Widows of the Empire: The Unari Empire Trilogy, #2

By JD Byrne

A gilded cage is still a cage. Banished from the capital to her home in Annanais, Lady Belwyn chafes under the restrictions of her handler, who controls what she reads and who she sees. She can't continue to search for the truth of the Port Ambs bombing if she can't leave her makeshift prison. Now she's getting letters from other women around the Empire, other widows, looking for answers, too. Could their shared pain be a way out? A way to help not only her, but those like her, to find answers?

 

Aton Askins is making the most of his new employer's largesse, buying a new home and trying to build the family he's been missing since Port Ambs. Now he's been tasked with finding the Circle of Rend, another ancient artifact of the departed gods. That will require him to sign on to an expedition in the Southern Islands led by a brutal explorer. He has to do it to maintain his comfortable new life, but what will be the cost? Does he really know what his employer is up to?

As the Unari Empire continues to fracture, Belwyn and Aton are closer than ever to the answers they want, but they may not like the answers they find in the second installment of the thrilling Unari Empire trilogy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: JD Byrne
• Release date: Nov 10, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201922986

JD Byrne

JD Byrne was born and raised around Charleston, West Virginia, before spending seven years in Morgantown getting degrees in history and law from West Virginia University. He's practiced law for nearly 20 years, writing briefs where he has to stick to real facts and real law. In his fiction, he gets to make up the facts, take or leave the law, and let his imagination run wild. He lives outside Charleston with his wife and the two cutest Chihuahuas the world has ever seen.

Book preview

Part I

The truest friend is one who

Aids without asking,

Expects no return,

And does not yield to failure

Ayrs of Galen, Book 10 Chapter 10.25

Chapter 1

No peeking! Aton said as the cab lurched to a halt.

Kaisia, who had been giggling uncontrollably for the past ten minutes, shrieked, but didn’t let her hand slip from over her eyes. I’m not, I’m not!

Wait right here. Aton hopped out of the cab and paid the driver. He waited for Xaria to extricate herself from the other side, then leaned in for his daughter. Promise you won’t look until I say?

Kaisia nodded vigorously.

Give me your hand. Aton took her outstretched hand and pulled her gently toward the door of the cab. When she was close enough, she wrapped her arm around his neck instinctively. He picked her up and perched her on his hip.

Can I look now? she asked.

Not yet. Aton wondered how much longer he’d be able to cart her around like this. She was still small for a girl her age, body stunted and weak from the circumstances of her birth, but she was eight years old now. He’d have to make arrangements, but they could wait. Today was about joy, and he wasn’t going to let anything else ruin the fun.

The cab driver clicked his teeth and the pair of sleek black horses turned and began to amble back down the hill. It was an impressive sight, but the stench made Aton long for Bolik’s ban on horse-drawn conveyances. In spite of what Laffargue had paid him already, an autocar was an out-of-reach luxury. For now, at least.

Aton waited for the dust to settle and walked a few paces back. He looked at Xaria, who was grinning like a schoolgirl herself. He took a deep breath. All right, sweetheart, open your eyes.

Kaisia spread her fingers, just enough to peek through, before she let her hand drop away completely. A smile began to spread over her face, but vanished before it was fully formed.

Do you like it? Aton asked, unable to suppress a wide grin. He could see Xaria start to tear up.

Kaisia took a moment then crinkled her nose in confusion. What is it?

Aton laughed. What do you mean? This is our new home!

He wished it looked more impressive, uncertain whether an eight-year-old would understand that the most important factor when it came to real estate was location. The hills around Cye had been sought after as places to build homes since the city was founded. Aton had wanted to find a home on a hill with a view of the city, but that was out of his price range. Older homes facing the other direction, however, had at least proven manageable.

"Our home?" Kaisia asked it in such a way as to bring Xaria into the group.

Of course, Aton said, holding out his other arm. Xaria slipped underneath it, close to him. He was still figuring out just what she was in relationship to him and Kaisia, but whatever it was, she was now clearly a part of their household. Don’t you like it?

It’s, she said, choosing her words carefully. It’s flat.

