Chapter 9: The Final Straw
“When will you take the Tornok home world?” Dyen didn’t talk to Cato much, he didn’t talk to anyone much, but even he had heard of the incident in the Inner Worlds. It didn’t much matter to him what had prompted the invasion of Sulean, but if Cato was going to move, he had damned well better move on Tornok.
“It’s probably not going to be for a while.” Cato’s voice was strange as always, transmitted somehow through the fern plants the sisters had strewn in their wake. “The more noise I make the harder everything gets, and thanks to our friend Muar, Tornok itself has a moon hovering just over the ocean now. No idea how I’m going to clean that mess up.”
Dyen sneered at the walls of his room, rented from one of the inns. He couldn’t speak to Cato while inside his Estate, and he could easily afford the Bismuth-rank facilities. Which were more comfortable than his Estate anyway, since he had no interest in furnishing it with anything beyond the basics. There would be no point.
He had to bite his tongue on what he wanted to say, since Tornok deserved anything that came to it. The worse off it was, the better. But he knew that wouldn’t move Cato, nor would it help Dyen with his goals. Instead he decisively closed the connection with Cato and scowled as he thought.
It was obvious to him that Cato just had no interest in actually fulfilling the bargain. If there was some pressing reason to not engage with Tornok, such as not having any forces on the world, that would be one thing. Dyen couldn’t expect even Cato to simply magic up an invasion force that way. But from how quickly Cato had moved on Sulean, he had that capacity. It was just that he didn’t think it worthwhile to spend on Dyen’s behest.
His tail lashed this way and that as he paced the confines of the small room, considering options. At Azoth, he was now powerful enough to actually deal with many of the Tornok Elites — but not all of them at once, and not with the protections that were layered over their Estates. Not by himself, even with the advantages Cato had provided.
Clearly, he needed to stir Cato into action, but nobody of power was ever stirred by mere words. No, he had to force Cato to move, and the only way that would happen would be if the System moved first. There wasn’t much chance there was anyone smart enough on the System side to do it, so he’d have to give it a push. Better, he knew that Cato didn’t want to deal with more aggression from the System, wasn’t ready for it, and anything that hurt Cato was all to the good — so long as it didn’t compromise Dyen’s own goals.
Dyen had prepared for the day of reckoning, not content to leave things to chance and the goodwill of some foreign god. He had hoped that Cato would make good of his own accord, and take out all the chance and uncertainty in Dyen’s revenge, but had never held much hope of that. Cato simply couldn’t be trusted.
He left the inn, his movement Skill bringing him to the Assassin’s Guild building in a single jaunt through the shadows, and entered the deceptively small room. His rank among the guild was displayed prominently on the far wall, and it amused him to see that he was fairly high up, among the elites, despite never actually caring much about the Guild. He had only checked in once during the entire decade and a bit that he had been on War-World Osk, but it had still tracked his actions. Assassinations at Azoth seemed to carry quite a lot of weight.