Vagabonds Page 11

  But, for the time being, she had to deal with the present.

  Which meant the traditionalists who were pushing for a cessation of all the election nonsense, because, after all, their former dictatorial regime had worked just fine—never mind the civil war, that was just a hiccup of a rowdy bunch. Besides, look at Olmsel, the nation that’d sprung up in the western lands Yosel ceded to the rebels to end the war. Once the cease-fire had been declared, the rebels’ dreams of a ‘free’ nation collapsed in on itself within weeks and they’d fallen under the same sort of government they’d sought to escape. Obviously, all that progressive business was at fault.

  Opposing them were the reformers, banding together under the name of “The Future Party,” of which Sejit had become the de facto head of. The Futures had the advantage of numbers, a plethora of lesser government officials who would otherwise never have the opportunity to rise under the old ways without engaging in questionable activities and methods. This wasn’t to say that they were all champions of good ethics and practices, rather they tended to be smart enough to know not to step on any toes.

  Still, they pushed for elections and progressive reforms, which suited Sejit’s goals and so she tolerated them. Unfortunately, the general low rank among them meant that the clout of each member and their wealth tended to be inferior to their Traditional counterparts. Fortunately, Jasmine Reith made up for them and then some.

  But, the Futures weren’t without issue. While still outnumbering the other parties, they had been more significant prior to the death of Julian. His death fractured the party, on account of an offshoot believing that Jasmine had somehow been tainted.

  The largest splinter championed Kelm Massian for the position of Marshal. He was a decent enough pick, good head on his shoulders, for a mortal, but he had taken too many favors to get to where he was. Too many tethers kept him bound. His rule would be ineffective, dominated by whispering in his ears.

  There were, of course, multiple smaller parties and factions. For the most part they favored the Futures since the only shot any of them would have at obtaining a seat of power would be through elections. But, again, this meant they tended to be lackluster when it came to advancing their position through their own means, and none bothered with trying to get themselves elected to Marshal. Most of them liked Jasmine Reith enough, anyways.

  She was new blood, full of new ideas. Just the breath of fresh air Yosel needed to join the modern world. And, just as an aside, an unimportant detail, she was generous to those who supported her. This was well-known.

  Of course, outside all the haranguing and fracturing and dealing that had taken place surrounding Julian, there was the Laborer Union.

  It was hard to pinpoint a time when they’d been founded, so to speak, but the populist-centric rhetoric they spoke brooked little concern with the appointed ministers and officials, despite the favor they curried with the common man.

  Now that there was to be an election, the Union had grown to be a prominent concern. It was still unknown who they’d push for Marshal, but Sejit did have a few ideas.

  Old guard, new blood, old money, young money, centrists, blood money…

  Politics, thought Sejit bitterly, seated behind her name plaque. Will I ever be free from the tyranny of politics? How do they manage to argue and bicker and spend so much time accomplishing so little?

  Because they are mortal. They forget. Why not remind them?

  Silence.

  …

  Recess was the smallest of mercies granted to her, an hour free of noise. Or rather, pointed noise. Most of the ministers, regional, and local politicians had vacated, but enough remained to keep the fires of pointless debate stoked. Already some twenty minutes had elapsed since the recess began.

  A side door opened and in crept a blonde-haired girl. Glancing around, she spotted her mark with ease and scuttled over with all due haste.

  “Sorry I’m late, there was an accident on the highway,” said Sophia, depositing a bundle on the desk.

  Sejit tore open the plastic bag and retrieved the foam box within.

  “There were no ways around or detours?”

  “If I wanted to take my car off-roading, sure. When you’re elected, you need to build some roads so we have more than a highway.”

  “One consideration among many,” Sejit said, cracking open her prize.

  Scents of spices and beef triggered so much saliva she had to swallow twice within seconds. Alas, rather than a cloud of steam and warmth to greet her when the foam clamshell opened, there was… nothing. She prodded one of the juicy steaks. A bit of cold, congealed fat clung to her finger. Blowing out a low sigh, she looked up.

  “You are fired if you bring me a cold meal again.”

  “What?! That’s totally unreasonable, even for you. I’d wreck my car on those boulder-infested strips of dirt they call roads.”

  “If it meant I did not have to eat cold steaks, I would buy you a new car.”

  “…Really? Like I could pick anything out?”

  “Within reason.”

  This information was given all due consideration. “I can get you something fresh and hot right now,” she said, hopefully.

  “This will suffice for now.”

  Sophia clucked her tongue.

  “At any rate, I will be here for some time yet,” Sejit paused to draw in a heaving, tired breath, “And for the next several days. I will have to postpone our discussion regarding the archives until next week.”

  “Really? Oh, that’s such a shame.”

  “Yes, I imagined you would be disappointed. I will contact you if I require anything further.”

  Conversation over, Sejit took the knife and fork from the box and, with disappointed reluctance, sawed at one of the hunks of cold meat. Nice and red in the center with a good sear on the outside, a perfect crust of spices. How sad a thing it was; it could have been so great. She popped it in her mouth and chewed. At least the flavor was still there, but cold meat was so… wrong. Flesh had to be hot, if not warm. Otherwise, what was the point?