Aton suppressed another laugh. It is that. No stairs! You’ll be able to go everywhere inside. Won’t that be great?

A single-floor layout was one of the two things Aton required from the agent who found the home for him. Not only were the days of carrying Kaisia up and down stairs over, but with the leftover from Aton’s last job, he could finally search out a doctor to see if Kaisia’s condition could be treated. The other thing Aton had demanded was a good plot of flat land to use as a garden. Living in the hills meant that stopping in the Cye market square every day was no longer an option.

It didn’t look like Kaisia was buying it.

Let’s go around back, Xaria said.

Aton swallowed the thought on his lips and followed her around the corner of the house, happy to be able to support his daughter with both arms again. He watched her face, ignoring the very thing Xaria was leading them toward.

After she squinted against the setting sun, Kaisia’s eyes went wide. Wow.

Aton kissed her on the cheek, then turned to enjoy the view. The home was perched on an outcropping, and this small side yard provided a stunning view of the valley below. It was enough to make Aton wonder how he ever lived in the city to begin with, hemmed in on all sides by buildings and people. A ruined stone wall ran along the edge of the cliff, to provide a very slight barrier to falling down to the valley below.

What’s that down there? Kaisia pointed.

Farms, mostly, Aton said. Each of those are fields full of wheat or corn or who knows what. But see there? He pointed a little further away. That’s the Valley of the Queens.

The little girl nodded, drinking it all in.

Don’t worry, I’ll fix the wall here so you don’t go tumbling over the side, all right? In his mind, Aton could see her running and jumping through the tall summer grass, but didn’t want to get her own hopes up. He could handle life not matching his expectations. He didn’t want to inflict so much disappointment on his daughter.

After they surveyed the view for a few more moments, Aton turned to Kaisia. How about we go find your room?

Yes! She squealed and threw her arms around his neck.

~~~~~

Aton had decided to buy the house now because he wasn’t sure there would be a better time.

For one thing, the last job for Laffargue had been the most lucrative yet, even though, on the surface, it was the easiest. Unlike the Orb of Triska, which Aton had stolen from a wealthy collector’s home, or the Scepter of Uvona, which he had liberated from a collection of religious fanatics, all he had to do with Barbarro’s Pyramid was to make a winning bid at an auction. It wasn’t an auction that was open to the public, of course, so Aton had to craft a new identity and play at being someone he wasn’t in order to take part. It was only after the job was done that Laffargue told him the price of being found out.

That Aton could have been killed if his cover had been blown probably explained the extra large fee for that job. Hazard pay, Laffargue had called it. All Aton had been worried about was having his forged travel papers too closely examined by authorities and spending some time in a cell. When he found out that the auction house itself was lethal to infiltrators, he nearly walked away from Laffargue and any more jobs. But the money was too good, the opportunity for a better life too tangible. At least now he could say he’d been to Baldomar, the great city of canals.

Laffargue had told him it would be a while before the next job. That was the other reason Aton had decided to buy the house and move out of the city. He knew it would take time to find the right place, and he needed some time for everyone to settle in. The last thing he wanted was to uproot Kaisia from the only home she’d ever known then run off on another adventure. She’d be fine in Xaria’s care, but Aton didn’t want to put her through any additional stress.

So they settled into a routine over the weeks after the move. Aton spent most of the daylight hours fixing up the place or working in the quickly developing garden. The house didn’t have any major problems, but there were small things that needed attention in almost every room as well as outside. Between that and planting vegetables and spices, Aton managed to keep himself busy most of the time.

But there was still the elephant in the house. He still wasn’t certain about the relationship he had with Xaria. It was, at least, no longer just business. Xaria wasn’t an employee, but a member of the household, part of the family. Beyond that, Aton wasn’t quite sure. The conversation with Ethyna after he’d returned with the Scepter of Uvona had forced him to grapple with his feelings for both of them. In his mind, he knew where his loyalties should lie, the direction his life should take. The problem was his heart hadn’t quite caught up yet.

Xaria’s affection for him, and for Kaisia, was undeniable. His feelings weren’t so clear. He was fond of Xaria, yes, but he wondered about wanting something more passionate. His relationship with Mara, Kaisia’s mother, had been vivid and sensual and ever-expanding. Xaria didn’t have that kind of personality, at least so far as Aton had seen. But she was gentle, caring, and fierce in her own quiet way. She was also smarter than Aton had expected, given her line of work. Apparently the half-Imperial novels of which she was so fond weren’t the only things she read.

The routine could only mask the awkwardness for so long. Aton had agreed to give Kaisia the larger of the two bedrooms, since it had a window that looked out over the valley. That left Aton and Xaria sharing a bed that would have been too small anywhere, but seemed particularly tight in the smaller bedroom. It wasn’t that Aton was opposed to being an unmarried couple. He and Mara had lived that way for more than a year before Port Ambs. It was more that he wondered if he didn’t need to give up something else, or someone else, before he could fully dive into life with Xaria.

Thankfully, there was enough work around the house to keep his mind occupied.

