“You think we’re really going to see more patrons?” Sofia asked.
“That depends on whether the city recovers. But knowing Diregloom, if you’re crazy enough to stay open, you’ll have all the customers you’ll ever want.”
Chapter Fifty-Two
IT WAS IMPOSSIBLE TO avoid the spectacle of the fire as they headed west across the city to the Black Rock Mission. The fire at the sawmill had spread to a block of structures along the same side of the street. While some of these were businesses or unoccupied, a few were homes to several families who were now standing by miserably as the firefighters worked.
Jamie hurried past Digger towards the mission. The air tasted of ash. But for now it appeared that the blaze was contained.
The mission was one of the few places Digger had never set foot inside. The couple of bodies he had picked up from their charity shelter had been cleaned and wrapped in shrouds. The solemn sisters in their black habits would be waiting outside as if handing off a parcel for delivery.
Something about the kitchen and shelter had always struck him as odd. Ostensibly the sisters clung to the faith of their church, which in turn preached a history of fel as soulless monsters spawned of man’s flesh and sin. But they included fel among their number and opened their doors to all.
Even more of a mystery was the mission’s hospital on West Island. According to Isabel, Jamie had been a patient there while she had been working at the mission. Digger had never gotten more of the story, and few in the city knew much of the goings-on in the hospital as it was staffed solely by the order. The entire island was off-limits by decree of Queen Claudia.
By the time they made it within sight of the wrought iron gate of the mission, Digger couldn’t stop yawning and felt numb to the sounds and sights around him. Despite the fire and the night’s madness, businesses were opening. Carts and riders passed them by. He was dragging and barely able to lift his feet. At least once Jamie had to pull him out of the way of a rider trotting past. But now as they were confronted with the closed gate, Digger came alert as a creeping unease filled him. He also realized he wasn’t carrying a weapon.
At least Jamie had his rapier. The young noble pushed and pulled at the gate. Locked. He banged the bars with the palm of his hand.
“Hey! Hello?”
At first Digger thought they were early, but it was over an hour past sunup. If the mission still served breakfast to those in need, it should have been in full swing.
Someone emerged from a set of doors across a quad beyond the gate. She was a stout pureblood with thick eyebrows and wearing a black habit.
“No food this morning,” she called. She started to duck back inside.
“Wait!” Jamie called. “We’re not here for that. Sprite—Isabel—is she here?”
The sister came closer. “She’s gone. She left with the others...with her kind.”
“My kind, you mean?” Digger asked. “Fel? Where did they go?”
Shielding her mouth as if to not be overheard, the sister said, “She took them all with her before dawn. It was all such a confused rush. I’m oh so worried. I don’t understand why—”
Another woman in a habit appeared and called to her. “Get inside. Send them away.”
“If you see Isabel, tell her Claudette will be praying for her.” She hurried off towards the door.
“But where did they go?” Jamie asked. But it was no use. She vanished and the door shut.
“I’m an idiot,” Digger said. “The old bakery next door to the bar. Isabel bought it and was setting it up as a shelter. We were right there.”
Jamie headed for a nearby market square where stalls were already serving their first customers. He found a cart with two horses. A hunched woman chewing an unlit cigar sat on the driver’s board and stared at them. Jamie pulled a wad of scrip from a pocket and handed it to her without counting.
“Temperance District. Dragon and Rose. You know it?”
The woman nodded.
“Take us there.”
Digger climbed into the back and, despite the bouncing ride and loud clatter of wheels on cobblestones, slept. When Jamie woke him, they were in front of the bar. Digger jumped out and crossed the burned lot to the cellar doors of the bakery. Knocked.
Hushed whispers came from somewhere inside.
“Isabel? Are you in there? Jamie’s out here and he’s going to have kittens if you don’t come outside.”
The cellar doors pushed open. Two nervous fel women looked out at Digger.
Isabel came hurrying over, her honey eyes bleary. “I told you sisters not to open it for anyone. Digger?”
“Jamie’s here looking for you.”
She sighed before coming up from the cellar. She and Jamie embraced. Isabel then shut the cellar and led Digger and Jamie towards the back entrance of the Dragon and Rose. They had the alley to themselves.
“Jamie can fill you in on what happened,” Digger said.
Jamie clung to her hands. “My aunt’s alive. Digger saved her.”
Isabel frowned. “I’m sure it wasn’t that simple. What about this Marcus?”
“Dead,” Digger said. “But Queen Claudia is just as nutty as ever. If anything, she wants more of her blood sport. She’s not done with me, which means all of you are in danger. So are Monty and Lady Sofia. The bar’s no safe place and you’ve set up the worst possible hideout for your sisters.”
“You know?”
“We went by the mission. It wasn’t hard to put together.”
“You can’t tell anyone. I’ve purchased not only the bakery but the two properties next door. I also staked Lady Sofia for her remodels.”
“That doesn’t make sense. What’s the point?”
“Saving as many as I can is the point. I owe the mission my life. Those are my sisters down there. There’ll be more coming.”
“Did I miss something?” Digger asked. “Why did you bring them here?”
