City of Stairs (The Divine Cities, #1)(57)

Shara’s blood turns to ice. She’s watching my background check requests?

She scrambles for an excuse. “I did,” she says. “I was checking on Votrov.”

“Were you?” says Vinya. “Votrov owns several banks in Bulikov. Many much larger than the one you asked for a check on. And that one he owns through a rather dense tangle of channels. So I’m curious—why that bank, in particular?”

“For the reasons you just outlined. It seemed likely that if he had anything to hide, it’d be there.”

Vinya nods slowly. “But looking for something like that would require a full finance check. Which you did not initiate.”

“I became distracted,” says Shara. “So many bodies, you see.”

Both Vinya and Shara’s faces hang in the windowpanes, staring at one another, perfectly stoic.

“It would have nothing to do, then,” says Vinya quietly, “with how that particular bank is the closest bank to Bulikov University with safety deposit boxes, would it?”

She knows.

“Safety deposit boxes?” asks Shara. Her words drip with innocence.

“Yes. That is, after all, your most preferred method of dead drops. You tend to like the finance people. They are so process-oriented, not unlike yourself.”

“I haven’t had enough time here to do anything necessitating a dead drop, Auntie.”

“No.” Vinya’s eyes appear to drift backward into her head, and Shara gets the strange and horrible feeling of being looked through. Suddenly she understands how Vinya has commanded so many committees and oversight hearings with complete confidence. “But you would have probably taught this method to Efrem.”

I hope I’m not sweating right now. “Where are you going with this, Aunt Vinya?”

“Shara, my dear,” says Vinya slowly, “you’re not hiding anything from me, are you?”

Shara attempts a tiny smile. “I am not the one who is hiding things.”

“I am your superior. It’s my job to restrict what people know. And I will tell you what this all tastes like, to me. … It tastes like you have stumbled across a dead drop of Pangyui’s, and you have yet to access it. But you do not wish to report it until you review its contents. However, my dear, I must remind you”—her words are so frosty Shara feels like she’s been slapped—“Pangyui was my agent. My operation. I don’t run many ops these days, but when I do, I make sure they stay mine. And the product of that operation, whatever it may be, goes to me first. Me, Shara. It does not get digested by another operative who just happens to be there, an agent not assigned to that operation. Not unless that operative wishes to be very abruptly pulled out of that intelligence theater. Do I make myself clear?”

Shara blinks slowly.

“Do you understand, Shara?” Vinya asks again.

Though Shara is perfectly passive, in her head she is engaged in rigorous debate. As she sees it, she has four options. She can:

1. Tell her aunt that she’s had contact with a Divinity, and thus needs access to everything Pangyui has produced. (However, this would require telling a possibly compromised official about the most dangerous intelligence breakthrough in modern history.)

2. Withhold both the Pangyui dead drop as well as the Divine contact from her aunt and pursue her own investigation of both. (However, this would risk being pulled from Bulikov altogether, though all her aunt seems to care about now is the Pangyui dead drop.)

3. Give up the content of Pangyui’s safety deposit box to her aunt—its contents likely being the very thing someone killed Pangyui to try to get, and failed—and continue investigating the Divine contact and Pangyui’s death on her own.

4. Tell Vinya she isn’t going to read the material, see what the maid has to say, and then decide from there.

Right, thinks Shara. Number four it is.

“If I find anything produced by Efrem,” says Shara, “rest assured that I will deliver it to you first, Aunt Vinya.”

“Without your review?”

“Without my review, of course. I am only interested in Efrem’s operation to the extent that it could have caused his death.”

Vinya nods and smiles widely. “What a satisfying briefing this has been! So much intrigue, so much history, so much culture. … I believe I may send you some messengers shortly. Because I suspect that Efrem’s work did generate some product, and I expect you will find it soon.”

Translation: I know it has already generated product, and I’m sending someone to get it now before you can do anything with it.

“Thank you, Auntie,” says Shara. “I appreciate all the support you can lend.”

“Oh, absolutely, dear,” says Vinya. “An intelligence agency is only as strong as its operatives in the field. We must support our overseas operatives: where boot soles strike the ground is where the work gets done.” She smiles again, says, “Take care, dear, and keep me posted,” and wipes the glass with her fingertips.

As her aunt’s face dissolves, Shara wonders what speech she pilfered those lines from, and mutters, “Ta-ta.”





People tell me what a great woman I am for helping the Kaj kill the gods. They tell me this with their eyes filled with tears. They paw at my clothing, wishing to touch me. They treat me as if I am a god myself.