~~~~~

One evening while he was helping Xaria make dinner, there was a knock on the door.

She looked at him. Expecting someone?

He shook his head.

I didn’t know you’d left a forwarding address.

I didn’t, he said, wiping his hands on a dish towel. I only told a few folks. Of course he had told Laffargue, but he hadn’t expected him to come calling so quickly.

There was another knock, steady and deliberate.

Aton could see concern flash across Xaria’s eyes. Don’t worry, he said. Probably just one of the neighbors, come by to say hello. He doubted that, since the next house was over a rise perhaps a quarter of a mile away. Neighbors who might pop by at any moment were something he’d hoped to leave behind in the city.

Aton took a deep breath and pulled the door open. Yes?

Standing on the stoop was a middle-aged man dressed in the plain grey uniform of one of the city’s high-end messenger services. Most people used the services that employed young boys to run a letter somewhere and disappear. Aton had only had a grey come to him once before, years ago. The resulting job hadn’t gone well.

The man tipped his cap. Aton Askins?

Yes? Aton answered. Who wants to know? Did Laffargue send you? He’d certainly have the money but had never shown the need for this level of service.

No, sir, I do not know anyone of that name, the man said. He reached into a pocket, pulled out a small card, and handed it to Aton.

It was thick and beige with fine black handwriting on it. All it did was identify the man, Nexo Vesper, and his messenger service. All right, was all Aton could muster, stuffing the card in his pocket. What do you want?

I represent someone who would like to hire you, Mr. Askins, Vesper said, as simply as if he was asking him to lunch.

Aton sputtered, then asked, How did you find me?

Vesper chuckled. While I am certainly not on your level, Mr. Askins, it is not infrequent in my line of work to have to track someone down to deliver a message. In truth, your former landlord proved fairly easy to persuade.

Aton had a quick nightmare flash of the old woman he’d rented from for years being subject to some kind of force or threats, but then remembered her fondness for spiced wine. He cursed himself for confiding in her. Congratulations on your successful pursuit, but I’m afraid I’m not accepting work at this moment.

Vesper furrowed his brow but maintained a polite smile. Have you retired, sir? Or found a new line of employment?

No, Aton said, too quickly. Not that it’s any business of yours or your client.

You are, then, still in the business of finding things? Vesper asked, pausing. Or people?

Aton stepped out of the doorway, pulling the door shut behind him. Listen, my current work is none of your concern. All you need to tell your client is that I am not, at this moment, taking on new business. If you like, I can provide the names of a few of my colleagues who could certainly do the job.

No, sir, Vesper said, taking a step back but taking a firmer tone. My client was very clear that only Mr. Askins would be able to help with this situation.

Aton had to admit Vesper was good at his job. He hadn’t let slip any information that might identify this mystery client, even whether it was a man or a woman. Please extend my appreciation for their evaluation of my talents, but I assure you, I’m not special. He turned to head back inside.

I will relay that to my client, Mr. Askins, Vesper said behind him.

You do that. Aton closed the door.

What was that all about? Xaria asked when he returned to the kitchen.

Nothing, he said, taking the time to kiss her on the forehead. He never thought he’d be able to turn away business.

