“Just you usually don’t see anyone wandering around with a sword and shield—”
“Shield and sword,” Jerinne told him like a correction.
“Pardon, miss?”
“I’m a Tarian, so it’s shield and sword. It’s part of the oath.”
“You have an oath?” Rian sounded far more interested in the details of Jerinne’s world than she had in anything else in some time.
“Of course we do. We’re pledged—”
“Phillen,” Satrine called out, not wanting the exact nature and history of the Tarian Order to be part of breakfast conversation, and certainly not to have those thoughts be bouncing around in Rian’s head. “So what was this letter you felt should be run over to me in all haste?”
“Oh, it’s—” She could hear him approach the door to the bedroom, but she knew propriety would keep him outside. “It came from the Aventil Constabulary House.”
That raised a hair. Satrine pulled her slacks and blouse on and came out, vest in hand. “Lieutenant Benvin?”
“Who’s Lieutenant Benvin?” Rian asked, with almost a hint of accusation.
“About the only officer in Aventil who gives a damn.”
“Mother, language.”
Satrine snatched the letter form Phillen. “Who brought this to you?”
“A cadet named Saitle.”
That meant it was legitimate. She broke the seal and opened it up.
“What’s the word?” Phillen asked.
Skimming over the letter, she said, “Looks like the lieutenant has built a solid case against one of the Aventil gangs. He could get the lot of them ironed up and sent to Quarrygate if—” There was the problem. She knew it wouldn’t be that easy.
“If what?” Jerinne was asking.
“If he can get a writ to raid one of the safehouses where the evidence he needs is supposed to be. But he can’t get one from his own office’s protector, since his witness—” Saints, that was no good.
“What about his witness?” Phillen asked.
“She won’t give her testimony on record until the gang leader is in irons.” Made sense. Benvin couldn’t get a writ from his stationhouse, but Hilsom could write one based on Promised Testimony, since the GIU had more investigative latitude. And she had made a promise to Lieutenant Benvin. “If we don’t act soon . . .”
“It all collapses, yeah,” Phillen said. His eyes hardened like steel. “What do you need, ma’am?”
She put on her inspector’s vest. This was something good she could do this morning, instead of just staring at reports on the Parliament atrocity and worrying about Welling. “Let’s be about it then, Phillen. Come along, Jerinne.”
“Where are we—” Jerinne started.
“To Inemar, and then Aventil. Time for you to see the south side.”
Giving final kisses to Rian and Caribet, she grabbed her weapons belt and headed out into the early morning with Phillen and Jerinne flanking her.
“There was something else, right, Phillen?” she asked as they were walking to the bridge.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“I mean this wasn’t the sort of thing that would compel you to run across the river to get it to me top speed. At least, you didn’t know that.”
“Well, I suspected—”
“Phil,” she said sharply, “what’s going on?”
“My mother,” he said. “Her year at Quarry is about up.”
“Your mother is in prison?” Jerinne asked with a sneer.
“Ease down, girl,” Satrine said. “None of us pick our mothers.”
“Yeah,” Phillen said. “So she’s getting out in a couple days, and she named me as her pickup. And as much as I. . . .” He let it hang for a moment. “She’s my mother.”
“I hear you,” Satrine said. They had now reached the bridge, crossing over the wide Maradaine below, filled with boats and barges. “But what do you need?” Phillen was a good kid who would make a good stick some day, and he had been there for her time and again, had her back above and beyond what should be asked of a page. This was the first time he had ever asked anything resembling a favor, and if it was something she could do, she’d damn well do it.
“I’m too young to be a pickup, but I can name a ‘responsible escort’ to be there with me—”
“Done,” Satrine said. “You tell me where and when, and I’m there.”
“Three days, around midday. It’ll be at our stationhouse.”
“All right,” she said. “I’ve got you, Phil.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” he said. Glancing at the crowd building up at the end of the bridge, he said, “I’m gonna charge ahead, get that file to Protector Hilsom so he’s already got it working when you get there. Good?”
“Good,” Satrine said. Phillen dashed off away.
“Why is his mother in prison?” Jerinne asked.
“Because he turned her in,” Satrine said. “Like I said, we don’t pick our mothers. But we do pick who we stand by.”
“Today I’m standing by you, Inspector.”
Satrine mused for a moment. “We’ll see how you feel about Aventil.”
* * *
Minox rarely came down to breakfast to find his sister and cousin waiting for him. Usually Nyla was up before dawn and out of the house before anyone else, and Corrie was dragging her heels any given morning, still getting her uniform on when he left for the station.
But this morning they were both ready—sitting with Mother in the kitchen—when he came down.
“This was not necessary,” he told them as soon as he saw them. It was clear this was some form of solidarity, or an attempt to assist him where no help was needed or wanted.
“What wasn’t?” Mother asked, handing him a cup of tea.
“This, these two,” Minox said. “I do not need to be coddled.”
“We’re hardly coddling you,” Nyla said. “I just decided to come in at the same time as you for once.”
“And she woke me rutting up,” Corrie said.
