Instability

By Ryan Viergutz

In the hot, coastal city of Varanuz, private investigator Nicaea Tauros witnesses the murder of a politician and learns of an attempt on the life of his close friend, security consultant Soph Obetheller. Suspicious that the Varanuzan police may be involved, Nicaea warns Ms. Izabelle Frag, CEO of a research firm, to stay alert, and makes moves toward crimelord Lavan Farthing for defense.

Soon, deadly threats fill the streets. A ferry carrying dozens of passengers, one of them Nicaea, sinks to the ocean floor. When Nicaea and Soph learn about a connection to Izabelle, and the reappearance of the man who stole her memories, only one action remains: depose Izabelle Frag and destroy her corporation.

When he rises from the ferry, Nicaea hallucinates a vision, an attack on a battleship. He never served in the army. Even so, it shatters his mind. Soph looks for the truth behind the six years of her life she lost and is unable to hold him together. Nicaea becomes involved in a battle in East Varanuz, and comes back convinced that it must be Izabelle's fault. Is it? What happens if Nicaea's wrong?

Energetic, fast moving and crazy, Instability is the first book of four about Nicaea Tauros. It should stand alone.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ryan Viergutz
• Release date: May 11, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476016498

Ryan Viergutz

I'm a freelancer, writer, roleplayer and gamer. I don't want to live in the same place any longer than a year for a very long time and I am always yearning for adventure. The first two overlap often enough that they're almost the same thing, though they aren't by anyone's measure. Regardless of the state I'm in, I am always roleplaying and I allow myself to indulge in gaming, usually of a video game variety, sometimes. At any given time I will have a scifi or fantasy book in my hands or in my travel bag.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Nicaea wiped sweat out of his eyes, picked up his bag from the check-in counter, gave the skinny redhead running the counter a quick smile, and barged through the crowd on his way to the door. Loud rock pounded against his ears still, both real and imagined, from the concert he had left. Even in that noise, he could hear the sound of his brother's boots trailing behind him.

Hold up! Dasrayer said.

Why would I ever do that? Nicaea said. Come on, get on with it.

Nicaea shouldered someone aside and squeezed through the doorframe. Someone bigger than him stood in his path, but Nicaea ducked his head down and got past him. His brother had a harder time, and Nicaea spun around to see how he would deal with it. The tall man had such height that Nicaea couldn't see his brother behind him, but he heard his voice.

This was a good night, Dasrayer said. I liked it and had a lot of fun. You don't want to start a fight here, right now.

Nicaea waited, watching the tall man, and thought about what he would do if it came to that.

I know you, the tall man said. You used to be a part of Burr's gang. I've got issue with him.

That was in the past, Dasrayer said. It was a long time ago. I'm different now.

Nicaea looked closer at the tall man. Without the buttondown shirt and the slacks, he would be nearly skeletal. He wouldn't stand a chance in this place. Why had he come at all? It didn't make sense.

Who are you with? Nicaea said. Do you work with Ms. Frag? With Farthing? Or are you a crony for one of the lessers?

The tall man spun around, a scowl on his tight features. What are you talking about? You aren't a part of this.

Nicaea glared up at the man's eyes. I'm his brother.

The tall man looked across his shoulder and back. I see.

He isn't alone, Nicaea said.

The tall man hesitated and finally nodded. I understand.

Nicaea waved at him. Good. Now go have fun in the concert.

The tall man wandered further into the crowd without a word. Dasrayer came up to Nicaea and they left the concert chambers together. Heat struck Nicaea in the face and chest and he puffed out a breath like he had smacked against a brick wall. The weather had been changing in Varanuz, constantly hotter, and if it was this hot in the dark of the night, it would soon be unbearable.

They had attracted some attention, but it soon dissipated. Nicaea slowed his pace to walk beside Dasrayer and took a glance at his brother. Dasrayer stood a good head taller than Nicaea and his hair, gelled to look even crazier than the family norm, made him look another head higher. He wore a black shirt with a heavy metal logo on it and dark blue jeans. According to his grin, he had enjoyed the small altercation.