“Because I got word the duke’s coming to the island. He’s going to take it away from Claudia. And we know what that means for our kind.”
“That’s a rumor that’s been passed around since the edict.”
“This time it’s real.”
He let out a tired sigh. “We just crossed the city twice and didn’t see his troops. The fire is under control. It looks like business as usual. I’m not telling you what to do with your property or your sisters. But how long do you expect to feed them down in your cellar?”
“As long as I have to.”
Jamie pulled a tangle from her hair. “My aunt would never let my uncle take this island from her. You’re safe now.”
Her warm smile didn’t mask her obvious distress. She held him and didn’t speak for a moment.
Above the alley a crow cawed down at them. The crow had a twisted foot and broken beak. Stumpy. How the bird had found him here was beyond him.
“Your friend misses you,” Isabel said.
Digger grunted. “I miss my bedroll. If there’s nothing else, I’m going to collapse in it for a few days.”
“So the castle’s safe? Jamie, you should go see your aunt. I’ll meet you here in the bar this evening. We’ll talk more then. And Digger? You’re right to be concerned. We’re in danger, and it’s not just the queen who will be looking for us.”
Digger made a show of checking over his shoulder. “Someone besides the duke? I don’t know what else you’ve heard. Fill me in later. But it’s time for us to get some rest. If the duke’s coming to Loom Island, he’s going to have two handfuls of trouble in keeping this place in check. Right now, I’m going to talk to Monty. Then I’m going to see if that cart driver’s still around and head to my apartment.”
DIGGER TOSSED AND TURNED and managed a few hours of fitful slumber before rising. He had a few walnuts left and went outside, cracking the nuts and placing them out on the bannister. But Stumpy didn’t come.
Smoke still clung to the tops of the nearby tenements. But it wasn’t just from the
fire. The factories were up and running.
As he stood and listened to the sounds of voices though the walls and floor and the din of street noise, all he could think about was Marcus. In the queen’s eyes he was just another dead fel. Justice had been served. The lives the former ranger had taken didn’t appear to concern her. And the city was moving on with another day. Fel would toil in the sweatshops and factories side by side with their pureblood neighbors. Tomorrow they would have their one day off.
Were they monsters?
He began to wonder if the fel believed it too, that somehow they were deserving of their lot and that the city and its industry were the best they could hope for.
In the courtyard below he saw a few locals returning from work. It was later than he’d thought. He wanted to be at the bar for Isabel to tell them what she knew. He could only hope she was being an alarmist, but if she had information, he needed to hear it. More important was getting news from Jamie about what the queen was doing. He wasn’t going to wait idly by to be arrested again.
After a quick wash and change, he headed out. The first thing he realized was that his cart was gone. He couldn’t even remember where in the city he had left it. He felt oddly naked walking past the workers heading home. Collecting bodies and filling graves had been his role to play.
More than a few made eye contact. Some nodded their acknowledgement.
Once in the Temperance District, he went straight for the back entrance of the Dragon and Rose. He was grateful to find it locked. He pounded on the wood and Monty answered and ushered him inside.
He smelled food. It was a rich, spicy aroma. Oregano. Garlic. Peppers. Monty had corn flour on his hands and apron along with red tomato stains.
“Is that—” he started to ask.
“Mom’s enchiladas. Something basic. They’ll be ready soon.”
He followed him towards the kitchen but paused when he saw Hellard at a table near the door speaking conspiratorially with the two fel they had fought with in the games. They were hanging on his every word.
Isabel and Jamie stood at the bar, whispering and leaning close to one another.
“Seems I’m late again,” Digger said.
Monty nodded. “Everyone got here an hour ago.”
“Where’s Lady Sofia?”
“Upstairs in her room with a headache. We found Vinca out in the alley so Sofia took her in and put her in the spare bedroom.”
Digger looked at the trapdoor to the cellar. “What about the trolls?”
“Vinca said they made it to the water and swam away. Ask her in the morning if you want the story. We’ll do dinner in ten minutes. Let me go finish the salad.”
When Digger approached the bar, Isabel shot him a hard look. “Give us a sec, Digger.”
He raised his hands to signal he understood and plopped down next to Hellard and the two fel.
“What are they doing here?” Digger asked.
Hellard leaned on the chair and the wood creaked. “They’re my guests. Thought I’d fill them in on what they missed. Seems they’re both grateful to you for their lives.”
“All three of you got yourselves into that mess, volunteering for a fight like that. What were you even thinking?”
“Just trying to make coin. Not all of us are living large in the castle after our catacomb win. Seems in this city we’re bled out either way. How about introductions? This is Gregory.” Gregory wore a thick steel earring. “And this is Sebastian. And I was just telling them about Marcus.”
Digger felt a chill. “What about him?”
“How he died fighting for our kind.”
Both Gregory and Sebastian had beers before them but neither was drinking. They were sitting stiffly and attentive and looking at Digger now.
“So Marcus wasn’t just some killer loose on the streets, was he?” Gregory asked.