“I do not believe this obvious dissembling,” Minox said. He drank the tea, which was too hot. Almost on instinct, he blew on it with a hint of chilling magic. Making things cold had gotten easier since the night his hand changed.
“I don’t care what you believe,” Nyla said.
“I don’t either,” Corrie said. “But I’ll tell you blazing what. No one, certainly not that blasted Kendra Morad, is going to take you down without a fight from me.”
“You will do no violence to Miss Morad,” Minox said.
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”
“I’m not entirely clear on any of your intentions,” Minox said.
Mother handed him his breakfast—three flatbread wraps of sausage and egg. “The girls are just there for you, Minox,” she said. “Just appreciate it.”
“We need to get moving, if you’re coming with me,” Minox said. “The tickwagon will be here shortly.”
The ride to the stationhouse was subdued, as the other passengers were all buried in their newssheets, none of them making eye contact with Minox or the rest. The story was on the Parliament, and from what Minox could see without ripping a newssheet out of someone’s hands, the article was filled with salacious details but low on facts.
“That is where my head needs to be at, Corrie,” he whispered to her while pointing to the sheet. “Sholiar needs to be put away.”
“Who is Sholiar?” Corrie asked.
“The Gearbox—” He stopped himself. “It’s the possible alias of someone who might be the Gearbox Killer. Unfortunately the name is largely meaningless.”
“Name’s something to go on,” she said.
They reached the stationhouse to find Joshea Brondar pacing in front of the building, looking like he was ready t
o start throwing punches.
“Morning, Joshea,” Nyla said as she disembarked from the tickwagon. “Don’t usually see you out here in the morning.”
“Good morning, Nyla,” he said, speaking very gently and deliberately. He was definitely making an effort to keep his temper, at least in front of Nyla. “There’s been some news this morning.”
“Go on in, Nyla,” Minox said. “I’ll catch up.”
Nyla went inside, but Corrie planted her feet right next to them.
“Corrie, if you could—”
“No, I rutting can’t,” Corrie said. “We all can go inside if you want. But I have some blasted words for you, Josh, and you will rutting well hear me. And neither of you are going to keep any secrets from me. Not when all this rutting business is going down.”
Joshea ground his teeth.
“Joshea,” Minox said, “what’s wrong?”
Joshea produced a piece of paper from his pocket. “This is wrong!” He passed it to Minox. It was a Writ of Compulsion for Minox’s hearing.
“Who gave this—how did you—” Minox stammered.
“It was delivered to the butcher shop!” Joshea shouted. “Right there, in front of my father, two inspectors come in and shoved this paper at me. Saying I have to testify today, that I’m compelled by law to?”
“Yes, that’s rutting what it is,” Corrie said, taking the sheet. “How many of these wound up at the house last night?”
“Probably very few,” Minox said. “Despite her bluster, I do not think Miss Morad is interested in harassing our family.”
“But mine?” Joshea asked.
“I’m so sorry,” Minox said. “Does the writ give grounds?”
“Material witness in key moments of the incident of the fifteenth of Erescan. That’s the day you—”
“I know,” Minox said. “It’s not untrue. You are a material witness.”
“How am I supposed to explain that?” Joshea asked. His voice dropped to a hiss. “Does this Miss Morad know about me?”
“I don’t think so,” Minox said. But Miss Morad had been absurdly prescient and aware of fine details in Minox’s life. If anyone could figure out Joshea’s special relationship to Minox, it would be her.
“Rutting blazes,” Corrie said. “Folks knew he was at the hospital.” She grabbed both of them by the sleeve and pulled them into the alley. Out of the corner of his eye, Minox noted that Nyla had come back outside. Like she was standing lookout.
“That is likely what it is about,” Minox said. “The fact that you helped at the hospital is well known.”
“And the rest?”
“Do not lie on my account, no matter what,” Minox said.
“Minox!” Corrie snapped. “You sure you want—”
“Let me be clear,” he told them both. “I want to clear this Inquiry and return to duty with the full confidence of the Constabulary behind me. I want to do that without causing any difficulty to our family. Or yours, Joshea.”
“If this goes public, if I get—” Minox had never seen such fear in Joshea’s eyes. “My father cannot know what . . . that I can . . .”
“It never needs to come up,” Minox said. “This is about me. Just say what happened to me. What I did.”
“Minox,” Joshea said quietly. “That could be damning.”
“What did he do?” Corrie asked in a horrified whisper. “Look, you were rutting there, Josh. I don’t remember much of anything of what happened in the hospital after he went—you unleashed that thunderstorm.”
“Is that what it was?” Minox asked. He had been in such an altered state, he really had no sense of what he did. Or how.
“It’s apt,” Joshea said.
“All right, all blasted right,” Corrie said. “We have to make sure our stories are straight about that day.”
“There is no ‘straight,’ Corrie,” Minox said. “I know this enrages you, but the only thing that matters is the truth. As much as I would despise it, if the truth means I am considered unfit, then that is what must be.”
“No,” Corrie said. “If it was me—rutting blazes, it was me in that hospital room with a knife at my throat—you wouldn’t stop fighting.”
“I never said not to fight,” Minox said. He needed to make this clear. “But do so within the bounds of the truth.”
