Many Things, They Say

“There weren't always dragons in the Valley,” said the porter.

Julaya Rei Solmar found this remark to be of no comfort at all, but she said nothing.

“When we leave the cover of the trees,” said the porter, “you’ll be able to see the dragons. Don’t hesitate, and don’t speak.” This was even less comforting. The opposite of comforting, really.

“I didn’t think the dragons came up this high,” said Julaya.

“They usually don’t,” said the porter. “And we don’t think they’re attracted to our voices.” He shrugged. “But they’re dragons. And it doesn’t hurt to be careful.”

They continued down the path.

“In fact, it’s often best not even to look over the edge,” said the porter.

Seven hells, thought Julaya. What am I doing here?

The tree line ended. The path continued onto a sort of stone bridge. There was a waist-high stone wall along the left side of the path. Beyond the wall there was a severe drop, leading down into the Valley. The porter sped up when he reached the stone-bridge part of the path. This, too, seemed ominous to Julaya.

Despite the porter’s advice, Julaya looked over the wall, down into the Valley.

She could see the dragons.

Julaya had expected the dragons to be few, and well-hidden. They were neither. They were many, and swarming. In fact, they were everywhere. They swirled over the floor of the valley like worms. Julaya was mesmerized. Don’t hesitate, she thought, but she couldn’t look away.

One dragon flew a little higher and then seemed to look directly at Julaya. It kept climbing, kept staring, kept flying directly toward her. It will turn aside, she thought. But it didn’t. Julaya felt frozen in place. A second dragon joined the first, and then a third. I should move. But she couldn’t quite make her feet work.

Then abruptly the dragons turned, and Julaya let out a breath. She was sweating and her heart was beating fast.

I think I nearly wet myself.

Julaya resumed walking. She did not run.

What would it be like, she thought, to live up here? To see the dragons every day? Or at least, to know they were just a short walk around a corner?

Back under the treeline, the porter offered Julaya a canteen. She gratefully took a swig. It was water.

“Thank you,” said Julaya.

“Unsettling view, isn’t it,” said the porter.

Julaya nodded. “I didn’t expect to see that many.”

“Didn’t used to be so many,” said the porter. “And they didn’t used to creep quite so high.”

They continued along the path. The trees gave way again, this time into a sort of miniature town. She turned and looked back at the path. It was hard to see already.

It would be interesting to live up here.

Maybe she would move, some day. She needed a change of scenery.

The porter led her to the end of the street. What appeared to be the last two buildings were in ruins. They had been burned to the ground.

“Here we are,” said the guide. “This is where the fire was. The building you asked about is–was–this one on the left.”

It was a charred husk of a building, barely even recognizable as such. She walked toward it carefully, looking around, trying to get her bearings and make some sense of the situation.

“Good morning, mother,” said a voice. Julaya started and looked around. Her son Dzeicher was standing there, well back from the rubble.

Julaya hadn’t thought he would really come. It was honestly not convenient for him to be here while she worked, but she didn’t see him nearly enough these days, so she had offered. She waved and looked back to the building.

Wisps of smoke rose from the rubble. The front wall was completely gone. The interior walls along with the left- and rightmost outer walls were a cacophony: in some places they had the semblance of structure; in other places they were formless piles of rubble.

She couldn’t see the back wall clearly yet.

There were odd gaps and holes in the ground, as though the earth itself had burned up under the building.

Did they build it on top of a cave? Some of the holes seemed...something other than incidental. Or alternatively, can a building fire burn a giant hole into the ground? Julaya did not know much about building fires. She made a mental note and continued to scan the site.

This place feels sinister.

“What was this building?” Dzeicher asked her. He was closer now, and she was glad to have a grown man here.

She walked back to him. She was not a fire investigator, and whatever she was doing here, there was no use injuring herself in a burned-out building. “A seller of weapons and tools,” she said. “They called it ‘Simply Steel.’”

“I remember it,” said Dzeicher. “I liked the other place better.”

“You mean ‘Bone and Stone’?”

“That’s it,” he said, “Bone and Stone. It had more character. Wasn’t it close by?” He turned his head to the right—exactly where ‘the other place’ had stood.

“Yes,” said Julaya. “It was next-door.”

She hadn’t realized he was familiar with this area. She certainly hadn’t been familiar with it before today. They stood silent for a moment. Does he come here often? Do the dragons in the Valley scare him?

