In Her Shadow(14)

Upon completing his inspection, Lucius drew up a list of the things he'd need and made estimates for requisitions. No telling if he'd be reimbursed or not. An old curse of the Regnal aristocracy, commanders were expected to be rich enough to cover any costs until the Emperor decided to reimburse them – assuming he chose too. It might not matter anyway, because the clerk who helped Lucius draw the list up told him any supplies they ordered from overseas would come through the docks, and would surely be looted. Lucius would have to pay off the longshoreman's guild to get what he'd ordered safely delivered. Even then, the abbey wanted a weak imperial presence.

"Which means they're likely to put an elbow on the longshoreman's guild so that – even if I pay them off – I get robbed blind and my supplies don't make it anyway."

"Just so, Dux Lucius."

"Suggestions?"

The clerk furrowed his bushy brows. "I'm sorry, sir?"

"Do you have any suggestions? Why do you look so surprised?"

"No one's ever asked me for my opinion before."

"Why not? You're the clerk, possibly the most educated man in this command."

"Uh – thank you, sir."

"Never mind, just tell me."

The clerk leaned back in his chair, his gaze intense as he turned the problem over in his mind. "Do you have the money to out bribe the abbey?"

"Not even close."

"I doubt it would matter if you did anyway. You're new here – an unknown mover with no political cache. The longshoreman's guild would rather deal with the devil they know. They're one of the richest guilds in the city. They won't be eager to go against the abbey and upset the established order."

"What if we do the hauling ourselves?"

The clerk's face blanched. "No sir! Under no circumstances! The whole city would revolt!" The clerk held the list up and shook it. "You wrote this, you know what sort of shape the garrison is in. We'd never be able to handle it. Even so, the pirates might get to your supplies off shore before you got the chance to try."

"What then?"

The clerk cleared his throat.

"Don't avoid the question. I won't punish you for honesty."

"Alright, sir. Approach the abbey and make peace with them. I mean, that's part of the reason you're here anyway, right? Make inroads of you own accord. Don't be at the behest of your father's connections. Take the initiative."

Dux Lucius considered the clerk's words as the poor man squirmed waiting for a reply. An unfortunate side effect of always being in control of one's emotions was that others tended to fill the void with their own worries. Surely this slight man with the big eyebrows thought he'd said something to offend his new commander. But he hadn't. "I suppose you're right," said Lucius, "but I'm not sure where to start."

The clerk visibly relaxed. "That's easy, Dux Lucius, just go there. I doubt the Abbess of Night will refuse an audience with you."

Lucius wasn't completely convinced, but he was willing to try.

***

His work done for the day – not done really, it would never be done, but unable to realistically do more – Lucius trudged through the streets. It was safe during the day, or so they said, but he went armed anyway. He wasn't a fool, and wouldn't be made one by being set upon unarmed.

While he walked, he eyed the comings and goings of Ankshara's citizens, making mental notes of high places and choke points. The clerk's words wriggled like worms in his head. Lucius might be able to stave off one riot, but given the situation in the city, and his father's plans to clean it up, there would be a reckoning eventually.

Eventually? It had already begun if assassins had been sent after him. But sent by whom? Rich merchants? Pirates? The abbey seemed like the most obvious source, but that was ridiculous. For all her posturing, it was Lucius's understanding the Abbess of Night was no fool. Not exactly a broken woman, but an opportunist who knew to change tack when the winds shifted. Every movement she'd made so far indicated she planed to do just that, adapt to the new regime. But, if she were losing power, that might mean the people beneath her were willing to step up. So perhaps it was a consortium of thieves, burglars, smugglers or other thugs that had, without her permission, sought to strike against the man who threatened their livelihoods.

The clerk's reasoning was sound. Why not approach the Abbess of Night for help? If anyone could tighten the reigns on Ankshara's lowlifes, it was her. His father would be forced to implement his reforms slower than he'd hope, but with the abbey's assistance, the transition would go much smoother. Not the sudden sweeping clean the Governor had envisioned, but it would get the job done in the long run. Lucius thought it was a good plan.

Still, playing so close to the edge of darkness made him uncomfortable. "A moth who drew too near a flame was likely to get burned. But a moth with no flame was as likely to get lost." A convoluted, if accurate, truism from the Disciples of old.

Worse was his upcoming marriage. Between the assassination attempt and his duties at the garrison, he'd barely given it any thought. As he wandered the streets in the dying light of day, however, his thoughts kept turned to Britta. He saw her in his mind's eye: her hair, her eyes, her smile, the way she threw herself in front of him as she commanded their muggers away. "Know thy self," the Disciples taught. He knew he was attracted to her. He hated himself for it.