Chapter 2

Out on the balcony, Belwyn kept her eyes closed and wrapped her robe tight against the chill. Mornings on the lake were always cool, even in summer. It was part of why she loved Annanais. No matter how hot or cramped or chaotic it seemed, the mornings were always fresh and crisp. A slight gust blew in off the lake and she shivered.

She wondered how long the charm of these mornings would last. It was one thing when she was growing up here or when she and Oudrick came to visit. Now she was stuck here, with a cadre of armed guards charged not with protecting her from any threat, but with keeping her in her place. A prison perched on the side of a mountain beside a jewel of a lake was still a prison, no matter how comfortable it might be.

As if to drive home the point, there was a sharp knock at the door. She sighed and walked back inside, pulling the door open slowly. At least she could still lock it from the inside.

Lady Belwyn, the frail, young cook’s assistant said as she shot directly to the table by the window. She set down the tray with Belwyn’s breakfast on it then disappeared just as quickly.

Taking her place in the doorway, keeping Belwyn from closing the door, was Neven. The stern woman, face shaped by generations of Cye high society, glared at her. Good morning, Lady.

Neven, Belwyn said, giving her as little recognition as possible while sitting down to breakfast. What’s on the agenda for today? The question caught in her throat a little bit. She’d said that so many times to Hagan, but he would only relate things she had agreed to do, if not wanted to. Neven’s schedules were always about keeping Belwyn occupied and out of trouble.

One of the maids has run off with one of your guards, Neven said, contempt dripping from every word. They’ll be tracked down soon enough, but, needless to say, we need to make arrangements for an addition to the staff. The applicants will be arriving in an hour.

An hour? Belwyn said. Any time there was a position open in her household, dozens of young women would come and apply, each just wanting a chance to get close to her. It was exhausting.

There will be many applicants, Neven said. In addition, you have a reception with the mayor of Coombe this afternoon that I had to work around.

Coombe was the town on the other side of the lake from Annanais. The two had always had a friendly rivalry, but Belwyn couldn’t imagine what the mayor wanted with her. Between him and the fawning young ladies wanting to be in her employ, Belwyn could take pleasure knowing that she was still as well loved as ever out here, even if Chakat had made her a pariah in Cye.

At least, that’s what she assumed. Do you have the news for me?

Neven stepped forward and handed her a collection of newspapers from across the Empire, Belwyn’s breakfast reading material.

Belwyn took the one on top, opened it, and then held it up. She eyed Neven through the square hole cut in the front page. Really, can’t your people be more subtle than this?

You know we have to control the type of news you consume, Lady, Neven said, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

I know that’s what you do, Belwyn said, putting the paper down. I don’t know why you think, or why Chakat thinks, it’s necessary.

Neven sighed. Your time here is not about punishment, Lady.

It took all Belwyn’s strength not to laugh.

It is about strengthening your constitution, purging it fully of the taint brought on by the haze. It is important that you not be unduly troubled by things over which you have no control.

Ah, Belwyn said, nodding. And that’s why Chakat sent you to look after me, rather than an actual physician. Granted, I’d punch Dr. Ubart in the face were he here, so perhaps that wouldn’t have been the best choice.

Neven’s face flushed. I do as my Emperor commands, was the best she could do.

Truth was, Belwyn had no idea why Neven had been pulled away from Cye high society to be her jailor. Whether she was getting paid or working off some debt to Chakat—perhaps, like Kelsor, she was avoiding prosecution for some secret sin—Belwyn couldn’t tell. It didn’t really matter to her.

Is that all? Belwyn asked, yawning.

Unless something else comes up, Neven said, shifting her weight from one foot to another. Did you sleep well, Lady?

Fine, Belwyn said, making a show of stretching. Maybe that’s why Neven got this job—she was observant, if nothing else. Still waking up. It’s the chilly air coming off the lake.

Yes, well, you could close those doors. Neven nodded to the wide doors that opened onto the balcony.

No, Belwyn said, more forcefully than she intended. If I’m to be stuck here under your watchful eye, Neven, I will take my pleasure where I can.

Neven held up her hands in surrender. I was never charged with saving you from yourself, Lady. I’ll leave you to prepare. Remember, one hour. She pulled the door shut and disappeared into the hallway.

