“What’s this?” Hastur said. She leapt to her feet, one hand going to the gun at her hip, hidden under a fold of her rags.
Boss Vassas paused, his fishy face frowning. He wore a broad-brimmed that had been pulled low over his face and a long coat that trailed his ankles. Avery was glad to see the crime boss, and half surprised, too. Vassas had agreed to help him, but he hadn’t been sure that truly extended to venturing out, alone, to a town he didn’t control. He had arrived, as per the plan, ahead of Avery so as not to alert Hastur’s suspicions. Now, it seemed, they needn’t have bothered.
“Please,” Avery told Hastur. “Don’t shoot him. You want muscle, he’s your muscle. Now I suggest we all sit down and talk about this like adults.” Other patrons had turned and were staring at them.
Hastur glared at Vassas. Then she breathed out, removed her hand from her pistol and lowered herself to the chair. Vassas flexed his hands, as if to release his own tension, then dragged a chair to the table and perched.
“Thank you for coming,” Avery told him, and Vassas nodded, saying nothing.
“Who are you?” Hastur demanded. Her eyes had narrowed to slits.
Vassas lit an alchemical cigarette and tipped his head to Avery, allowing the doctor to explain. The boss wouldn’t deign to elucidate the general himself.
“Our new friend is a businessman,” Avery said, “and he runs, more or less, the nearby town of Muscud. He has many, er, employees that he can summon to his service.”
Vassas grunted. His eyes flicked to the shadows of the tavern interior, and there Avery saw two men slouched at the bar, their tense faces watching Vassas and the table. One’s hands had gone inside his jacket at Hastur’s sudden movements, and the hand was just then emerging—empty. So, Avery thought. Not so alone, after all.
“I believe some of his people made contact with you recently,” Avery added.
General Hastur studied Vassas for a long moment, then Avery. At last she said, “You trust him?”
At least as far as I can throw him. “Yes. Absolutely.”
To Vassas, she said, “And you’re willing to help my cause? Restore Ghenisa to the way it was?”
The underworld boss shrugged, and, for the first time since he’d arrived, spoke. “It’s either that or watch my home go the way of the Carathids, ain’t it? Place won’t be recognizable soon, top or bottom. If it were just the top …” He puffed on his cigarette; the flame glowed teal. “But it’s all of it, and I aim to help—if there’s a way. It’s got to be clean way, though. A way that works. I ain’t throwin’ my boys away on a lost cause.”
“How many … employees … do you have?”
“Say over a hundred. More, if I squeeze.”
Avery held his breath. “Is that enough?”
Hastur sat back. She seemed to be thinking about it. “Maybe. It would have to be a very targeted strike.”
Vassas cleared his throat. “I ain’t doin’ this for free. There’s a price.”
Avery swore inwardly. Vassas hadn’t mentioned this part.
Hastur arched her thin eyebrows. “Yes?” Her voice dripped scorn. “And what is it?”
“When the Treasury’s yours again, or yer PM’s, I want my slice.” He named a figure, and Avery forced himself not to flinch; it was a high number.
The general’s face ticked. She seemed to want to snap at the mobster, but with visible effort she held herself back, and, after a long moment, she named another, far smaller figure. Vassas smiled. His teeth were sharp. The two bargained for several minutes and at last agreed upon a figure. Avery breathed a sigh of relief.
“Well,” he said, clapping his hands together. “I think that’s decided then. Veronica, with your ability to access the inner workings of the military, we just need to show those loyal to you that you’re no helpless pariah. Our friend here can help instill order in the upper ranks while your people put down those loyal to Haggarty.”
“I haven’t given up on finding the Prime Minister,” Hastur said. “I still think she’s our only real hope of maintaining order when it’s all done. I won’t make my move until she’s found.”
“And if she’s found dead?” Vassas said.
“We’ll deal with that if the time comes.”
They spoke for a time, hashing out the details, and at last Hastur made her exit, having first ensured that the others knew how to contact her. Three shadows detached themselves from the periphery and flanked her as she vanished, all of them pretending not to notice each other. Despite their affectations of disrepute, all moved like seasoned military personnel.
“They’d never make it as spies,” Vassas said.
Avery started to agree, then considered. “Then again, I didn’t see them until just now, did you?”
Before Vassas could answer, screams sounded. The two glanced at each other, then toward the source of the cries. Others around them were looking, too. More screams came, and Avery and Vassas rushed outside. The sounds were coming from one of the lower tiers. For a wild moment Avery feared General Hastur had been seized, but no, he saw her hastening away down the upper tier, her bodyguards looking over their shoulders and shoving their hands into their pockets.
Vassas’s two men materialized, their hands likewise concealed, and one said, “What is it, Boss?”
“Some local trouble.”
More screams followed, along with cursing and shouting and general sounds of unrest.
“We’d better go now,” Avery said, “before this turns into a riot, whatever it is.”
The other three came with him down the nearest ramp, along the next tier for a ways to another ramp, then across a bridge toward the next nearest ramp after that. The press of people thickened around them, and many were stopping and pointing downward, or just looking. Avery paused, too, halfway over the bridge, and peered down. What he saw made his stomach lurch.
On the second tier, priests in purple robes were dragging families out of a line of hovels. The victims were badly diseased and miserable-looking, of all ages, from small children (Avery thought one might have been among those he’d given coins to earlier) to an old, toothless woman. Some could barely walk, either due to age, infirmity or mutation. Some had to be dragged along, flopping and floundering. The priests, and there seemed to be about two score of them, were tying the people’s hands behind their backs and arranging them into groups, then herding them across a bridge to a large structure along the abyss. By the purple light streaming through its windows and the trident over its larger entranceway, Avery knew it to be a chapel to the Collossum.
“Dear gods,” he said, “they’re collecting sacrifices in mass.”
Vassas swore. “How many do they need? They must have fifty people down there! Why don’t the townsfolk stop ‘em?”
Some were trying. The townspeople stood on bridges and at railings and in shop fronts, watching the priests as they gathered their victims. An angry crowd had formed on the second tier and were surging against the priests, but the clergymen fought them back. Aiding them in this were not less than a dozen soldiers of the Navy—Haggarty’s people. In their crisp uniforms, they fired over the townspeople’s heads, sending them back. When one woman hurled a rock at a soldier, he shot her in the head. The rest of the townsfolk muttered and wept but did not interfere. A few prayed and stroked tridents about their necks.
