members of his gang suggested that they'd witnessed the banHe getting stabbed, manically and repeatedly, but there was little or no sign of wounding afterwards, and at the time of the attack, Dannan had simply laughed it off. The banHe was here now representing the Screams, a guild with a thousand men in its ranks. Usually these gangs comprised a dozen men at the top, and everyone else working for them, but Malum's group was much larger, as was Dannan's, yet these two were the only leaders present.
Lutto, the portreeve of Villiren, suddenly blundered through the door still wrapped in a thick green cloak, and clutching a sheaf of papers under one arm. There was something comically duck-like about his gait, and his cheeks were flushed; and despite the chill there was a constant, sweaty glow to this panjandrum's demeanour.
'Sele of Jamur, Commander Brynd! Dannan and Malum, my greetings, gentlemen.'
The albino greeted him formally, correcting 'Jamur' to 'Urtica'. Each of the gang leaders gave a disinterested nod.
'You gang types,' Lutto chuckled, as he squeezed himself into a chair next to the commander, and then spilled his papers across the table. 'Will you not remove your mask for this meeting?' Lutto asked, as he cleared them up.
'No,' Malum snapped. 'Just tell us why're we here?'
'Ah, straight to business,' Lutto announced. 'A man after my own heart!'
'Leave me out of your heart,' Malum growled. 'Or are you into fucking men these days, you queer?'
Malum then noticed a flicker of darkness cross the albino's face. That was strange, Malum thought. The commander certainly didn't like that comment, he could tell. He was a weird-looking man, with those devilish eyes and that angular face, but something in his expression definitely tightened. Very odd…
The albino hurried on with the meeting. 'I called you gentlemen here because… very simply, we need your assistance. Lutto here reliably informs me that you each control a large number of citizens – a few thousand, so I believe.'
Dannan broke his hush. 'What of it?' His voice sounded mildly feminine.
'If I may just give you a summary of our latest intelligence?' The commander glanced warily between his two visitors. It was clear that the man regretted having to be so polite to a couple of thugs.
What the commander then described was both enlightening and alarming. He confirmed the rumours they had heard of the extent of genocide on Tineag'l, whole towns and villages wiped from the map, creatures called Okun currently crossing the ice sheets. The commander certainly presented the gang leaders with something to think about.
As drinks were eventually fetched, the commander's tone softened into something more relaxed. Anticipation still hung in the air, however.
'Now, I'm not expecting you to want to help us out of the goodness of your hearts,' the albino continued. 'You're tough men, primarily interested in your own affairs, I understand that.'
'We've got morals, commander,' Malum snapped. 'Our world isn't black and white.'
'So you will help?'
'Never said that.'
Whispering, the commander leaned over to Lutto, who nodded, his cheeks wobbling. 'Lutto here has agreed to open some of the city's vaults for a payment to you, to be refunded to the citizens by Villjamur at a later date. But the point is we'd be hiring your services, should we need you. I cannot be sure when, as for the moment we're just… waiting.'
So nothing was resolved; no conclusion was reached. Both Dannan and Malum agreed they would consider the situation in principle. Did they want to be employed by the Empire? Would they become just another unit of irregular soldiers?
The only firm outcome for Malum was that he ordered one of his men to shadow the commander from a distance. Whether it was just his ultra-pale skin, he didn't know, but there was something really weird about him.
*
Under a sleet-filled sky, in an area of the city currently blocked ofor renovation, Malum and the banHe had words.
The banHe smoked his roll-up nervously, as if paranoid, though there were always a couple of his thugs loitering nearby, their boots crunching on the vacant rubble-patch. This place used to be an educational establishment until the rents got too high, but now it was marked out for being turned into a larger apartment block. At the moment, it made a good place to meet: there were no places to hide a crossbow, not even enough cover behind which someone could crouch with a blade.
'What is it, Malum?' the banHe enquired, an almost musical quality to his voice.
'Portreeve says there's going to be a massive march of strikers heading through the northern districts – protests from stevedores on the docks, support from the smaller merchants, that sort of thing.'
'What they angry about?'
'Dangerous working conditions mainly.'
'Why ain't they taking it up with their employers? What's Lutto got to do with it? It's a free market, right?'
Malum smirked. 'C'mon, you know better than that, Dannan. Private companies in this city means no one takes responsibility for things like deaths occurring at work – mainly from hypothermia at the moment. No one wants to work shit jobs for shit money in the ice, especially when they're dying all round, but their employers say shut up or they'll just ship in cheaper workers from off-island. Even talk of slaves coming in to work for next to nothing, though Lutto told me that he's uncomfortable with that – might spoil his image back in Villjamur. Not even the Inquisition can get involved, in case it sends out a bad signal – that there isn't much democracy here. Got to create the illusion of freedom just to placate the rest of the masses.'
'So what's Lutto want us to do then? Kill a load of innocent protestors?'
'Kind of – but from within. Business leaders have asked politicians to help them out as times are tough, and they don't need this kind of unrest. They fired a hundred men for organizing action just a few weeks ago – illegally, according to what laws we do have – but soon things are going to get out of hand. And the portreeve doesn't want it either. He's offered special tariffs and subsidies and tax relief to businesses to keep them here in Villiren – part of that free market thing, I'm sure! – and this unrest just interferes with his grand plans for development. So Lutto comes to us, as usual, to help out. Treats us like business leaders because we do what we do well. There's a lot of money up for grabs, here, same as the Scarhouse Massacre two years back.'
The banHe made wide eyes at him.
'Exactly,' Malum said. 'We didn't have to do another job of the kind for a long while after that. So we're meant to join the protests and kick up a bloodstorm inside the movement. Claim that unions are nothing but violent thugs, good for no one. Not only does it get rid of the key troublemakers who stop private industries from fattening up their wallets, but it means others won't want to get involved with unions. Less solidarity, you see. People just get on with their work. This is all part of Lutto's long strategy, his campaign for free democracy.'
'What, so stopping people from having any control over their lives and their work conditions is a free democracy now? Who changed the fucking definitions?'
'Welcome to Villiren, Dannan. Anyway, they get to vote, right?'
'Between two or three men who are indistinguishable from one another. Anyway, Lutto always wins because he's got the most money – and our support, too.'
'Yeah, I know all this shit.'
'You seem to know a lot,' the banHe remarked, genuinely impressed.
'Just because I'm a thug doesn't mean I don't read any books. But, anyway, we're part of this now – so can I guarantee him some of your men for the job, too?'
Dannan sighed deeply and contemplated a response. 'How many you got involved?'
' 'Bout a hundred, but there'll be best part of a thousand protesting.'
'I'll throw in a hundred as well. Enough yeah?'
'Should do it. I'll send on the details to you on time and location. We already got a couple of men undercover with the unions at the moment.'
The banHe nodded and inhaled on his roll-up and continued looking around him.
Malum walked away with the intention of fading into the cityscape.
