Marielle spat, her belly clenching at the thought of being forced to scent for these two men. If they handled her so roughly in public, what would they do when no one was watching?
The man slapped her with his meaty palm, leaving her blinking at the stars filling her vision.
He growled, “We can – ”
His head flicked from his shoulders so quickly that Marielle barely had a chance to gasp as blood sprayed across her scarf and clothing. The head made a heavy sound as it hit the cobbles and then the grip on her arms were gone and she was sliding across the wall to avoid his tumbling corpse.
She looked up, her jaw falling open at the sight of Liandari casually flicking blood off the end of her blade. Her single forelock of hair was slightly askew and she carefully stoked it back into place.
“You said something about following you?” She tilted her head to the side, inquiring as a pair of harpoons jammed through the smaller man’s neck.
Marielle gasped, her eyes scanning the crowd for the City Watch. If this was her beat, she and Carnelian would have all of them in the hurry-up wagon before they could jab another harpoon. But no one was watching. Everyone seemed suddenly very intent on their own business, the scent of fear sizzling in lightning blue around their hurrying steps.
“You can’t just kill people in the streets!” she protested.
“We just did,” Liandari said. “Wouldn’t your Windsniffer find them and bring them to justice if I had not?”
Marielle’s gaze flicked to Anglarok. His scarf was wrapped around his face, obscuring his expression. Windsniffer. He was just like her. He didn’t just sniff the wind, he also pursued injustice.
“Yes,” she said a little breathlessly.
“Then we have no problem here. Lead on.”
Marielle clenched her jaw and hurried through the crowd, ignoring the furtive stares of the people around her. Fear flickered along the edges of the crowd in lightning blue sizzles, but there was more than that. There was a deep throbbing yellow-orange greed, scalding her nose like washing soda. And there was more than one person looking at her with a rusty scent rising up from them. They wanted her ability. They thought it could help them find the Eye.
Marielle quickened her pace. It would be better not to be anywhere near the crowd right now. Even with six deadly warriors at her back.
By the time they arrived back at Spellspinner’s Cures, Marielle was holding her breath. The scent was too much, even with the scarf wrapped around her head four times. She burst into the shop, gasping for breath as she walked into the clean room.
Dust hung in the air from a recent sweeping, but a young woman was furiously scrubbing the floor and calming the dust. Another pair of women worked on the windows, carefully polishing the glass. Marielle had almost forgotten about Dawnwait, but the calm of their concentration – jasmine in slate grey puffs – soothed her. There was a faint whiff of something else, too, but in the natural scents of the cures in the back of the shop, the scent was overpowered. Hmmm. A puzzle for another time.
“What is this place? I thought you were taking us to the inn?” Anglarok said at the same moment that Allegra bustled in.
“What’s the meaning of this, Marielle? We are not a hostel.”
“Etienne sent them,” Marielle said, still gasping breaths of relief to soothe her scalded lungs.
Allegra smelled of annoyance and ... conspiracy? Deception? The pink-purple, fragrant lily scent of deception tangled around the dusty mustard color of her annoyance, but you didn’t need a Scenter to see how irritated she was.
“And how does he expect me to house five more drifters?” Her mouth was tight.
“Drifters?” Anglarok’s face went red, his emotions escalating suddenly to scarlet fury. “You address the Ki’squall of the Harbingers, merchant, and you will pay for your insolence!”
“Wait!” Marielle yelled, leaping to get between the two of them. She felt ill at the memory of a head falling heavy off the lifeless body of the man in the District above. These people would slay Allegra without thinking. “Stop! There will be no paying for anything right now. By the authority of the Jingen City Watch, you will halt this disruption of the peace under Article V section 34, which states that no citizen may cause or threaten to cause bodily harm over an insult or perceived insult but must take their case to the arbiter for a decision.”
Allegra was looking at her wide-eyed like she’d grown a second head, surprise in raspberry clouds mixed with a sudden burst of pineapple insight.