He had an urge to clam up. But Digger cleared his throat and told them who Marcus was. And who he was. And what they had both done in the duke’s service. He surprised himself with how much he shared. Even when he got to the description of what his company had done to one particular ogre settlement, Hellard made no comment. He didn’t even appear to be listening. Monty came around and served up plates with red sauce enchiladas topped with crumbling white cotija cheese. Digger kept talking until there was no more to tell.
“So is it like Hellard says?” Gregory asked. “Do we fight?”
Digger looked at Hellard for some indication of what Gregory was talking about.
“Fighting without identifying the enemy is a fool’s game,” Digger said.
“But we know who it is. It’s them.”
“There’s a lot of thems out there. I fought side by side with purebloods when we took down some nasty bandits who preyed on dirt farmers and scrap miners. Brave men. Those bandits didn’t scatter or roll over. You think every one of ‘them’ in Diregloom is the enemy? Most live and work here just like you.”
“Marcus stood up to the queen. Almost killed her.”
“And I stopped him because that would have done nothing for our kind. Not one thing.”
Hellard leaned on the table, forcing it to tip in his direction. “It would have stopped her games.”
“It would have led to more executions.”
“At least that way things would be out in the open. Everyone’s cards on the table. You and your brother are poker players. You get it, don’t you? At least, you should. Maybe have Monty explain it to you.”
Monty had returned from the kitchen with a bowl of salad. “Don’t get me involved in your argument.”
“Just a friendly discussion,” Hellard said. “One that’s long overdue, not just with us but with anyone we know. Are you going back to digging graves? Waiting for the next noble whim to place us in front of a cheering crowd?”
Digger met the ogre’s gaze. “You signed up for your games.”
“You know what I mean. We can’t wait for everyone to get on board. At least I can’t. If we don’t stand up to Claudia and pureblood rule now, what do you think our chances will be tomorrow? And next week? Word of what Marcus did will get out, for better or worse. We need to stoke that flame. You have a reputation already as the fel champion of the games. You don’t dare squander that. If there ever was an opportunity to revolt against the purebloods, this is it, my friend.”
He had grown louder. Gregory and Sebastian looked over at Jamie. But if the young pureblood heard, he didn’t show it. His whispers with Isabel had stopped and they were leaning in closer and kissing.
Hellard’s face abruptly brightened. He set his chin down on laced fingers and grinned. “Now isn’t that something?”
“You’re staring,” Digger said.
“It almost makes you forget who and what he is.”
“And our dinner’s getting cold.”
Digger ate, and it was as good as anything his mom or dad had ever made. But even as he finished his plate, the others had barely started. Monty joined Isabel and Jamie and they talked, laughed, and carried on like the evening was something normal. Maybe for a moment and the one after, it was. Perhaps this was their last night before whatever threatened invasion landed upon the shores of the island.
Hide, prepare, or fight? No doubt all three would be required since he wouldn’t get his brother to leave.
But it wasn’t just him and his brother anymore. Lady Sofia was involved, a pureblood noble set on making this ruin of a bar a success. And Isabel, with her heart divided between her lover and her duty to her former order, of which she hadn’t shared enough information for Digger to make a judgment. Finally there was the ogre sitting across the table from him.
Sprat Hellard. As subtle as a rock to the face. Yet he had called Digger friend, without irony. The ogre had risked his neck in his failed attempt to rescue him from the first series of the queen’s games. There were no more secrets between them.
As the big oaf was telling a joke to the other fel sitting with them, Digger sensed a sincer
ity he had known only when serving side by side with Marcus and their fellow rangers. Through all their dark deeds, those men had been the only ones he had ever trusted. He thought he would never know that kind of bond again living in Diregloom as Monty’s secret guardian.
It had been a city of strangers up until this moment. But whatever uncertain events came the next day, for now he had them all to count on. Even a pureblood like Jamie had proved himself in watching Monty and bringing him back to the bar safely.
How many fel outside the walls of the Dragon and Rose could he lean on like that?
You didn’t count on people, you counted on friends.
Maybe his mother had told him that.
He leaned back on his chair and listened, managed to smile, and after a while grabbed his plate and got up for seconds.
Chapter Fifty-Three
THE ATTENDANT WHOSE name Claudia couldn’t remember was stammering her way through the letter haltingly enough that Claudia began to wonder if she was having a seizure or developing a new case of the stutters. She motioned for the girl to spit the words out.
“‘To Lady Claudia, gov-gove-governess of Loom Island and dear-est sist-sister.’”
Claudia checked her wristwatch and then the clock on her nightstand. One read 7:21, the other 7:23. She’d have to correct both, she decided.
“‘Accept this visit in the name of Duke Tito of Bah-Bahia. Cap-tain’—I can’t read the name— ‘the bear-bearer of this miss-missy-missy-vee.’”
Why, oh, why did Rochus have to get himself killed? “Could it be ‘missive’? Start at the beginning, dear. Better yet, give it to me.”
Claudia snatched the page away, never mind the cold cream on her fingers that might leave stains on a letter she’d want to save.
TO LADY CLAUDIA, GOVERNESS of Loom Island, Dearest Sister,
Accept this visit in the name of Duke Tito of Bahia.
The Dragon and Rose Page 26