The Broken Isles (Legends of the Red Sun 4) (29 page)

Malum waited in the afternoon shadows, mulling over his plans.

The garuda had informed his men that there was in fact no immediate threat to Villiren. The Okun were nowhere to be seen on this island. There was no more threat from the north. In fact, the
only issues were in the west, on another island entirely, too far to be of concern to him. So in fact the posters found around the city, telling of this so-called immediate threat, were lying.

So what was the commander really up to?

There, the man Malum was waiting for. Derrouge was skinny, well dressed, and walked with a gentle stoop, so he constantly had to peer slightly upwards to see where he was going.

There’s a man who’s spent far too long sitting at a desk
, Malum thought.
Should have no trouble overpowering this fool.

Derrouge left the bank, a compact, whitewashed building. Two men were standing by its front door; they wore no uniform, and were only noticeable to those who knew the drill. They were private
militiamen, skilled fighters and paid highly enough so that they wouldn’t trade secrets with the gangs. Aside from those men, the building bore no signs that told you money could be stored
there. Then again, the banks didn’t like to attract attention to themselves. It was said they were small, impenetrable fortresses. That there were cultist traps deep in the vaults, all sorts
of trickery that was more trouble than it was worth to tackle. Malum had never tried his luck with them – besides, he had a lot of coin himself, from his various rackets, which he wanted to
protect. The banks guaranteed anonymity so criminals – often the wealthiest in the city – could have their money well looked after.

If it wasn’t for the banks, there would be no criminal underworld.

Malum pulled up his hood. The day was winding up, and what people there were began to head indoors. He moved along the walls, swift and cautious, all the time looking around to see if anyone
would interrupt the mission. He had to be careful and felt he couldn’t rely on the same networks to do his bidding, or on the fear of the public keeping them from intervening. Derrouge,
wearing elegant, long crimson robes and a black waxed raincape, took the predictable route towards his home, situated at the north-eastern end of the Ancient Quarter. On edge, Malum trotted down
through the same high-walled alley, noting all the details, the rubbish and the homeless man slumped on the corner. Three old women were standing in a doorway talking about the weather. A young man
was pulling in a washing line between buildings and somewhere indoors was the sound of a baby crying.

It began to rain, thick and heavy drops. Up ahead, Derrouge pulled up his own hood and continued on his way. Malum shook free his messer blade from his sleeve and pursued the banker down an even
narrower alley. He closed the distance in stealth, thirty feet, twenty, ten and he was upon him: he stamped down on the back of Derrouge’s left knee, bringing him to the ground, sprawling on
his back. Malum stood on the man’s chest, grabbed his collar and pressed the messer blade up against his throat.

‘You do exactly as I say. You’re coming with me. You’re going to stand up and calmly walk back the way you came. You’re going to walk in the direction I tell you and when
we get to an agreed point you’re going to wear a sack over your head. Do we understand each other?’

‘And . . . if I don’t?’ Derrouge squirmed.

‘I’ll cut a diagonal line across your torso, grab your innards while you’re still alive to feel the pain, and tie them to the door of your family home.’ Malum held up his
blade to show the man the tool he would use to do that.

‘OK.’ Derrouge nodded as much as he could manage.

‘Good.’ Malum stepped back and hauled him up by the scruff of his neck. He spun the banker around and pulled back on his raincape; he cut a slash through the clothing, slipped his
hand and blade inside, resting the steel on the man’s back. ‘You try to move out of line, I cut and you don’t walk again.’

Malum steered the visibly nervous Derrouge back through the streets, almost the way they came, but then taking a radically different direction. The two of them must have looked like close
friends, being so close to each other like this.

They walked for about ten minutes and, in an alleyway on the edge of the Ancient Quarter, safely away from those who might draw the attention of a military patrol, Malum produced a hessian bag
to go over Derrouge’s head. ‘This is so you don’t go blabbing our whereabouts.’

The banker begrudgingly obliged, and stood limp while Malum pulled the bag over him. Malum guided him to a house a few streets further into Deeping, a modern bland structure with a straight roof
and little in the way of ornamentation. It was enough for their purposes today. Malum banged on the door and a hatch opened for someone to identify him.

