Smoke and Shadow: The Fireweaver, Book 1

Chapter 5. BLACKMAIL AND BETRAYALS

CHAPTER 5. BLACKMAIL AND BETRAYALS

"You don't even want to know the jobs he's done for me," said Dejkahn Rijahl. "And he's loyal. The best I've got."

He didn't mention why his agent was so loyal.

General Assarah Morejvko wore military Rejkav red and gold, all but his mouth covered, speaking every syllable with careful calculation.

"Is he as loyal as you?"

Dej was a big, barrel-chested man, the sort whose voice and presence filled a room, even one so grand as the receiving room at the Rejkav military headquarters. But he found himself shifting uneasily under the gazeless scrutiny of the General. The garnet ring he wore was as blood-red as his thin lips.

Dej hated the man with a primal fervor. He'd only met with the General face to face once before, but it hadn't taken even ten seconds to know he'd come to regret it. But he'd been offered so much. The most powerful man in the military of the Seven Cities. It had been an impossibility to refuse. And lurking under the greed Dej felt, there was fear, pure and icy. 

He didn't understand the General's obsession with the insane Feurweitze prisoner, her powers left in shreds. She was a criminal rotting in prison, nothing but shame to her name. Yet he offered a sum he doubted he'd see again in a decade of jobs combined.

Break the woman out of Finton Willis. Blow it up.

There was of course only one agent he could trust to get it done.

Everything had gone to plan, the dust of the explosion still clouding the air in that godforsaken rock valley. The woman's death had been faked and the terrorism story rolled out.

Then came word came of Soweil's murder. At the woman's house.

What could've possessed him to take her there?

Dej cleared his throat, deciding that honesty was the best policy with the General. Indeed, even without seeing his eyes, he had the strangest feeling that the man was staring straight into his soul, searing an indelible spot right into it. There was no lying in front of Morejvko, who somehow didn't need eyesight to take in the measure of a man.

"He's far more loyal than anyone I've ever met. Far more loyal than I," answered Dej truthfully. General Morejvko brought up a holoscreen image with his garnet-ringed hand, and a video played out. It hovered between the two men, slightly transparent. With the flick of a finger, he spun it closer so Dej could see it clearly. He felt his stomach, his heart give out. There was Soweil, crumpled in the grass, staring straight out with empty eyes to the sky. No strongbox in sight.

"Your agent is sloppy. He let the imbecile foreman escape. We have him detained for questioning. We must face the possibility that your man has betrayed you. If Soweil talked before the end, we must assume he knows the truth about the woman and that she knows also."

Morejvko paused before continuing, drumming his fingers over the end of the polished ivory arm of the chair, carved in the shape of a dragon. 

"What is his location?" His deepened voice was almost hypnotic.

Dej sighed with a heavy heart. He couldn't give up his man, not his best one. He was irreplaceable.

Morejvko arose from where he sat, took a few steps toward Dej, his steel-toed boots clicking on the polished floors. The intricate, marble porticos of Krenalte's headquarters attested to the Emperor's influence and power. Morejvko had recently been promoted after the sudden death of General Simnar. 

Morejvko moved about the place as though it had always been his to command.

After a moment of silence, in which both were taking full measure of the other, Morejvko reached out, tilted Dej's chin up with an air of removed distaste, as though to inspect a peculiar specimen he couldn't quite comprehend.

Dej had met with countless clients, dealt with countless enemies, but no one had ever made such a bold and yet intimate gesture. He'd been shot at, stabbed twice and almost poisoned, but never had anyone touched him like this. There was something so disturbingly delicate in the way Morejvko held his jawline. He was frozen between entrancement and horror. Dej realized he had forgotten to breathe for a moment.

"Such a precarious, fragile thing, breathing." Morejvko's lips barely moved as he spoke, fluidly, almost melodically. 

It was so very faint at first, but Dej felt his throat constricting, his chest muscles compressing. Morejvko held his chin, now with just the tip of his finger.

"A mere two centimeters of windpipe is the difference between life—" Morejvko brought his finger away—"and death."

As swiftly as it had begun, it ended. Dej was released, clawing at his throat, gasping for air. Furious and mortified. Not even quite remembering what had happened.

"I'll ask once more," Morejvko waited while Dej was still doubled over, red in the face. "Where is your agent?"

"There are a couple locations," Dej paused, mostly to gulp in air, but also out of shame. He was setting a trap for one of his own. Someone he'd known all his life. 

But Dej gulped in more sweet, precious oxygen through his opened windpipe like it was water. 

"They've already passed one, but there's another off the old highway. He'll use it for food, water, for rest. It's the last stop before reaching Chanette."

Morejvko smiled horribly, his teeth flashing.

Last stop, Dej thought, cringing at his own words. God help him for betraying one of his own.