City on Fire Walter Jon Williams

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glance nervously over their shoulders.
"Tell the police the situation is over," Aiah says to her assistant, back in
the Palace. "It's the Dalavan Militia.
In the corridor, Aiah asks, "Do you have the rest of the list?
"Part of it.
As her police step wonderingly into the corridor, Aiah takes the pages in her
ectomorphic hands and leafs through them. Many of the names and faces are
familiar.
"The whole thing's going to be available on Interfact in the next day or so,"
the militiaman says. "Anyone can get a copy.
This list is hers, she realizes. It was the list of Handmen she gave to
Constantine weeks ago, after the first series of bombings.
Five thousand dinars for each name. Dead or alive.
Her list.
CRIME BOSS APPOINTED MINISTER OF PROVISIONAL GOVERNMENT RATHMEN TAKES TREASURY
POST"Shield above," Constantine says, eyes aflame, "would you have this Silver
Terror continue?
"I gave you this list," Aiah says. "Now Parq is using it to kill people.
Constantine gives a snarl. "Then Parq will take the blame, won't he?
"This list ," Aiah protests. "It's not error-free. We acquired it in the
first place from the police, and we know how efficient they were. We haven't
had a chance to check more than a fraction of it. Much of it is out of date,
and people with similar names can be victimized. And the Dalavan Militia look
like they were recruited out of the slums they've all got guns and they're
enjoying themselves far too much.
Constantine gives an uneasy glance toward the polarized windows he is in
another suite today, with his files and papers, and moves to a new one each
day, carrying his portable ministry, his papers and boxes, with him from place
to place.
His leather chair creaks as he leans forward over his desk. "It was not my
decision," Constantine says. "Parq is triumvir I work for him.
"Couldn't you point out
"Aiah." His rumbling voice is cold, and there is a dangerous glint in his eye.
"I supported the decision.
"I " Aiah's voice fails. Despair rains down her spine.
"We cannot afford to fight a war against an army and a war against the
terrorists simultaneously," Constantine says. "Five thousand dinars for each
Handman that's cheap, cheaper than hiring mercenaries and mages." He glances
to the window again, his face uneasy. "If I had won the Battle of the
Corridor ...," he growls. "If I had won . .. things would be different.
"Then why " Aiah's head whirls, and she wants to lean on something for
support. "Why are you bothering with my department at all? If you can just
offer a bounty for anyone you suspect, why bother with me, with the forms of
legality. . . .
He gazes at her, smouldering resentment in his eyes. "Emergency measures are
for times of emergency only. After the war, there must be a structure we can
build on. The Dalavan Militia are amateurs they will do well enough for
keeping a rude sort of order, but they aren't investigators, and if they're
not kept on a short leash they'll turn as bad as the Silver Hand. So after
the war is over, I will be able to argue that the Militia are no longer
needed, because the PED is sufficient for peacetime.
Aiah glowers at him. "And will you win that fight?" "It's too early to say.
I have a war to win first." His eyes soften, and he leans forward across his
desk. "If you want to keep some of these Handmen from being abused by the
Militia, you will have every opportunity simply by arresting them through your
department.
Aiah takes a breath. "Yes," she says. "Yes. Very well." "And then the
reward will belong to your people." Anger simmers in her veins. "Keep the
money," she says. "I don't want my people working for rewards.
Constantine looks at her. "I remind you that your military police are
mercenaries," he says. "Rewards will keep them loyal. And you can use part
of the reward to fund your own department, perhaps give your people a bonus or
two.
Aiah reconsiders, backpedals a bit, shifts her ground. "I don't want my
people taking heads.
Constantine is curt. "See that they don't, then." Everything has become my
responsibility again, she thinks. Even whether or not the Handmen receive
decent treatment.
How does he do it? she wonders.
There is a whir and thump as an artillery shell lands nearby, and then the
sound is repeated. Aiah finds herself counting the rounds: there are six guns
in an enemy battery, and once six shells have landed, there is a little
respite.
Four, five, six. Silence.
Constantine looks up at her. He, too, has been counting. "Is that all?" he
asks.
Aiah supposes that it is.
PARQ PROCLAIMS MILITIA "A SUCCESS
THOUSANDS OF HANDMEN ARRESTEDCRIMES OF TERROR REDUCED!The amateurs of the
Dalavan Militia are as bad as Aiah expects. Lists of the proscribed in hand,
they knock down doors, or simply shoot through them; they arrest the wrong
people, and sometimes kill them; and it's only a matter of days before the
first complaints of extortion are heard.
Enthusiastic citizens make the situation worse. The rewards are available to
anyone who brings in one of the proscribed, and Caraqui is full of desperate
people, many of them left homeless and rash by the war, willing to risk their
own lives by finding a Handman or two and dragging them before a magistrate.
Cases of misidentification are legion, and though it's bad enough when the
wrong man gets hauled before a magistrate, it's far worse when the victim is
dead before he or anyway his head appears in court.
And since these enthusiasts charge into the fray without proper intelligence,
without support, and usually without mages to cover their backs, the hardened
criminals of the Silver Hand are not inclined to go quietly, and they do not
always prove to be the victims. By now their plasm houses are shielded and
fortified: sometimes plasm attacks leave the attackers dead or injured, and
sometimes there are gun battles that put a dozen people in the morgue or in
hospital. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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