You look okay, Nicaea said.

You do, too, Dasrayer said, unusually. Is something going on?

Nicaea kept his eyes forward. What do you mean?

Dasrayer went quiet for a moment, searching for the right words. You had fun in the concert tonight. You haven't had fun in months and just let yourself loosen. Soph's noticed that you've got loads of knots in your back and she has a hard time getting rid of them.

I liked the music, Nicaea said. Outside Terrified rules. He scratched his chin. They've got a hot bassist, too.

Dasrayer laughed. His voice was low, but his laugh always went into a high pitch. Nicaea had never figured that out. I'm not arguing with that. He turned to Nicaea. If something is going on, you would tell me, wouldn't you, bro?

Nicaea shook his head and paused at the street corner that would lead out of the downtown theatre district and into the more mainstream restaurants. It would be empty at this time of night, but he didn't worry about Dasrayer walking alone in the night. He looked dangerous and no one would threaten him.

Of course I would, Nicaea said. This should be a simple takedown tonight. There'll be nothing to it. I stop the drug deal and contact the cops when it's done. I already got the advance.

You're lucky that you can rely on your middlemen, Dasrayer said.

It wasn't always that way, Nicaea said. Things have changed in the last few years. They aren't all for the better, but most of them are, I think.

The light told them to walk. Dasrayer hesitated and looked down at Nicaea. It's better, even with Ms. Frag exerting an iron grip over the city?

Nicaea shook his head. We've put up with her for three years and she's controlled it for much longer than that. We just live in her shadow and acknowledge it.

Dasrayer nodded slowly and stepped across the street. I'll be looking for you later tonight, Nicaea.

I'll be there, Nicaea said. There won't be anything to this job, believe me.

Dasrayer chuckled and didn't look back. Nicaea hoisted the bag higher on his shoulder and marched down the opposite street from the intersection. He liked it in this part of the city, that netherworld between the avant-garde theatre and the more respectable place where the upstanding people liked to go. He saw only a few people who passed by him, though half a dozen cameras stared out from the streetlights.

He had to work to stay in the shade, but it didn't present a real problem. The city had a budget crunch, as it had for the three years he had lived in Varanuz, and it got steadily worse. Nicaea dreaded the day when the city finally gave in and expired, but Varanuz was tough and would not easily fade away. He wouldn't let it. Since the day he had moved here, he had come to appreciate his environment, and he would work to keep it good.

Nicaea walked along the sidewalks and the heat pressed on his shirt. He had worn a black one, to his detriment, but he hadn't expected the temperature to leap this much so soon. If it had been eighty when he had traveled to the concert three hours ago, it had crept nearly ten degrees or higher. With any luck, it wouldn't interfere with the drug exchange his informant had paid him to find and cover. He had a reputation to keep.

It took him ten minutes and two streets to reach the warehouse in question. He stayed out of the range of the cameras mounted on its front and crept to the back. Like his informant had said, it had two doors in it. One was open, and he heard voices already conducting a deal. He had nearly been late. Nicaea took out his lockpicks and dealt with the other in a flash. It was old and rusty and that felt strange somehow.

His instincts told him he wouldn't like what he would find inside, but it couldn't keep from going in. He had taken the advance, so he would see this through. Nicaea opened the door with as much silence as he could manage and sneaked into the crack he had made for himself. He stayed behind a row of storage containers and listened to the two men who had gathered in the room.

Good man, said a slimy voice. We have finally come to an agreement that satisfies both of our needs. I have the pound for you. It is one of the many containers you see behind me.

Get it, said the second man.

Nicaea heard boots walk through the warehouse, but the man didn't come near his position. A silence settled over the building until the slime spoke again.

You see, said the slime. It is good?

The two paused again. Nicaea pulled his phone from his belt but hesitated. He listened to a third person enter the room, with sharper steps than the slime. Who could this be? His informant only told him about two people in this exchange. He couldn't imagine someone stupid walking into this neighborhood at this time of night, but stranger things had happened.

