People of the City

by Marshall Ryan Maresca

  “Yeah, I think this is good,” Kellman said. “I think Protector Hilsom will agree it’s a solid case.”

  “Of course it is,” Satrine said. “What’s next?”

  “There’s the Landorick murder,” he said, holding out the file folder. The other murder from yesterday.

  She scowled as she took it from him. “I don’t think there’s anything there. It looks like he was stabbed by a purse thief. I mean, tragic, but there’s nothing to work with.”

  “Commissioner’s office asked that someone here look into it.”

  “That’s just because Landorick used to be an inspector. Retired a couple years ago. Drop it on one of the new folks. Benson or Careese.”

  “Fine.”

  She knew what she needed to do. Exactly what Minox would do if he was here. “You want to head out to East Maradaine?”

  “What for?”

  “That robbery,” Satrine said. “There’s something hinky there.”

  “Sure there is,” Kellman said. “I mean, the guy refused to tell us what was stolen.”

  “You don’t think that’s odd?”

  “Course I do,” Kellman said. “But that means we’ve got no chance of breaking down the rest of it. I mean, maybe Welling would look at it and see some sort of pattern in the roads or the phase of the moons and figure it all out, but . . .” He shook his head. “I know I ain’t like that.”

  “It’s fine,” she lied. “I’m tired of his sewage, anyway.”

  “Well, it’s safe to go into the archives today,” Kellman said. “He took the day off.”

  She shrugged, acting like she didn’t care. Her whole body was filled with worry for him. She hoped he was right, whatever he was planning. She got up from her desk. If nothing else, some activity would occupy her attention.

  “Have we eaten?” Satrine asked. “One thing about working with Minox, you never missed a meal.”

  “I could eat,” Kellman said, putting the finished report on a clerk’s desk. “Anything in mind?”

  “Somewhere between here and East Maradaine,” she said. “I want one more round of talking to the staff. Maybe someone saw something. Maybe someone will let it slip what was taken.”

  “I like where your head’s at, Tricky,” Kellman said. “Let’s do it.”

  She got up and double-checked her handstick and crossbow. Ready for anything.

  She was certain Minox was as well. She trusted he knew what he was doing.

  Minox found the grounds of the University of Maradaine fascinating. On some level, he envied these children, being able to study for its own sake, but he knew that he would not have been happy in this environment. He could dig through records, research and analyze, but he needed that to have a practical end. The abstraction of university study never appealed to him.

  But if his magic had developed at a normal age, he would have been obliged to have come for study, to master his magic, to join a Circle. He wondered if Veranix Calbert bristled at being here, or if he relished it. But since the young man used his magic to fight the drug lords and Fenmere as the Thorn, he suspected that Veranix wasn’t a pure academic in his outlook.

  After a few minutes of walking through the grounds, Minox realized he had made a gross tactical error. He did not know exactly how to find Veranix on campus. He was here as a civilian, so he had no authority as an officer of the Constabulary. Even if he had tried to exert his authority, it could easily be called into question. Investigating on campus required writs and permissions, and since he was not operating in an official capacity, he could hardly call upon that authority.

  So he needed a different way to find Veranix, and before the campus cadets became too suspicious of what he was up to.

  Veranix had that rope, which was magical in nature, that he used in his fight as the Thorn. Minox had formed a connection to it, was able to use it much the same way he was able to use his magical hand. Perhaps he could sense it, and that could lead him to Veranix.

  He closed his eyes and tried to reach out with his magical senses. Feel his way to the rope, get any sense of direction or location.

  “Sir, what are you doing?”

  Minox opened his eyes to see a young, dark-skinned woman standing in front of him, long-handled gardening tool in her hand.

  “Sorry, miss, I—”

  “You’re standing in the pathway. My crew needs to work here.”

  “Your crew?” Minox looked to where she gestured, a few young men in work clothes.

  “The grounds crew, sir. We’ve got to clear the weeds on the pathway, tend to the—”

  “Of course,” Minox said, stepping out of her way. There was something familiar about her, but he couldn’t quite place it. “It’s just—”

  The words his brother had quoted this morning came to him. “Be guided by those who tend to the path.”

  “I’m looking for Veranix Calbert.”

  She startled for just a moment, then turned away. “I don’t work with the students, sir. I’m just in charge of the grounds.”

  Dissembling.

  “No, you know him,” Minox said, moving closer to her. The twitch of her eye, the tightness of her jaw, it all spoke volumes. “You know he’s the—”

  “Keep that up, all down to the south gate,” she ordered her men. Then she spun on her heel to face Minox, her grip on her tool tightening to strike. “You better walk away, mister, or I—”

  “I need his help,” Minox said, sensing she was protective of Veranix. Now he remembered why she was familiar. When he and Veranix stopped Enzin Hence in his monstrous form, she had been there. She was his friend. “I’m In—Minox Welling, I—”

  Her grip relaxed. “You gave him the files.” She grabbed him by the arm and led him away from the walkway, to the shade of a tree. “What’s going on?”

