Titan Song by Dan Stout (best english books to read txt) 📗

almost have to write it off as a possibility in order to get anywhere.”

Jax took a long sip of soup. “Magic has rules, too.”

I stared at the fog-shrouded shape of the Mount. “No. Guyer told us about that once. She said magic doesn’t have rules, it has, whatchacallit . . .”

“Probabilities.”

“Right. The more manna, the more likely it is to get a reliable outcome. A skilled sorcerer can make a little manna perform in an expected fashion. An unskilled user could—”

“—have anything happen at all.”

“Look.” I set my half-eaten lunch on the tabletop, careful to tuck a napkin underneath it first. “We are not going to start finishing—”

“—each others’ sentences?” His eyes crinkled.

I snatched my sausage roll off the table with a growl. “I do not know what I did to be saddled with you as a partner.”

“If I recall, it had something to do with a couple decades of erratic and undisciplined behavior.”

I snorted. “I got disciplined plenty.” I took a bite and spoke through a mouthful of dough and spiced meat. “You want to make yourself useful? Let’s focus on the people who might have the ability and motive to do this.”

“Motive for what?” Jax’s voice trilled, exasperated. “For the murders? You talked to Sheena and Donna. Even they didn’t think they had a motive.” He waved a hand in the direction of the Bunker’s higher floors. “You heard the stories coming in to the Bullpen. Everyone’s going on 187 runs, and wrapping them up in record time. So is someone masterminding a wave of unintended homicides?”

“What if that’s exactly what they are—unintended? What if the killings aren’t the crime, but just a side effect?”

“A side effect of the buzzing? Or is the buzzing the side effect of something bigger?”

“I don’t know.”

“Because maybe all of it is a side effect of the manna strike. Or maybe it’s a side effect of something we haven’t even learned about yet.”

I dragged a hand over my head as Ajax pressed on.

“How do we run an investigation if we don’t even know what the crime was?”

“We start the only place we can,” I said. “With what we do know. We examine all the recent cases, and search for commonalities. We search for patterns and make theories and test them. We follow where the evidence leads and ask questions. But we sure as Hells don’t give up before we even try.” I leaned forward. “We can’t get to Vandie today, and the Barekusu are going to be tough to talk to at all. So whatdya say we stop by Ambassador Paulus’s place and ask a few questions?”

Jax looked up at the Bunker. “I need to talk to Captain Bryyh about my badge.”

“Yeah. But here’s the thing—you already skipped a day after losing it, right?”

He glared at me.

“Exactly,” I said. “So you’re gonna get hit with the penalty one way or another. Let’s go visit the esteemed ambassador now, while I’ve still got you with me.”

Jax stood. “Okay, but we need to be open with each other. You sit on something like your threads again, and you put us both in danger. We clear on that?”

“Clear as cold ice.” I held his gaze, refusing to let myself think about Gellica’s true nature, and all the reasons that keeping that secret might come back to haunt us.

He grunted a two-toned note of skepticism. “Alright. Let’s go talk to the ambassador.” He headed toward the garage.

I followed behind, shoving our lunch waste in the already overflowing trash bin.

16

THERE WAS AN ESTABLISHED POWER structure in Titanshade, like every city-state, town, or neighborhood. During the oil boom the major financial players had been executives and rig owners, while the mayor and City Council were the centers of local political power. But Titanshade didn’t exist in a vacuum. It was also a member of the Assembly of Free States, a coalition of independent city-states that spent as much time feuding among themselves as cooperating. Like every city-state, Titanshade sent a representative to sit on the AFS Council, and in turn the AFS sent an ambassador to convey the wishes of the council to our fair city. In theory these ambassadors held advisory positions but in fact they held as much sway as the local governments. For all their influence, ambassadors were vulnerable to the changing political winds in both their assigned city-state and in the AFS capital, and most were discarded as quickly as tissues.

As was so often the case, Titanshade was the exception that proved the rule. Our city had enjoyed the presence of Ambassador Paulus for decades.

Paulus was a sorcerer, a politician, and a master manipulator. And that was her friendly, public-facing persona. She was much less pleasant once you got to know her. But no one wanted to tinker with success, and as long as Titanshade’s oil rigs kept the world’s economic engines turning, people like her were safe and secure. But with the discovery of manna and the government-ordered halt on oil drilling, the rules of the game had changed. So the question was, could Paulus be scared enough that she would try and tamper with snake oil? And if so, what did she possibly have to gain?

One way to find out was by paying a surprise visit to our federal government’s esteemed representative.

Paulus lived in a sprawling home perched on the Hills, a short distance from the steep vertical walls that marked the place where the Mount had risen, or been cast down on top of the Titan, depending on how much romanticism and faith you had. This close to the Mount the air was so sulfur-tinged that even a Titanshade native like myself noticed. It was the rotten-egg smell of wealth and power.

The wrought-iron gate at the front of the drive was manned by two humans in tan slacks, black shirts, and mirrored sunglasses. It was the kind of outfit favored by those who wanted to be identifiable as security personnel without the hassle of wearing badges. When we pulled up they