“I’ll find a place for you all in the back while we wait for Etienne or until I can find an alternative situation,” she said, carefully. “We’ve finished cleaning there. I have no food, I’m afraid, not during the fast, but there is green tea.”
There was a long moment as Marielle held her breath. Liandari glanced at Anglarok who gave a quick nod before she looked back at Allegra.
“We will tolerate that. For now.”
Marielle felt a stab of fear at the injured pride on both sides, washing off of them in waves of indigo blue. This was not going to end well.
“And I’ll add the cost to what you owe me,” Allegra said to Marielle through gritted teeth. And there it was. The threat that she knew was coming.
“Is Tamerlan awake yet?” she asked.
“Awake and long gone,” Allegra said, as she led them into the back.
Marielle froze, hesitating for a moment.
Gone? He was already gone? She needed to find him! He shouldn’t be wandering out there on his own. She had questions for him. She’d fought to keep him alive and now he was just ... gone. Didn’t he owe her more than that?
But he didn’t, did he? He’d saved her life. She’d saved his. They were even. Except for this price that Allegra planned to exact from her.
A hand rested on her arm. She looked up to see Anglarok’s face looking down at her over his scarf. He pulled the scarf down before he spoke and she did the same, trying not to be bowled over by the pungent scent of Allegra’s wares.
“You aren’t planning to go back out there again, are you? You could smell that crowd. It is not safe for Windsniffers outside right now. That hunt has them on edge. They see us only as bloodhounds. Stay here with us and drink tea. I have a gift for you that will be worth whatever price this daughter of a shark is demanding of you.”
He smiled a fierce but magical smile and Marielle couldn’t help but smile too, despite the shiver in her bones. Jhinn had said not to accept any gifts. But she had a creeping suspicion that Anglarok and the others wouldn’t take ‘no’ without insult.
They found a place between bales of spices. A small table and chairs were set up there, and bales of sweet-smelling grasses were set around the edges – comfortable places to sit or lay items on. Around them, bales of spice rose to the rafters and clumps of dried herbs hung in bunches as big as Marielle, drying in the warehouse. The bales dampened sound and it felt as if they were cut off from the outside world as Allegra settled them in.
“Tea will be here momentarily,” she said through clenched teeth. “I will return to be sure that you have what you need. And now, if I may borrow Marielle for a moment.”
She seized Marielle’s arm in her vice-like grip and with a smile for the Harbingers – as false as the fragrant lily smell attached to it, she marched Marielle out of the room made of bales and into a small side room where citrus peel had been carefully sliced and was left on the table half-threaded onto drying lines.
“Did Etienne say why he is helping these foreigners?” she hissed.
“They come from the sails in the distance,” Marielle said. “They are forerunners of that invasion – or whatever it is.”
“Dragon’s spit in a cup! He’ll ruin everything. He said no more?”
“He didn’t say anything,” Marielle said.
“Dragon’s blood and ashes!” Fury poured off her in red waves and Marielle coughed, choking on the sudden smell pitch. “Well, I was planning to keep you waiting, b
ut it seems my hand is tipped. It’s time to collect payment.”
Marielle felt her spine freeze as she watched Allegra chew at her lip and stare at Marielle. She smelled of uncertainty and worry. Garlic and smoked paprika ringed her, swirling in ribbons of ochre and heather.
“I don’t like trusting people.” And that made sense since she didn’t smell of truth or trust. “And I hate to trust you, but you owe me a debt and you must pay it, yes?”
“Yes,” Marielle agreed, though the word was bitter on her tongue.
“So, this is how you will pay. You will watch Etienne for me and report on what he is doing, who he is speaking to, and what plans he is making. Keep your eyes open and that nose of yours glued to the trail. I know he will keep you close – for your blood and skills if nothing else. And you must serve him. Because you owe him something – I don’t know what and I don’t need to know – but I know enough to know you can’t slip loose. So, if you’re to be by his side, best that you are there as my cat’s paw. Remember: watch, report, stay close.”
Marielle’s mouth twisted at the demand. She was a servant of the law, not a spy. She was looking for redemption, not complications. She wanted to serve, not to scheme.