‘It’s me,’ he grunted.

The door opened and Malum was ushered inside.

*

They tied Derrouge to a sturdy chair in an upstairs room, which was composed of bare floorboards, rough walls with a small window that overlooked a backstreet. Malum lit a fire
and, after deciding the banker had suffered for just about the right length of time, he took the bag off his head.

‘There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?’ Malum asked.

‘If you want money, I can arrange for that,’ Derrouge slurred. ‘We . . . we can have it to your doorstep in less than an hour, no questions asked.’

‘I’ve got enough money already,’ Malum replied. ‘But thanks for the offer. It’s nice to know you can piss people’s savings away like that.’

‘Hey, Malum,’ one of the youths said, poking his head through the door, ‘you want a drink or somethin’ to eat?’

‘Nah, I’m good,’ Malum replied. ‘You can leave me alone with this guy for now.’

The kid sauntered downstairs and left them to it.

‘Malum,’ Derrouge said, squinting to make out his face better. ‘I’ve heard that name before.’

‘Good, then you should be scared,’ Malum replied.

‘What do you want if it’s not money? I can’t think of anything else we’d have in common to discuss. We operate in quite different circles, you and I.’

Malum struck him across the face just to let him know who was in charge and the banker lurched to one side, before looking back at Malum with the appropriate level of fear. ‘I’ve
killed more people than you’ve closed deals,’ he said. ‘Don’t think I won’t hesitate to cut your throat when the time comes.’

‘Why did you bring me here then?’ Derrouge spat. ‘You could’ve killed me in that alleyway if my death was all that you wanted.’

‘You’re a smart guy,’ Malum admitted. ‘You’re alive because I want information out of you, and it usually requires the informant to be alive.’

‘What information?’

‘Now we’re talking. You’re one of the bankers involved with the military’s schemes.’

‘We all are,’ Derrouge confessed.

‘I want to know all about your dealings with the albino commander.’

‘That’s all?’ Derrouge replied, surprised. ‘Well, the fellow is looking to rebuild the city and he needs our finance. One can’t build an Empire without
capital.’ He gave a look of disdain to Malum, as if he was too stupid to understand.

For that, he got a punch to the stomach.

Malum gave him a couple of minutes and paced around the room, behind Derrouge, then back around in front of him. ‘Is that what he claims he’s after then, to
rebuild
the
Empire?’

‘More or less, yes. I believe he has the city’s interests at heart.’

‘Does he fuck – he wants to stomp the Imperial seal on Villiren, a free city, bringing with it his military law.’

‘Well, that’s no issue to me. I’m simply looking to grow the bank’s finances, and the military is a very safe bet.’

‘Why?’

‘If the worst happens, they just invade somewhere else and take the resources to pay us back,’ Derrouge chuckled.

‘Didn’t you make enough money from the war?’ Malum said. He walked over to the window and folded his arms. ‘I know of your dealings with arms manufacturers.’

‘It is true we made money from them. They needed loans for ore, we provided them, and the military gave them more orders than they could cope with. There’s nothing illegal about
it.’

‘You’re profiting from death,’ Malum pointed out with a smile.

‘Business is business.’

‘Well now, there ain’t much difference between you and me, after all, is there?’ Malum grunted.

Malum walked around the room contemplating his next question. Derrouge simply sat miserably, staring at the floor. The fire crackled in the stove.

‘I want details,’ Malum said. ‘I want to know not just the plans for any rebuilding projects, but I want to know what the
military
schemes are likely to be. You must
know that. Most importantly, I want to find out what you know about the aliens south of the city – what their role is likely to be? Are they likely to be given their own island or shipped in
with us lot?’

‘The aliens are to be integrated,’ Derrouge said. ‘That much I know.’

‘Are they likely to come to the cities? To Villiren – will they come into Villiren?’

‘It is possible,’ Derrouge said, his head low. ‘That’s what the commander suggests.’

‘They’re going to be treated like ordinary citizens?’