  “I’ve been tracking a lead, which involves the missing children of Dentonhill, and I suspect it is tied to the Circle of the Blue Hand. I was going to investigate their abandoned chapterhouse, but thought it unwise to go alone. I had hoped—”

  “Veranix would join you,” she said. “And he would, but he’s not around. He’s—he’s taking care of something else.”

  “When will he return?”

  She shook her head. “You think it’s urgent?”

  “I think lives are already at risk, yes, but I—” He hesitated. “I can’t involve the Constabulary on this. It’s—”

  “I get it,” she said, pursing her lips in thought. “Give me five minutes.”

  “What will happen in that time?” he asked.

  “I’ll be ready to come with you,” she said. “Where’s this chapterhouse?”

  “Price Street. Number 106.”

  “Wait here.”

  She jogged off, and he waited as instructed. She came back in five minutes, having changed her outfit to something that looked almost like the Thorn’s outfit without the cloak—maroon canvas slacks, leather boots, and a maroon vest. She had tied back her thick, dark hair, and was carrying something wrapped in cloth.

  “Let’s go,” she said. “I left him a note about where we’re going.”

  “Miss,” he said. “I asked for him because it is likely to be dangerous . . .”

  “I’m aware,” she said, holding up the bundle.

  “And what’s that?”

  “My father’s sword,” she said. “In case of trouble.”

  He couldn’t argue with that, though he had some small discomfort with any civilian walking about armed, especially with a sword. While he didn’t know her or her capabilities, he could tell she was determined. She didn’t hesitate at the idea of coming with him. “And you’re prepared to use it?”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Did you hear about the guy who killed everyone at the Letters Ceremony last spring?”

  “No, I
didn’t,” Minox said.

  She gave him a slight smirk. “Because I stopped him. All right?”

  Fair enough. “I didn’t get your name.”

  “Kaiana,” she said as she led him toward the east gate. “Kaiana Nell. You say we’re going after the Blue Hand?”

  “That’s where this investigation is starting.”

  “Then let’s go,” Miss Nell said. “I have my own account to settle with them.”

  Dayne’s walk led him to the history library at the Royal College, and some brief discussions with the librarian there and a bit of unsatisfactory research. The problem was he wasn’t sure what he needed to look for, but a nagging voice in his head told him it was something in the history of the city.

  The words of the parable of Saint Keller came to him again. “Hold close those that are dear, thy beloved friends, and do not fear to share your burdens with them, for their counsel and wisdom shall guide you.” Maybe he needed to talk it out. It was already past midday, he should eat something as well. So, even though it felt like he was admitting some sort of defeat, he went to the Nimble Rabbit.

  “There you are!”

  Sitting around the usual table were Hemmit, Maresh, and Lin, with Jerinne planted at the end, a wide grin on her face.

  “What are you doing?” Dayne asked.

  Jerinne shook her head. “Waiting for you to work your way over here, I think. I had checked over at the Parliament and you were gone, and I left you a note, and came here. Took you long enough.”

  “I’ve—I’ve been thinking about the missing children,” Dayne said, confused by what was going on. “It seems to be more widespread than we—or at least there’s a specific incident.”

  “What’s up?”

  “The giant took a child—a baron’s child—and it’s possible the giant has a grudge against the baron’s family.”

  “Personal?” Hemmit asked. “How is that?”

  “Someone named Gurond?” Dayne asked. “A noble family that lost their fortune?”

  Hemmit shook his head. “I don’t know the name.”

  Lin scoffed. “So this giant goes through Dentonhill, and Callon Hills, and saints even know where else, but no one sees him? How?”

  “Sewers?” Jerinne asked. “We heard he used a passage in that basement. Maybe he mostly stays underground.”

  “There’s a whole slew of tunnels, catacombs, and quarry digs beneath the city,” Hemmit said. “Who knows how those interconnect?”

  Lin shook her head. “Yeah, but he’d need a bridge or a boat to get across the river. He’d be seen.”

  The answer was on the edge of Dayne’s memory. He knew he had read something, a story, a piece of the nation’s history, that was exactly what he was looking for. But he couldn’t think of it.

  “The Necropolis of Saint Terrence Cathedral,” Maresh said quietly while sketching.

  That was it.

  “Yes!” Dayne said.

  “The what?” Jerinne asked. “Is this something to do with Terrentin? Are we doing gifts?”

  “Lady Mirianne has made it very clear she’s doing gifts,” Lin said.

  “No, no,” Dayne said. “Saint Terrence Cathedral, it’s part of the Royal College campus. So, during the Inquest, and then the Incursion of the Black Mage, Reverend Ottom Elt was sneaking people out of the city, and then when Oberon Micarum was captured—”

  “And held prisoner in the Bench,” Jerinne said.

  “Elt helped sneak Xaveem Ak’alassa, Hanshon Alenick, and . . . the Ch’omik warrior—”

  “Nancel-akra,” Maresh offered, looking up from his sketches. “The three were able to secretly enter this part of the city to rescue him. The details weren’t in any of the accounts, save Xaveem’s journal, where he notes coming through a passage. An ‘underbridge’ across the river and through—”

  Dayne jumped in, very excited. “Through the Necropolis of the Blessed House of Reverend Elt, which later became—”

  “Saint Terrence Cathedral,” Jerinne said, her face showing the same excitement Dayne was feeling. “So you think this Gurond came to the north side through that ‘underbridge’? You find it, maybe you find the way to him.”

