She looked to Dayne, who nodded, even though he couldn’t look her in the eye.
“And Inspector Welling, did you see him? What about Maresh and Lin? Where’s Hemmit?”
“Welling!” Dayne said. He got to his feet. “They’re going to use him in the machine.”
“Make him into one of those creatures?” Asti asked.
“No,” Dayne said. “They’re going to use him to power the machine.”
It took a good half hour of whistleblowing before Satrine got a couple of night patrol constables to show up with a bodywagon and take the corpses away. Apparently, North Seleth was hardly patrolled at all, with only an understaffed Loyalty Waystation in the area. The patrol regulars were oddly unperturbed by several dead men in the middle of the street, and several more in the upstairs apartments of the gadget shop. All it took was her assurance that it was a GIU matter and she would come to the Keller Cove stationhouse later to sort the matter.
By the time that was done, she went into the gadget shop, to the back room, where Verci Rynax—shirtless with several bandages on his chest—was going through a satchel of weapons and devices. His wife was helping him sort things with a quiet calm while Kaiana Nell held their baby.
“Well, that’s settled,” she said as she came in. “In as much as nearly a dozen dead men in your shop can be.”
“I appreciate it,” Verci said. “Now how about you explain why you showed up at my shop in the middle of the night, exactly when I needed help.”
“A message from God?” Satrine said, even though she wasn’t sure what it was.
“I’m going to ask for a bit more than that,” Verci said. “Given everything I’ve seen today.”
“Same,” Kaiana said. “I was with her and I don’t understand it.”
“You remember how I found you last time?”
“You said something about a cloistress giving you a pastry.”
“Yeah,” Satrine said. “I know it makes no sense, but right when I needed your skills, I also happened to look at the bakery bag, and I followed the hunch and found you. The same cloistress who gave it to me, today she left me a mangled copy of the Testaments.”
“Mangled?”
“Written over, blotted out. Madness to look at it. But one of the first things it had was a rewritten passage about ‘listen to the gardener when she comes.’ And this one shows up at my door tonight.”
“The Thorn’s friend,” Verci said. “Where’s Mila?”
“Probably asleep in her bed like a sensible person,” Kaiana said. “I thought about getting her, but I didn’t know how to do that without creating a scene in her dorm.”
“I’m happier that you didn’t. She doesn’t need to be in this mess,” Verci said. He looked back to Satrine. “So that led you to me, because you saw me at that cult thing this afternoon?”
Satrine wasn’t sure how much to explain. “It’s more complicated than that, but roughly, the sister left a message only I would be able to understand in the book.”
He nodded, then his eyes went wide. “Wait, this sister. She wouldn’t happen to be a young blond girl, a bit wild in the eyes and spouting nonsense?”
That described Myriem fairly well. “Rather.”
He laughed like a fool. “She came here. She came . . . right when I was about to take off to chase Asti down the tunnels.”
“She did?”
“She called me Saint Terrence, and said my work was here . . .” He gasped, and looked at his wife. “If I had gone, those bastards would have killed you and Corsi.”
“Message from God, indeed,” his wife said, kissing her knuckle and touching her forehead with it. Acserian benediction.
“So you know the Thorn, and he went into the tunnels here with your brother . . .” Satrine remembered the message she had received from Major Grieson about Verci’s brother. “Former agent, right? He’s why Grieson knew you.”
“And Grieson knows you,” Verci said. “How about you, girl?”
“Kaiana,” she said. “And I don’t know who that is. I got sent to her by a girl in a Tarian uniform.”
“Jerinne,” Satrine said. “She works with Dayne, the big fellow at the Parliament.”
“He’s in this mess as well?” Verci asked. He finished his adjustments to one device, and then started looking through a selection of brass balls. “Here’s what I know. Those zealot fellows in Keller Cove arranged for a statue to be stolen from some fancy house in East Maradaine.”
“Lord Callwood’s Estate,” Satrine said. “What kind of statue?”
“Green jade, four arms. The two bastards who got away tonight made off with it.”
“How did you have it?” Satrine asked. After a moment of hesitation from him, she said, “In the interest of expedience, by my authority as an Inspector Second Class, I deputize you, Verci Rynax, as a Character of Material Information and statements you make regarding infractions of the law connected to your information will not be used to prosecute you for past misdeeds. Do you require a counsel from the Justice Advocate Office for your statement?”
He started to laugh. “Thank you, Inspector, but I was just thinking of the best way to explain it. But I appreciate that. The window-man the zealots hired, Kel Essin, he ran off with the statue, and when he found his friends had also been influenced by this . . . Brotherhood, he came to me. He knew I didn’t like him, but he figured I was safe. Shows what he knew.”
“The dead man upstairs,” Satrine said.
Verci nodded. “But I know about two other statues like that. One stolen from Lord Henterman’s place a few months back, and one—a much larger one—stolen from someone else out east, sold to unnamed parties.”
Satrine raised her eyebrow at that but didn’t comment.
“So why do they want the statues?” she asked.
