City on Fire

“Also,” Constantine adds, “I did not want it said that we secretly murdered them while they were in custody.”

Drumbeth nods agreement, but as he nods he continues to speak. “But nevertheless you are Minister of Resources, not Security, and you aren’t among those authorized to order the discharge of prisoners.”

“I apologize if I exceeded my authority,” Constantine says. “Since my Cheloki had arrested these people in the first place, and in view of the great challenges facing Gentri and the safety ministry, I thought it was easier simply to order them released myself.”

“That will no longer be necessary,” Drumbeth says. His voice is firm: Aiah sees an officer here, used to command. “Gentri now has a firm enough command of his department. If there are people whom you wish to have released on humanitarian grounds, call my attention to them, and after a review I will order their discharge.”

“You are busy enough. I would not want to trouble you with these minor matters.”

“Then don’t.” Drumbeth’s voice remains indifferent. “But if criminals are to be released, I wish it to be with my knowledge, or with Gentri’s.”

Constantine nods gracefully. “As you wish, Triumvir.”

Drumbeth tilts his head. “By the way—I wonder if you have seen the early news reports?”

Constantine looks at him with grave curiosity. “I have not had the opportunity.”

“There are stories in several media of a decision made at yesterday’s cabinet meeting concerning the fate of the Qer-wan Arms Company. The reports are unanimous in indicating the government’s decision to sell. In fact, my office has already been contacted by firms wishing to tender a bid.”

Constantine nods. His usual dramatic tones and extravagant gestures are suppressed: he sits upright at the table, and speaks in a lowered tone. “Such eagerness would indicate that the sale of the company, complete with its current set of government contracts, should provide the government an excellent source of revenue.”

“That may be true,” Drumbeth says. “But the fact remains that, contrary to the news reports, the government has not as yet decided the fate of the company, and may not decide to part with a resource so vital to its security.”

“Guns and ammunition,” Constantine says, “are available in quantity, and for rather better prices, in many other places.”

“So you said yesterday,” Drumbeth says. “It isn’t my intention to renew the debate, but instead to note my concern at reports of the inner workings of our cabinet now appearing in news reports.” A glint, steely in Shieldlight, appears in Drumbeth’s narrow eyes. “It would seem that someone is attempting to manipulate the situation through selected leaks to the media.”

A ghost of a shrug rolls through Constantine’s shoulders. He continues to hold his gestures to a minimum, and Aiah wonders if he is afraid he might give himself away with one of them. “It is to be expected, I suppose,” he says. “If they are to have wider participation in government, as we seem to agree they should, the public must be educated in such matters.”

“Educated,” Drumbeth says. “Not manipulated. Forcing the government’s hand this way will not be tolerated, and if I can discover the offender he may find that some of his most cherished projects—” His slitted eyes glance for a deliberate moment in Aiah’s direction. “His most cherished projects,” he continues, “will be vetoed, or given to someone else.”

“I’ve been a neglectful host,” Constantine says. “May I offer you coffee? Tea? A glass of brandy perhaps?”

“Some other time,” Drumbeth says, rising. “I have a full shift ahead of me.”

“Damn the man!” Constantine cries after Drumbeth leaves. He hammers a heavy fist into his palm. “He is—” The words jam in his throat, and instead he waves the fist at the door. “This is unsupportable! Dressing me down in front of a subordinate!”

Aiah shrinks from the storm of anger. “I wouldn’t call it dressing down …,” she says.

Constantine is not consoled. “How dare he check me!” he roars. “After everything I have done! After I set him in power!” He paces behind his desk, marching back and forth as fury sparks from his eyes. “An arms company!” he says. “Badly managed, fat with overpaid Keremath sycophants, their product inferior and overpriced…” He laughs. “And this shambles is so vital to the security of Caraqui? Our ex-colonel Drumbeth of all people should know how common arms companies are, how easy their product is to come by—” “What are you going to do about Taikoen?” Aiah interrupts.

Constantine stops dead, looks at her with the anger still blazing from his eyes, but the rage is gone from his voice, and his tone is thoughtful. “Taikoen?” he says. “He has General Brandig now—he’s an old man, in bad condition, but still should last him another day or two. I will not owe him another for two weeks or so…” He straightens, fingers his chin in thought. “I must look at your files,” he says. “Taikoen can feed on the Silver Hand for months… may even do us some good.”

Aiah swallows. She has observed the Handmen closely and hates them all, but she wouldn’t wish Taikoen on any of them, can’t imagine desiring that the cold, vicious intelligence of that deadly monster should dwell in the heart of the worst imaginable villain.

“I don’t want anyone going through my files in that way,” she says. “Not to give people to… that creature.”

“Miss Aiah.” A dangerous growl. “It is necessary.”

“No!” Aiah cries. “It is mad to feed that thing!”

In less than a moment Constantine has crossed the room to stand before her, his big hands crushing her shoulders, fiery eyes burning into hers. She shrinks back, afraid of sudden violence, but Constantine’s voice is low, without anger. “Without Taikoen we would not have Caraqui,” he says. “Feeding him is the price we pay for the good we are able to do now. And if I should break the agreement I have with him…” His tongue licks dry lips, and there is a haunted look in his eyes. “My life would not be worth a half-dinar.”

A shadow of Constantine’s fear shivers through Aiah, and she locks her arms around him, holding him close, pressing her cheek to his velvet shoulder. “There must be another way. Destroy him. It is possible to kill a hanged man, isn’t it?”

“Do you think we live in a chromoplay?” Scorn burns in his eyes. “We find the monster, then kill it with a magic dagger, or by using an obscure geomantic focus found in some old book?” There is a moment’s hesitation before Constantine says, “Taikoen may yet be useful. I will choose the people carefully. There will be no accidents, and I will make his subjects the most deserving imaginable.”

His big hands caress her, but nevertheless a chill runs up her spine. She has become a part of this now, a part of the apparatus that feeds people to Taikoen.

She is a party to this atrocity. But that’s what she must be, if that is what it takes to preserve her lover, and to create the New City.

“I don’t want to know when it happens,” she says. “I don’t want to know who, and when, and why it is being done.”

Constantine gives a bitter laugh. “I would not burden you with that. Ta^;koen is my poison alone. You will never see him or hear of him after this.” His arms tighten around her, threaten to drive the wind from her body. “Taikoen is the greatest burden I bear, the greatest evil I know. Yet I must deal with him. And though it is unjust of me even to ask, I find I need to share this burden a little—I wish your understanding and support. 1 need you to believe that what I am doing is right.”

Aiah’s mind whirls. She has never seen Constantine like this, never seen him in a situation where he did not possess absolute confidence and mastery. He needs her support, her trust. What can she do but give it?

He is, she realizes, almost as isolated in this country as she. For all his talents, when Constantine faces Taikoen, he faces the creature alone.

“Yes,” she says numbly, “of course. I understand.”

She will do what she can.

TRIUMVIR HILTHI SPEAKS “THE MORAL WEALTH OF THE NATION” THIRD SHIFT TODAY!

“If some of the family want to apply,” Aiah says, “I can give them some jobs. But I need particular skills.”

“Skills?” Aiah’s grandmother sounds suspicious, as if Aiah is speaking a foreign