The slime said, in a low voice, What do you want?

There is something here that interests me, said the third person.

The surprise visitor had an accent Nicaea could swear he had heard before, but he couldn't quite remember where. He peered his head around the crates and noticed all three of the men were not looking at him. One had ratty old clothes, one a few gold chains and the visitor wore a business suit and tie. He looked completely out of place in this environment, and Nicaea knew something horrible had happened.

Nothing here interests you, said the slime. This is between my buyer and I.

You must excuse me. I have mistaken my directions, said the businessman.

You have, said the slime. Leave, now, or I will force you to leave.

Yes, said the businessman. This was an inconvenience for both of us.

As Nicaea watched, the businessman walked to the front door of the warehouse, but hesitated and pulled back. Nicaea tensed and clutched the shoulder strap of his bag. He still didn't know the whole layout of the situation, but this had expanded beyond his informant's imagination. Why would a businessman be here, in a warehouse, during a drug exchange? Who had told him to come?

Rather than kicking down the door and coming through it, the men came from a hole in the roof. They dropped down on nylon cables like commandos, and their night vision goggles and jet black gear raised warning bells in his brain. He saw five of them, and they moved into a wide flank without a word. The three men in the warehouse talked at once, tried to get them to answer, but they only lifted their rifles.

Nicaea had his nightstick in one hand and his bag in the other. He had expected some sort of rival gang, maybe someone from Farthing's group, or Burr's. Maybe a homeless drudge or a pothead would have wandered from the street and saw the two men working. No. This had become a polar opposite. The men flicked the safety from their rifles and, while Nicaea sneaked out of the warehouse, opened fire on the three men.

Nicaea had heard screams before and sometimes been the origin of the sound. He had never heard anything like men being brutally executed before his eyes. The rifles echoed in the small room and clattered in his mind and seemed to keep going. Whatever it implied, whatever had happened between those people, presented more and more horrific possibilities. Who had sent the assassins? Why had they had killed two druggies and a businessman? How could they have killed someone two blocks from downtown?

The reverberations faded and allowed his thoughts to gather together again. He latched onto the businessman's face. Nicaea had seen him before, he was sure of it, but where? He thought of men who might wear a suit and tie in downtown and thought of office buildings and computer software and corporations and Ms. Izabelle Frag. No. That wasn't it. He was from the government... he was a Senator.

Nicaea pushed through the door and his bag got stuck in the opening. He dragged it out and it scraped against the edge. It sounded loud in that tiny room, and he stood still, waiting for any reaction. The assassins whispered among themselves for a moment. He couldn't get their words, but he could get the sounds of discontent and irritation. Boots approached him and he broke into a run.

Instability

Chapter 2

Ryan Viergutz

Their shouts chased him into the street. Nicaea scrambled away from the warehouse as fast as he could go. He held his bag tight against his side with one of his arms and propelled himself onward with the other. The warehouse trailed into the night behind him, but he wouldn't allow himself to slow down. He couldn't take a chance against professionals like that, because he knew what they could do.

Behind him, a boot pounded against a door. A third commando had broken the front door and barked a command at the others. Nicaea had expected to hear a series of feet pound the ground and come toward him, but he heard instead nothing. He stopped and turned around. The three men stood there and looked alien, but the two closer behind him dropped their hands to their belts, pulled out their pistols and looked into the sights.

Nicaea's heart pounded and he ran forward again. A car sat at the intersection, five or ten feet before him. He snaked the strap of his bag over his shoulder, grabbed the handle of the passenger side door, and leapt onto its roof. The driver screamed and the horn roared into the night. A bullet whizzed by his head and Nicaea dove onto the sidewalk on the opposite side.

He stood still for a moment and listened. The driver screamed some epithet at him. Beyond that sound, Nicaea heard silence. The men hadn't come yet, and they wouldn't bring another witness into their problem if they could. Nicaea smiled and walked calmly onward. The driver yelled at him again and this time he looked at him. He was a middle-aged man with graying hair and a wiry frame.

