People of the City

by Marshall Ryan Maresca

  “I don’t know how well he can hide,” Veranix said.

  “He did rather effectively for months,” Minox said. “But more to the point, we know that the Brotherhood had infiltrated the Constabulary, and who knows where else.”

  “Ren Poller,” Verci said darkly.

  “How do you know they infiltrated the Constabulary?” Asti asked.

  “The spikes in the machine,” Minox said. “They were in evidence custody from a murder case we worked, and they had been stolen, with all record of their existence eradicated. Seven of the eight spikes.”

  “So that hole was for the missing one, not you,” Asti said.

  “We had lent one to a consultant for study,” Satrine said. “As far as I know, he still has it.”

  “We should check in with Dresser regarding that,” Minox said.

  “Major Dresser?” Veranix asked. “Stern guy, tight hair? Mage?”

  “You know him?” Satrine asked.

  “He’s my new professor.”

  “Is no one troubled by the various chains of events that led us all here today?” Asti asked.

  “Immensely,” Minox said.

  “I really feel we need to talk about Sister Myriem,” Veranix said.

  “Yes,” Jerinne said.

  Dayne remembered his odd encounter with the girl the other night, how her words had put him on the path to share his troubles with Hemmit and Maresh, which then led to them going into the tunnels. After recounting it, the others each had their own story of her, though Satrine was quiet and contemplative for most of this conversation.

  “What’s odd was,” Jerinne said between bites of her third bowl of sradtikash, “she acted like I freaked her out more than she was freaking me out.”

  “How so?” Satrine asked.

  “Like . . . she had this whole thing like she was remembering today. But that she didn’t remember me being part of it.”

  “You did miss a fair part of it,” Asti said.

  “More like . . . I wasn’t supposed to be here. I was supposed to be somewhere else. And . . . I was a bit out of it, but—she knew my name, and said we weren’t supposed to meet until next year.”

  “You know what else?” Veranix said. “She talked to me like she knew me.”

  “Well, she did that with all of us,” Verci said.

  “No, I mean, she . . . for a moment there, she knew me. Like I was a dear old friend she hadn’t seen in years.”

  “She kept saying something about being who she was supposed to be tomorrow,” Jerinne said, looking to Veranix. “Is that possible? Can magic—or whatever she was doing—can that be used to know the future?”

  Veranix paused for a moment. “I’m not the best person to ask about mystical theory. I know that what we call ‘magic’ is just a small part of the forces that affect the world.”

  “There’s psionics,” Asti said. “And whatever the blazes Crenaxin was doing.”

  “Right,” Veranix said. “Maybe she’s something else. Maybe time itself is one of those forces, and she can tap into it like Minox and I can with magic.”

  “Maybe it’s simpler than that,” Satrine said. “How faithful are you all?”

  “I make my prayers to Saint Senea,” Veranix said.

  “Kimber makes sure I go to services from time to time,” Asti said.

  Satrine smiled ruefully. “I’ve been thinking a lot about how what we faced was not just evil, but . . . unholy. It needed to be stopped. And as astounding as it sounds, maybe . . . maybe we were the instruments God needed to stop it. So God touched the mind of a troubled, angry girl, a great and terrible brush with something infinite. Just enough so she could ensure that we were there.”

  The table was quiet for a moment.

  “I would say that’s a lot to swallow,” Verci said. “Except you showed up at my shop at three bells in the night, exactly when I needed you. I don’t have a better explanation for that.”

  “Maybe the saints did hear our prayers,” Asti said. “And sent her to us. Not the strangest thing I’ve seen.”

  “I just hope—” Satrine stumbled on her words for a moment. “I pray that the brothers are able to help her. That she’ll have some measure of peace when she wakes. If she wakes.”

  The servers came over with seven glasses of Fuergan whiskey. Dayne raised his up to them all.

  “To all of you,” Dayne said as he got to his feet. “Thank you for . . . for reaffirming my faith. For being the people this city needed in this dark hour. For courage and cleverness and . . . compassion. I was honored to stand with you all.”

