Broken Quill [2]

by Joe Ducie

  “Of course. Just up the stairs and second on the left. Would you like to join us for a nightcap, Annie? Help you sleep.”

  “No, thank you. I can see you two need to catch up. Thank you for the bed. I’ll see you both tomorrow. Goodnight, Declan.”

  I waved twice, slowly back and forth. “Goodnight, Annie.”

  My young detective disappeared up the stairs and was gone. I could hear her footsteps on the wooden floors above us and then the faint sound of a heavy door clicking shut.

  Tia stared at me. “You like her,” she said.

  “What?” I chuckled. “You’re the second woman to tell me that in as many days. She’s nice, but she’s just a friend. And she’s engaged.”

  “Aye, I saw the ring.” Tia rubbed her hands together and walked behind her bar.

  I stood on the other side, arms resting on the polished mahogany. “So what do you call this place?”

  Tia hesitated and then smiled somewhat wistfully. “The Reminiscence.”

  “You named your bar after the ship you crashed into the Void?”

  Tia shrugged and licked her red lips. “What of it, my sweet exile?”

  “I thought you were trying hard to forget—”

  “Some things,” she said, squeezing my arm over the bar while pouring two shots of sapphire liquor from a gourd-shaped bottle. “Some things, like the three thousand soldiers I lost aboard the Reminiscence that day, deserve to be remembered. You understand?” She handed me one of the shot glasses, filled to the brim, and raised the other. “To old friends.”

  “To returning from the dead,” I said with a smile, and we tossed back the shots with the ease of long practice.

  The liquid rushed down the back of my throat as if it were antifreeze and burning oil all at once. I choked, gasped, and coughed in the same breath as Tia laughed and patted me on the shoulder.

  “Good gravy, Tia,” I rasped. “What is this stuff?”

  She laughed. “You’ve been living on Earth for too long, buddy. This is something new—from a world written up just before the Tome Wars ended and you degraded the Story Thread. Elysian Dragon’s Breath. Costs your weight in gems and more than a few favors, but I always keep a bottle or two on hand... in case old friends drop in unexpectedly.”

  “I think my heart stopped for a second there.”

  “So another then?”

  “Please.”

  Tia and I lassoed two stools on the patrons’ side of the bar and sat next to each other, hip to hip, sipping her fancy booze and catching up on old times. My sword dangled between the stools, hiding the celestial knife, Myth, flat against my leg. I’d almost forgotten how good it was, thinking about the past. Usually I wallowed in mistakes and regret, but Tia had been happy times. Happy times before the war kicked off for us and we began our service fresh out of the Academy. Even then, the war had thrust us together more often than not.

  I think certain people resonate in our lives, and no matter how much time or how many worlds stand between us, we often gravitate back to those same people. Call it a weak sort of fate, magnets at the right polarity, but years, distance—even death—were no match to whatever near-inconceivable force I felt at that moment, sitting with Tia at her bar and sipping rocket fuel.

  “Why didn’t you come here after your exile?” she asked. “We could have caught up long before now even if you didn’t know I was alive. You always enjoyed a drink, so I imagined you would’ve ended up here one lonely night. You could’ve worked for me, been a bartender. Meadow Gate’s got to be more interesting than whatever you do on dull, Will-less True Earth.”

  “I own a bookshop, actually,” I said, and watched Tia’s eyebrows climb up into her fringe. I smiled softly. “Yeah, rubbing salt in the wound, I know. I actually considered coming here, Tia. I did. Or one of the other accorded territories. But there was a whole lot of... anger in me after the Tome Wars. I needed to get away from anything and anyone who knew who I was and what I’d done. And I... well, shit, I lost someone very special.”

  Tia licked her lips. “Tal Levy.”

  “Yes. How did you...?” I shook my head. “Suppose a lot of people know, don’t they? How it all went down? The Degradation, the Renegade armies scattered or destroyed. How I held the Roseblade at their throats in Reach City and let it burn anyway. Damn, you see, we’ve both been trying to forget Forget, no? Only difference was that I got out, well and truly, on True Earth. No one I met there knew who I was or what I’d done.”