Verci perked up at a sound out front, and grabbed one of his darts. A skinny young man, filthy and wild-haired, stumbled into the room and fell to his knees.
“Delmin!” Kaiana shouted, rushing over to him.
“Kid, what happened?” Verci asked.
“Machine . . . horror . . .” the young man said.
“Who’s this?” Satrine asked.
“He’s a mage,” Verci said. “He went down with Asti and the Thorn.”
“I . . . I . . .”
“He needs food,” Kaiana said.
Raych Rynax ran up the stairs, but Satrine reached into the pouch on her belt. She had long maintained the habit of keeping dried meat and nuts on hand for Minox. “Here.”
Delmin ate that greedily, and then took a cup of water from Verci. “I’m sorry, it took me so long—I screwed up, it took everything I had to figure out how to get normal-sized, so I had to walk so far.”
“Don’t worry about that, Del,” Kaiana said, stroking his head. Satrine remembered him now—Delmin Sarren, the witness she had interviewed in the fake Thorn attack. Of course, he was the Thorn’s associate.
“Mister Sarren,” Satrine said. “Can you tell us what’s going on?”
He nodded. “There’s a machine down there, that the Brotherhood has built. It’s science and magic and who knows what else. Those statues . . . they’re part of it. They channel the magic, through the spikes—”
“Spikes?” Satrine asked. Saints, were they the same spikes from the Plum murders? “To do what?”
“I don’t know, but it feels . . . twisted. Tainted.”
“I’m confident in thinking nothing they plan is good,” Verci said.
“Same,” Satrine said.
“Where’s Veranix?” Kaiana asked, before covering her mouth.
“I already knew,” Satrine said gently. “What happened down there?”
“Asti was able to stop them using the machine on two people, at least for a bit . . .”
“On two people?
”
“Two people were shackled on a platform. And there were two cages with . . . with children in them.”
“Why?” Verci asked.
“I’m not sure, but the numinic flow seemed like it was going through the cages, to the platform. At least what I saw.”
“And Asti?”
“Last I saw, he was held captive. Same with the Thorn, and that big Tarian fellow.”
Raych Rynax came back down with bread and cheese and wine, which Delmin happily took. “Thank you, Missus Rynax.”
“Least I can do,” she said. She looked to her husband. “And what are you going to do?”
He started loading the copper balls into the device he had been working on and gathering a few other tools and gadgets. “I’m going to go after my brother, unless there’s another message from God that says I shouldn’t.” He looked upward. “So this is the moment, huh? Let me know!”
The ground rumbled for a moment.
“Well, then,” Satrine said.
Delmin placed his palms on the ground. “This . . . they’re starting it. And there’s something more going on now.”
“More?” Kaiana asked.
He nodded. “Like . . . like the night of the Winged Convergence. But . . . different. Uglier.”
Verci started packing things in his satchel. “I’m going for my brother.”
“With a plan,” his wife urged. “And not alone.”
He sighed. “Inspector?”
“We both have partners in this,” she said. She took out her crossbow and checked it was loaded.
“Well, then,” he said. “Let’s give you something proper.” He went under one worktable and came up with a case. “A Rynax Boltsinger Mark II. Only one of its kind.”
He opened the case, revealing a gorgeous piece of work. He took the crossbow out and handed it to her.
“Half over again the range of that Constabulary issue, with double strings and triggers. Faster cocking and reload, and steel reinforced enough that you could crack it over someone’s head and not move the aim alignment a hair.”
Satrine looked it over, liking the weight of it in her hands. Even though it was heavier than her usual, it felt right, and she could still use it one-handed.
“Then let’s not dally,” he said, getting his shirt on. He then went into a satchel and pulled on a heavy leather coat, like the ones the patrol used for riot patrol, and draped his bandolier of darts over it. “Girl, you coming?”
“You call me girl again . . .” she groused. She helped Delmin to his feet. “Someone’s got to keep an eye on this one.”
“Back to the tunnels?” Verci asked.
“I don’t think so,” Delmin said. “It’s a lot of twists and turns down there. We . . .”
“Can you lead us to where their machine is from up here?” Satrine asked. “Maybe there’s a more direct way down from there.”
Verci put the satchel over his shoulder, and then put the one device over his left hand, like a gauntlet. “Then let’s be direct.”
Dayne felt nothing but burning shame. What had he become? How had that happened?
And why was the clarity of Crenaxin’s touch so . . . seductive? He almost craved it compared to the confusion and guilt he felt now. Under the man’s influence, everything was simple.
Which meant this power—the same sort of power that he had seen Ret Issendel use, he was certain—was dark and unholy, and must be stopped. He was certain of that. How many of the zealots down here, the people and the altered grotesques alike, were good folk whose souls had been twisted by Crenaxin.
He had to be stopped, and brought to justice.
“Do you know what he’s got planned?” Asti Rynax asked. Dayne was impressed that this small man was undeterred from moving forward, despite the beating he had taken at Dayne’s own hands. He was going through the storeroom, claiming his own weapons, as well as the army sword he had found among the gear.