  They all drank.

  “Though,” Veranix said, getting to his feet. “I truly hope nothing like this is ever necessary again.”

  “Well said,” Asti said. “We would really like the quiet life of honest businessmen.”

  “Try to keep it that way,” Satrine said.

  “I should be getting back to campus,” Veranix said. “I might even make it to my theory class.”

  “We should get to the shop,” Verci said, tapping Asti’s shoulder. “Someone cleared out our inventory and we need to get building.”

  “We’ll be sending you a bill, Thorn,” Asti said.

  “I’m good for it,” he said. “But speaking of—”

  The proprietor came over, “Oh, no. My husbands just told me all the things that happened by the church. It is us who have a debt to you all, so we offer this feast to you as recompense.”

  “Are you sure, sir?” Dayne asked. “We did eat a lot.”

  “And you have earned it,” the proprietor said.

  “I should get back to my home,” Minox said, getting up. “I have profuse apologies to offer to my mother. And also my brother. I may have broken his wrist at one point.”

  “He kind of deserved it,” Satrine said. “I get to go to the stationhouse and write up a lot of reports to my captain over this.”

  “I can aid—” Minox started.

  “No,” Satrine said. “Formally, you weren’t there, and officially, we’re still mad at each other. We should still maintain that fiction.”

  “You fear we’ve not seen the last of the Brotherhood?” Dayne asked.

  “Even if we have, there’s an infection they leave behind,” Satrine said. She specifically pointed to Asti. “Stay where I can find you if I need you.”

  “Joyfully,” Asti said flatly.

  Satrine patted Dayne on the shoulder, embraced Jerinne, and left the shop. Minox walked out behind her, giving only a slight salute. Asti and Verci left without ceremony or sentiment.

  Veranix walked over to Dayne’s end of the table.

  “We did all right, didn’t we?”

  “For two people who have very different . . . philosophies,” Dayne said. “We made an effective team.”

  “Listen,” Veranix said. “I’m not sure how much stock I should put in this, but . . . your friend Maresh, he died right in front of me.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Dayne said.

  Veranix shook it off. “Not the first person I’ve seen die. Won’t be the last. But he was talking in the end. He said, ‘Tell Dayne, don’t trust.’”

  “Don’t trust what?” Jerinne asked.

  “I don’t know,” Veranix said. “He just said that, over and over, until he stopped breathing. I couldn’t tell you what it means, but I thought you should know.”

  “Thank you, Veranix,” Dayne said, offering his hand. “Call on me if you ever need.”

  “Same to you,” Veranix said, taking it. “Jerinne, feel free as well.”

  Jerinne took his hand. “Give Kai my best, all right?”

  He paused at that for a moment, chuckled knowingly, and left.

  “And us?” Jerinne said. “We are probably in so much trouble with Amaya, with the Grandmaster, with th
e Order.”

  “Indeed,” Dayne said. “All the more reason why we should get home.”

  Chapter 26

  JERINNE WAS BONE TIRED WHEN they got to the chapterhouse, but she was happy to walk in with Dayne right next to her, the two of them both in their Tarian tunics, shields on their arms, swords at their hips, and covered from head to toe in scrapes, smudges, and scorches.

  Today they had been Tarians, and no matter what scourging awaited them when they walked in the door, they had earned every mark, every bruise, and every tear on them. She would wear them with pride, and not one harsh word from Amaya, the Grandmaster, or any third-year Initiates would shame her.

  The first people who spotted them were Iolana and her mentor, an Adept whose name Jerinne had never learned.

  “Saints above,” the Adept said. “What the blazes have you two been digging into? Heldrin, you look like you’ve fought the whole host of sinners.”

  “Something like that,” Dayne said.

  Iolana, meanwhile, was glaring at Jerinne.

  “What?” Jerinne finally said.

  “Why is it always you?” Iolana asked, and stalked off.