Why did you do that? the driver asked.

I had to, Nicaea said. I'm being hunted.

I should report you! the driver said. You're crazy! Do you know how fragile this vehicle is? You could have punched a hole through my roof!

Nicaea backed away and shrugged. I didn't. Is that satisfactory?

The driver peered at him. Nicaea looked at the light.

It's green, Nicaea said.

The driver sniffed. Good. I can be rid of you.

Nicaea waved, but the driver had already looked away. Nicaea laughed, shook his head and picked up speed again. He didn't hear any boots follow him this time, but he had found himself in one of the bleaker parts of downtown Varanuz. The streetlights flickered with hazy light and their power cables hung to the ground. Few of the buildings had any life or activity inside them, especially this late at night.

The alleys likely had activity and Nicaea kept a good space between himself and them. He couldn't get into another situation tonight, not until he had located someone to help him out. Had Dasrayer took the long route home? Had he taken the bus and it hadn't arrived yet? He didn't expect to see Andraste here, as he didn't like the downtown. Belavena had her fingers in parties and would be as busy as always.

Nicaea looked around the next intersection. On one side he saw a cheap pick up and leave restaurant, the ubiquitous gas station and one large lobby to a corporation he didn't recognize. The former locations had lights on, and a car drove into the station as he watched. The lobby had turned half of its lights off and seemed inactive. Nicaea ran through the map of the city in his head and walked toward it.

He made his home in a studio apartment in the outer districts of Varanuz that led straight from here. The bus lines were erratic, so it would take him a while to wait and get on, and for once he wondered if that was the best idea. Dasrayer had an automobile obsession and Andraste drove one, too, but drove it with a lot less care and appreciation. Soph had the money for cabs, and as he thought of her, he noticed a shadow in its veranda.

Nicaea squinted at it, but the shadow shifted first.

Who's there? Soph asked.

Nicaea moved his head for a better look. Soph?

Yeah, I'm here, Soph said.

Nicaea moved toward her and angled his head for a better look. I'm glad to see you. Why are you here?

Sophie Obetheller, Soph for short, wore a tight leather jacket. Its dark grey color blended in with the white marble of the veranda and the floor beneath her. She leaned against a column, her much smaller shoulder bag at her feet, and gave him a once over with her brown eyes. When she ascertained that Nicaea was himself, she still didn't move from her stance. He heard the grating sound.

Why are you here? Nicaea asked.

Soph flashed him a grin. It didn't meet her eyes, but happiness rarely did. I might ask you the same, Nicaea. You never come out here. This isn't a good part of the city. I don't know it that well, and I learned that a while ago.

Nicaea stepped to a column across from her and sighed heavily. He put his hands on his knees and looked at the ground. So we're both out of our element. I'll start, because I know you definitely won't.

You're right about that.

Nicaea shook his head. We can't stay here long, but I'll give you the fast idea. I thought I would interrupt and report on a drug deal going down in west downtown, but actually, I saw a politician's murder.

Soph peered at him. Two blond ponytails at the rear of her head always offset her intensity, and for reasons he would never fully understand, she loved it like she loved few other things. Were you set up?

I know Miathan, Nicaea said. He works with a lot of different people, but he wouldn't do that to me.

Soph nodded. How certain are you?

Nicaea shrugged. Well enough. He doesn't get involved with politics.

Even murder? Soph said. Do you know who this man was?

Nicaea shook his head. I'm not sure. He looked and sounded familiar, but I couldn't place him. He could be anyone, as far as I know.

Soph growled deep in her throat. Politics. I came here to get away from them.

Not technically, Nicaea said.

Soph looked up at him, a dangerous glint in her eye.

Nicaea raised his hands. Okay, okay.

Soph looked down at the pistol and smiled. She replaced the bullet casing and pulled the hammer back. Satisfied, she put it into her belt, covered the gun with her jacket, and looked around. So. What do we do? Where do we go?

