The Broken Man

by Brandon Jones

  “We’re going to be okay,” Josen said, putting a hand on her head. “I promise.” The floor shifted and dropped a few inches as if to emphasize his lie, but he felt her nod as she continued her prayer.

  “Faceless God of the People, bless your child in need.”

  “Hey!” Josen yelled over the sound of flames and fire bells. He pointed at the Protector, still standing with his arms folded. Everyone except him and Sharry’s mother ran this way and that fighting fires. “Get over here!” Josen yelled.

  “Why?” the Protector called back, not moving.

  “For a kiss!” Josen yelled in frustration. “To save a little girl’s life, you heartless moron.” Josen didn’t wait for an answer. He pried Sharry off his leg and met her eyes. “You need to be brave. Hold tight. I’m going to lower you out the window. There’s a man out there who will catch you.” Sharry cried and wiped her face on Josen’s chest but nodded again. The fire bells grew louder as a water wagon turned a corner several blocks down, adding to the chaos. Josen bent forward, leaning as far as he could out the window, Sharry’s arms wrapped around his neck. He wiped his sweaty palms on his shirt then braced himself on the frame with his left arm and grasped Sharry beneath the arm with the other. Her legs dangled ten feet off the ground

  “You have to let go of my neck now,” he said. He tried to make his voice reassuring, but his back was now painfully hot.

  “I can’t,” she said. “I’ll fall.”

  “I won’t let you. Trust me.”

  She let go. Her arm slipped through Josen’s sweat slick hand. Horrified, he grasped, missed, and she fell away, screaming, nothing Josen could do.

  Her scream stopped with a grunt as she landed in the upstretched arms of the Protector.

  Josen had no time to waste on relief. He snatched up his coat and leapt out the window, pushing off the sill with one foot. He flew over the head of the gawking Protector and crashed gracelessly into the side of the water wagon pulling in front of the building, managing to catch the edge of the wooden slats holding the giant water tank in place. He dropped the rest of the way to the ground and ran as fast as his scorched, aching body would allow.

  His body allowed about ten strides. Josen’s legs spasmed and gave out. He collapsed, tumbling to the ground in a heap. Josen tried and failed to regain his feet, looking over his shoulder as he did. The Protector walked toward him slowly, wearing the same smug smile as at seeing Josen trapped in a burning house. Panic rose in Josen. It wasn’t supposed to work like this. I saved her, he thought. I did the right thing.

  “You did a right thing,” the Protector said, replying to the words Josen hadn’t realized he had said aloud. “Do you think that absolves you of the wrong things?”

  Josen lashed out at him with a foot, but the Protector stepped neatly to the side. He didn’t bother with his pistol. He pulled a rod from his belt, as big around as his thumb and long as his forearm, and casually cracked the side of Josen’s knee.

  “I hereby arrest you in the name of the Faceless God,” he said over Josen’s scream, “and His Church of the People—”

  “Protector!” A man stepped between the Protector and Josen, seemingly from nowhere, followed by several more. They were soot filthy and sweaty from fighting fires, but they stood steady. “I hear I have you to thank for saving the life of my daughter. Come!” he said, putting his arm around the Protectors shoulders and turning him forcefully. “We are free,” he coughed as though still clearing smoke from his lungs and gave Josen a significant look. “The fire’s contained. I’ll buy you a drink.”

  “You’re welcome,” the Protector squirmed out of the man’s grip, “but I have important—”

  “I insist! You can’t run away so easily! Come!”

  Josen caught the hint this time. He climbed to his feet as the man and his friends surrounded the Protector and herded him away.

  “Release me!” the Protector said as Josen staggered away. His legs loosened and began to work better, and his stumbling walk turned into a stumbling jog. “That man cannot escape!”

  “Relax! You are a hero—” The rest of the exchange fell away as Josen hurried away.

  Chapter 10

  He didn’t have to go far to find Akelle.

  “God’s tears, Josen! What happened to you?” Akelle asked, appearing beside him so suddenly that he almost fell over. That was happening a lot today.

  “I’m fine,” Josen said. “Let’s go. And I need to get some ceral if we’re going to make it through the Pass. I’m all out.”

  “Way ahead of you,” Akelle said, handing Josen a small, hard slice of ceral bread. “What are we going to do with Tori? Better yet, what are we going to do? It’s broad daylight. We can’t exactly sneak through like usual.”

  “I have an idea.”

  “That’s not actually reassuring.” Akelle frowned at Josen’s sooty, mangled condition.

  “Passage will be easy,” Josen said.

  “Oh good. What’s the hard part?”

  “What comes after.”

  Akelle was silent, apparently unsure how to reply.

  Tori fell in beside them as they neared the Pass field. The crowds thickened and turned into tight packed lines, all waiting for their turn for Passage.

  “We need to be quick,” Tori said. “My Protector can’t be far behind me.”

  “That’s good, actually,” Josen said as they pushed their way through the crowd. About a block away from the Pass itself, he motioned for Akelle and Tori to step into an alley with him. “Be on the lookout for the Protectors, make sure they don’t get too close. You still have the robe?”

  “In the satchel,” Tori said.

  “Good. I need to change.”

  Tori hesitated for half a second, then dug the lacquered black box out of her satchel and handed it to Josen. Josen flung the box open while trying to shrug out of his jacket…

  The box was empty.

  Josen ran a hand through the shallow box, as if the robe could hide anywhere inside.

