The Paladin Caper by Patrick Weekes

together to even out the edges. “She never told me that.”
    “Her father was furious with me. It was weeks before he’d even speak to me,” Cevirt said, toying with the ring of office he wore on one thumb. “Even he saw the truth eventually, though.”
    “Sir?”
    “She was going to join no matter what he wanted. With my help, she got in as a scout, with enough people knowing she was a nobleman’s daughter that they gave her a chance.” Cevirt’s hands had locked together tightly enough to bleed the color from the pads of his fingers, but his voice stayed mild as he added, “Not a perfect chance, mind you. A woman and an Urujar, so she was never going to be a general, but with my backing, even the oldest, whitest officers couldn’t completely ignore her talent.”
    “As hard as they tried,” Pyvic, a former scout captain himself, added, and Cevirt laughed again.
    “I helped her then, and I helped her with her mad scheme to rob Archvoyant Silestin, against my better judgment. If she were alive,” Cevirt added, with no particular emphasis, while taking the papers from Pyvic, “I’d probably be trying to help her now.”
    Pyvic stood. “If she were alive, I’m sure that would be a great comfort, Archvoyant.”
    “Heflin wouldn’t drop a road collapse in casual conversation unless it were going to blow up in my face sooner rather than later,” Cevirt added. “I hope it’s not something we need to worry about, and if there’s an investigation in the matter, I’ll want to hear your perspective before making any hasty decisions. Kahva for the road?”
    “Ah no, thank you, sir,” Pyvic said, and left as quickly as was reasonably possible to grab the message crystal in his desk and find out what in Byn-kodar’s hell Loch was doing.

    The airship was very fast and very smooth and very expensive. The dinner selection was quite good for airship food. Westteich slept well in a bed with sheets almost as fine as those at his estate.
    When he woke up, took in breakfast and kahva, and strolled out to look over the railing, he was surprised to find that they were in mining country.
    “Ah,” he said to Commander Mirrok, who had evidently been watching by the rail all night. He did not have the ax, as far as Westteich could see. “I thought we’d be going somewhere with people.”
    Mirrok said nothing, and Westteich looked out at the great red-striped canyon that cut across the land like a glancing blow from a god. “Sunrise Canyon, I believe?”
    “Yes,” Mirrok said.
    “As I recall, that’s where the Forge got a fair number of the crystals to make Hunters. Must have people in the mine.”
    “You should be cautious,” Mirrok said. It had not looked over at him. “The agents of the ancients would have enslaved you.”
    Westteich smiled at the Hunter’s idea that he might have forgotten that fact and wondered where the ax Arikayurichi might be at that moment. “That was the moment I was more committed than ever to the cause of the ancients, Mirrok. Do you know why?”
    “No,” Mirrok said.
    “This Republic used to mean something, Mirrok. The settlers from the Old Kingdom came here because their original home was stagnant, and this was their chance to prove their worth. Now the Republic is stagnant.” He shook his head. “We make treaties with the Empire instead of fighting them back. We keep throwing good coin at schools instead of letting the people who care get their own tutors. I expect Archvoyant Cevirt will be trying to strip even more power from the nobles, just so that no peasant’s feelings get hurt by hearing me called ‘my lord.’ We’re so busy trying to be nice , Mirrok, that we’re hiding the truth.” He smiled, looking down at the canyon full of dirt and crystal and opportunity. Mirrok didn’t ask what Westteich meant, but that was all right. “Some people are just better than others.”
    “You believe that the weapons of the ancients will acknowledge your superiority,”