“Both buildings, then?” asked Dzeicher. The question did not require a response, and Julaya did not provide one. “What happened?”

“No one seems to know, exactly.” She paused. “The Velleg Group had a contract with Simply Steel.”

“For protection?”

“Yes,” Julaya said. “They were feuding with Bone and Stone, and hired Velleg as extra security.”

“You don’t really do security.”

“We certainly do security,” she said. “It’s still our main business.”

“No, I mean you personally,” he said. “That’s not your area, is it?”

“No.”

What was her area these days? Mostly information, she reckoned. Managing it, curating it, organizing it, passing it on. And information, arguably, is the backbone of security.

Still, she knew what he meant. She did not physically go out and see to it that clients were protected.

“Well,” she said, “security seems no longer to be needed here.” And information is.

“Fair point,” said Dzeicher. “What exactly is your role in this mess?”

Information, she thought again.

But again he was correct–why her personally? She managed information; she didn’t turn over rocks looking for it.

“Someone related to the owner is bringing a case against us,” she said.

“For what?”

She looked up at him. “‘Failure to Protect,’ I believe.”

Dzeicher glanced around. “No doubt,” he said drily, “the case is entirely without merit.”

“No doubt,” she countered, “there is a story here.” She shrugged. “Maybe the Velleg Group will discover it and be able to tell it.”

He snorted. “Parts of it, anyway.”

Well, he’s not totally wrong there.

She stared into the building. She found her eyes drawn to one of the gaping maws in the ground. It was dark and deep. It seemed to shift as she looked at it. That’s my imagination.

But something about the hole was off. Out of place. Why would—

“Mother,” Dzeicher said. She turned. His voice echoed eerily in this place. “I may be in some trouble.”

Ah, so that’s why you wanted to accompany me this morning. She sighed.

“What kind of trouble?”

“You know Rathgowen’s son? Saulk?

“Rathgowen, my boss?” She asked with a raised eyebrow. “Yes. Of course I know of his son.” And I will not comment on what I think of him.

“Well. Saulk is…” he paused. She could see him fishing for the words.

She put a hand up. “Enough,” she said. “I know of Saulk. Do not speak ill of him, here or elsewhere. Rathgowen hears many things.”

Dzeicher nodded and looked away. “I know,” he said. “Rathgowen hears many things,” he repeated.

Something made a hissing sound, and a stream of smoke started rising nearby. Julaya couldn’t help thinking about the dragons.

Dzeicher waited a few moments, considering his words. She reached arm’s length, and looked him in the eye. He looked scared, but he did not break eye contact. “I may have earned Saulk’s enmity,” he finally said, quietly.

That was carefully phrased. “Not an ideal choice of enemy. Rathgowen is one of the most powerful men in the city.” And one of the most frightening.

“I know.” He sighed. “I’m sorry.” He ran his hand through his hair. “There was a girl—“

“A girl?” She rolled her eyes. “Dzeicher, of all—“

“Not like that! It’s not--” He gestured. “I don’t even know the girl,” he said. “She was just a serving girl. Saulk was rough with her, and…” Dzeicher trailed off.

Julaya waited. Twenty-one hells.

“I objected, and things grew heated.”

She could hardly chide him for defending a girl. But Saulk? This would be complicated.

“It’s possible,” said Dzeicher, very carefully again, “that he feels as though I shamed him in front of witnesses.” She still didn’t reply. “He is vengeful and cruel. And,” he said, “he may now wish me ill.”

“I see.”

It is not Saulk you should fear. Saulk is a weakling. It is Rathgowen.

But he probably knew that, so she said nothing.

Her mind swirled, hunting for possible solutions. Would an apology work? No, likely not. What if it was formal, and in front of witnesses? No, that would just be a public admission of weakness, which would delay things but ultimately encourage cheap revenge. Losing face was important for a reason. Can we turn Rathgowen against Saulk? Can we turn Saulk against Rathgowen?

Would any of that even help? Maybe...but it would be difficult and it would take too long. And it was not guaranteed to work.

Dzeicher was still talking. She ignored him.

Could she scramble the flow of information? Well, yes, that I can do. Would it slow things down? Probably.

To what end? Yes, that is the question. Muddle the communication to buy time, and then use that time--

Uh oh. A thought struck her. They may try to cut me out of the information loop.