  “They forgive the past here, Declan. This is a safe place—a neutral place. Honestly, I didn’t care who won the Tome Wars once I’d heard it was all over. Meadow Gate gets to exist either way, so say the Ragnarok Accords.”

  I scoffed. “Come now, you hated the Renegades as much as anyone. That, more than anything, was drilled into us from day one back at the Academy. You weren’t a little happy when old King Morpheus practically surrendered to the Lords’ Council?”

  “About as happy as I imagine you were when Jon Faraday claimed the Dragon Throne. Lot of rumors, even here, that it should have been you, Declan. You earned it.”

  “If the cost of that throne was an ocean of blood then yeah, I did.” I rubbed at my eyelids and forced the scowl from my face. “But let’s not talk about that, eh? Tell me what you’ve been doing with yourself. I honestly can’t tell you how pleased I am to find you alive.”

  “Missed me, did you?”

  “Yes. We all did. Marcus, Sophie, Aaron, Clare—”

  Tia’s eyes lit up. “Oh, Clare Valentine. Sweet Clare with her ever-changing eyes. She and I had some fun times chasing you fool boys around Ascension and Farvale back in the Academy days. Have you seen much of her since your exile?”

  I stroked the back of Tia’s warm hand. “She was killed, Tia. About three months back. The Renegades broke the ceasefire on the Plains of Perdition surrounding Atlantis, and she... Damn it all. She gave her life to save me. I never deserved her.”

  Tia’s face fell, and she swatted at her eyes, wiping away new tears shed in the same old ways. “Broken quill, Hale, is there anyone left alive, save you?”

  “Faraday, Creed, and his whole gang of lords and ladies. King Renegade’s queen, more than a handful of the old enemies, Renegade disciples and the like. The whole ruling class of the Knights Infernal.” I took another sip of sapphire fire. “New enemies, too, but I’m working on that...”

  “Bah, Fenton Creed. Sleaze on legs. I mean anyone I liked.”

  “Sophie lives, and she’s somewhat happy with this unfound doofus from Perth, back on True Earth. Nice kid, actually. Saved me from a stint in Starhold a while back. Him and Clare both.”

  Tia refreshed our drinks, pouring the blue liquid once again to the rim of the shot glasses. “One for Clare,” she said. “May Origin keep her safe until rebirth.”

  I drank to that and cherished the cool burn as the otherworldly liquor ran down my throat.

  Tia looked a little unsteady on her stool after that shot, and I gave her my arm to lean on. She pressed her weight against my side, warm and sure. “Are you trying to get me drunk, Mr. Hale?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  She frowned and ran a finger down the bridge of my nose. “Why aren’t you even tipsy?”

  “Call it long practice, my dear. The stuff on Earth may not have this particular kick, but the proof is through the roof.” She giggled. “Tia, what you said just now, about Origin and—”

  She waved my words away. “Just something they say around here. It’s nice, like a little prayer. For the departed, lonely, and broken hearted, honey.”

  I’d heard it before—recently—on the burning boardwalk where Emissary had slaughtered so many so swiftly... so easily. What had he said? Times were, even the smallest of your kind could wield Origin and protect their souls against our touch. Now... you are scattered.

  “Origin’s another word for Will?” I asked.

  “Yep. Close enough, I think.” Tia still leaned against me, holding hersel
f up, and the warm scent of alcohol on her breath made me want to follow it back to the source. Soft, red lips, parted and shining in the dull light. She watched my face and smiled. “Oh, no you don’t, Declan Hale. I am far too pretty and precious for you.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes, and much too old.”

  I laughed. “What are you? Thirty?”

  She scoffed. “Twenty-eight, Mister.”

  “Well, I’m twenty-five. You’d practically be robbing the cradle...”

  Tia sighed. “I remember when you were seventeen, last time I saw you. Hell, I remember when you were twelve and already in the advanced classes at the Academy. So long ago it seems.”

  “Remember in advanced warfare, first time we met, and you were stuck with me as your partner? The cheeky little shit who was too clever for his own good? Raising merry hell every other week?” I chuckled. Merry hell was putting the kind of trouble I caused at that academy mildly. “God, I was so nervous when they put us together. You were fifteen and gorgeous and already being considered for an apprenticeship under Commander Jade in his Cascade regiment.”

