God's War

says the call is routed through palace security.”

All three women stood, and pressed their hands together and bowed.

Nyx made a quick, sloppy mirror of the gesture and watched Rhys make a far more elegant bow alongside her. Nyx had never bowed to anybody in her life. It was the sort of thing people only did in cheap historical dramas. Who ran all these other worlds? Where did all the people come from? Motes of stardust, just like Nasheenians and Chenjans? Refugees from dying worlds like the Ras Tiegans or asylum seekers from planets that hated the people of the Book, like the Mhorians? But then, where did the people who hated the people of the Book come from?

Theology looked a lot better the more questions you started to pile up. Saying it was all just God’s plan gave you neat answers for everything.

Give it a fucking rest, she thought, and turned to Kasbah. “Let’s go,” she said.

Kasbah took Nyx and Rhys into the belly of the palace. The way grew darker as they descended. The floors were still brightly colored tile, but the doors were no longer made of intricately carved wood. These were solid, made of twisted metal and bug secretions. Nyx wondered what kind of fallout shelter they had down here. She knew the main bug bank for Mushtallah’s filter was on Palace Hill, which required a lot of security.

“Who else was on this job?” Nyx asked Kasbah. “I’ll need to know how they fucked up, when they gave up, what they found out. If you don’t have that information, I need to go to them directly. I don’t want to reinvent their work.”

“We’ve hired only one bounty hunter who’s still on the note, but the list of mercenaries is somewhat classified,” Kasbah said. “We already find it politically distasteful to work with bounty hunters. Admitting publicly that we’ve hired foreign mercenaries as well may be disastrous.”

“Then at least give me the list of bel dames you’ve hired,” Nyx said. She was still having trouble with the idea that they’d cut out the bel dames.

“We cannot involve the bel dame council in a note such as this. You, of all people, should know this.”

“I know what the line is, Kasbah. I also know this is Palace Hill.”

“You do perhaps overestimate the power of the queen or, perhaps, overestimate her interest in agitating the bel dame council over a matter even such as this.”

“Seems a little funny. This note is so important, but she won’t piss off a couple old ladies on the council to get them to put some women on it?”

“Perhaps it is best the old ladies don’t understand the importance of this note.”

Nyx gave Kasbah a good sidelong look. “Don’t tell me the queen’s after somebody the bel dames want dead.”

“Let us say it is best for Nasheen if we acquire this woman without exciting the bel dame council.”

Nyx let that settle in her head. This could be bad.

Kasbah led them through several sets of security doors, past two guards, and through another filter. Then they stepped into a small viewing room. The room itself was no different than any other security viewing room Nyx had seen, only colder. She wondered how far underground they were.

Kasbah stepped into the next room to find the security techs.

Rhys’s expression was grim. “I don’t like the sound of this note, Nyx.”

“That’s why it pays so well, Rhys,” she said, but her chest was tight.

The last time she pissed off the bel dames, they’d sent her to prison. What the fuck was the queen doing running a high-risk note under the noses of the bel dames? Why not hire them to do it? If she was going to bleed, Nyx wanted to know who and what she was bleeding for.

Kasbah returned with a couple of security techs. One of them held a transparent thumb-size case filled with amber fluid. She shook it and put it into the viewing tube.

The tube vomited a misty rain of particles that coalesced into four round moving images.

“I thought your filter kept out transmission bugs,” Rhys said.

One of the techs, an older woman with a wash of white-peppered hair, said, “It does. These are native to Mushtallah, something we put together with the palace magicians.”

Like com techs and hedge witches, most security techs had some paltry talent that made them more adept at working with bugs. Nyx figured about the only advantage of having an affinity for bugs was that it increased your job prospects.

Nyx focused on the round views, broadcasts from the lenses of tailored bugs plotted around the city.

The first showed an image of the main courtyard they’d entered earlier where all the women had been training.

“She starts here,” the tech said, pointing to the staircase. It was a bad wide shot. Everything that came in via bugs was in shades of gray, so the woman moving down the stairs could have been any dark woman. She walked with two other figures.

“Who are they?” Nyx asked.

“Magicians,” Kasbah said. “Yah Inan and Yah Tayyib.”

“Yah Tayyib of Faleen?” Nyx asked.

“Yes. You know him?”

“Here,” the tech said, as the figures disappeared from the eye’s view. She pointed to the next eye, a view of the deserted main street outside the palace. Nyx saw that the time stamp had them moving during the darkest part of the night, the thirteenth hour. With the moons in recession, it was even darker than usual, and hazy by the look of the gas lamps left running on the windowsill inside the main window of each of the apartments above the storefronts.

“Did she have a lot of midnight sorties with magicians?” Nyx asked.

“It wasn’t unusual,” Kasbah said. “Nikodem got on well with them.”

The younger tech nodded. “We saw nothing odd about this night, not until here, when we picked her up going through the filter, alone. But of course we didn’t see that until later. The bug jumps here, changes position.”

She pointed to the eye that showed the dark figure moving through the filter. The bug indeed shifted position, a back-and-forth motion that made the picture wobble. The woman stepped into a bakkie waiting on the other side of the filter. The picture was bad, and Nyx couldn’t make out any distinguishing features—no tags, no strange markings. She couldn’t even gauge the bakkie’s state of health. It was a newer model, not yet sand-gutted or sun-sick. It might have had tinted windows.

“So she had help,” Nyx said.

“Or she called a bakkie before she left,” Kasbah said. “The Kinaanites aren’t wholly ignorant of how to get around in Nasheen.”

“We’re talking about a woman who had confidential information of great interest to magicians,” Nyx said. “I don’t think she headed out alone to watch a little boxing in the border towns.”

“The magicians have been extensively interrogated,” Kasbah said, but it wasn’t the voice of a woman of absolute faith. Nyx had heard those voices enough to know what they sounded like. “They understand the nature of this project. They know what would happen to Nasheen if we lost this woman to the Chenjans.”

“Tell me what would happen to Nasheen,” Nyx said.

Kasbah looked at her. Her mouth was a thin line. “If she could end the war in our favor, she could also end it… not so much in our favor, couldn’t she?” Kasbah said.

The images began looping on all four lenses: the courtyard, the street, a bookshop where Nikodem seemed to have gone off on her own, the filter, the bakkie.

Nyx glanced over at Rhys. He was examining the image of the bakkie. When he caught her looking at him, he nodded. One of the images was doctored, then. Mercenaries generally didn’t work with magicians, so any of the ones who’d viewed this before Nyx may not have caught that, but if Kasbah had a lot of her own security techs and magicians working on this, she should have known it.

Nyx looked over at Kasbah. Kasbah had her arms crossed as she stared at the security screens. She did not meet Nyx’s look.

Nyx asked Rhys, “You need to see anything else?”

He shook his head.

“I think that’s it, then,” Nyx said. “Unless I can speak to Yah Inan.”