I know damned well what you were charged with, Belwyn said once she was gone.

Breakfast, at least, was pleasant. It was the same as every other aspect of her daily routine, as pleasant as it possibly could be. Her room was comfortable and private. The grounds were immaculately kept. The cook was as good as she had ever been, although she seemed particularly saddened when she saw that Hagan was no longer in Belwyn’s service. Belwyn wondered what that was about, but thought discretion was the better course for now.

The interviews for the replacement maid were lengthy, but went as expected. Of the dozen young women Neven had brought in, half were barely literate, and another four were clearly looking to get something out of the appointment besides a job. The other two were qualified in the way Belwyn used the word—another thing she wasn’t going to let Neven take from her was her standards—and she really had no preference. She had sung an old children’s rhyme in her head, one used to choose between two options, just so she wouldn’t have to make the resolution herself.

The mayor was a perfectly nice man, but Belwyn estimated he had the intellectual capacity of a small steam engine. How he rose to such a position was beyond her, but then she didn’t know whether that position in Coombe actually carried any authority. Annanais had enough important business interests, financial and real estate traders like her father, that having someone run the place who knew what he was doing was a requirement. Coombe, however, might be more like those other Knurian villages where heredity meant more than ability. After two hours and several cups of tea with this man, Belwyn could only assume his ancestors must have been more impressive.

At least dinner brought some respite. Once a week Belwyn was allowed to dine with her mother and father. It was the only regular contact she had with them, even though they lived nearby. When she first arrived, Belwyn wasn’t certain they would come. She had been driven out of Cye in shame and, in the process, brought shame to her parents. She knew her father’s business must be suffering, at least the part of it he did closer to the capital. Her concerns were misplaced, however, and they had welcomed her with open arms. And more.

At first Neven had insisted on being present, like a hall monitor for school children, but Belwyn objected. Eventually they came up with a compromise and Captain Brixton, the commander of her personal guard, joined the party as the fourth person. Brixton was little better than Neven, in Belwyn’s eyes, particularly because he sported a new, mechanical right hand since they left Cye. At least he came from a military background and had some sense of how to play his role better.

The conversation was pleasant and banal. By this point Brixton had learned when he could contribute to the conversation, and Belwyn’s father indulged his stories of military life.

As the main course dishes were cleared away, her father said, So how are you sleeping these days, my girl?

Belwyn bobbed her head from side to side. Not bad. Sometimes I have very vivid dreams, the kind you never forget. Other times, nothing. Isn’t that odd?

Her father shook his head. Oh, well, every night is a new night, isn’t it?