Nicaea held a finger to his lips. Wait. Do you hear that?

Soph squinted. Someone's here?

I hear footsteps. Listen, Nicaea said.

The footsteps came closer, but they didn't sound like a large group, and didn't sound like they were in a hurry. Soph nodded, crossed her arms and leaned against the column. Nicaea watched someone walk into their path, first an arm, then his torso, before the veranda. The man hesitated and turned his head toward them. He looked between the two of them and Nicaea looked him over too.

He was a colored man with dark brown skin. His eyes were small and dark brown and he looked highly muscular. Soph could handle him in a fight, or so Nicaea thought, because she could physically handle almost anyone. Their visitor wore a blue shirt and jeans. A fourth of his hair had been spun into braids.

You shouldn't be here, Nicaea said.

That's strange, the visitor said. I thought I might say the same to you. Things are going down tonight, and you don't want to be caught inside them.

Nicaea reached toward his bag. In his peripheral vision, Soph shook her head. He kept his hand positioned but stayed still.

Who are you to say such things? Soph said. You're being cryptic, and we don't even know your name.

Nicaea took a closer look at him. The visitor looked to be in his thirties, a good decade on his own age, and had a lean, horselike face. His tan skin could have been a racial inheritance from the Arabic descended men in the east or not. His eyes looked sharp and he looked like he had seen his share of struggles.

Look, I'm undercover, and I shouldn't even be talking to you, do you understand? the visitor said. I work for Lavan Farthing.

Soph nodded. Thank you for the alert.

The visitor bowed his head to them and walked off. His footfalls faded and only when they had left completely did Nicaea turn to Soph, aghast.

Why did you just let him leave? Nicaea said.

Because he told us who he is, Soph said.

No, he didn't, Nicaea said. He didn't tell us a single thing.

Soph followed the visitor's path with her eyes. He works for Farthing. That tells us a lot, Nicaea. If we contact Farthing, we can trace his identity from there. We might even see him somewhere.

Nicaea raised his eyebrows. I've met Lavan Farthing exactly once. You can't believe we could go and simply march into his headquarters, do you? I don't even have any idea where it's located, and I've been in this city for a whole lot longer than you. He had me blindfolded on that trip.

Soph chuckled. He did?

I've told you about that before, Nicaea said. He had me handcuffed and the whole drill. I thought for sure I was actually going to prison, but instead he dragged me to his headquarters. Same thing, either way. He didn't let me leave for a while.

Soph shook her head. Handcuffs.

Nicaea peered at the woman but she waved his questions.

Hold on, Soph said. Someone's coming.

Nicaea flung his hands up. Again? This place never gets this much traffic.

Soph squinted. You don't know why I came here.

No, Nicaea said. Why?

Three police entered their view, their badges on their left breasts shining in the mild light. Their black uniforms blended into the night and Nicaea eyed the pistols in holsters at their sides. As the police fanned out around them, one to the flanks and one a few feet to their right, Soph opened her hands.

There's nothing to see here, officers, Soph said. We're about to go home after an evening on the town, thanks.

Really, said the cop to the left. We'll determine the truth of that, if you don't mind. You look like a pair of troublemakers to me, and we don't appreciate people like you stomping around downtown.

You can trust me, Nicaea said. I'm a good citizen.

The cop in the middle pulled a handheld computer pad out of his pocket. He looked down at it, touched a couple button and looked up at Nicaea again. He murmured beneath his breath and spun the computer around.

Nicaea shrugged. Okay.

Forty five minutes ago, the cameras four blocks east took this image of you, the middle cop said. That was all they saw, because you apparently deliberately evaded them for the rest of the night. We received a report of a punk who climbed on a Mr. Malik's car and did not give an apology nor any other acknowledgment of his activities. How do you respond?

Can I ask you a question in return? Nicaea said.

Answer mine first, the cop said.

Is there a warrant for this? Nicaea said. Am I a suspect in a crime?

The cop crossed his arms. You could be in contempt of rightful authority.

