The Demons We See

by Krista D. Ball

  She pointed at the Cartossian soldier who held Walter. “Let him go. Now.”

  The soldier did as she ordered and Walter shook off the manhandling. He approached the Consorts’ flank of protection. His face was grim and he didn’t sass off the soldier.

  Allegra turned to the men and women gathered together in a clump of food splatters. She assumed those were the mages. “We need to be calm.”

  Allegra dismounted her horse amongst the jeers. Stanton glared at her and motioned for her to get back upon her horse. He’d told her specifically before they came that she was not to get off her horse no matter what. However, she was not going to get the crowd’s attention by pacing back and forth around them.

  She stepped upon the wooden hangman’s platform. A shiver went through her knowing what it was for. The singed rope still dangled from the upper brace. “I stand before you as the Arbiter of the Cathedral’s law and will,” she said.

  She noticed that it was strangers who jeered at her. Allegra might not have known the names of all of the villagers and refugees, but she knew their faces. She knew none of these hard-faced men. The runner had also said the market was full of strangers he didn’t recognize, who’d been stirring up trouble all day.

  “Go home to your families and your fields. We have all worked too hard, suffered too much to throw it all away today. Let calm prevail.”

  “Freak!” Someone threw a rotting potato and it splattered over the back of Dodd’s green jacket.

  Dodd yanked his horse around to glare at the crowd.

  “These mages are not here to harm you. They merely want to live and exist just as you do,” Allegra urged. “These villagers are also not here to harm you. They have invited you into their homes and lives. If they had rejected you, all of you who came this winter would have starved by now. They are not your enemy.”

  “Mage lover!”

  “I speak for the Holy Father himself. Your behavior is illegal and against the Almighty’s word. The Holy Father has sent me here to stop this outrageous behavior.”

  “Give us the mages!”

  “There is no good that can come from this. This action today could even start a war. None of you want to see your sons and daughters fight and die in a war.”

  “Freak!”

  “You must yield. They are peaceable, kind, gentle people and they are your neighbors.”

  “Send them to the mines!”

  “Do your job!”

  “Mage lover!”

  “Mage lover!”

  Allegra was shouting over the crowd now, a pointless attempt to get their attention. They were not going to go home. The rumors were true, then. Bonacieux’s men had been stirring up the crowd. Between that and the stench of market day cheap gin, the crowd was ready for a fight.

  A bottle sailed through the air at her. She flinched and closed her eyes. A gust of wind hit her and she slumped against one of the wooden posts for support. The bottle sailed end over end harmlessly to smash on the side of the hangman’s podium.

  She gulped. Someone had used elemental magic freely, here in the open, to protect her.

  Five men wearing the red and white uniforms of Queen Portia’s personal guard jumped a woman clad in tattered cloth. She screamed from beneath them.

  “Please! I beg you. Do not do this.” Allegra’s voice strained from the shout, but it did no use. Too many had been wanting this day.

  Mages and villagers alike jumped the guards. Clubs, axes, and magic flew.

  “I beg you! Stop!” Allegra screamed. She jumped from the podium as Stanton and his men beat back the crowd with their clubs. She’d told them not to use lethal force, but there were still too many cries of pain and too many faces a sheet of blood.

  Some of the crowd shouted angrily at her. Others shouted angry defenses of her. She shouted she was going nowhere. She would not yield to a mob. Stanton pulled his horse over to her and threatened to bash anyone who came too close to her. Still, she was so intent on arguing with the crowd that she didn’t see the man with the bow until Stanton pushed her out of the way.

  The arrow grazed Allegra’s arm and she screamed, a high-pitched, agonized sound. Allegra fell to her knees at the sight of the blood welling through her white dress sleeve. The crowd fell into a stunned silence. The world fogged as Allegra blinked away the tears that welled in her eyes.