  “You never seemed nervous, and we took the championship that year in the Academy Games, if I remember correctly.” Tia spun the half-empty bottle of liquor around on her bar. “You know, I think I miss those days. Things were a lot simpler back at school.”

  “Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt,” I muttered. “Another round, Miss Moreau?”

  Tia considered and then nodded. “I can’t think of one good argument against it. You pour, though. I’m seeing double here...”

  “Yes, you are.” I dabbed at the tears cutting silent tracks down Tia’s cheek with the sleeve of my shirt and gently rested my fingers on the terrible scar that practically cut her pretty and precious face in two.

  “Got that escaping the Void,” she muttered. “You know how hard it is to heal cuts from a Voidling... Guess I was lucky it closed at all.” She sniffed and tapped her glass against the bar. “Service in this place is terrible.”

  I poured, and we drank again, just sipping at the rocket fuel this time, and fell into an old, comfortable silence. The hour was late, and I thought of Annie asleep upstairs and what misery Emissary was inflicting upon Perth. Here I am drunk and useless... but not alone. Branded as I was, I’d be nothing but annoying if I faced Emissary now. I needed the healers in Ascension City. I needed Knights at my back and a fleet of warships at my command.

  “To days long gone,” Tia said and tossed the rest of her drink back. “Tell me more stories about those old days, Declan. I’m just going to rest my eyes for a...” She yawned, scrunching up her nose like a tiny, oriental rabbit. “... for a minute.”

  So I spoke of the old days and of the little things. Sneaking out of the Academy at night and catching a shuttle to Farvale. The hundreds of little secret passages and tunnels on the Academy grounds, built over thousands of years of students coming and going. I reminded Tia of Sentinel Worthington, the doddering old librarian in the Infinite Catalogues, and how he used to disappear into the stacks for months at a time and emerge hollow, gaunt, and sporting a prickly silver beard. Rumor was he’d traveled to more worlds than any other Knight in history. I spoke of our friends, the long dead, and not how they’d died but how they’d lived. Somewhere between one or two o’clock, according to the clock in my head, Tia’s breathing evened, and she dozed against my shoulder.

  I carefully maneuvered her off the stool and into my arms. The petite thing, five feet and a dime, weighed about as much as a feather pillow. I carried her over to the leather couches lining the lounge area, taking it slow between the empty tables, and put her down gently. She murmured something about a violin and eyelashes, frowning in her sleep. Her boots came off easily, and I covered her with a tasseled red blanket slung over the back of the couch.

  “Goodnight, Tia,” I whispered and thought about kissing her cheek. I stumbled back to the bar for another shot of fine liquor instead. “I’m glad you’re not dead.”

  Sometime later, halfway between midnight and dawn, I fell asleep with my head against the polished mahogany and my hand clutching a bottle full of nothing but blue dregs and the morning’s regret.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Midweek Mishaps

  I woke to the smell of frying food and a gentle tapping on my shoulder. Sitting up at the bar, I instantly regretted shots six through ten. Sunlight streamed in from the high eastern windows, playing with the dust on the air, and I groaned against the harsh radiance.

  “Oh... sweet holy hell.” My head spun a loop on creation’s most nauseating roller coaster. “Annie, am I dead?”

  My young detective swam into focus, sitting on the same stool Tia had used last night. She looked me up and down, judging me that way women do with a single you’ve-no-one-to-blame-but-yourself glance, and chuckled. “So you are human, after all.”

  “Please tell me you’ve got some ibuprofen tucked away in that jacket of yours.”

  “No such luck, I’m afraid. Tia said to come get you. Breakfast is on the table.”

  My stomach grumbled at the scents wafting through from the next room. I could almost pluck the sizzling meat and toasted bread out of the air. Something entered the fray that smelled a lot like fried eggs and melted butter, and I was bested. However, standing up proved to be a challenge, and Annie graciously offered her arm. I glared at the empty bottle of blue liquor, resting upright and proud on the bar, and vowed never to drink again.