Warrant, Nicaea said.

I'm a witness, Soph said.

Who would ever believe a woman? the cop said.

Soph's eyes flashed. You did not say that.

The cop raised his eyebrows. That looks a lot like contempt.

The cop on the left nodded. It does.

Nicaea growled. I didn't do anything. You know that.

Yeah, the cop in the middle said. This image looks a lot like you, though. I would love to hear what you have to say about making a nuisance.

I have nothing to say, Nicaea said. I am going home now, if you're okay with that. He walked within a few feet of the cop and memorized his badge number. 2531. Soph remained behind for the moment, but Nicaea began to walk off.

We aren't done with you, 2531 said.

I'm done with you, Nicaea said. I was at a concert tonight.

The cop on the right chuckled as Nicaea passed him. Nicaea glared at him. The cop hesitated and cleared his throat. Nicaea nodded and walked on by. None of the three cops made a move to stop him, but he felt his heart pound. He picked up pace, walked to the intersection and made sure they had all drifted somewhere other than the veranda. They had, and he returned.

Soph leaned against the same column, but she kept her eyes on the same side of the street. When she saw Nicaea, she got up on her feet and stalked beside him. She didn't look back.

We have to leave, Soph said. Now.

Nicaea nodded and followed her. I won't argue. Why were you here?

You didn't see the body, Soph said. Someone tried to kill me.

A chill leapt down Nicaea's spine. What?

Let's go somewhere safe. I'll explain. Then let's get the group together, Soph said. There's been too many things happening in too short a time.

Instability

Chapter 3

Ryan Viergutz

Do you think they're connected? Nicaea said.

Soph stared at the straw in her drink. She pushed it around, shook her head and shuddered. She hadn't said a word through three streets, until she dragged him into a fast food joint and ordered the first thing that came to mind. She hadn't put any thought into it and her mind had gone to autopilot.

She got like this sometimes, where everything shut off and she became fully immersed in her instincts. She hadn't reverted to this distance in a long time and it scared him. It made him wonder how deep the training from the military went and if she might one day walk back to it and join it again.

Nicaea leaned across the table. His neck prickled with tension. He hated these places for all sorts of reasons, but sometimes, he couldn't afford much more. Soph never had to go here. She made enough. Soph, talk to me. What happened? Are you hurt?

No, I'm okay, Soph said.

So talk to me, Nicaea said. Why did you bring us here?

Soph lifted her eyes to his and laughed. No one would expect me to come here.

Nicaea nodded and hunched his shoulders. You're right, no one would. Did someone you know attack you?

No, Soph said. No, it isn't that.

Soph, Nicaea said. Come on, open up a little. I can't help you if I don't know anything.

Soph took a sip of the drink and pushed it away. She stretched her arms and sighed heavily. I don't know much, either. You know where my gym is, a few blocks north of there? Well, just recently, they moved locations to a bigger building south, and it turns out going through that district gives me the fastest trip.

That's the last district you should ever go in, Nicaea said.

Soph raised her eyebrows. So why were you there?

Trying to escape commandos. You remember, Nicaea said.

Yeah, Soph said. Commandos. They assassinated a politician.

Do you believe me? Nicaea said.

Why wouldn't I? Soph said. I take everything warily, you know that, but if you can identity who you got a glimpse of when we get back, that will help.

Nicaea nodded. I'm not sure where we're going to go yet.

Soph pursed her lips. Okay. That is a good question.

Nicaea waved at her. Back to your story.

Soph nodded. Anyway, I thought I would try out the new gym and see how it all would fit together. I liked it. Good mood, good machines, about the same all around, but a little more spacious. When I left, I had a sense that someone was following me. I got to him, he tried shoving a gun in my ribs, I knocked him out and got away. She shrugged. I'm still here.

That's all there was to it, Nicaea said.

Yeah, Soph said. Some guy tried to kill me. She searched his face. Her brown eyes pierced through him and he couldn't keep her gaze very long. He looked at the table. You know what I think.