‘They are going to earn that honour by fighting alongside the Imperial soldiers,’ Derrouge replied. ‘I think that’s what the commander is after. He claims there’s
little choice – it’s either that or fight against them, which he says is a battle that cannot be won.’

Nothing but Imperial lies to control the city . . . This contradicts what the garuda told us. I’ve got plans for this damn city and the military does not feature in them
. Malum
tried not to let his anger show.

‘Where exactly does Villiren fit into all of this?’

‘How should I know?’

Malum lifted a blade and rested it on the banker’s collarbone. ‘Perhaps this’ll clarify your mind a little.’

‘Honestly, I don’t know the full plans,’ the man spluttered, ‘but I know that the commander wants to protect the city, and funding for that is about as honourable as our
profession gets.’

‘I want numbers, banker,’ Malum ordered. ‘I want numbers, I want plans. How many aliens are south of the city?’

‘I don’t know, honestly. Perhaps several thousand at the moment, but there are likely to be far more than that. To my understanding they are escaping problems in their own world
– that could mean tens, possibly hundreds of thousands, possibly millions – and they all need communities to be built, which is why the commander is seeking finance – that, and to
defend our islands in case of another war.’

‘So he’s using
our
money – money put in by the hard-working folk of this city – to spend on the welfare of creatures from another world?’

‘Who will then create prosperity with that money, making us all richer in the long run.’

‘That’s a fairy tale.’

‘You can look at it like that if you choose, but this is all I know. Please, I will help you if I can, I have knowledge of how the finance will flow, and in which direction.’

Malum walked behind Derrouge and cut one hand free. He went to fetch a piece of paper and a pencil and thrust them at Derrouge. ‘You write down these names for me. Write down everyone
who’s involved in financial dealings with the aliens, and you write them now.’

This is a futile lead to pursue
, Malum thought, as Derrouge hastily scribbled down the details.

Malum also realized that he didn’t know precisely what he wanted from Derrouge any more, which was a desperate state to be in. He wasn’t used to such amateurism from himself.

Still, he had now confirmed his great fear: aliens were indeed coming to invade their culture to make a ghetto of Villiren, and he vowed never to be a part of that. He would take this city for
himself and make sure that both the military and the aliens had nothing to do with the city’s future.

*

Later, once Malum had dumped the banker on a street deep in the Ancient Quarter, he headed over to his underground hideout to meet up with some of the others in his gang. The only light came from the glow of a few cressets lined up to mark the way. There, in
the subterranean darkness, he found them drinking home-brewed alcohol on upturned crates.

Since the war, the Bloods – along with affiliate gang members – had secured various pockets of the city and, surprisingly, the military had done nothing to take back control.
Businesses carried on, with the Bloods overseeing protection for their areas: a few streets in Deeping, Althing, Scarhouse and two in the Ancient Quarter, with larger communities of the Wastelands
likely to be at their disposal, if they were actually worth maintaining.

What had begun as the result of his wartime rage had become something he managed, and ultimately it wasn’t the fact that the commander was working with bankers that disgusted Malum –
after all, he dealt with the rich himself.

There were a few businessmen who had teamed up with Malum, worried that the military rule would stifle their markets. It was they who were most concerned about alien communities, worried about
how their land might be taken from them. While the likes of tavern owners, landlords and butchers didn’t have the chutzpah to take up this cause against whatever Imperial plans were brewing,
they knew that Malum did. They also knew that he had a proven record of dealing with Commander Lathraea and standing up to him. There was one other thing that businesses could not control, which
was the wider population. They needed to manipulate the citizens, to cause problems so that control might be levered away from the military. That was where Malum came in, and he was happy to use
the businessmen as a platform for his own plans to free Villiren from Imperial rule once and for all – and to make plenty of coin in the process.

He had dreams of creating a pirate city, a free city. Something independent of the Empire, and which he could control in alliance with business owners. A few rogue cultists, fearful that they
were going to be purged by military occupation and martial laws, had also pledged their allegiance. A force was building up and his tendrils were stretching out further. Malum was now dreaming of
taking up the position of portreeve of a free Villiren: he would be the king of this city, officially, and not just the head of a gang.