  Half-way through the first steak, she noticed Sophia was still there.

  “Yes?” She inquired, swallowing a hunk.

  “Actually, uh,” Sophia wriggled in place like she had ants crawling up her legs, “There’s one thing I wanted to ask you.”

  Sejit used a Look to infer the girl should continue.

  “It’s kind of random, but…”

  Another Look was required. This was unusual behavior, even by Sophia’s standards.

  “Does Tess have a family she worries about?”

  In an instant, every thought and concern bouncing around in the goddess’ mind winked out of existence as if they’d never been there to begin with—save for one. She set her knife and fork down with careful, slow movements, then folded her hands together upon her desk.

  Sophia gulped, “Ha ha ha! Never mind, forget I asked, okayseeyabye!” She made to race away, but a command of “Halt” from the goddess had her feet disobeying her brain.

  “What has brought about this inquiry?”

  “Just something I was wondering, is all. Ha ha, you know how curious I can be! Really.”

  “You have ten seconds to tell me the truth,” Sejit said, in a perfectly calm, nonthreatening tone.

  A sheen broke out on Sophia’s forehead. She chewed on her lip. Her whole body squirmed in place.

  “I’m dead if I tell you!” She squeaked like a mouse under a cat’s paw.

  Sophia could be so vexing. So willing to keep a secret safe, yet spilled the fact she knew a secret like water from an overfull bucket. Then again, Sejit was among an assembly full of such people, though their spills were usually intentional. Not that it made it any better, seeing as how attempting to barter secrets was a good way to get one’s self undone. Mortals had such an awful sense of self-preservation.

  “Sophia,” Sejit began, firmly, “I would take it for idle curiosity had you not asked about her family before, and if th
e timing were not so convenient. Just recently, Tess has not been acting like herself.”

  “Oh, uh, well, I guess I forgot, ha ha ha haaa…”

  Sejit cocked her head the way a lion does when homing in on its prey, “This concern is larger than you realize. You will tell me.”

  There was more hesitation from the waffling girl until her mental barriers broke down under the pressure. Drawstrings were undone, the bag opened, and out came all the cats.

  Sejit kept her face a neutral mask while she listened, but with each successive word the weight in her gut grew heavier.

  Never would I have imagined this. I do not think she would blame me for asking her to perform the assassination, but that she has not come to me with this information…

  When Sophia had run out of cats and words, Sejit did something the girl had never witnessed before, and indeed, was probably quite shocking: She cradled her face in her hands and massaged her temples.

  “Is it really that bad?” Sophia said, hesitantly.

  “Yes,” Sejit said, before sinking into her thoughts. Because it raises myriad questions and a wrong answer means the quagmire becomes that much more inescapable. I must act, yet I cannot leave for any length of time. Was this intentional? Her fist rose not even a finger’s width above the desk before she slammed it down, yet the boom was loud enough to quell the conversations around them.

  The politicians stared for a pregnant moment before returning to their intrigues. She immediately regretted losing her composure—no doubt it would be brought up at some point.

  “I will remain here until this assembly is over,” Sejit said, “You are free to go.”

  “Okay,” Sophia said, yet she lingered. Obviously, she wanted to know more. Despite what just happened. What was wrong with that girl?

  When nothing else was forthcoming, Sophia gave up and walked off, reaching the exit just in time to have to push through a throng of suits trying to enter at the same time.

  For the rest of the night, Sejit was even more out of tune than usual. Time was precious and her options limited. Each train of thought, every path of consideration came to the same conclusion. As much as she loathed the thought of talking to him again, it was going to be her best option. Or worst.

  Only one way to find out.

  The next question was going to be how to leave the country without drawing undue suspicion.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  While both the idea and execution were as simple as they came, her penultimate encounter at the end of it was going to require a level of finesse. Hot on the heels of an announcement by the Coanphany Archaeological Society in Jvult, Jasmine Reith made apparent an interest in visiting for a first-hand look at what they’d uncovered. This was done through public channels, viewable by all, though only noticed by those with an interest in such things.

  She had to play up the importance of the find, much as it pained her to gush over such an insignificant find. As the few relics they’d unearthed were centered around depictions of Ifon, the ancient god of war and conquest from the Fionsys pantheon, they were primed to have their egos stroked. And stroke she did.

  Took all of a week before the head of the Society extended her an invitation. All things considered, the week it took to reach that point was surprisingly expedient by archaeological standards.

  But, maintaining appearances could be such a test of patience. As she waited—they had the nerve to keep her waiting!—Sejit pined for the days when she could go wherever and whenever she pleased. Sure a few guards might try to stop her from entering a castle or palace, but depending on the purpose of her visit, they could find themselves greeting the afterlife or merely carried along for the ride.

  If she tried something like that now, the news of the day would be how she managed to survive several teams of snipers as she stormed the gates. Hell, she’d be lucky to get halfway from the gates to the capitol building itself before the military showed up.

  Then there’d be war. Not the ideal outcome. An odd position for a Goddess of War going to visit a God of War.

  One long flight later, she sat and waited and simmered in the waiting room.