You think Elijah sent him, Nicaea said.

Who else would want me gone? Soph said.

Nicaea raised his fingers. Do you want me to make the list? When you decided to stay with me and my friends, and I am thankful for your choice forever, you picked up the same enemies that we've made during three years in this city. I like it, but you've learned how dangerous it is. Every day we're on those streets someone could come after us.

Like Elijah, Soph said. He is a possibility.

Nicaea shook his head. You're jumping to conclusions, Soph.

Soph peered at him. Me. Why are you so calm about this? You saw a politician get murdered.

Nicaea's guts turned over again. They had made him feel queasy since he had witnessed the killing in the warehouse, and he still wasn't sure he had seen it. It could have been a hallucination caused by the drugs in the crate. Was it filled with drugs in the first place? Could the commandos have come for the crate and what it held? How could they have entered a street near downtown and kept themselves secret?

He didn't like any of the answers coming into his thoughts.

Do you think I'm calm? Nicaea whispered. Do I look calm?

Soph sat up, considered and then smiled. No, I guess not.

I'm not, Nicaea said. Anyone could have done this and it brings us back to my original question. Do you think they're connected?

I don't think they are, Soph said. That's only a guess. She sighed and pushed herself from the table. We need to get back and find out who that politician was. He's the key to finding any answers to this. Her back tensed and she flicked her eyes to Nicaea's bag, in the booth beside him.

Nicaea tensed. What's wrong?

Looks like a hold-up, Soph said. Are you ready for action?

Really? Nicaea said. There's way too many things going down tonight.

That might not be what it is, Soph said. Some customer is screaming at the girl giving the orders.

Nicaea heard the noises then. They had blurred beneath his concentration on Soph plus the sounds of the light traffic outside. This happens all the time. It isn't something to be worried about. Whether you want to admit it or not, you're new here. You don't know this city like I do.

Considering everything, that doesn't amount to a lot, Soph said.

Nicaea glared at her.

Soph shrugged. That was a bit extreme, I guess. Too many things are changing for any of us to make sense of it. Are you sure that isn't a real problem? She turned to the counter. It's getting pretty intense.

Nicaea thought it couldn't hurt. This couldn't have anything to do with the other things earlier that night, because that would strain coincidence way too far. If there was anything that Nicaea had learned about Varanuz, the city held a lot more people than he could have imagined and not everyone had contracted a hit for his head. Most people who threatened him, he had to admit, had simply went crazy.

As Nicaea got up from the booth and felt the gaudily colored rubber scrape from his pants, he had a flash of his first impressions of Varanuz. At a lack of possibilities and hope, he and Dasrayer slept on floors and lived in places like this for nearly a month. The anger and despair from that time made him want to punch someone. He looked at Soph, but she didn't notice. She never did.

Nicaea walked through the building to the front counter. A long-limbed man around Nicaea's age waved a gray object at a blond woman who looked completely uncomfortable. Soph waited a few feet back, acquiescing to the wisdom she thought he had. Nicaea looked up at the menu, playing his role. The woman left the counter and walked with stiff movements. The man roared at her and swung the object at her back.

At that point, Nicaea snapped. He reached a hand over to the man and clamped a grip on his wrist. The man turned to Nicaea, eyes wide.

What do you think you're doing? the man asked.

I thought to ask the same to you, Nicaea said. Why are you trying to hurt her? He looked at the woman, who stood back but had paused. Has he hurt you?

The woman shook her head.

Nicaea squeezed the man's wrist and his fingers went loose. The club dropped onto the counter with a thunk. I don't want trouble in my city. She's doing her job. Get it?

The man frowned. Nicaea saw the change and brought up his hand to block the man's punch. The man kicked at him then, and Nicaea didn't see that coming. He lurched backward. Because he had freed the man's wrist, the man rushed toward him and swung both fists. Nicaea raised his hands to block them, but Soph came between them, wrapped her hands around the man from the rear and pulled him to the ground.

Nicaea stood. Soph straddled the