“All right, then,” Corrie said, turning to Joshea. “So rutting tell me first. What happened in that room? What happened after?”
“Right,” Joshea said. “So Minox let loose that lightning, and the place filled with black clouds around him. The lightning mostly went for the Imachans, but it was everywhere. I . . . shielded myself.”
“Magically?” Corrie almost spat the word out.
“Yeah. And I did my best to protect you and Beliah. But I—I really didn’t know what I was doing properly. I tried to reach out to Minox, but he was gone. And then I saw it—that hole in the floor.”
“I remember that,” Corrie said.
“He somehow blasted it straight down to the sewer tunnels. I saw that he had dropped down with it, but he didn’t just fall. It was like those black clouds held him up.”
“So you jumped down after me?” Minox asked,
“Yeah,” Joshea said. “Look, in that moment, everyone else was down. I knew—I saw—that the hostage situation was over. The rest of the constables could swarm in and grab them. I had to make a decision to save you. Even from yourself.”
“So you jumped down?” Minox reiterated.
“Essentially,” Joshea said. He was already massaging his testimony, as he likely used his own magic to slow his descent. But that was not a relevant detail.
“So you reached me, and—”
“And you were thrashing down the tunnel like the sinners were chasing you. We must have run, I don’t know, three blocks before you collapsed and I caught you. And you mumbled to take you to the Tsouljans.”
“Why the rutting Tsouljans?” Corrie asked.
“We had—” Minox corrected himself. “I had already engaged with the Tsouljan mystic in further educating myself in magic, in their methods. I must have assumed that whatever was happening to me, they could help.”
“When you were a little clearer, you said as much,” Joshea said. “So I got you there, using your coat and credentials to get past the patrolmen at the gate, and the Tsouljans tried to—do something to you.”
“Something?” Corrie said. “Blazes, Josh, you got to be more specific.”
“Something magic, I don’t know. I don’t even know if they were really trying to help you. But you freaked out at their treatment and ran out of the place. I tried to follow, but those red-haired guards of theirs kept me in the compound until . . . well, until you found me there, Corrie.”
Nyla came over to the alley mouth. “Whatever you all are going on about, you better wrap it up. Rainey is coming up the avenue with a girl in a Tarian uniform, and that man Olivant is coming the other way.”
Olivant. That could be a problem. “Joshea, did you take any rijetzh today?”
“Every day,” Joshea said.
“There is a mage on the panel, and he might—be wary.”
“Saints Veran and Soran,” Joshea muttered. “I have some on me. I’ll take a second dose, just to be certain.”
“Stay here briefly, while we go inside,” Minox said. “It’s probably best if Olivant does not see us emerge together.”
“Right,” Joshea said.
Minox went back out into the street, Corrie and Nyla flanking him. Inspector Rainey came over to him, with Jerinne Fendall at her side.
“Morning, Welling. Wellings,” she said. “Miss Pyle.”
“Inspector,” Nyla said, her voice with just a hint of bile.
“I assume you have further hearings now? Miss Morad didn’t simply rule in your
favor overnight?”
“No,” Minox said.
“She rutting showed up at the house,” Corrie said.
“That is troubling,” Rainey said. “Should we go in? I need to engage Mister Hilsom for some writs.”
That intrigued Minox, leading the way inside. “You have a revelation in the case?”
“In a case,” Rainey said, holding up a letter. “Word from Lieutenant Benvin.”
“Ah,” Minox said. One of her unresolved cases. As much as he wanted her focused on the Gearbox and the Parliament, he couldn’t begrudge her settling old business when new information came to light.
“He’s got a rutting break?” Corrie asked. “That’s trouble.”
“Why?” Rainey asked. They reached the inspectors’ floor, Nyla heading off to her duties immediately. She clearly did not want to be standing near Inspector Rainey any longer than strictly necessary.
Corrie tapped at her temple. “Seems a little odd, Benvin sends you blazing word he’s got a thing, right when Jace makes patrolman? Probably that other kid too. What’s his name?”
“Saitle,” Minox said.
“I doubt he sat on this,” Rainey said. “Even to get his squad up to full strength.”
“Who’s Jace?”
Minox realized that Jerinne Fendall was still with them, in her full regalia of Tarian uniform, with the blue-and-white buttoned coat with the shield emblem on the chest, as well as the shield on her back, sword at her hip. She looked like a drawing from a history book.
“He’s our brother, ’bout your age,” Corrie said. “He’s newly minted patrol in Aventil.”
“Miss Fendall wants to stick in my shadow,” Rainey said, and it was hard to tell if she was amused or annoyed by this. Perhaps a bit of both, though Minox often found his partner’s sense of humor inscrutable.
“And this morning you will be in mine, Inspector.” Miss Morad came up with Mister Olivant and Mister Hilsom. “Where is your counsel?”
“I’m certain Mister Cheever will be here shortly,” Minox said. “I’ve heard you’ve already been busy today.” Inspectors Mirrell and Kellman came up the back stairs, pages in hand. That settled the one mystery. “She had you two delivering the writs?”
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