Read City on Fire (Metropolitan 2) for Free Online Page B

Minister. I haven’t been a Metropolitan in a very long time.”
    “I’ll try to remember.”
    “It’s an overrated title.” He scowls, and suddenly his chair is too small to contain him— he rises and paces the room. “When I was Metropolitan of Cheloki I felt little better than a slave,” he says. “Flung this way and that by circumstance, forced to respond to every shift in the situation. All responsibility was mine, but there was precious little I could do to alter anything— even to aid my own cause.”
    Aiah puts down her fork. “My impression,” she says, “is that you were magnificent.”
    He makes a growling sound deep in his throat. “Well.” Dismissively. “I’m a good actor. I played a Metropolitan well, and that’s what people saw. But it was far different from what I’d expected when I first set my mind on power.”
    He marches back and forth across the room and flings out phrases with tossing motions of his arms. Passion burns behind his eyes, a world-eating force that Aiah can feel in the tingle of her nerves, the prickle of her nape hair.
    We are not small people. Sorya had told her that once, and she was right.
    “I knew precisely what I wished to do with Cheloki,” Constantine says. “I knew that my ideas would prove correct. I thought that once I achieved position I could snap my fingers and cause miracles to happen, that I could change everything ... But no, that did not happen.”
    She sees frustration in his glance, thwarted rage. His shoulders have slumped, drawn inward, less in defeat than as if he were sheltering from an attack.
    “You had a civil war to cope with,” she says.
    “ If I’d been wise enough,” bitterly, “there would have been no civil war. If I’d managed it all a bit better . . .” Constantine’s big hands throw the notion behind him as he makes a contemptuous growl. “ If, if . . . The truth is, I was helpless. Every reform in Cheloki was perceived as a threat by our neighbors. But...” He looks through the outcurved window, hands propped on his hips, and scowls at the world. “In Caraqui we are safer, I think. I can manage things better now, and all the knowledge cost me was the destruction of the Metropolis of Cheloki, the deaths of hundreds of thousands, and the knowledge that all the responsibility was mine...”
    Aiah pushes away her cooling noodles, stands, approaches Constantine from behind. She puts her arms around him, presses her cheek to his shoulder. “It wasn’t all your fault,” she says. “You had to fight gangsters and your own family and Cheloki’s neighbors. Even so you did well. You lasted for years against all of them, and you inspired millions.” Her tone softens. “You inspired me .”
    “ You weren’t there ,” he grudges, but his tone is softer.
    Constantine’s warmth steals into her frame. She can feel his anger soften.
    “Much better to be a mere government minister,” he says. “I will be responsible only for my own department, and even if I have my way in larger issues, success or failure will be up to someone else.”
    For all that he finds this thought comforting, Aiah cannot quite believe that Constantine will find himself this detached when anything important is at stake.
    “ Everything must be in place as soon as possible,” Constantine says. His voice is low, thoughtful, and perhaps he is talking as much to himself as to Aiah. “We have a new government, and many more actions are possible under martial law than otherwise . . . but they must be the right actions, not abuses or pointless pursuit of revenge, and martial law must soon enough be lifted, and by then , we must all be ready.”
    He turns, puts his arms around her waist, and looks at her levelly. “You must have your department prepared by then. I can guarantee you independence as long as I am minister; but no appointment lasts forever, and after I’m gone— well, you must be in place, with an independent, efficient, and incorruptible