  “Sorry,” the Adept said. “I’ll go have a word with her.”

  “No need,” Jerinne said.

  “We should go speak to the Grandmaster,” Dayne said. “Let’s not belabor that.”

  He took the lead as they went up the stairs, past the Initiate bunks, past the gawks and stares, and then up to the Grandmaster’s aerie. Jerinne had never been up here before, and was surprised how easily Dayne just walked up without invitation or summons.

  “Sir,” Dayne said as they entered, knocking on the doorframe. “If we could have a moment?”

  Grandmaster Orren was at his desk, hunched over a pile of papers with a look of great consternation on his face. He looked up, and for a moment, there was a look of genuine shock on his face.

  “Dayne!” he shouted, coming over with grace and speed that belied his age. “Miss Fendall. You both . . . I presume you’ve been in a situation.”

  “You could say that,” Dayne said. “I want to take full responsibility for Jerinne. She should not be reprimanded for breaking curfew or missing training—”

  “I don’t care about that,” the Grandmaster said. “I’m simply gratified you are both alive and safe. It . . . I presume you are unaware, but the Order has received something of a shock today, and . . .” He stumbled on his words, his throat choking. “I’m just happy to see you home.”

  “What’s wrong?” Dayne asked. “How can I help?”

  “Dear saints,” Orren said. “You two walk in here, clearly having been through something traumatic, deeply in need of the baths if not the infirmary. And the first thing you do is ask how you can help.” He chuckled ruefully. “I am humbled by you, Dayne Heldrin.”

  Jerinne coughed uncomfortably. “I should go clean up. I’m sure Madam Tyrell is screaming for me.”

  The Grandmaster sighed. “No, she most is definitely not. I’m afraid Madam Tyrell is not here.”

  “Is she all right?” Dayne asked.

  “I cannot speak to her health, but she has gone into hiding, as she is wanted by the authorities.”

  “What?”

  “I do not have all the details, but it appears that she was embroiled in a conspiracy to overthrow the government. Her crimes were discovered, so she murdered her co-conspirators and fled.”

  “I cannot believe that, sir,” Dayne said. Jerinne didn’t say anything, but her instincts matched Dayne’s.

  “I am struggling to understand it myself,” the Grandmaster said. He glanced uncomfortably at Jerinne. “We should discuss this privately. Perhaps, Miss Fendall, your instinct to clean up and join your cohort is correct.”

  “Of course, sir,” Jerinne said, giving Dayne a quick glance that she hoped communicated the depths to which she did not believe Amaya had been involved in any of the things the Grandmaster had just reported. His expression was not as confident, but he gave her a nod to go.

  She left, and made her way to the barracks for the other third-year Initiates. Raila Gendon was waiting there for her.

  “I see Iolana told you I was back,” she said.

  “What the blazes happened to you?” Raila asked. “You just vanished and Vien made a stink and then Madam Tyrell told us to quiet down but you were gone all night and . . . saints, look at you.”

  “I’ve been in it,” Jerinne said, stripping off her torn-up uniform. “What’s this nonsense about Madam Tyrell?”

  “Can you believe it? It’s apparently in all the newssheets. There was this conspiracy where this group calling themselves the Grand Ten were trying to overthrow the government. Like, a member of Parliament and a Duchess and some general and I don’t even know who. But Madame Tyrell was part of it.”

  “Really?” Jerinne asked. “Madame Tyrell trying to overthrow the government?”

  “Well, it makes sense she was into something shady,” Raila said. “I mean, come on. She made Adept after one year of Candidacy. That never happens. And why did she stay in Maradaine, where she had her Initiacy, unless to be in a place of power.”

  “There could be—”

  “And look what she did to you. Keeping you on the bottom of the roster, denying you a mentor. Because she was threatened by you. Maybe she thought you and Dayne were onto her. She and Dayne had been close in Initiacy, you know. He’d know if something was wrong so she made a point of keeping him away. Let me tell you, it all makes sense that Amaya Tyrell is bad news.”

