Chapter 29

Zuri managed to finish off the pot of tea before the conversation tapered off into silence. He felt he had set the hook as firmly as he could in a strong, willing fish. Now, he needed to get out of the man’s way and let him act on his own conclusions. Being a Gura, there were no guarantees Torrea would do as Zuri suggested. However, the man had intelligence and aptitude, running down his own deductions without Zuri feeding them to him.

Staff in hand, he left the nicer districts and headed to his home for the moment. As he stepped into the Hogs Heads territory, their tag clearly displayed on the side of a building, he began charging his staff. He started scanning the auras of the people, looking for those whose Ahsa was heightened, even agitated. He only had to walk a block more before he spotted likely targets. He returned to his normal sight.

They were being clever, he noted. They were gathered in knots of two or three, waiting for Zuri to arrive at some pre-determined point where they would converge on him, surrounding him. Seeing no sense in giving into their plan, he let a ladened cart pass before he charged across the street. Using his staff as a weapon, he crushed one man’s left ribs before zapping the other one’s knife hand, disabling the hand in an instant before he smashed the closest knee.

Zuri rushed for the next clump of three who were already moving. The three spread out, pushing a mother and child into the road, where the young boy was promptly kicked by a fast-moving horse. The child screamed, which was choked off as he flew and fell, followed by his mother’s scream. She pulled a knife and stabbed the man who had pushed them in the stomach while he was looking at Zuri. He cried out in agony.

Zuri charged. He fell into the Ghura Pattern and attacked the two with his staff. The remaining men fell quickly, as their friends who came charging after them fell with blows without getting close enough to even attempt to strike. Ten men lay unmoving on the side of the street.

By the time constables arrived, Zuri had bundled the child in an empty cart with his mother and sent them to the churgeon with two coins in her hand to pay. He gave the constables the best Gura sneer he could remember, ordering them to remove the scum from the street before berating them for their absence when the melee began. The passersby added their own curses and insults as their numbers swelled. As the anger pitch rose, Zuri slipped away and continued to the brothel.

“What’s going on?” Ellabet demanded as she accosted Zuri in the doorway.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Hamatar cancelled me for tomorrow. What did you do?” she said with her hands on her hips.

“I passed along a warning,” Zuri said, nodding to the others who were gathering close enough to eavesdrop. “If I am reading the auditorium correctly, there will be a confrontation at the Great Hall tomorrow, hopefully violent and bloody. I would not want you there either.”

She leaned over and whispered, “Revenge?”

“That, too, if we’re lucky,” Zuri said with a crooked smile. “In any case, I think tonight’s requests for bedwarmers will be disappointing compared to last night’s reservations. There should be much afoot among the Gura.”

“Sir,” the bouncer announced as he came down the stairs. “The madam would like a word with you again.”

The conversation lasted into the evening as Zuri took copious notes. As the madam dug further into the weeds, Zuri recognized he was far out of his element. Instead, he diagramed her ideas, filing them away for presentation to Adana and Kortazar. He offered assurances for the basics of an agreement, but withheld approvals over payments, billing, percentages, and other details that had his head swimming. Dinner was good though and the usual business downstairs and up in the rooms was lively. Zuri climbed up back to the roof to practice.

He was not sure whose room he was in, but she had finished for the night and changed the sheets. Without more than a brief introduction, Zuri fell asleep. The morning was quiet when he arose. He scratched his beard, trying to remember when his life changed in such a way he no longer cared if he bedded a young woman. No matter, the sun was up, and the game was afoot.

Zuri timed his entrance with the beginning of the first session in the Great Hall. He entered through the side door, having paid what he considered his entrance fee. Every door was closed except for the rolldown door at the end of the servant’s concourse. Even the kitchen was barred. As he came to the curtain, he saw two men standing in the shadows, peeking through the curtain, listening.

“It won’t be first thing,” Zuri said softly as he pulled abreast. “If I were them, I would wait until the group was a bit weary.”

“Afternoon, then,” the one on the left said. “We’ll take shifts until noon. We’ll stay fresh and ready.”

Zuri nodded before moving past them into the room. He instantly sensed that the Gura as a whole had shifted during the night. There was an undercurrent of distrust and apprehension. The seating arrangements had also shifted as entire groups moved forward while other groups moved to the back seats. He did not see Torrea immediately. In any case, he did not want the man signaling him. The entrance doors to the hall were locked, but the Long Tucks were not in the room.

The day began with a promise that the “radical transformation” would be revealed today. Zuri shifted on the bench, slightly rolling his new staff between his hands nervously. He realized he was giving off a tic and stopped himself.

The morning crawled slowly with small instances of interest. Incomes across the regions were discussed. Trends in giving were revealed and all pointed downward. Debt loads were discussed, making Zuri’s eyeballs roll back in his head as he recalled Kortazar’s lectures on the subject. Although as presented from the podium, financing schemes did not exist nor any of the other underhanded tricks practiced in Covanera. Zuri’s stomach gave a slight twist as he comprehended bit by bit that the leaders were deceiving the Convocation. They were not just lying but were offering the biggest of lies.

After the long, long discussion on finances from the Patriarch down to the various Gura-sho, the facilitator announced they would follow yesterday’s schedule, foregoing lunch to end the session early. Zuri listened to grumbling among some who he assumed were clueless. For others, they became more alert. Zuri reached into his pocket and retrieved a few nuts to chew.

The presenters droned on for another hour describing a litany of small slights against the Gura across the kingdom. They gave examples from the Royal family to the Governors and laced all the tales with outrageous behaviors of Earls, Barons, and their progeny. They were doing their best to whip up the audience and Zuri admitted that they were succeeding to some degree.

Finally, the Provost stepped forward and gave the assembled his best oily smile with his clasped hands in front of his chest. Everyone was leaning forward. Zuri slowly leaned backward, and casually crept away from his seat. He gave a slight signal with his finger to the men behind the curtain before he began charging his staff.

“There is way to reverse all of these trends,” the Provost said. “Our beloved Chancellor is a scholar of such depth and none such as him have arisen in years, decades, dare I say, centuries.”

His voice made Zuri recoil, despite his training.

“In the earliest writings, he has been following the explorations of our founders,” the provost continued. “The formula for the Rite of Transformation is sacrosanct and the Gura have adhered to its creation year by year without the slightest variation. We are their descendants, and we are grateful for this marvelous gift they have bequeathed us.”