“If you’re lying,” said Jean, “if you’re leaving anything out, I’ll try to kill you again. Understand? I’ll give it everything I have, even if it forces you to slay me on the spot.”
Patience nodded.
“Then let’s talk business.”
“Let’s not,” snarled Locke. “Let’s show this bitch to the door and refuse to be puppets.”
“Shut up.” Jean pushed firmly down on Locke’s shoulders, foiling his attempt to roll out of bed. “Tell us about this job.”
Locke drew in a rasping breath to spew some more damn fool craziness. Jean, with the reflexes that kept him alive when blades were drawn, clamped a hand over Locke’s mouth before he could speak and pushed his head back down against his pillow. “I can’t agree to anything on Locke’s behalf, but I want us to hear your proposal. Tell us what the job is.”
“It’s political,” said Patience.
“Mmmmph mmph,” said Locke, struggling in vain against Jean’s arm. “Mmmph fckhnnng fmmmph!”
“He wants to hear more,” said Jean. “He says he’s very excited to hear the whole thing.”
2
“I NEED an election adjusted.”
“How adjusted?”
“As a cautious estimate?” Patience turned to the window and stared out into the rain. “I need it rigged from top to bottom.”
“Government affairs are a bit beyond our experience,” said Jean.
“Nonsense. You’ll feel right at home. What is government but theft by consent? You’ll be moving in a society of kindred spirits.”
“What sort of election are we supposed to be mucking about with here?”
“Every five years,” said Patience, “the citizens of Karthain elect an assembly, the Konseil. Nineteen representatives for nineteen city districts. This dignified mess runs the city, and I need a majority of their seats to go to the faction of my preference.”
“This is what you want us for?” Locke finally slipped Jean’s hand aside and managed to speak. “My dead ass! With your powers, you’d have to be out of your gods-damned minds to settle for anything Jean and I could pull off! You could wiggle your fingers and make them elect cats and dogs, for fuck’s sake.”
“No,” said Patience. “In public, the magi stand completely aloof from the government of the city. In private, we are forbidden to use any of our arts. Not on the poorest citizen of Karthain, not for a single vote.”
“You won’t use your sorcery on the people of Karthain?” said Jean. “Not at all?”
“Oh, Karthain is our city, through and through. We’ve adjusted everything to suit our needs, and that includes the inhabitants. It’s this contest we can’t touch. The election itself.”
“Seems awkward as all hell. Why the limitation?”
“You’ve seen some of our arts. You opposed the Falconer. You survived Tal Verrar.”
“In a manner of speaking,” muttered Locke.
“Imagine a society of men and women where those powers are universal,” said Patience. “Imagine … sitting down to dinner with four hundred people, each of whom has a loaded crossbow set beside their wineglass. Some very strict rules will have to be enforced if anyone wants to live long enough to see the last course.”
“I think I get it,” said Jean. “You have some sort of rule about not shitting where you eat?”
“Magi must
“We don’t duel,” she continued. “We don’t so much as
“Situations like this election,” said Jean.
“Yes. We do need to control the Konseil, one way or another. Once the election is over, the new government becomes a general tool. We adjust its members by consensual design. But during the contest itself, when our blood is up, we need to keep our arts entirely out of the situation. We need to be pure spectators.”
Patience raised both of her hands, palms up, as though presenting two invisible objects for weighing.
“There are two major factions among my people. Two major parties in Karthani politics. We battle by proxy. Each side is allowed to choose agents. Enterprising individuals, never magi. We set them loose to fight on our behalf. In the past we’ve favored orators, political organizers, demagogues. This time, I’ve convinced my people to hire someone with a more unusual portfolio of achievement.”
“Why?” said Jean.
“Some people play handball,” said Patience, smiling. “Some people play Catch-the-Duke. This is our sport. The election diverts much of the frustration our factions come to feel for one another, and brings prestige to the side that backs the winner. It’s become a highly anticipated tradition.”
“I’ve imagined you people must run the show in Karthain,” said Locke. “I just never would have suspected this. What a joke on all the poor saps lining up to vote every five years.”
“They get an orderly city regardless of the winner,” said Patience. “In Karthain, nobody empties the treasury and vanishes. Nobody holds grand masques every night while the streets fill with night soil and dead animals. We see to that.”
“Would a city of puppets really give a damn if you didn’t?” said Locke, wheezing. He cleared his throat. “You want us to work fraud in the service of order and public sanitation. What a thought!”
“Isn’t theft theft? Aren’t lies lies? Isn’t this exactly the sort of opportunity you’d spend years chasing if it was your own idea? Besides, the job serves you as much as anyone. Accepting it will save your life.”
“How long would you need us?” said Locke.
“The election is in six weeks.”
“What about resources? Clothes, money, lodging—”
“We have complete identities prepared for you, all possible comforts, and a large pool of funds to dispose of on business.”
“Only business?” said Locke.
“You’ll be treated luxuriously for six weeks. What more could you want?”
“Perelandro’s balls, a little incentive to win would be nice.”
“Incentive? Life itself isn’t sufficient? You’ll be well-dressed, you’ll recover your health, and you’ll be in a greatly improved position from which to resume your … career. If you win, our gratitude might easily extend so far as comfortable transportation to the city of your choice.”
“And if we lose?”
“You can’t expect us to reward failure. You’ll still be free to leave, but you’ll do it on foot.”
“I can only speak for myself,” said Locke, and Jean’s heart sank. “I meant what I said. I have no idea what your full powers are. I don’t trust you. I don’t trust this situation, and I have no reasonable chance to catch you if you’re lying. If you’re not sincere, this is a trap, and if you are sincere it’s some kind of bizarre pity-fuck.”
“And all the years you might have had coming? All the things you have yet to do?”
“Spare me. You’re not
“Hold on—” Jean began.
“I’m disappointed,” said Patience. “I would have thought you had at least one more thing to live for. Can you honestly say you’ve never hoped for any chance of a reunion with Sabetha, somewhere out there in the —”
“You go