That was a truly unpleasant proposition. They can’t cut me out quickly or completely, though. Or easily–I manage the thing. She would have to act quickly, and she should consider how to build new information networks.

New networks, independent of Velleg.

This, she thought, will not be simple at all.

Dzeicher was still talking.

“I know you can’t help,” he said. “I just wanted you to be aware.” She looked at him blankly.

Not help? How, not help?

What was he going to do? Fight the entire Velleg Security Group by himself? That was a funny thought.

I’m the only one who can help.

She caught movement from the street. Several men were nearing the ruins. “My Velleg colleagues approach,” she said. “We will speak more on this later.”

“No, mother. Rathgowen hears many things. I do not want you involved.”

“Go now,” she urged. “They are near.”

Dzeicher kissed her cheek. He is afraid.

“Go,” she said again.

He went.

She turned to watch her colleagues approaching. One was Rathgowen himself. Another was his personal guard. There were four others, who began to fan out into the ruined building.

Rathgowen nodded at her. “The proprietor’s relative is well-connected,” he said. “This one will probably make it all the way to court.”

“That might be for the best,” said Julaya. “This scene is ugly.”

“And public,” Rathgowen agreed. It would not do at all for the Velleg Group to appear weak or incompetent. A court case would give them an opportunity to shape the story.

“Laris was the agent assigned to this project,” said Rathgowen. Julaya knew that, having read the Simply Steel file this morning. “I know security isn’t your specialty, but you will need to speak with him nonetheless.” Laris was not, in Julaya’s opinion, a very good security agent. But it shouldn’t have mattered in this case. The Bone and Stone owner had neither the disposition nor the resources to cause any real trouble.

“I will speak with Laris,” she said.

“It also seems,” said Rathgowen, “that Simply Steel had some association with the Promised Earth cult. Maybe for alternate protection. And the Trinic Church took a heavy interest in the feud, possibly at the behest of Bone and Stone. Or possibly not.”

Julaya frowned. That’s odd. The report I read mentioned neither the Church nor the Cult. Laris was the source of the report; who was Rathgowen’s source?

Either way, therein lay the problem. Laris was enough for a run-of-the-mill spat between two weapon-sellers. But if the Church and the Cult were involved using these stores as proxies, Laris was out of his depth.

In which case Velleg had possibly bungled this situation.

“At least they both burned,” said Julaya, then inwardly winced at her own callousness.

Rathgowen glanced sideways at her. “It does simplify things.”

There was a loud popping sound from one of the interior walls. Something fell, and smoke and ash belched from the wall. Julaya jumped. One of the Velleg investigators who had arrived with Rathgowen had been near that wall. He scrambled away from it and started consulting with one of the others. Julaya could not make out their words from where she stood.

“Was that your son,” said Rathgowen, “talking to you before I arrived?”

“It was.”

“I sometimes hear things,” said Rathgowen.

“Many things, they say.”

He gave a tight smile. “I hear your son and Saulk may have exchanged harsh words.”

“I am sure it will blow over,” said Julaya. “The young are ever passionate.”

“Perhaps it will, at that,” he said. “But Saulk is headstrong. I will do what I can of course, but…” he trailed off.

Julaya did not answer. Rathgowen did not complete the thought.

It was silent for a moment.

“I expect,” he said, “that you will not interfere.”

She turned to face him fully. On the one hand, the warning was unnecessary. She had worked with Rathgowen for over twenty years–did he really think her unaware of the consequences of interfering with Velleg business?

On the other hand, of course, she was definitely going to interfere.

She turned back to the ruins. “Dzeicher is a grown man.” And I will bloody well save him, if I can.

“Very well then,” he said. “I will leave you here with the investigators.” He turned to go. “Please update me after you have spoken with Laris.”

I need new information networks, she thought. Quickly.

“And Julaya,” he said, “it might be best if you avoid Dzeicher for a few days.”

She met his eyes. She did not flinch.

Rathgowen slowly nodded and turned away.

As he walked away, there was a rustle from one end of the ruined building to the other. Julaya felt no breeze. Wisps of smoke appeared along the path of the rustling sound, and the odd holes seemed to pulsate.

She tried to imagine what had happened. Her mind wanted to imagine a heated feud between shop owners. But it kept picturing dragons instead.

And Dzeicher. She couldn’t help picturing Dzeicher.

There is something beneath the surface here, and it is not yet satiated. She shivered.

It was probably her imagination.