Theobroma: Child of Fire and Blood

THIRTEEN

The rays of the morning sun were barely able to penetrate the lingering cloud of dark smoke that hung in the air over Azirta’s fire-ravaged Upasha District. Scores of laborer hands worked at a hurried pace to sort through the remains of the area’s buildings. Neighboring one of the crumbled structures was a nondescript warehouse that had been damaged by the fire and was host not to law enforcers or fire inspectors, but instead to a score of workers who had been roused from sleep at an unusual hour to move the thousands of boxes being stored on the premises.

The warehouse was a property held by one of the business enterprises controlled by entrepreneur Amilian Tenking. Though the wealthy Tenking was considered mysterious to most, he was known to wield some local political influence and to have a growing ambition for more. Likewise, he was known to have hedonistic interests in fast cars, fast horses, fast boats and compliant women. Anyone who knew him even slightly beyond his reputed proclivities, knew that he never made a habit of showing himself anywhere other than breakfast until at least another hour past sunrise. The well-dressed businessman’s eyes narrowed, his brow furrowing, as the figure of a large, powerfully built man clad in gray descended from a roof access hatch to alight before him on the warehouse floor. His huge left fist clutched a five-foot-long metal staff that held the shine of polished silver and was inlaid with spirals of black crystal. Though his face was partially concealed by the shadow of his hooded coat, Tenking knew him better than he cared to and steeled himself for their latest encounter.

“I don’t smell anything cooking,” the new arrival said, his loose clothes fluttering around him with a sound reminiscent of wings, “so I can only imagine that whatever your men are clearing out of here is worth large piles of money.”

“Moving my company’s merchandise to a location that’s not on fire is good for business, Sterling,” Tenking said with a tightened jaw. “Terrorist explosions and giant firebirds constitute excessive risk. If you ever give up prowling around rooftops and alleyways and get involved in a legitimate business activity, you might learn this sort of thing.”

“Are you going to give me lessons on running legitimate business activities, Tenking?” Sterling mocked him, the towering man peering past his adversary from beneath his hooded coat with piercing eyes. “When do you host your special seminars in falsifying documents, smuggling, conspiracy and miscellaneous fraud? Better still, let‘s skip to the best places to hide bodies.”

“You’re a funny man,” Tenking said, trying hard to keep from displaying his anger.

“I do two shows a night on the size of your ass alone,” Sterling jibed. “You should catch it sometime. It kills on the east side.”

“You need a hand here, boss?” one of Tenking’s workers asked, cautiously approaching the near-eight-foot-tall intruder from behind.

“The big man just stopped in to bring me a few new gray hairs,” Tenking said, running a hand through his expensively cut blond and gray locks, “like those religious crazies blowing up buildings aren‘t causing enough problems. And I‘m sure not waiting to see what Phoenix cults start showing up after last night.”

“ummm…”

“Just keep moving crates, Slaran,” Tenking instructed. “This whole place needs to be empty before they cordon off the area. The next truck is due in ten minutes. You boys need to quit dragging ass and double-time it.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Slaran said, his muscular arms reaching to take a wooden box from the top of a nearby stack.

“Hold on, tiny,” Sterling commanded, touching one end of his staff to the side of the crate. “We should take a look inside. It might help you with organizing.”