  Dayne’s heart fell. “Except entrance to the Necropolis is forbidden to all but the clergy of Saint Terrence. And maybe the underbridge is just a legend. There’s no way we can—”

  “I’ve been there.”

  They all looked to Maresh.

  “Been where?” Lin asked.

  “The Necropolis. The underbridge. All of it.” Maresh poured himself another glass of wine and casually sipped at it.

  “What do you mean you’ve been there?” Hemmit asked, his voice jumping an octave.

  “It’s not like we were joined at the hip at RCM,” Maresh said. “Art students had access to certain archives, and . . . it was not unheard of to make an . . . excursion. Especially for the Charcoal Club.”

  “The what?” Lin asked.

  “This is the first I’ve heard of this,” Hemmit said. “What is the Charcoal Club?”

  Maresh gave a sly grin. “It’s . . . it’s kind of a secret society of artists at RCM, going back for generations. And part of the rite of passage is to sneak into the Necropolis and make a sketch by candlelight.”

  “Of one of the tombs?” Dayne asked.

  “Sure, of the tombs,” Maresh said, in a tone that implied that was not the correct answer at all.

  “I have a new level of respect for you,” Hemmit said.

  “Here’s the point,” Maresh said. “I’ve been down there. I know how to get down there, and how to get to the underbridge.”

  Hemmit threw back his glass of wine and stood up. “Then what are we waiting for?”

  “Wait,” Dayne said. “This is an illegal trespass.”

  “Dayne,” Jerinne said. “We’re talking about missing children. Who’ve been gone for days. And we don’t have a better lead. Shouldn’t we try?”

  Dayne hesitated. “Maresh, you’re certain you can get in there safely?”

  “Absolutely,” Maresh said.

  “All right,” Dayne said. “And you’re willing to guide me?”

  “Guide us,” Hemmit said. “You shouldn’t go alone.”

  “I’m in,” Lin said.

  Jerinne just smiled. Of course she was committed.

  “All right,” Dayne said. “Though I don’t have a—”

  “Stop,” Jerinne said, going under the table. She came up with a shield, and Dayne knew exactly which one it was. The shield he had done his third-year trials with. The shield she had when she faced Tharek Pell. She handed it to him. “You’ve got a proper Tarian shield now.”

  “But—”

  She pulled another one out. “I may have been instructed by Amaya to be properly armed. And she might be covering for me at the chapterhouse for the rest of the day. So you’re stuck with me.”

  “Thus I asked the question,” Hemmit said. “What are we waiting for?”

  Chapter 8

  THERE WAS AT LEAST ONE thing they needed to wait on: being properly dressed and equipped for a venture into underground tunnels. Hemmit was ready to head out straight from the Rabbit, but Maresh quickly corrected him about that notion. They needed water, lamps, and oil at the very minimum, and Hemmit’s soft shoes were probably ill-suited for the journey. Lin insisted she go home to change as well, so they had agreed to each get what they needed and meet back at RCM campus in half an hour.

  Hemmit raced to his flop to change to something appropriate, wondering what exactly he had that would fit the bill. He had the boots and the heavy canvas slacks he wore for his Wissen disguise. That and a work shirt, a canvas coat, that should do it. Was it cold in the tunnels? Hot? He had no idea.

  When he got into the flop, Amaya Tyrell was waiting for him, out of her usu
al uniform. He almost didn’t recognize her in civilian clothes.

  “Did we plan to meet?” he asked.

  “No,” she said. “I just—I’m not here for that.”

  He had been taking off his clothes.

  “Oh, no, I—sorry. I came here to change quickly.”

  She laughed. “Right. What’s going on?”

  “Briefly, Dayne is hunting a giant abductor of missing children, and Maresh knows where to look, and Lin and I will go along, in part because it’s a great story.”

  Amaya raised her eyebrow. “Is Jerinne with you all?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Should she not be?”

  “No, she . . . she should,” Amaya said, a bit lost in thought. “Stay close with her. All of you, watch each other’s backs.”

  “That’s the idea,” he said, finding the pants and shirt he wanted. “So what did you want?”

  “Kemmer,” she said. The surviving Haltom’s Patriot, who had supposedly learned the identities of the Grand Ten. He had reached out to Hemmit months ago, but had since gone quiet. “No more tiptoeing around it. I need to find him.”

  “I haven’t had any luck,” Hemmit said. “I think he’s gone to ground.”

  “Well, I need to try. What can you tell me?”

  Hemmit scratched at his beard. “Braning. He and Kemmer were tight, and he also got away from the Parliament without being arrested. He was a brick and pipe man with his brother, and their father before. So maybe you can ask around those circles to find him—”

  She nodded. “Yes. I can work with that.”

  “What’s the urgency?”

  “I’ve got a hunch,” she said. “I think there’s more connecting the Grand Ten to the missing kids and everything else you’re looking at. But the only one with answers—”

  “Is Kemmer. If you need, I could stay with you—”