  Or perhaps I’d never stop drinking again and outfox the inevitable hangover that way.

  “Did you sleep well?” I asked, rolling my neck around in slow circles. Using the bar for a pillow had buried a railroad spike of pain between my shoulder blades. “Been a long few days, hasn’t it?”

  “I got a few hours. The bed was comfortable, and I could smell the fields of honeyberries through the open window. Like cinnamon and caramel all squished together.”

  We walked around the bar and through the swinging kitchen doors. In stark contrast to the dull light in the bar, the kitchen was full of warm sunlight streaming in through high windows. “You like it here then?”

  “I’m still trying to absorb the fact that I’m not on Earth. It all seems so... so real.”

  “It is real,” Tia said, turning around from the stove with a frying pan of spitting bacon and a big, white smile on her face. “Good morning, sunshine. You look terrible.”

  “Good morning, Tia. Why are you so chirpy and upbeat and not regretting that bottle we polished off last night?”

  “I guess I just handle my drink far better than you.”

  I gave her a look of deep mistrust. “Guess so.”

  Tia chuckled. “Actually, hotshot, drink a glass of this juice.” She poured me a tall glass of honey-colored liquid, nice and frosty. “Natural remedy, made from the berries. Get some of this breakfast into you, and you’ll be right as rain in half an hour.”

  I could only sip slowly at the thick, syrupy glass of juice, but it was delicious and did something almost straightaway for the pounding in my head. Taking a seat at the old, worn oak table, I sat up a little straighter and scraped butter over toasted sourdough.

  “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help?” Annie asked Tia. “I feel like I’m abusing your hospitality here, what with only just meeting you yesterday and all.”

  “Nonsense. You brought this sorry sod back to me,” she replied, pointing a ladle full of scrambled eggs at me. “That, more than anything I can think of, is the best thing to happen in some time.”

  “I’m glad to see you, too.”

  “Happy I’m not dead,” Tia muttered with an honest grin and dished scrambled eggs with a dash of paprika onto a big serving plate.

  Breakfast was fattening, greasy, and just what I needed to get me feeling partway toward normal again. Under the table, I rolled up the sleeve on my shirt to get a look at Emissary’s brand. The rune didn’t hurt so much anymore—it was more like a dull
ache—but the purple veins spreading around from the wound looked somewhat troubling. Like an infection. The skin just around the burned tissue had wrinkled as if it were decaying flesh bloated in still water.

  Ugh, that made my stomach turn. I covered the brand and rejoined the conversation.

  “There’s some trouble back home,” Annie said to Tia. “Declan’s acting in... somewhat of a consultancy role with the WA Police.”

  Tia offered me a cheeky grin. “She arrested you, didn’t she?”

  “As sharp as ever, Moreau.”

  “So what trouble back home has got you flaunting your exile—”

  A shadow flickered across the table through the window over the sink, and a steady but firm knock rattled Tia’s backdoor. Through the thin blinds, I could see the outline of a man wearing what resembled a businessman’s Stetson.

  Tia glanced over and frowned. “Oh, well this isn’t going to be good news.” She looked at me, shrugged, and got up to answer the door. “Mayor Stormborn,” she said, an almost imperceptible edge to her voice. Renegade armies had been scattered with less. “Good morning.”

  “Tia,” Stormborn said, casting a quick look my way over her shoulder. His smile rippled and almost failed, but he corrected quickly. “Good morning, my dear. Good morning indeed. I wonder if I may have a moment of your time, and of your guest’s over there. My word, it is him, isn’t it? Declan Hale himself.”

  “Howdy, Mayor,” I said, offering a quick salute. He was alone, it seemed, but it was all too easy to imagine an armed guard nearby, perhaps sneaking through the bar while we were distracted. I kept my hand in reach of my sword, much good it would be against firearms and anyone with a drop of Will.

  “You’d better come in then,” Tia said. “Yes, that is Declan, and this is Annie.”

  Stormborn spared Annie a fraction of his gaze. “Charmed, my dear. From True Earth, yes? How remarkable. I’ve not been back there myself in nearly fifteen years. And you, Mr. Hale, why I can’t—”

  “Declan’s fine,” I said.