She nodded as the cook brought dessert in. She wondered about what tonight might bring.

~~~~~

Belwyn lay in bed, shivering under the covers. The doors to the balcony were still open because they gave her the best idea of how much moonlight was out. She needed thick clouds, to make it as dark as possible outside. So far she had clear sky, just as there had been for the past few nights. She was doing her best not to fall asleep, hoping that the clouds that threatened to form would finally materialize. A breeze kicked up and she took a good look outside. The thin wisps of vapor were moving, racing across the face of the flowing moon, starting to obscure its light.

She jumped out of bed and dressed quickly. She had traded a small glass pendant with one of the scullery maids for a set of her clothes. While it wasn’t anything of sentimental value , it still angered her to have to give away her possessions to survive. But she was willing to give up almost anything to keep Chakat from winning, to keep him from continuing to hide the truth about Port Ambs. She checked the pocket watch her father had given her for a birthday present last month. The time to move was just before the midnight shift change for the guards.

Belwyn turned the door knob so slowly, she wasn’t sure it was even moving, until she felt the click of the mechanism vibrate through her hand. She pulled the door open, listening the whole time for someone out in the corridor. If she couldn’t get out of her own room without being seen, there was no chance of getting out of the villa. She stepped out into the hallway and drew the door behind her gently. She locked it with a key she’d stashed away years ago, then slipped the key in a skirt pocket. Pulling a hood up over her head, she walked briskly down the hallway.

Belwyn’s villa was built around a central courtyard, with one side built into the mountain and the other three jutting out over the rock. Even in the dead of night there was enough light for Belwyn to maneuver downstairs. From there she went from memory, developed from days and days of running through this home with Oudrick. She made her way down to the kitchen and found the side entrance, the one where supplies were delivered and garbage was removed.

In day-to-day life, the hardest thing for her to remember was that she was supposed to be hobbled. Everyone assumed that once Chakat took away the mechanical leg she’d been given, and returned the brutal peg-like appendage in its place, that she would be as slow and clumsy as before. She would have been if she hadn’t forced herself to become more nimble on her feet. It wasn’t like with the bosonium-powered work of art, but it was better than she ever thought possible. Still, she was happy for anyone else to think she could barely walk. Not only did she have to avoid capture, she had to avoid anyone seeing her move around almost normally. It was on these escapes at night where she could push herself to be faster and less clumsy on her feet.

There was only one guard there, who Belwyn didn’t even recognize. Maybe he was the replacement for the love-struck one who ran off earlier. Regardless, he didn’t appear to recognize her. But he was new and still full of enough enthusiasm to at least try and do his job.

He put his hand on her shoulder as she tried to pass. Where do you think you’re going?

She looked up just enough to face him, but not enough for the hood over her head to slip. My time is my own, as is who I entertain with it. This wasn’t the first time she’d played this game.

Is that so? the guard said. Perhaps Captain Brixton would like to know about your talents. He licked his lips like a jackal.

If he finds out, you’ll never sample them, that’s for certain. Belwyn hoped this was a promise she’d never have to come close to keeping. I’ll tell no one you let me go. You tell no one I went. Then, maybe, sometime . . . She left the insinuation to evaporate into the night air.

Fine, he said, stepping aside. Go, then. He waited for her to pass, then gave her a swift pat on the rump.

Belwyn ignored him and kept going. The path that led down to the town from the service entrance was smooth from years of use and easy to follow even without any moonlight. Belwyn kept looking over her shoulder until she was halfway down, just in case the new guard had a change of heart. She didn’t know what she’d do if he caught on to where she was going. She could run, but how far? More likely she’d just give herself up. No need to lead them any closer to her final destination.

The town of Annanais, rather than the homes of the wealthy perched on the Six Falcons, was only a few crisscrossed streets between the base of the hills and the lake. The most direct way through town from her villa would have required her to walk past brightly lit bars and cafes that would still be open this time of night. Someone dressed like her would attract attention there, so she had to avoid it. The more indirect route, through the town’s small market district, took twice as long, but eventually brought her to where she needed to be.

Oudrick Wharf hadn’t always been called that. Belwyn’s father had led the drive to rename it in the wake of Port Ambs. The gesture touched Belwyn, since she had never been certain how her father felt about her late husband. It also made a certain amount of sense, as Lake Wyon was named after one of Oudrick’s grandfathers. The wharf was a long spar of wood jutting out into the lake, to which about half a dozen large yachts were tied. Belwyn looked around to make sure it was as deserted as it should be at this time of night. Convinced that it was, she ran down the wharf as best as she could, pausing just barely before she stepped over the railing to board the next-to-last yacht.

