Authors: Patrick Weekes
The Palace Job (56 page)
"If we'd had the funds to properly perform an official study," the griffon declared, "we might have uncovered the dangerous malfunction in the stones before it became so dangerous. Archvoyant Silestin might still be with us today!"
"I can't believe you're dragging politics into this!" the manticore snarled, backing up slowly. "It was Silestin's own last-minute negotiation with the elves that
saved
Heaven's Spire."
The griffon spread its wings, and its lion tail swished angrily. "Nobody is denying Silestin's heroic sacrifice, but with proper maintenance of the Spire's prison facilities, these malfunctions would
never happen.
That's what's important here."
The manticore cowered in the corner. "I just think it's disrespectful to use a man's heroic actions as fodder for politics," it muttered. "That's disrespectful, and that's all I'm saying."
"I think we can all agree that Archvoyant Silestin died as he lived," rumbled the dragon with a puff of flame, "fighting for the Republic." It tossed out more candy to the crowd. "Remember, everyone,
it's your republic!"
"
Stay informed!"
"What do you mean," Tern said, scratching at her bandaged shoulder,
"we aren't getting paid?"
Voyant Cevirt's sitting room had been quickly restored, as had Voyant Cevirt. Hessler sat in the overstuffed chair, his splinted leg up on the ottoman next to Tern and his drink diluted only by three olives and a tiny onion.
Desidora, who had bar duty, wore Ghylspwr, the robes of Tasheveth the lover and an expression of mild amusement as Dairy tried to help a heavily bandaged and recumbent Kail drink his beer.
Icy sat cross-legged on the floor with his tea, and Ululenia, human for once, sat at the edge of the sofa and blew what she called a gentle and rejuvenating wind into Kail's face. Cevirt himself stood next to Loch in the doorway.
Loch would have laughed, but it would have made her ribs hurt again. Instead, she sipped her red wine, then turned back to Tern. "The thing is, the whole Spire was going to fall out of the sky."
"Right," said Kail, "because of Silestin."
"Totally
not our fault," added Tern, sipping her fruity drink. She was pleasantly flushed, and her eyes looked a bit unfocused behind the big spectacles.
"But the elf had to fix it before the
lapiscaela
all exploded," Loch went on, "and since he had to do so after being captured and mistreated by Silestin..."
"Tell me," said Hessler, "that you didn't just
give
him the book."
"He fixed the stones," Cevirt said, ticking it off on his fingers, "he delayed the gargoyles—"
"Pyrkafir,"
Hessler said irritably.
"—for a brief but critical time," Cevirt went on evenly, "and he got you all to the garden in time to stop Bi'ul."
"They just
gave
him the book," Tern translated in a loud whisper.
"Damn
it."
"There is a deal, however," Cevirt went on with a faint smile. "All charges have been dropped against you, and any of you with criminal records have just been granted a clean slate. Republic airships will drop you off wherever you wish to go."
"So... we're not getting paid," Kail said.
"Pretty much," Loch agreed cheerfully, and finished her wine.
"Except
for Dairy."
Dairy slowly turned pink. "Why me, ma'am?"
Cevirt pursed his lips. "Ambassador Bi'ul was evidently charged with several crimes, and as you were the one who...
apprehended...
him, there is a reward coming from the justicars."
"The justicars are paying the youngest thief on the team?" Kail asked.
"Dairy's too virtuous to be a good thief, anyway," Tern said, leaning back to sip her drink and slowly falling off of the ottoman.
"I don't know about
virtuous."
Desidora smiled. "After those wicked things he said to Bi'ul..."
Dairy blushed. "I don't even know what... what I said... means. It's just something Kail told a sailor in a tavern one night."
"Hey,
thanks
for bringing me into it, kid."
"What did you say?" Ululenia asked curiously, and gave Dairy a gentle stare. "Oh," she said after a moment, and her pale cheeks went as pink as Tern's. "Well. I'll show you what that means later."
Loch stood back from them all, watched them laugh and flirt and rest their wounded bodies and souls. She finished her wine, thought about having another glass, but decided to hold off.
They broke up soon after, with plans to meet at the kahvahouse that evening before the airships took them back to ground the next morning. Dairy gave Hessler a goodbye hug before being led off by a most determined Ululenia, and then Tern invited Hessler to visit the museum of magic, choosing her words carefully and making discreet eye contact with Desidora, who was nodding and mouthing the same words.
Kail wasn't well enough to leave the couch, but Desidora offered to stay with him while the others left. Icy, incredibly, left to go meditate in the garden where the great battle had been fought.
