City of Stairs (The Divine Cities, #1)(52)

His face grows slightly bitter. “Kolkashtani robes …”

“Yes. Those haven’t been seen on the Continent for decades. They were devotees of the Divinity Kolkan. This is not a matter of politics, I think, Vo—I think it is a matter of faith. These men are willing to die for what they believe. And they need something from you. And if they’re willing to die, they’re definitely willing to try again.”

“Try again to get … what?”

“The attacker I questioned was not in a … state where he could provide much detail, but he said they specifically needed your metal. Do you know what that means?”

Vohannes stares into space for nearly a minute before he’s capable of processing her question. “My metal?”

“Yes. I don’t believe he meant anything precious—gold, silver, or anything like that. But as you said, you’re playing into the resources game … so I wondered.”

“Well … I told you my biggest project is saltpeter … which isn’t a metal, you know.”

“I am familiar with the nature of metals,” she says. “We did go to school together, you know.”

“Right, right … The only other thing I could think of”—Vohannes scratches an eyebrow, smooths it down—“would probably be the steelworks. But that’s incredibly new.”

“Steel?”

“Yes. No one else on the Continent can produce steel—mostly because no one can afford the process.”

“But you can?”

“Yes, to a limited degree. It takes a specialized kind of furnace, which is expensive to build and maintain. It’s a bit of a test project, and one I’m not very much interested in because it’s so damn expensive. And because Bulikov isn’t building anything big or grand enough to require steel.”

“But you are producing steel?”

“Yes. I’ve no idea why some reactionary Restorationist would want it, though.”

“He suggested it was for ships that would sail through the air.”

“He said it was for what?”

Shara shrugs. “It’s what he said.”

“So this man is insane. Barking mad, surely. I admit, it’s a bit of a relief to hear it. …”

“He was in an induced state, let’s say. But we can’t question him anymore, I’m afraid. The man has died.”

“How?”

Shara is silent. She briefly remembers the sight of the boy’s face, flames filling his mouth as he tried to scream. … “I can’t say at the moment,” she says. “But it was unpleasant. All of this is unpleasant to me, Vo. And I don’t like that you’re at the middle of it. You’re a lightning rod, it seems.” She gently touches the newspaper before her. “And I do not want you to make it worse.”

Vohannes studies her. “Oh … Oh, Shara. I hope you are not about to suggest what I think you are about to suggest.”

“I will go ahead and assume you’ve had visitors from all your supporters and allies,” says Shara, “and I will assume they have all told you, in varying terms, how you have just been handed some very valuable political capital. Being attacked, and surviving that attack, puts a powerful weapon in your hand. I will also assume that both you, and they, think it politically expedient to get on as much newspaper sheet as possible.”

“I was attacked,” he says. “Am I not allowed to decry my attackers?”

“Not when I am trying to catch them, no,” says Shara. “I want you to stay out of the papers, Vo, and I do not want you to inflame the situation any more than it is.”

A short laugh. “Really.”

“Really. This particular job is proving difficult. But you can make it easier.”

“Your job is difficult? Oh, so you just step into my city and all the sudden it’s your arena? You’re the person dictating how everything should happen in Bulikov? Gods. … Were I a less-enlightened person, Shara, I’d say such behavior was typical of a …”

Shara cocks an eyebrow.

Vohannes coughs. “Listen, Shara. I have spent my life building my career. I have thrown away fortunes doing it. And I have battered and battered on the invisible walls surrounding this Continent, trying to bring in aid, wealth, support, education. And now, just when it looks like I might be getting somewhere, just when it looks like I might unify the support of Bulikov … you want me to stop? When the City Father elections are next month?”

“This is bigger than votes.”

“It’s not about votes. It’s about the city, the Continent!”

“So is what I’m doing.”

“People depend on me!”

“People depend on me, too,” says Shara. “They just don’t know it.”

“Oh, you can justify almost anything by saying that.”

“I am not your enemy,” she says. “I am your ally. I have been honest with you, Vo—dangerously honest. Now you must trust me. I want you to withdraw from the public eye, just for a little bit. If your movement is as successful as you claimed, stepping away can’t be that damaging.”

This appeal to his vanity appears to appease him some. “How long?”

“Hopefully not long at all. The sooner I can get this done, the sooner you can return to your work, without your guards.”