  Jerinne was about to protest how none of that made sense, but Raila went on.

  “I’m just saying, she was rude and a bully, and I’m certainly glad she’s gone, and glad that if she shows her face again, she’ll end up locked away at Quarrygate. Or even better, Fort Olesson.”

  Jerinne had never seen ugliness of this sort from Raila Gendon. It was more than a little off-putting.

  “Saints, look at you,” Raila said now that Jerinne was down to her skivs. “You’re a right mess, my friend. I want to hear all about your whole adventure. How about we go down to the baths and you tell me all about them? Just you and me?”

  Ten minutes ago, that would have been everything Jerinne wanted, but now it was distinctly unappealing.

  “You know,” Jerinne said. “I’m completely exhausted. I think I’m going to just clean up quick and go to sleep. Figure out everything tomorrow.”

  “Oh,” Raila said. “Of course, I should have realized. I’ll . . . I’ll leave you to it.”

  Raila left. Jerinne found her drycloth and got ready to go to the baths. If anyone gave her a hard time about her plans for the rest of the day, she would crack their nose open. Later, she’d find out what was really going on with Amaya, because whatever this story was, it was pure sewage.

  Jerinne remembered her last conversation with Amaya, and that seemed like a good place to look for the source of the sewage: Colonel Altarn of Druth Intelligence.

  But that was a mission for another day.

  Dayne waited as Jerinne left, and the Grandmaster went back over to his desk.

  “Tea, Dayne?” he asked as he poured himself a cup. “I think you could use some.”

  “Rather,” Dayne said. “Can you explain further what is going on with Amaya?”

  “I wish I could,” the Grandmaster said. “I am shocked that she had such secrets.”

  Dayne scowled. Amaya did have secrets, that was true. He remembered she told him she didn’t trust the Grandmaster, especially in terms of how Jerinne was being treated by the Order. How he had kept Dayne isolated and nearly exiled. Perhaps that was coloring his read of this conversation, but something about the Grandmaster was a warning.

  He was being too kind.

  Perhaps a test was in order.

  “You should know that Jer
inne and I had been working together on Amaya’s request,” he said. “She wanted to supplement Jerinne’s training, since she never received a mentor.”

  “Hmm,” the Grandmaster responded, as if it was just a curiosity. “And she told you to keep it secret. See, that’s another thing. Perhaps she was planning on positioning you and Jerinne as weapons she could use in her ploy. Or perhaps you were her scapegoat if things went wrong.”

  “Scapegoat?” Dayne asked, taking the tea the Grandmaster offered. “How so?”

  “Well, perhaps she then asked another favor. Look into this, chase after that. Something that seems noble and appropriate, but when it went wrong, what would you do?” The Grandmaster chuckled. “I know you well enough to answer. You would take whatever blame there was to protect her. You did it just moments ago to protect Miss Fendall. It’s in your nature, Dayne. It’s why you’re a Tarian.”

  “Just a Candidate,” Dayne said. “And we both know that’s all it will be.”

  “Tell me about this escapade,” the Grandmaster said. “Did Amaya start it?”

  “Not at all,” Dayne said, sitting down. He recounted what he could—Golman Haberneck, the Vollingale boy, the journey underground, the Brotherhood, the Thorn, the battle in Saint Bridget’s Square—only leaving out the details that were not his to share.

  “If it wasn’t for Jerinne, I would have been lost,” Dayne said. “I don’t understand the power Crenaxin wielded, but . . . I don’t know if I’ll ever feel clean of it. What I did, what I could have done.”

  “Yes, I can imagine,” he said, his voice haunted. “Like you’re a passenger in your own body as it commits horrors . . .”

  “Yes, exactly,” Dayne said. He was grateful that the Grandmaster seemed to understand. “If Jerinne hadn’t been able to crack through to me, I don’t know what would have happened.”

  “Then we are all very fortunate she was there. That you both were there.” He sighed. “In light of these revelations about Amaya, I do feel I have made mistakes.”