Experience belonged to her father. It was his smaller, secondary yacht, the one he liked to take out himself, without bringing a crew. He did that less and less these days, which meant Experience mostly sat in its berth next to its larger sister, Whisper. It was, in essence, a large, floating, empty room. Just the thing Belwyn had needed.

She found the door to below decks, fished a second key from her pocket, and unlocked it. As with the door to her room, she made sure it was locked behind her. If anyone had followed her, at least she’d make them work hard to get to her.

Downstairs, she fumbled around to make sure the curtains were drawn on the two portholes that faced the shore. Then she waited another few moments in the dark, listening intently for footfalls on the deck. The boat rocked gently on the lake’s current, making the wooden hull creak. She held her breath, but didn’t hear anything else.

Confident she was alone and unobserved, Belwyn began lighting the lanterns she had placed around the room. As they flickered to light, her work of the past weeks became visible: stacks of papers, half-remembered snatches of memory. It was all that she could remember from what she and Hagan learned during their investigation into the Port Ambs bombing. Chakat could banish her, but he couldn’t keep her from trying to find the truth.

Belwyn hung her pocket watch on a peg beside one of the lanterns so that she could see the face clearly regardless of where she was in the room. She couldn’t lose track of time, since Neven had started noticing how tired she was in the mornings.

Chapter 3

Vesper was, if nothing else, persistent.

Aton was out front, mending a shutter, one morning when Vesper arrived on horseback.

I hope you didn’t incur the extra expense on my account, Aton said, pointing the hammer in his hand toward the beast. I’m still not available for hire.

This? Oh, no, we have an arrangement with one of the livery stables in town, Vesper said. I learned the other evening that walking all the way up here wasn’t the best idea I’ve ever had.

Aton put down the hammer. Look, I’m sorry, I know you’re just doing your job. Go ahead.

Vesper tipped his cap. As I said I would do the other evening, I went to my client to relay your response about work. I informed them in no uncertain terms that your services were no longer for hire.

Aton wiped dust from his hands. Yet, here you are.

Alas, Vesper said, my client was not pleased by that report.

Sorry to hear that.

They asked that I stress to you the dire need of their situation, Vesper continued. The exact words were ‘Aton Askins is the only man I can trust.’

Aton pondered that for a moment. It must be someone that knew him personally, not professionally. Aton was good at what he did, but not that much better than his rivals. Something else was going on. Did Okun put you up to this?

Vesper started to say something, but caught himself and chuckled instead. I’m sorry, sir, I have strict instructions not to identify our client. My only goal is to bring you to them.

Me to them? Aton said. Why not the other way around? That might impress me, at least. He still wouldn’t take the job, but there was something about a wealthy patron coming to grovel in his garden that appealed to him.

Vesper shook his head. I take it, sir, that your answer is still no?

Still is and will continue to be, Aton said, picking up the hammer. Now, if you don’t mind, I have things to do.

Vesper nodded and began to turn the horse around. I shall leave you in peace, then, sir.

Only he didn’t. Vesper kept appearing at Aton’s door. Never early in the morning or late at night, but seemingly at every other hour during the day. He even intercepted Aton when he was in the city one day. Every time it was the same request, just to come meet with his client.

Aton kept holding out. The conversation with Laffargue was the same after every job—he asked Aton if he was up for more. There were no threats, no promise to come confiscate all the money he’d been paid up to that point if he backed out. Still, they had agreed on exclusivity, and Aton had been handsomely rewarded for it. He wasn’t about to upset that agreement.

Finally, it seemed like Vesper got the message. A few days passed without him appearing anywhere in Aton’s life. He was just about ready to write the whole episode off when he was working in Kaisia’s room one afternoon. It was a beautiful day, sunny with blue skies, so he had moved the little girl outside, giving her a picnic overlooking the Valley of the Queens. While he worked, he listened to her talk to one of her dolls, playing both sides of the conversation expertly. It was adorable and amusing until Aton heard a second voice.

Vesper’s voice.

Aton ran to the window. He saw Vesper, in that damned grey uniform, kneeling next to Kaisia. It appeared innocent enough, but the fact that the man just appeared told Aton it wasn’t. He dashed through the house to the other bedroom, nearly knocking over Xaria in the process. He toyed briefly with getting the pistol from the nightstand but thought better of it.

What’s wrong? she said, following him out the door.

Stay inside! He grabbed the hammer he’d left out the other day, then rounded the corner of the house. Xaria was hot on his heels.

Step away from her, Vesper, he said, concealing the hammer behind his back. Slowly.

Vesper stood, but didn’t move away from Kaisia. Is that tone really necessary, sir? Have I done anything to offend?

Xaria didn’t wait for the conversation to continue. She dove in behind Vesper and snatched Kaisia up in her arms. Come on, she said in a quiet, soothing voice. Let’s get some tea. She shot Aton a look and went back into the house.

Anything to offend? How about that you continually trespass on my property? That after I’ve repeatedly told you to stay away you now come and threaten my daughter? Aton said. Yes, I take offense. Aton wondered if he could slam the hammer into Vesper’s head, crush his skull. He didn’t