“Put Welling into the machine?” the Thorn asked. He looked the worse for wear, but he had gathered his weapons and gear, and was back on his feet, eating a sandwich.
“How many of those did you bring?” Dayne asked him.
The Thorn looked at the sandwich. “This was, I think, in Inspector Welling’s bag. Acserian spiced pork. Highly recommend. He might be upset I ate it, but if I can’t get him out of the machine, he won’t care.”
“Put him in what machine how?” Jerinne asked.
“Do they want to change him?” Asti asked.
“Or do they need his hand?” Thorn asked.
“What about his hand?” Jerinne again.
“I’m not entirely sure,” Dayne said, holding his head. “I’m still . . . everything is a mess in here.”
“Yeah,” Asti said, coming up to Dayne. “Listen to me. That mess, you have to just accept that it’s there. You focus on it, you’ll lose everything. Find the thing you can focus on, keep that in front of you. Get the job done, drive forward.”
Dayne understood. There were people who needed saving. He would save them. “Right. Minox, he . . . they’re going to use him to power the machine. His hand, specifically.”
Asti double-checked his weapons. “I’m not clear on his hand. He’s a mage?”
“Yes,” the Thorn said. “But untrained. Raw and potent, especially his hand. It got changed somehow, so it’s almost made of magic.”
“They were going to use him, do one final test, and then they would . . . ‘tap’ into the power.”
“Those words, exactly?” the Thorn asked.
“And most of them went to the machine,” Jerinne said. “The camp here is nearly abandoned.”
“What about the kids?” Asti asked. “We need to save the kids.”
“Save the kids,” Dayne said. “Save Minox, save Maresh and Lin.” He looked to Jerinne on that, who nodded.
“And burn everything else here to ash,” the Thorn said.
“Saint Senea hear you,” Asti said back to him.
“They were leading some of the kids to the machine,” Dayne said. “They’re . . . part of how the machine works.” He shuddered, even though he wasn’t sure what that meant.
“Some, but not all?” Asti asked.
“They need them all for the tap, though,” Dayne said.
“You know where they are?”
Dayne nodded.
Asti paced the room, rubbing at his chin. “All right, I’ve got a good sense that the two of you are capable with those swords and shields. But you, big fella, you’re less keen on using them to hurt people. Mind games notwithstanding.”
“Right,” Dayne said.
“Thorn, you’ve really got no qualms along those lines. How are you feeling?”
“Ready to tear it down,” the Thorn said.
“And what do you have left in the quiver from Verci?”
The Thorn looked at his arrows. “Four smoke powder, three boom powder, two knockout. Plus a couple dozen sharp, pointy ones.”
“No acid?”
“Acid?” Jerinne asked.
“Used them against some dealers.”
“Acid?” Jerinne asked again.
Asti bit at his lip. “All right, down here, those boom powders should be a last resort. Don’t want to bring the roof on us.”
“He’s right,” Dayne said. “You already did that once.”
“That was Gurond.”
“Probably because you weakened it.”
The Thorn scowled, and focused on organizing his arrows in the quiver.
“We can presume the kids will be guarded, but a majority of the Brotherhood are near the machine, as are Crenaxin and Senek.”
“And Pendall Gurond,” Dayne said.
“You know his full name?” Thorn asked.
“I think that’s his ful
l name,” Dayne said. “He kidnapped the Vollingale boy because of a grudge between their families, and—”
“Pendall!” the Thorn shouted. He started to laugh, “Oh, that’s who he is. No wonder he’s mad at me.”
“You tangled with him before?” Asti asked.
“When he was, well, not like that. Big strong guy, worked with two other assassins. But strong guy like Dayne, not a . . . half-human monster. I thought I had killed him, actually.”
“We’re wasting time,” Jerinne said, looking out the door. “I can hear something in the distance.”
Asti went over to her. “That’s the machine. All right, fast and dirty plan. Dayne, you and I will go to the kids, handle any guards, and lead them to the fastest way out. You, girl—”
“Jerinne.”
“You’re with the Thorn. Thorn, you lay down some chaos, let her carve her way to the machine, get those people out. Then you shred the machine.”
“You know what I like,” the Thorn said. He looked to Jerinne and nodded approvingly, which she rolled her eyes at.
“That’s your whole plan?” she asked.
“Don’t let Crenaxin touch you,” Dayne said. “I think he needs to do that much to . . . change you.”
“Good tip,” she said. “All right, let’s move, ‘Thorn.’ Do I actually have to call you that?”
“Friends call me ‘Vee.’” He had grabbed a tool from the corner and knocked the end off, making an improvised quarterstaff.
“Fine, Thorn,” she said. She came over to Dayne and grabbed his hand. “You good?”
“No,” he said. “But I’m ready, and that will do.”
“Go get those kids,” she said, taking him in an embrace. “See you on the other side.”
“Be careful,” he told her. “We didn’t train for anything like this.”
“Doesn’t matter about the training. We’re Tarians,” she said. “We do what’s needed.”
“Jerinne,” the Thorn said. “Let’s move.”
She winked one more time at Dayne, and went out the door with the Thorn.
People of the City Page 27