  The Consorts and the guards protecting Allegra rushed into the crowd with their clubs, savagely beating anyone who wasn’t running away. Allegra had ordered swords and bows only as a complete last resort, and the men had followed her order. However, as she watched a man fall to the mud face-first, his head a mass of blood, she knew all too well that many would die today.

  A pitchfork grazed both Rahna’s leg and her horse. The animal bucked, throwing Rahna into the mud. She landed with a scream of “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” and hit the ground with a thud, and more swearing.

  Walter scrambled to Allegra’s side. He shoved his arms under her armpits and began to haul her to her feet. “Ally! Ally!”

  “I’m…fine…” Allegra’s voice was slow, but she was gaining her focus again.

  “Are you all right?” Walter shouted over the screaming and cursing of the courtyard.

  Bonacieux’s men, plus the strangers, had launched their own assault and were violently attacking known mages now. Walter shouted at Stanton, jabbing a finger in the direction of the mages, and Stanton dug his heels into his horse’s flank and rushed over to assist. Dodd and Lex joined him.

  Two villagers dragged Rahna out of the stampede, all the while she screamed and left a trail of blood on the muddy ground.

  Then, seven women and three men stepped out of the small parish temple. They walked in silent, confident unison. A pained whimper escaped Walter. “Oh, no. Allegra, move! Get up! Rainier! Get out of here! Now!”

  Walter heaved Allegra to her feet and stumbled away. When Allegra saw the flame ignite in the lead woman’s hand, Allegra’s senses came rushing back.

  “No!” Allegra shouted at the mages, but they only gave her grim looks. “Please, no. Don’t do this! No!”

  Walter screamed for Stanton. Stanton pulled his horse to them and Walter helped pull her onto his horse. She winced and cried out from the pain in her arm, but she sat in front of Stanton. With one arm around her and one on the reins, he was weaponless now, but he followed the mages’ advice as they shouted to get Allegra out of the way.

  “Move! Get back!” Stanton shouted. Most of the villagers knew well enough to run and the market was mostly deserted.

  “Please, no,” Allegra said, openly weeping now and not because of the piercing pain in her arm.

  Lex shouted and swore as he pulled a bleeding and shrieking Rahna up on his horse.

  A blast of fire hit the wheelbarrow special gin, no doubt laced with too many chemicals and not enough grain. The flames were hot against her face.

  “Oh no,” Stanton whispered. “Oh, no.”

  Allegra watched helplessly as her own kind cut the strings on their humanity. She watched as they burned the houses. She watched as craters formed in the earth, swallowing fleeing men. She watched as buildings collapsed, crushing people to death.

  But she wasn’t helpless as she watched. No, she could have walked out there and struck while their backs were turned on her. She could have cut down those elementals and they would never have seen it coming.

  It was Walter, and not her, that stood between the Consorts and the rushing wave of Bonacieux’s terrified men. It was Walter that opened up hole upon hole, trying to slow everyone down without killing them. It was Walter that protected the fleeing villagers and refugees alike. It was Walter who pulled down buildings to throw rubble in between the elementals and Bonacieux’s men. It was Walter who collapsed face-first into the mud from exhaustion.

  She didn’t do any of that. She watched. Safely behind a wall of armored, both material and magical, soldiers, and hid like a coward. For sh
e was a coward. These were the true heroes. Even if they died, they would be heroes. Even if they lived, they were still heroes for they must know she would have them arrested and turned over to Portia’s men. If they were lucky, they would be sent to the mines and not tortured to see how elementals worked.

  This could have been her fate if she’d went with Walter Cram all those years ago. Her child would have been eight? Nine? Running alongside her, watching her burn a village to the ground.

  Would she have chosen that path if she knew she’d still end up here, watching her kind destroy everything she’d worked so hard to prevent?

  Sitting there upon the horse in the fog and steam and fire, as the earth shattered around them and the skies attacked them, Allegra was not so vain as to think she alone caused this. She was merely one piece, but a piece nonetheless.