Loch left her wineglass in the sitting room, gave Cevirt a hug and a promise to see him again before she left, and started walking.
The kahva-house was quiet that afternoon, and she found an empty table easily enough. She ordered a kahva, opened the book Cevirt had given her, and lost herself for awhile.
When the coin landed on the table, she looked up with a smile.
"How did they take it?" Pyvic asked as he sat down. His uniform was clean and pressed and extremely formal. He'd been in Voyancy meetings for the past week.
"Could have been worse," Loch said with a shrug. "The kid insisted on splitting your reward money among everyone."
"One born every minute." Pyvic smiled, reached out, and took her hand. His fingers were warm.
"It's enough for all of them to live well for awhile," Loch said with a small smile, "even split nine ways. Thanks."
"I heard the paperwork finally went through on Lochenville." Pyvic squeezed her hand gently. "I'm sorry."
"Naria will make a fine baroness." Loch closed her book. "She's got the training, the connections, and the public persona for it. The barony will be well taken care of."
Pyvic let out a long breath. "It should be you."
"Should
and
is,
Justicar. Clean record or not, if it were me, there'd always be questions. It wouldn't look right."
"So out of all this, you get nothing." Pyvic signaled for a kahva to match Loch's.
Loch stirred her kahva. "Not quite nothing," she said after a moment. "Freedom for me. A clean record. The man who killed my family gone for good. A couple of prophecies fulfilled." She took a sip, swished it. "Could be worse."
"Do they know how close the Voyancy came to tossing them all into the Cleaners and throwing away the key?" Pyvic's kahva arrived. He closed his eyes and tasted it. He still looked good, even dressed in his silly uniform in the middle of an Urujar kahva-house. Damn.
"It didn't come up," Loch said with a smile.
"What do you do now?" Pyvic asked. "Any other nemeses who wronged your family I should know about?"
She laughed. It hurt her ribs a little, but it was worth it. "I could always try being a bookseller. I'd need some books, but I could probably lift a few from Cevirt without him minding."
"You'd make a hell of a justicar," Pyvic said suddenly, and as Loch nearly spat out her kahva, he added, "After seeing what you can do, the Voyancy was quite amenable to the idea of you being a blade in their sheath and not their back."
Loch raised an eyebrow and gave him a half-smile. "A justicar?"
"Think about it," Pyvic said, giving her hand another squeeze. "Free travel around the Republic, the joy of righting wrongs, mental challenges as tricky as the old scouting missions but with better sleeping arrangements..." He let the word hang just a bit, and his index finger traced tiny circles on her wrist.
She looked at him again, really looked at him. A justicar, of all things. She'd faced down an Archvoyant last week, and one justicar with dark eyes and really good fingers had her sweating. "You do know," she said, voice low, "that they're meeting me
here
later this evening?"
"How
much
later?" he asked, his eyes twinkled as he said it, and there was still enough left of the scout captain for her.
There were rooms available in the inn over the kahva-house, and Pyvic left to go get one very very quickly.
Freedom for her friends, she thought absently, watching him go and then come back, flushed but smiling. The man who'd killed her family gone for good, and a couple of prophecies fulfilled. And some free time with Justicar Pyvic.
She decided not to mention the trinkets from Silestin's palace that she'd pocketed while moving through his personal chambers. Even split evenly with the team, Loch figured she'd have enough to make a generous donation to the Republic Urujar University Fund.
Pyvic caught her look, stopped, and raised an eyebrow. "What?"
Loch gave him her sultry smile. "Not quite nothing," she said again, and led him upstairs.
The smile worked.
Author Biography
(Baos Photography -
http://www.baosphotography.com
)
Patrick Weekes
grew up in California and attended Stanford University, where he earned his B.A. and M.A. in English Literature. After attempting to be deep and profound, he discovered that he much prefers to write quippy banter, swashbuckling fight scenes, and parody song lyrics. He has sold stories containing the first two elements to several anthologies and magazines.
Patrick currently works at the award-winning video-game company BioWare, on the team that created the critically acclaimed Mass Effect trilogy. He is constantly amazed at being surrounded by such incredibly talented people, and also at having gotten the chance to write the aforementioned parody song lyrics for space aliens as part of his day job.
He shares his home in Edmonton with his wife Karin, his two Lego-focused sons, and seven rescue-adopted pets. In his spare time, he practices Kenpo Karate, paddles in dragon boat races, and puts way too much thought into analyzing the fight scenes of bad martial arts movies.
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