  Eventually, the President of the Society appeared and invited her into his office. From first sight she despised the tiny, weaselly man and the way he stuck out his grubby hand to touch hers as if he was doing her an honor. She especially despised the worst comb-over she’d ever seen, along with a suit that looked old enough to have been his father’s.

  In his office she did some more sitting, and some more waiting while he prattled on about his cute little collection before presenting an ornate wooden box containing the relics. Most of important of them all: A wolf-god carving.

  “This will be big!” He exclaimed, hands shaking with excitement as he produced a key and undid the lock. The box popped open with a click, revealing the unimpressive things within.

  “I am sure it will be,” Sejit cooed from behind a thick veneer of a smile.

  “We’ve never seen worship of the pantheon so far north! While we’ve never been certain of the extent of Fionsys’ empire, it may have been even more far-reaching than previously thought. And, in addition to the carving,” he whispered theatrically, shifting his eyes and looking over his shoulder for spies like a buffoon, “We discovered a few texts!”

  Texts, in this case, meaning clay tablets. He removed two from the box and placed them in front of Sejit, along with the carving.

  While she had been wearing false enthusiasm like so much makeup, her mood brightened the instant she read the tablets. Leave it to mortals to craft a legacy of sordid tales stretching back thousands of years. Conjured up more than a few memories.

  “Do you know what they say?” He said in the distinct manner of someone who wants to show off and answer their own question, giving the other party just enough of a pause to make it seem like it was an actual question, “They’re a section of worship rituals on how to appease Ifon! This is the oldest written, codified instruction for worship we’ve ever uncovered!”

  “You need new translators,” Sejit said, amusement lifting her cheeks, “That is so far off the mark I do not even know where to begin.” She even laughed. Tiny and lasted naught but a second, but it happened. Sophia would’ve dropped dead from shock if she’d been there.

  The tiny man frowned, his furry brows coming together to form one long gray-streaked caterpillar. “I assure you this was done by the best—”

  “What you have there is nothing more than lurid fantasy.”

  The caterpillar became agitated, the skin below it reddened. “What?”

  “You have the time period wrong, to begin with. A person,” she said, with careful enunciation as she made the mental step across the word mortal, “Could arrive at that translation if they did not know the correct period and were predetermined about what it might say. Add on a loose, favorable translation and there you go. I imagine you also discovered other seemingly unimportant tablets. Maybe even an instrument?”

  The man went so red he bordered on purple. “…Yes, a three string Yuffshult. You don’t mean to say… Preposterous!”

  “Congratulations. You unearthed the camp of a wandering entertainer, a bard if you will, going on about women worshiping Ifon’s immense genitals. The carving is as old as you claim, but the tablets are nearly 300 years younger.”

  Now the caterpillar was dancing upon the wrinkled tomato that was the man’s head. “Impossible! Completely, totally, impossible! What do you know? You’re just—”

  A knock came on the large, gaudy doors to the president’s office, cutting him off. Before he could respond, an aide poked his head in.

  “I told you I was not to be disturbed!”

  “Apologies, sir, but there’s a government official here.”

  The president’s eyes glinted with possibility. “Yes?” he asked, his voice much more amiable.

  “He wishes to speak with Madam Reith.”

  The president deflated and stewed, “Well tell t
hem we’re busy and to come back later!”

  Finally. Kept me waiting long enough.

  Sejit stood in such a rush that the president, who had reached out to examine the tablets more closely, nearly dropped one of them.

  “It must be important if they wish to speak to me,” she declared, clasping her hands together at the small of her back, “I am no longer a mere history aficionado, you understand. It would be an international incident to ignore this summons.”

  “Hrm. Well, yes. Would hate for something international. Right. Well, do come back when they’re done wasting your time. I still don’t believe what you’re saying is true. It can’t be! It must be—”

  Sejit cut him off without the courtesy of looking at him as she spoke, “Of course I will return.”

  The aide walked with her down to the lobby of the old building, where someone who was dressed like they’d seen a few too many spy movies was waiting. Black suit, black sunglasses, black earpiece. Even black hair, though his skin was the usual pale white of the people in the region.

  “Miss Reith,” the man said, doing his best to not look up when speaking to her, lest he appear smaller, “Someone important wishes to—”

  “Yes, I am aware,” Sejit said pointedly, “Let us not keep Ifon waiting.”

  He cleared his throat. “Understood.”

  Nestled in the heart of the Jvult, the sprawling capitol complex had found itself obscured, to an extent, by progress and modernization in the last hundred years. At one point it had dominated the horizon, an imposing stone behemoth that could be seen, depending on one’s vantage, all the way from the outskirts of the city.

  Sejit had been taken by surprise when the car rounded a corner and the complex ambushed them from behind a pristine office building.

  The car passed two security checkpoints, a quick flash of the driver’s badge and scan of the ID chip within it getting them through without issue. As they pulled into the semi-circle driveway in front of the looming stonework shrouding the grand entrance, Sejit tingled with an emotion she hadn’t felt in a rather long time: Envy. Not enough for green to show on her fair complexion, but enough to make her consider that her museum was in need of expansion.