“Why bother when I could have your real name anytime I wanted it?”
“Now that’s so much arrogant bull—”
“It would simply be a question,” Patience continued, “of how long you could watch Jean Tannen suffer before you would beg for the privilege of telling me.”
“You’re no different than the Falconer,” said Locke. “Same fucking—”
“Locke,” said Jean, very loudly. “—attitude toward … yeah?”
“Kindly shut the hell up,” said Jean, enunciating every word as though teaching the phrase to a small child for the first time. Locke’s slack-jawed stare was gratifying.
“She’s right,” continued Jean, unable to keep a growing excitement out of his voice. “If your true name was all she wanted, why not torture me? I’m compromised, I’m bloody helpless. It would be quick and simple. So why aren’t I screaming right now?”
“Because if these people were any good at ‘quick and simple’ the Falconer would have killed us back in Camorr.”
“No, dammit. Think harder.”
“Because you have such a sweet and innocent face?”
“Because if she doesn’t want your real name the easy way—”
“Then she has some other motive. Sweet dancing donkey shit, Jean!” Locke rolled back toward Patience, but closed his eyes and rubbed at them. “She wants me to stick my own head in the noose, of my own free will. Get it? She wants me to step off the cliff. Cut my own wrists so she can gloat … humiliate—” Locke broke into another severe coughing fit, and Jean sat down on the bed and pounded gently on his back. The rhythmic movement did nothing good for Jean’s collection of fresh aches and bruises, but it calmed Locke rapidly.
“What we’re discussing,” said Patience, “is employment, not compulsion. Credit me with enough wit to recall the fate of Luciano Anatolius and Maxilan Stragos. Coercing you two never seems to work. We’re willing to trade service for service.”
“Patience,” said Jean, “can you really get rid of this poison? Can you do it without using his real name?”
“If we hurry, yes.”
“If you’re lying,” said Jean, “if you’re leaving anything out, I’ll try to kill you again. Understand? I’ll give it everything I have, even if it forces you to slay me on the spot.”
Patience nodded.
“Then let’s talk business.”
“Let’s not,” snarled Locke. “Let’s show this bitch to the door and refuse to be puppets.”
“Shut up.” Jean pushed firmly down on Locke’s shoulders, foiling his attempt to roll out of bed. “Tell us about this job.”
Locke drew in a rasping breath to spew some more damn fool craziness. Jean, with the reflexes that kept him alive when blades were drawn, clamped a hand over Locke’s mouth before he could speak and pushed his head back down against his pillow. “I can’t agree to anything on Locke’s behalf, but I want us to hear your proposal. Tell us what the job is.”
“It’s political,” said Patience.
“Mmmmph mmph,” said Locke, struggling in vain against Jean’s arm. “Mmmph fckhnnng fmmmph!”
“He wants to hear more,” said Jean. “He says he’s very excited to hear the whole thing.”
2
“I NEED an election adjusted.”
“How adjusted?”
“As a cautious estimate?” Patience turned to the window and stared out into the rain. “I need it rigged from top to bottom.”
“Government affairs are a bit beyond our experience,” said Jean.
“Nonsense. You’ll feel right at home. What is government but theft by consent? You’ll be moving in a society of kindred spirits.”
“What sort of election are we supposed to be mucking about with here?”
“Every five years,” said Patience, “the citizens of Karthain elect an assembly, the Konseil. Nineteen representatives for nineteen city districts. This dignified mess runs the city, and I need a majority of their seats to go to the faction of my preference.”
“This is what you want us for?” Locke finally slipped Jean’s hand aside and managed to speak. “My dead ass! With your powers, you’d have to be out of your gods-damned minds to settle for anything Jean and I could pull off! You could wiggle your fingers and make them elect cats and dogs, for fuck’s sake.”
“No,” said Patience. “In public, the magi stand completely aloof from the government of the city. In private, we are forbidden to use any of our arts. Not on the poorest citizen of Karthain, not for a single vote.”
“You won’t use your sorcery on the people of Karthain?” said Jean. “Not at all?”
“Oh, Karthain is our city, through and through. We’ve adjusted everything to suit our needs, and that includes the inhabitants. It’s this contest we can’t touch. The election itself.”
“Seems awkward as all hell. Why the limitation?”
“You’ve seen some of our arts. You opposed the Falconer. You survived Tal Verrar.”
“In a manner of speaking,” muttered Locke.
“Imagine a society of men and women where those powers are universal,” said Patience. “Imagine … sitting down to dinner with four hundred people, each of whom has a loaded crossbow set beside their wineglass. Some very strict rules will have to be enforced if anyone wants to live long enough to see the last course.”
“I think I get it,” said Jean. “You have some sort of rule about not shitting where you eat?”
“Magi must never work magic against one another,” said Patience. “We’re as human as you are, as complicated, as insecure, as driven to argument. The only difference is that any one of us, out of the mildest irritation, could make someone evaporate into smoke with a gesture.
“We don’t duel,” she continued. “We don’t so much as tease one another with our arts. We forcefully separate ourselves from any situation where our crossed purposes might tempt us to do so.”
“Situations like this election,” said Jean.
“Yes. We do need to control the Konseil, one way or another. Once the election is over, the new government becomes a general tool. We adjust its members by consensual design. But during the contest itself, when our blood is up, we need to keep our arts entirely out of the situation. We need to be pure spectators.”
Patience raised both of her hands, palms up, as though presenting two invisible objects for weighing.
“There are two major factions among my people. Two major parties in Karthani politics. We battle by proxy. Each side is allowed to choose agents. Enterprising individuals, never magi. We set them loose to fight on our behalf. In the past we’ve favored orators, political organizers, demagogues. This time, I’ve convinced my people to hire someone with a more unusual portfolio of achievement.”
“Why?” said Jean.
“Some people play handball,” said Patience, smiling. “Some people play Catch-the-Duke. This is our sport. The election diverts much of the frustration our factions come to feel for one another, and brings prestige to the side that backs the winner. It’s become a highly anticipated tradition.”
“I’ve imagined you people must run the show in Karthain,” said Locke. “I just never would have suspected this. What a joke on all the poor saps lining up to vote every five years.”
“They get an orderly city regardless of the winner,” said Patience. “In Karthain, nobody empties the treasury and vanishes. Nobody holds grand masques every night while the streets fill with night soil and dead animals. We see to that.”