“You owe me. And the law demands that you pay according to my terms,” Allegra said, lifting an eyebrow.
And she was right. The law did demand that Marielle pay her debt. Any arbiter would rule that way.
“You agree?” Allegra prodded.
“I agree,” Marielle said, and she felt like a traitor for saying it.
13: A Strange Pairing
Tamerlan
“YOU THINK THE EYE IS here?” Lord Mythos asked quietly as they stood side by side regarding the mausoleum of King Abelmeyer.
Tamerlan gasped for breath. The journey – even just to the Alchemist District – had been hard on his shoulder and his vision was blacking in and out as he fought to catch his breath.
“Drink,” Lord Mythos said, shoving a small flask into his hands.
Thankfully, it was water. A small sip and he was already recovering a little, his breath coming a little easier, his vision clearing.
“Why bury a king in the Alchemist’s District?”
“It wasn’t the Alchemist District when he was buried,” Mythos said, circling the tall spire. Made of white stone and chiseled into a perfect point, it rose high in the middle of the Alchemist’s District of Xin. Amidst the colorful plumes of smoke pouring from the windows of a nearby Alchemy House – The Brass Cauldron – the pale spire looked strange. The simple stone box beneath it – as tall as Tamerlan and just as wide – was just as strange. There was no inscription. No plaque. No flowers. Nothing except chipped cobblestones and a smell that suggested it was being used as an alternative lavatory.
Around them, the sounds and smells of the busy Alchemist District filled Tamerlan with a strange feeling of nostalgia. Strange because he’d hated his life as an alchemist. Strange, because he felt nothing but guilt at the memories of those lost. Stranger still because he almost felt an itch to grind up ingredients, chopping, weighing, drying, compounding ...
And then open the Bridge and call us forth!
He clamped down on his own thoughts. That pathway led to danger.
“How did my sister escape Jingen?” he asked. “She was right in the heart of the city.”
You’ll be sorry that you didn’t call ...
“A lot of Landholds in Jingen were in the Seven Suns Palace,” Lord Mythos said as he walked around the mausoleum, feeling the stone with his hands. “They knew about the Lady Luck – a small ship tucked away in the Government District. It’s possible that is how she escaped. Possible that they rode the canal down to the river – just like you did. Just like most of the survivors from the heart of the city did. I don’t know for sure, but if I was a betting man, that’s what I’d bet on. Everyone else was crushed, trampled, drowned, or fell from a great height. Do you want me to go on? Do you want me to help you revel in what you did?”
“If I hadn’t done it, you would have slit Marielle’s throat and drained her blood to appease your dragon,” he said bitterly. Because what he’d done hadn’t been all bad. He’d only ever wanted to save the innocent. His face felt hot at the thought because for all his good wishes, he’d only achieved evil. Except for her. Except for Marielle. “And why are you feeling the stones? If I was hiding something valuable in a tomb, I wouldn’t put it in a loose stone, I would put it in one of the drawers under the corpse. You know, the locked ones for valuables.”
Lord Mythos’ eyebrows rose. “How do you know about what lies inside a mausoleum?”
“I read,” Tamerlan said simply, showing him the book they’d stolen when they crept out of the Library. On the page was a diagram of the mausoleum. And the drawers were clearly marked. “There’s even a list of valuables. But there’s no mention of an amulet. Maybe it’s in the barrow.”
“Hmmm,” Lord Mythos said, laying his hand over the lock on the mausoleum. He closed his eyes. “There is no barrow. That is just legend. And I did not wish to kill Marielle. But look at the alternative. Thousands dead and left to rot unburied. Children. Babies. People’s parents and lovers and children. Tell me honestly that knowing what you know now, you’d choose to save her again.” Tamerlan swallowed and with his eyes still closed, Lord Mythos snorted. “See? You wouldn’t have stopped me if you knew. I don’t know why people ignore the catechism. It’s so clear.”
“Because it’s just old dusty words. Tradition. Legend. Things that couldn’t possibly be real. No one really thinks those things still have power.”
