City of Ruin - Mark Charan Newton [30]
The albino hurried on with the meeting. ‘I called you gentlemen here because . . . very simply, we need your assistance. Lutto here reliably informs me that you each control a large number of citizens – a few thousand, so I believe.’
Dannan broke his hush. ‘What of it?’ His voice sounded mildly feminine.
‘If I may just give you a summary of our latest intelligence?’ The commander glanced warily between his two visitors. It was clear that the man regretted having to be so polite to a couple of thugs.
What the commander then described was both enlightening and alarming. He confirmed the rumours they had heard of the extent of genocide on Tineag’l, whole towns and villages wiped from the map, creatures called Okun currently crossing the ice sheets. The commander certainly presented the gang leaders with something to think about.
As drinks were eventually fetched, the commander’s tone softened into something more relaxed. Anticipation still hung in the air, however.
‘Now, I’m not expecting you to want to help us out of the goodness of your hearts,’ the albino continued. ‘You’re tough men, primarily interested in your own affairs, I understand that.’
‘We’ve got morals, commander,’ Malum snapped. ‘Our world isn’t black and white.’
‘So you will help?’
‘Never said that.’
Whispering, the commander leaned over to Lutto, who nodded, his cheeks wobbling. ‘Lutto here has agreed to open some of the city’s vaults for a payment to you, to be refunded to the citizens by Villjamur at a later date. But the point is we’d be hiring your services, should we need you. I cannot be sure when, as for the moment we’re just . . . waiting.’
So nothing was resolved; no conclusion was reached. Both Dannan and Malum agreed they would consider the situation in principle. Did they want to be employed by the Empire? Would they become just another unit of irregular soldiers?
The only firm outcome for Malum was that he ordered one of his men to shadow the commander from a distance. Whether it was just his ultra-pale skin, he didn’t know, but there was something really weird about him.
*
Under a sleet-filled sky, in an area of the city currently blocked ofor renovation, Malum and the banHe had words.
The banHe smoked his roll-up nervously, as if paranoid, though there were always a couple of his thugs loitering nearby, their boots crunching on the vacant rubble-patch. This place used to be an educational establishment until the rents got too high, but now it was marked out for being turned into a larger apartment block. At the moment, it made a good place to meet: there were no places to hide a crossbow, not even enough cover behind which someone could crouch with a blade.
‘What is it, Malum?’ the banHe enquired, an almost musical quality to his voice.
‘Portreeve says there’s going to be a massive march of strikers heading through the northern districts – protests from stevedores on the docks, support from the smaller merchants, that sort of thing.’
‘What they angry about?’
‘Dangerous working conditions mainly.’
‘Why ain’t they taking it up with their employers? What’s Lutto got to do with it? It’s a free market, right?’
Malum smirked. ‘C’mon, you know better than that, Dannan. Private companies in this city means no one takes responsibility for things like deaths occurring at work – mainly from hypothermia at the moment. No one wants to work shit jobs for shit money in the ice, especially when they’re dying all round, but their employers say shut up or they’ll just ship in cheaper workers from off-island. Even talk of slaves coming in to work for next to nothing, though Lutto told me that he’s uncomfortable with that – might spoil his image back in Villjamur. Not even the Inquisition can get involved, in case it sends out a bad signal – that there isn’t much democracy here. Got to create the