Yesau II

“I’m sorry, I’ve got to go.”

“Oh, of course. Are you planning to go back to Genatyhn anytime soon?”

“I think in a year or so.”

“If you want, you know, I have a cousin who lives in the capital. He and his wife might be able to put you up.” She wrote down a name and an address on the back of the map.

“You’re really so kind, thank you.”

I successfully extracted myself from the conversation with that woman, feeling uneasy—I only had so long to prevent ten deaths, after all—but also bolstered. It was nice to have people be nice to you. In the real world, I’d only known English, bad French (though I had a perfect command of words like valeur énergétique and fibres allimentaire from staring at the back of my box of cereal while I ate) and bad Japanese. I hadn’t had many opportunities to impress native speakers with my language skill, since the French weren’t easily impressed and my Japanese relatives mostly wanted to know why I wasn’t fluent.

The area the military offices were in, where the soldiers had probably set up near, was going to be hard to get into. It looked like the poshest section, strictly Ry’ke only. At least, it didn’t seem to be actively military; not under guard, or classified. There were fancy restaurants too, a theater, a pool—in this climate?—and technological marvels like a photo studio and a streetcar.

I decided to hide my face and climb up the wall.

At a tailor’s shop, I talked to the tailor’s apprentice, a young Ry’ke man, and convinced him of the excellence of my zippered jacket and that he’d like to own it and study it. By throwing in my T-shirt with the deal, I came out of that one gold coin richer—I could pay Jayla back now—and spent two silver and my remaining copper coins at the neighboring shop for a face veil of the type Asan sometimes wore to keep out the desert sand, and a scarf decorated with glass ornaments in a Ry’ke style. I’d look suspicious, but hopefully not too suspicious?

I tied on the veil and wrapped my hair and neck up in the scarf as I walked towards the dividing wall. Unlike the walls outside, this was a short wall, more symbolic than anything. The gate was flanked by two guards, but on the far end, away from the gate, I found that it was entirely unobserved.

I jumped for it and managed to get one hand hooked around the top of the wall.

Slippery!

I gritted my teeth; tightened my grip; braced myself and shoved myself up with just my palm. Managed to get my other arm over. I pulled myself up like an unhealthy old seal and slid down the wall’s other side.

At the bottom, I rubbed at a scraped elbow and wished that I’d been born just a few inches taller.

The area wasn’t substantially nicer than the mixed area on the surface, which made some sense. They’d want to leave a favorable impression on foreign merchants and traders. Both were clean, lit, and smelled of polish, with wide main paths.

I decided to stick to the alleys and thin paths to stay off the radar. I’d want to head towards the right, generally, but also keep my eyes and ears peeled for wherever Sy'anh’s unit was.

I just hoped I wasn’t too late.

Eventually, I spotted a large vehicle sitting on the side of one of the wider streets, covered in a cloth. That was out of place. For one, I’d established when I wrote my novel (which only had a working title so far, Ana and the Emperor) that private motorcars weren’t yet in common usage, and the only people who really had them even for leisure lived in the affluent capital city. For another, it was too big to be an ordinary motorcar. Did they bring a tank?

I darted out of the alley and looked around before lifting up an edge of the cloth. Polished steel-gray shone back at me, and the tracks it would travel on glowed with a dim green light. It was a tank alright.

I dropped the cloth and retreated to the alley. To just leave the tank out in the open, they must have a guard nearby. Maybe I’d even been spotted, but considered innocuous. I had a fairly small build—with my face covered, I might have been seen as not an adult, just a curious kid. The assumption would be that I was Ry’ke.

If I started tampering with the tank, though, they wouldn’t give me the benefit of the doubt anymore.

I knew how to disable one of those things. They each had a gem inside powered by the court magician, Sai-ee. —Some of Ry’keth’s technology was still powered by the court magician from years ago, who was dead, but these tanks were new so that probably wasn’t the case. In any case, the gem was deeply tucked away into the machinery, purposefully made so it was hard to get out or to shatter. I’d have to get deep into it, which would definitely get me spotted…

Hey. Wait. I’d used the gems as an easy target in my own stories, but the fact was that the best way to disable a car wasn’t to rip out its gas tank or battery. You could easily go for exterior sources, or on the interior, disconnect cables, and it worked just as well; well enough that no one, no matter how crazy, would try to remove that gas tank or battery.

I’d fucked up a car pretty good once, but all I’d done was slit all the tires. That was impossible with tank treads. But I could disconnect some fuses, right?

The most important ones would probably be in the hatch, where the tank was driven from. All I had to do was get in there undetected.

I carefully leaned around again, surveying the situation as best I could, and didn’t see anyone. So, I hurried to the tank and lifted up the cloth again. The hatch, the hatch…

I spotted it, clambered up, and started pulling at the door.

I was pulling for almost five seconds before I noticed someone sitting inside.

The door gave way, and I fell in.