“Waving placards and painting graffiti.” Carson Rieves’s smile was not a pleasant one. “If you can distract the garrison at LianChang with your rabble-rousing, you will have done the Confederation a mild service, Wa.”
Evan tensed. “We do what we can.” Belatedly, prompted by Mai’s glance, he added, “Sir.”
“Well, your work has been adequate this day at least.” The commander’s gaze followed a Loader down the ramp, the machine carrying boxes of munitions and mines to the loading area. Evan steeled himself for any following accusation, and the consequences. “I will allow you to select a crate of weapons and another of ammunition.”
And by his standards, no doubt considered himself generous. Evan bit off a hot reply. Angering the senior Confederation officer on Liao any further would not be wise.
“It is our hope to work with you again, Sang-shao Rieves.” Mai was not ready to give up, especially spying a potential crack in the other man’s armor. “As we have proved with the Armored Cavalry, our network of informants and guides, and the military forces controlled by the students as well, can be a welcome addition to any order of battle.” He hesitated. “The Light of Ijori grows ever stronger.”
The commander glanced back into the DropShip. “Yes. I have been made aware of your ambitions. But I do not see a Warrior House yet, Chancellor’s word or no. If I have use for local support, I will demand it as needed. And you shall provide it. That is the way of things, is it not?”
Mai Uhn Wa stiffened, but the gray bearded man nodded nonetheless. “I am a traitor,” he intoned with obvious disgrace. “I serve the Confederation.”
“We will see that you do.”
Evan was faster than his sifu. “We?” Sang-shao Rieves did not seem the type to use the royal possessive. Confederation nobles might take exception to a military officer putting on airs.
The officer nodded. “Certainly. I am not sending you away with merely a few assault weapons. I have one further delivery to make.” He glanced into the bay again. “I believe you know each other?”
Evan saw Mai hesitate, shoulders slumping every so slightly as if he suddenly carried a much heavier burden. He knew. Even before he turned, Evan knew.
“Mai Uhn Wa.” The man’s greeting was cold and empty. Beneath his robed mantle he wore a basic gray uniform, the mandarin collar closed with a silver clasp in the form of the Capellan Confederation’s crest. His eyes were grayish blue, and stared ahead without blinking.
Even though he had never known one before, Evan did not need a uniform patch or identification to know a Maskirovka agent.
“N˘ı-hăo, Michael Yung-Te.” Mai Uhn Wa’s greeting was formal, but hardly any warmer.
“You do not ask my purpose?”
“I do not believe in coincidence. I assume you are here to check up on me.”
Evan could only grab at the unspoken conversation occurring between these two men, and it left him feeling more nervous than before. A Mask agent sniffing around. The only thing worse—
“I am assigned to you,” Yung-Te said. “To you, and your motley, paramilitary group. For the good of the State, Mai Uhn Wa.”
Sang-shao Rieves smiled thin and hard. “Welcome home.”
An enlisted man carried Agent Yung-Te’s gear, stored in a proper military duffel, and others were quickly sent by Sang-shao Rieves to load his gift of two crates. Mai deferred to Evan, who knew the needs of the Conservatory better, and Evan chose infantry SRM launchers and inferno rounds. The men were sent on ahead to properly store the crates inside the Lamprey’s transport area.
Dismissed from Carson Rieves’s presence, they had only a short hike back down the ramp and across the muddy fields. Evan did not wait long, barely away from the DropShip ramp before he asked, “Warrior House?”
“We can discuss that later, Evan.”
Evan stopped walking, ignoring the frustration of Yung-Te who clearly wanted to hurry to the Lamprey, but was not about to leave the two alone for a private conversation. “More secrets, Mai Uhn Wa? You wanted me to trust you again.”
The elder warrior nodded. “Yes, and I have withheld nothing that would have meant anything to you.” He took his former student by the arm and pulled him along. “There was more to my forming the Ijori Dè Guāng than a simple resistance organization,” he admitted. “And you would have been informed of those plans, in time.”
The Lamprey was only a few dozen meters away. Evan saw that one of the munitions crates had yet to be loaded. He stopped again. “We are not always given time, Mai Uhn Wa. Perhaps you should tell me now.”
“On the flight, Evan.” The elder man glanced up into the freezing rain. “Where we can at least be dry, qı˘ng?”
“And fiction often helps pass the time,” Yung-Te said sourly.
Michael Yung-Te would obviously take some getting used to. Evan wrestled with his feelings about having a Confederation agent always looking over his shoulder, and the potential difficulties it raised in his own plans. Maskirovka were trained to ferret out secrets. Evan still had several.
Some more pressing than others.
But he had dragged his feet long enough. His obvious hesitation was beginning to draw confused looks from Mai Uhn Wa and irritation from the Mask. Irritation that quickly turned to concern, seeing the full VTOL payload with hardly any room for the passengers to squeeze inside.
“Where?” Yung-Te began, holding them up outside the main door. Then his cold eyes fell on Evan. “You stole these supplies.”
Evan slapped the side of the forward cabin, twirled one hand in the air as he gestured to the pilot to crank up the rotors and get them airborne quickly. “I was ordered to assist in loading cargo carriers. No one told me to restrict that to the Guards’ VTOLs.”
The Lamprey’s engine coughed to life, rolled over, and began a staccato rattle that quickly smoothed into a deep thunder. Mai Uhn Wa stared at his student with an expression caught between respect and concern for Evan’s safety. But so far as Evan was concerned, the only thing worse than ruffling the Maskirovka’s feathers would be to stand up under a militia assault without enough equipment.
“Missiles. Actuators. Fa Shih battlesuits.” Yung-Te inventoried the crate stencils he could easily read. “You took Fa Shih suits? Sang-shao Rieves will not look kindly on this theft.”
“Maybe not,” Evan admitted. He had to shout to make himself heard over the choppy rotor blast. He slipped past the Mask agent, climbed into the VTOL and crouched at the edge of the sliding door. “Would you like to go tell him? I’m certain you can catch the next transport Rieves sends to Chang-an.”
Mai Uhn Wa looked to the agent, shrugged, and climbed into the helicopter transport as well. He coughed long and hard, and then said quickly behind his cupped hand, “You play a dangerous game, Evan. Do not underestimate this man.” He then distanced himself from the Conservatory cadet, as if Evan’s minor theft did not touch upon him as well.
Evan licked his lips, returned the agent’s distracted gaze with one of his own. “In or out, sir. We can’t wait much longer.”
Michael Yung-Te smiled. It wasn’t exactly a gesture of respect, but close. A gamesman’s smile, conceding the coin toss, if not an opening move well played. “We are not through, you and I,” he promised. With a final look of apprehension at the secured barrels and crates, he jumped up as the VTOL lifted off the ground.
Evan simply rolled the heavy door shut.
“Welcome to Liao.”