with Herse and Ject, whom the Council keeps otherwise at odds.

Prieve says, “My patrols have made no reports about privateers or wrecks between here and Yness.”

Herse says, “How many ships traveling that route have not arrived as scheduled?”

“Five,” Prieve says. “Solet's three. The Shield's
Hopper
, four days late. And City United's
Harbourcoat
, two days overdue.”

Eles recognizes a representative from City United standing near the wall. “We give our captains three days' leeway,” the woman says.

“That's why you're a minor company,” someone says.

“You're just petty,” she says.

Eles's glare peels smiles off a dozen faces. “Noted. Can the councilors from the Shield explain the absence of the
Hopper
?”

“Our junior will address this question,” Chelson says. He nods to Livion.

Before he can stand, Ject says, “Is the general insinuating that Ayden sank these other boats as well? Two days is hardly a delay. Nor is four. Ships serve at the mercy of the sea and storm and trade. They aren't public carts traveling upcity.”

“We have to be on our guard,” Herse says. “The general for the Guard hasn't seen what I've seen in the field. I mean to stop any threat long before he has to buckle his boots.”

Eles says, “The Council recognizes the junior from the Shield.”

Livion stands. As he does, Rego whispers to him through his hand, “Two heroes lost already. A third would galvanize any city.”

I'm no hero
, Livion thinks.
But could I be one?

Omer has no idea who owns
the men surrounding him, but that's irrelevant. He lowers his shoulder and charges. If he can get out of the alley, he'll have some room to fight. Red Eye gets lower than him, though, which enables the two men behind the rider to knock Omer over Red Eye. Omer knees Red Eye in his good eye, crawls free, and he gives Crooked Nose a heel to the mouth. He stands, but they get his ankles and, as he takes a step to run, they jerk him flat as a rug. His tooth cracks when his jaw hits a cobblestone.

Omer tries to climb the stones. He can't get a grip. A blade dives into his back. A boot plows into his ear. The Harbor becomes foggy. His limbs get heavy. Red Eye says, “Flip him. Let him watch.” He's rolled over, Red Eye draws his hatchet, and the hacking begins.

5

Livion concludes his statement to the Council by addressing Chelson directly: “I had no chance to tell you earlier. I came straight here after hearing the news. Out of respect for Mulcent's and Sumpt's estates, I
wouldn't have said anything to the Council before they were informed unless it was necessary.”

“The company appreciates their contributions and regrets their loss,” Chelson says.

Ject says, “Solet was hunting dragons in the area, which does make the junior's story more likely than the general's.”

“What I find likely,” Herse says, “is someone taking a chance to relive old glories.”

“You would,” Ject says.

Livion's feet swim in his boots, but he can't back down. “My trade rider's information has always been reliable.”

“I would like to test that assertion,” Eles says. “Is this Omer still in the city?”

“I know this rider,” Ject says, “and if he is, he'll be at the Tripple in the Harbor. I'll have him collected.”

Ject motions to Ravis, first guard of his personal retinue, whose bronze helmets and muscle cuirasses distinguish them from regular guards' plain leather caps and composite cuirasses. The man tasks two other guards to join him, and they leave to find the trade rider.

“What is certain at least,” Eles says, turning to Chelson, “is that something did happen to your wolf pack. Always thought that was a foolish idea. Of course, if this was an act of war instead of misadventure, your insurers may reimburse you.” Chelson's face doesn't move an inch.

“And the prison,” Ject says, “may forgive the loss of its assets. I'll also have the families and associates of the Shield's rowers contacted to see if any have returned home. The Shield might do the same with its sailors. Another survivor would provide valuable testimony.”

Chelson waves his hand abstractly. Livion says, “I'll have that done.”

“Until the Shield's informant is produced,” Eles says, “I move to postpone this portion of Council and, after a quarter-hour break, proceed with the public pleading.” Blue Island seconds. Eles raises his
ivory gavel, carved in the shape of an hourglass. “I would have moved that we keep this situation quiet lest the Shield suffer financially from uncertainty and baseless speculation, but, once opened, that door can't be closed, can it?” He sounds his gavel. The chamber empties as if on fire.

If Livion's created financial problems for the Shield, and that's likely, Eles will be the first to offer solutions. There's a reason his company is called Hanosh Consolidated.

At dusk Livion stands at his
office window, wishing Solet or Tuse would row in and settle matters.

The Council was not pleased that Omer couldn't be found, especially after the first hour of pleading was taken up by complaints regarding the war with Ayden, and the second, as rumors spread, by those regarding the war with Ayden and their dragons.

Eles's fury had hardly matched that of Chelson. After Council, Livion followed him and Herse to the Shield's offices in the Blue Tower. They were trailed by various clerks and assistants, the mood funereal, the only sound the paradiddle of their footfalls on the iron stairs. One girl, Kathi, he thinks, gave him a look he thought was encouraging until she ducked her eyes and revealed it as pitying. She knew this march was his drumming out.