  So she watched. Watched and did nothing as the guilty and the innocent were burned, crushed, and ripped apart. This massacre would send ripples through the world. Their opponents would use this as a tool to crack down even harder. Advocates would argue one doesn’t throw out all of the winter pears just because a few went bad. And, besides, had they always been bad or was the farmer wife’s shoddy care to blame?

  It didn’t matter. None of it mattered now. She would have to retreat into the abbey, and soon. She would need to double her guard. She knew Stanton well enough to know he was already running the numbers and assignments, even as he was surveying the horrors in front of them.

  Stanton’s fingers brushed hers, and she allowed it. He didn’t cup her hand or touch her any further than that. Just the gentle pressure of the back of his hand against hers, letting her know that he was there to protect her. That he understood. That he cared.

  She was happy someone cared about her right now, for she feared she would never care again.

  Chapter 27

  The aftermath had been hard for everyone. Thankfully, it rained later that fateful day and the fires didn’t spread too badly. Even with that grace, however, it was still too much damage. There had been several smaller uprisings over the days that followed, though none lasted beyond dusk. People had lost their homes and shops. Of course they were angry.

  The fighting spread throughout the region, though. The entire nation erupted into riots and protests, with elemental mages coming out of the woodwork to openly display their unique abilities – and everyone suffered as a consequence. Of course, they’d all heard of the great Walter Cram who stood before the Cathedral’s very guards and protected innocents with his magic. He’d nearly died, the rumors said, and yet he did not yield to terror. He used his magic for good.

  Of course, Walter had Allegra’s protection. So the more the world clamped down on magic, the more people resisted, and not just mages. Why shouldn’t the innocent peasants be protected from the searches and the exploitation, too?

  Some blamed Allegra, while others blamed the Consorts. Still others blamed mages, and elementalists, and Bonacieux’s men. Most blamed the magistrate and Little Ferret. The little snot nosed brat shouldn’t have stolen the bread, and the bastard of a magistrate should have taken his upbringing into consideration.

  Under Stanton’s orders, two of Walter’s people eventually found Little Ferret, who’d wisely run as soon as he’d been freed from the noose. Walter’s people, escorted by two Consorts, got him to the Cathedral. Carrying letters with the Arbiter’s seal identifying him as Rafe Tal: Orphan, Little Ferret was hired by the Consorts still stationed at the Cathedral as their all-around errands fellow.

  And what was the great Arbiter of Justice doing about all of this? Why, she was throwing a party. The world was on the brink of full-scale conflict, and her assistant was planning the orchestra arrangements for a ball. Because that’s what the aristocracy wanted. Not laws, not firm measures. A party.

  Allegra poured herself her fourth glass of wine that afternoon. Her arm itched like crazy. It has only been a superficial cut. It simply bled messily and had shocked her. Rahna’s injury was a little more serious, but between her magical gear on her uniform to the wound being a graze and not a puncture, she, too, was healing nicely.

  Nineteen people had died in Borro that day. Nineteen souls upon her head.

  She’d stopped talking to everyone the last several days beyond the necessities. She had isolated herself during her private time. She threw herself into her work, frantically writing at all hours of the day and night, issuing missives and decrees. Everything and anything to try to stem the brewing conflict.

  Still, it came as no surprise when he finally knocked on her door. “It’s Stanton.”

  Not looking up from her leather-bound ledger, she asked, “Has everyone agreed to assist with security during the ball?”

  Stanton nodded. “Everyone except Bonacieux, of course, but the Grand Duchess plans to speak with her niece.”

  “Thank you. That’ll be all.”

  After a pause, Stanton said, “Allegra, are you well?”

  “No,” she said simply. She considered not giving any further reply, but she put her pencil down. She mustered her energy to give him a tight smile. “I cannot sleep, and every time I think of…of the event, I feel as though my heart is trying to rip itself from my chest. Cowardly, I know.”

  “It isn’t,” he said. “I have seen and done many things…”

  “I can’t. Stanton, I know you are trying to help, but…I can’t. Not right now.”

