“Yusdissia Juaneloooo!”
“Where is she? Where is she?”
“Yusdissia Juaneloooo!”
“Where is she? Where is she?”
Two weeks had passed, and with the deepening of winter came cold, clear skies and a mob of Vanurians surrounding Dean Bruce’s partly completed Spire. Huan pulled his woolen coat around himself as he hurried past angry faces and loud signs, which was preferable to what he’d endure if he’d come in the other way where row after row of dark-skinned figures knelt silent and judging.
Stepping around a Souran work crew hauling bricks, Huan pushed past their overseer and entered a tent the size of his old house back in the Empire. “How long?”
“I’ll give you the same answer as last time.” Ugo “Zircon” Sorgi’s eyes didn’t leave his paperwork, which covered the carved wooden desk he’d insisted on dragging out here. “It’ll take as long as it takes.”
Huan leaned on the desk. “You said we’d be done by now.”
“I said that before all that,” Sorgi gestured to the outside, “happened.”
What had happened was that the Vanurians had heard a rumor that Sorgi was responsible for Juanelo’s death. They’d abandoned their contracts, picked up signs, and started to protest the Spire.
“You said they’d be back at work within the week, that this was the only work in the whole city. Why are there Sourans out there?”
“Obviously, I was wrong.” Sorgi finally looked up. “What are you doing in here? Go. Guard.”
Huan frowned. “I’m not guarding alone. Where’s the rest of the mercenaries?”
Sorgi sighed. “There aren’t any.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I had to hire Sourans and acquire a significant amount of azade.”
“Azade? Why azade? It doesn’t matter.” Huan pointed. “What about the Wesen? Did pressuring their owners not work?”
“Apparently,” Sorgi said through clenched teeth, “there’s competing work.”
Not possible. Winter had killed the city. There’s no work.
“Yusdissia Juaneloooo!”
“Where is she? Where is she?”
“Yusdissia Juaneloooo!”
“Where is she? Where is she?”
“I swear I saw some of them out there,” said Huan.
“You would be able to tell the difference between them.” Sorgi crossed his arms. “Which is why you were supposed to be able to track down the ringleader. Where is she?”
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Huan’s latest attempt to capture the wiry Wesen girl, who’d started all this by kneeling instead of working, had resulted in he and two mercenaries deep in the Wesen Quarter, encircled by carriages. He did not want to repeat the experience.
“We’re working on it.”
“Some help you are,” said Sorgi. “Did all the talent in the family go to Mei?”
Her name threw Huan back to the moment his own knife tip had tickled the hairs on his throat, leaving the beast free to say, “Shove it, Zircon.”
“Problems, Sky?” Gold swept into the room.
“He’s behind,” growled Tiger.
Gold raised an eyebrow. “Are you, Mr. Sorgi?”
Zircon scowled. “We’ll be at seventy-eight percent completion by end of day.”
Gold scowled back. “You said eighty-five percent at least.”
“There’ve been certain,” Zircon gestured to the outside, “obstacles we have had to address.”
Tiger huffed. That’s one way to describe it.
“Explain it to me,” Gold stepped up to the taller man, “as if you were explaining it to my master.”
“Our prior workforce,” said Zircon slowly, “tried to challenge the contract-”
“Translation: they wanted more money,” said Tiger.
“And the new rates were unaffordable so I let them go. I don’t know what the Vanurians are shouting about, and I don’t know why the Wesen are sitting there, staring, judging.” Zircon shuddered.
Gold shrugged. “My master isn’t concerned about that, only about the progress of the Spire. On my way in, I saw a few hearty looking men standing around the site not doing anything.”
“The overseers?” asked Sorgi.
“Is that what they are? Put them to work.”
Zircon frowned. “They’re doing their jobs.”
“Are they?” Tiger showed teeth. “Your new hires don’t seem to appreciate being yelled at or threatened, so the overseers are just standing around. Go. Put them to work.”
“We should put you to work, you dirty-”
“Sorgi,” said Gold, “do it. My master will not be pleased with any further delays.”
Zircon glared at Huan then nodded. “Fine.”
He left.
“Yusdissia Juaneloooo!”
“Where is she? Where is she?”
“Yusdissia Juaneloooo!”
“Where is she? Where is she?”
“Where is she?” echoed Gold.
Tiger shrugged. “I have no idea what-”
“Do not play games with me, Sky. Where is your sister?”
As the thief curled tighter in his corner, Tiger affected indifference. “Not here. More importantly, I got your master what she wanted. Now, give me what I want: rexas and passage to Vanuria.”
“About the License Key,” Gold crossed her arms and leaned against Zircon’s desk, “how did you get it?”
This again. “I took it from her.”
“Your sister took down three fighters and two mages and disabled an explosive all by herself, and yet you, by yourself, took her down.”
Tiger crossed his arms. “The blast had stunned her. What’s your point?”
“Elm, the cenobite you left behind,” Gold’s tone held admonishment, “said that there wasn’t a body.”’
“Why would there be?”
“Because someone like that,” Gold’s tone could now cut steel, “you kill, so they can’t get in your way again.”
Tiger shook his head. “She won’t be a problem anymore. By now, she’s gone far away.” If she knew what was good for her.
“We can’t afford for you to be wrong.” Gold examined her nails. “And we can get you passage to Vanuria but not the money.”
“Why not?” Tiger snarled.
“You know why.”
Outside, the call continued.
“Yusdissia Juaneloooo!”
“Where is she? Where is she?”
“Yusdissia Juaneloooo!”
“Where is she? Where is she?”
“I need that money,” said Huan.
“And my master needs the Spire finished. Once it is, you’ll have your money, plus extra for your,” Gold’s lips curled, “patience.”
“I’m not staying here until then.”
“Fine. You’re hardly of any use here.” Gold crossed the tent to the exit. “You have two days. Either meet us that night or you’re out.” She left.
With a shrug, Tiger stepped back, but all the thief could think was: I need a drink.
