Night Song (The Guild Wars Book 9) by Mark Wandrey (best management books of all time .txt) 📗

at all. Our clan is barely holding together—this agreement with the Vergola was our last and best hope.”

“We didn’t know about the agreement between Vergola and Zuparti.” The first Pushtal’s ears flattened to the side, and he snarled. “We should have supported Skeesh when he said he wanted to overthrow Meesh months ago.”

“Meesh was awful,” the second agreed, speaking so low Shadow wasn’t sure he was meant to hear it.

“How do you determine a new clan leader?” he asked, pricking his ears forward politely.

“Fight,” the first one answered promptly.

“To the death,” the second added helpfully.

“My siblings and I each took part in killing the one we thought was the leader. He had an eyepatch. That was Meesh, right?”

They both nodded, neither seeming remotely upset by the news. Shadow rather hoped they’d seen it.

“What were the Vergola paying you?”

“Meesh never gave all the details,” the first one to speak said. “We know the Vergola paid our bill with the Merchants Guild for equipment, about 200,000 credits. We think the contract was for that much again.” The other shrugged.

The number of credits was so small compared to what they were sitting on top of, Shadow had to fight back a sudden upswell of amusement. No need to get smug, and no need to do anything that would bring another wave of Pushtal clamoring for their part.

“The station at Klbood is yours as well, right?” More nods. “This is what I propose. We killed your clan leader, and as such we are in charge.”

“That’s not—” the first to speak started.

“Silence. Hear me out,” Shadow snapped, and they fell silent. “We are in charge; however, we will assign leadership to you two. Guild minimum is 500,000 credits for a garrison contract, with at least 100 troopers. Say we pay you…triple, and add a rider providing for contract of future work, with potential for bonuses.”

“We aren’t a merc race anymore,” the second said, glaring fiercely.

“We can still execute a contract.” Shadow twitched an ear. “We’ll need you to repair and staff your station in Klbood better, but we’ll provide equipment for this as well, as long as it’s in writing that the Engineering Guild has access in perpetuity. What would you say?”

“Triple?” they said together, an unmistakable gleam coming to their eyes.

“We could discuss increases over time as we evaluate your loyalty and efficacy. You’re fierce fighters and have been poorly treated. We could do worse.” They were both glancing at each other, eyes narrowed as they considered. “I’ve heard the Pushtal want their merc status back. This is a step in the right direction. We won’t mention your involvement here in the mess between the Vergola and Zuparti.”

These Pushtal knew the secret of Astatine-222 and E’cop’k. Shadow’s alliance was far too new and under-armed to let them go. Nor could he execute them—the Zuul wouldn’t see the honor in it, and the rest of the Pushtal clan, a single hyperspace jump away, would likely come looking before Shadow had any backup in place. This option was cheaper, and better for his conscience, besides.

“The contract is good, though we aren’t mercenaries?”

“We’re a guild now, too, don’t forget.” Something electric passed through the room at that. “And an ancient clan of the Zuul. Our contract will hold without anyone else’s approval. That, and our word is our bond.”

“Triple,” the first said, hope threading his tone. “With potential for more. And we guard?”

“One more thing,” Shadow said, and now his jaw dropped into a grin.

Both drooped, waiting for the shoe to drop.

“I want that Raknar.”

They jumped over each other to agree.

Behind him, Drake howled in triumph.

The Pushtal were taken out to talk with the rest of their kind, and Drake slapped Shadow on the back. “Brother, you’re brilliant!”

“I’m not entirely sure this will work,” Sonya said, scratching her bandages.

“Neither am I,” admitted Shadow. “But by setting up two of them as clan leaders, it’ll cause enough confusion that maybe, just maybe, they’ll work it out. Their stupid ‘fight for control’ is likely what caused their downfall. The strongest is seldom the smartest.”

“Even then, the strongest can never trust subordinates,” Veska agreed.

“The Mercenary Guild won’t like this,” Anderle pointed out. “The cats are persona non grata, as far as I understand.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Shadow assured her. An Aku came in, and Niss gestured him to Shadow. He scanned the report and let out a low noise between his teeth. “They have the inventory,” he said.

“What do we have?” Drake asked.

“Just under a thousand tons of Astatine-222.”

“What’s that worth?” Bana wondered.

“We aren’t sure,” Captain I’kik said from space. “But we can estimate, based on how much is in each hyperspace buffer and cableway. About a million credits.”

“Per ton?” Shadow asked.

“Per kilogram,” I’kik said, teeth shinning.

“Oof dah,” Bana said, echoing himself.

“Fuck me dead,” Drake replied with even more enthusiasm.

“The Zuparti aren’t going to just walk away from a trillion credits,” Ripley warned.

“Oh, it’s more than that.” Shadow stopped her. “Aku—you have ideas for more efficiency. What would you say that increases production to?”

“Oh.” Niss rocked slightly to the side. “We can increase by 200% at least, with minor changes. The Zuparti moved mines long before they were tapped because they were wasteful.”

“This one dwarf planet has been supplying all the Astatine-222 for the entire galaxy, forever.” Shadow wished his mouth could whistle, but he restrained himself to a shrug instead. “So yeah, they aren’t going to let us just...keep it.”

Tension returned to the room. All the money in the galaxy wouldn’t help if they couldn’t defend it. Shadow shook his head and smiled.

“We’re going to need backup.”

* * * * *

Epilogue

The Paku had been gone a month, departing only hours after Niss ordered