“And yet they do. They’re all real. And they are all deadly.”
Tamerlan shivered.
“And if we don’t stop this dragon, he will kill again. Sure, the other cities completed their rituals. The other Lady Sacrifices died. But that won’t save them when Jingen returns.”
“Returns? You’re planning to restore the city?”
Lord Mythos laughed. “The cities, Tamerlan, were named for the dragons. The dragon is also named Jingen, just like the dragon sleeping under this city is named Xin – have you forgotten that? And I am about to borrow a tiny ficker of what belongs to Xin.”
A click in the lock punctuated his words and the door to the mausoleum swung open.
“You’d think that there would be guards,” Tamerlan said, looking around. People passed by on every side, going about their business. No one seemed to have noticed that the mausoleum door was open a crack.
“You don’t need to guard things lying in plain sight. Almost everyone ignores their significance. Watch my back.” He ducked into the mausoleum so quickly that Tamerlan swallowed in surprise, his eyes opening wide as he closed the door carefully behind Lord Mythos. He’d rather not get in trouble with the City Watch in two cities.
His mouth was dry as he kept watch. Even though he’d lost the cloak, his armor still stood out in this district. There weren’t many alchemists wandering around in full guard’s kit carrying bastard swords. But the people here seemed to almost instinctually look away from a man in armor. He probably would have, too. In Jingen, officers only meant trouble.
He tried to concentrate on keeping watch, but it was hard to keep his eyes on the city when they kept flicking back to the book in his hands.
The mausoleum is said to be a focal point for the energy of Xin, a place where magic can be harnessed by the right kind of mind. A place of focus. Perhaps it is the bones of King Abelmeyer that made it so. It is said that he laid a curse on them, that the day the dragon Xin rises again, King Abelmeyer will rise, too, and walk the world in his own bones. He will be a scourge to those who have forgotten the traditions and the recompense for their many sins.
He glanced up to see someone standing in the street watching him. Ooops.
He knocked on the door to the mausoleum. Hopefully, Lord Mythos would hear and come out. Right now, he was beginning to draw eyes. Someone else stopped, pointing at him. He flipped a
page, trying to look casual.
There was a picture of King Abelmeyer being buried. Someone had taken time to sketch him in his final resting place, the amulet lying on his chest.
So, it really was here at one time.
He heard a scraping sound behind him, but he didn’t glance back. He was large and tall. Perhaps Lord Mythos could slip out of the mausoleum and no one would see him behind Tamerlan’s broad shoulders. The men on the street were growing into a knot of murmuring spectators. That wasn’t good.
“Mythos?” He said quietly.
“Call me Etienne.”
“I think we should be going now, Etienne.” Standing still had made his chest seize up and now he could barely move his arm as he tried to adjust the book.
“The tomb was empty.”
“No amulet?” He asked as Lord Mythos slipped in front of him, also trying to appear casual.
“Completely empty. There weren’t even bones.”
Tamerlan felt the blood draining from his face. That couldn’t be good. Had King Abelmeyer’s bones already risen from the dead? And was he really thinking superstitious thoughts like that?
“You need more water,” Etienne said, pulling his flask from his pocket again. It must have caught the light. That was the only explanation for why one of the men in the knot lunged forward.
“They’ve found something!” he called.
“Nothing at all!” Etienne said with raised hands, but it didn’t matter.
Already, people were surging forward from every direction.
“Think you can run?” Etienne asked, pulled the library book from Tamerlan’s hands.
“No.”
“Too bad. You’re going to have to. See if you can use some of that magic you stole in Jingen.”
“I didn’t steal magic!” Tamerlan protested, but the Lord Mythos was already running, a dark streak in the colorful crowds and with a groan, Tamerlan followed, every jarring step its own small agony.
He was going to die chasing after a man who hated him. He felt heat as fresh blood washed down from his shoulder, soaking his bandage and then his clothing, hot and wet and flaring with pain with every step he took. His head was light, his vision crackling around the edges.
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