  “Of course,” he said. “I’ve missed our breakfasts.”

  “I don’t have much of an appetite.”

  “Not even for pound cake?”

  A ghost of a smile twitched on her mouth. “Not even.”

  Chapter 28

  Stanton sat at his desk writing the last of the letters he needed to deal with before he could sleep for the night. The attack at the market square had changed much. Three times, Allegra’s life had been in danger now. All three times he had been standing there, helpless. Intellectually he knew there was only so much he could do, but his heart berated him for having exposed her to such risks.

  Of course, his heart didn’t understand that the Contessa had a mind of her own. And her mind said she would not shirk her responsibilities. He wished she would.

  Footsteps interrupted his dark thoughts. He looked up to see Dodd and Lex poking their heads around his office doorway.

  “Captain, what are you still doing up?” Dodd asked.

  “Hey, Captain,” Lex said, smiling. He was tugging on his ridiculous hat, the one with the massive ostrich feather in it.

  “Just finishing up some work. What trouble are the two of you up to?”

  “Bah,” Dodd said. “We’re all heading down to the dining hall to play cards.”

  Lex tapped his jacket and was rewarded with the jingle of coins. “Father Michael’s sister is going to join us. I hear she’s a bit of a card shark.”

  “She’s more than a bit. And don’t fall for Father Michael’s pious demeanor again or you’re going to lose that hat of yours. I’ve seen him and his sister wipe out an entire table of cardinals in under an hour playing two partner draw.”

  “Mother Aloni said the same thing,” Lex said with a grin. “But I’m prepared.”

  “I have no qualms taking a priest and his sister down,” Dodd said smugly.

  “Well, good luck, kids. Stay out of trouble and don’t cause any fights.”

  Dodd scoffed. “You’re worse than my dad.”

  “He and your mother write to me often to ensure I’m looking after you,” Stanton said sweetly. He wasn’t even lying. Dodd’s mother wrote more than Stanton’s own mother.

  Nadira walked in and curtsied. “Letter for you, Captain.”

  Dodd accepted the letter and handed it over to Stanton, who opened it. “I was hoping to get some sleep tonight, but if letters keep coming at all hours, perhaps you’ll find me passed out on my desk in the morning.”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time!” Lex said
cheerily. “Well, if you change your mind, Captain, we’ll be in the servant’s dining hall where the real action happens.”

  “Don’t bet your uniform. That’s an order,” Stanton said sternly.

  Both muttered how unfair this was. Stanton ignored them and turned to his letter.

  Captain, I’m in need of quiet conversation and an excellent bottle of brandy. I have the brandy, and could use the other. I keep a secret area in the northern attic. Simply go to the linen storage room near my rooms. Pull out the ceiling ladder. I can be found upstairs behind the tapestry of Tasmin.

  If you wish to join me, please bring a blanket and a toasting iron. The servants removed mine.

  A

  He looked up at Nadira and said, “Thank you. Does she require a reply?”

  “No, sir.”

  About twenty minutes later, Stanton balanced a candle, a blanket, and a toasting iron as he climbed up the steps to the upper attic. It was silent up there, except for his own heavy footsteps and breathing as he pulled the ladder back up. He latched it into place and looked about. There was a soft glow coming from over the tall bookshelves. He spotted the tapestry and pulled aside the edge, careful to keep his candle well clear. The tapestry wasn’t attached to a wall. Instead, he noticed a metal bar was balanced on top of the bookshelves.

  He stepped through the space and was greeted with the sight of a warm, crackling fire. Allegra was seated quietly on the sofa. She turned to look at him and, in the firelight, her silhouette was breathtaking, like from a dream or a vision from the Almighty. He held the candle up to his face and smiled.

  “One blanket and one toasting iron, as ordered,” he said.

  Allegra turned back to her fire. “Good. I was afraid I’d have to drink this bottle of brandy myself.”