  “Tori,” he said, voice rising in panic. “Where’s the robe?”

  “I just gave it—” Her voice trailed off at the sight of the empty box, eyes wide. “God’s tears—”

  “Was it in there at the apartment?” Akelle asked, eyes darting from the box to the alley entrance.

  “I didn’t check,” Josen said.

  “What now, then?” Akelle asked.

  Josen stared long and hard at the empty box, then snapped it shut.

  “Josen,” Akelle said, wary. “I don’t like that look.”

  “Come on,” Josen said, stepping out of the alley and heading toward the Pass.

  “What look?” Tori asked Akelle. “What are we doing?”

  Akelle sighed. “He doesn’t even know yet,” he said, following close behind Josen. “He’s making it up as he goes. But it’s sure to be stupid.”

  “If you have any ideas at all . . .,” Josen said over his shoulder.

  “Yup,” Akelle said. “He’s going to do something stupid.”

  * * *

  “Everyone will have to wait,” Akelle heard the Deferate bellow from the front of the line. “The Pass is switching to Ceralon-out traffic! You’ll have to wait until the next right-of-way change.”

  “What do you mean?” someone yelled from the crowd. “It isn’t near time yet for the switch.”

  “The Pass mist is receding,” the Deferate said. “That means it’s time, no matter when it happens.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Akelle said. This complicated things. “We can’t catch a break!”

  The three of them continued to shove their way forward, feigning breathlessness. Akelle didn’t feel like he was faking very hard. The pair of Protectors who had been chasing Tori had spotted them as they had left the alley and were a minute behind them—maybe less—pushing their way through an increasingly irritated crowd. This had better work.

  “What are we supposed to do with the Pass closed?” Tori
asked.

  “Just keep going,” Josen said.

  “But the Deferate said—”

  “It won’t be a problem. Trust me.”

  Akelle caught glimpses of the Pass Deferate as they pushed their way closer to the front of the line. He stepped out of the Pass office and glared up at the clouds now dribbling down a pathetic rain.

  “Here now,” the Deferate said. “Hey! What is going—” The words seemed to stick in his mouth as Josen, Akelle and Tori burst out of crowded line and into the clearing before the Pass. Akelle couldn’t help but admire Josen’s bearing as they did so—sweaty, disheveled and covered in soot, he stood there gripping the black lacquered box, somehow looking like he had every right in the world to be standing there with it.

  “Brother Deferate?” the Pass Deferate said with a confused glance at the box. “What is… I mean, what on God’s bountiful earth is going on?”

  Josen grimaced in pain as he approached the Deferate. “We need passage, immediately,” Josen said, voice different from any Akelle had ever heard him use.

  “Excuse me?” the man said, bristling. “Brother, I can tell you’re distraught, but there are protocols, and the Pass is closed for the moment. And why are you carrying your robes—”

  The Deferate sputtered to a stop as Josen stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder.

  “What’s your name?” the Josen asked, staring hard into the Deferate’s face.

  “Jamis, sir,” the man—Jamis, apparently—stuttered. “That is, I am Deferate Jamis Carle.”

  “A few weeks out of the Seminary?” Josen asked.

  “Um, yes. Five. And a bit.”

  The Josen nodded seriously. “I apologize for the lack of ceremony, but we require Passage at speed.”

  No kidding, Akelle thought. He glanced backward nervously. Hurry it up, Josen! The Protectors could be here any second.

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Jamis said. “Is all well?”

  “No. We were pursued by two men posing as Protectors. They attempted to steal my robes, and I believe they mean to kill us,” Josen said. “They set fire to our inn and accosted us as we fled. We only just managed to escape with our lives. You are to detain them. Do not to allow them Passage. Am I understood?”

  “Absolutely, sir,” Jamis nodded, standing straighter. Josen took his hand and smiled.

  Behind them the crowd began to shudder as the Protectors drew close. Akelle watched nervously, urging Josen to hurry up.

  “We are in your debt.” Josen stepped past Deferate Carle, hurrying toward the Pass.

  “But sir!” Deferate Carle called after them. “The Pass is still closed. You won’t be able to get through!”

  “Nonsense. I can still see mist on the ramp.”

  Akelle could see no such thing, but that wouldn’t matter as long as they could get down into the Pass…

  “We’ll get through fine, I’m sure,” Josen said, still not stopping. Akelle and Tori followed close behind. “Thank you, Deferate Carle. I shall be sure to remember your help today.” They hurried down into the Pass and out of sight.

  Chapter 11

  “I can’t believe that worked,” Akelle heard Tori whisper as they walked away from the Deferate Carle. He could see her trembling. Akelle agreed.

  “No faith,” Josen said with a grin. “Some poor, bored young Deferate gets to be a hero, we get quick Passage, everyone wins.”

  “But how did you know—”

  “We’ll talk later,” Josen said reassuringly. “Ready, Akelle?”

  “Let’s go,” Akelle said, following close behind as Josen ushered Tori down into the Pass. He wanted to know what was going through Josen’s head too, but this wasn’t the time. Those Protectors would be here any second, and things could get ugly fast if Deferate Carle couldn’t manage to detain them.

  Despite having been through various Passes a dozen or more times now, Akelle was still a little overawed by them. The three of them descended below ground level, stonework walls holding back the earth on either side. When the Pass was active and open, there was a shifting pool of mist at the bottom of the ramp. Now, there was nothing.

  “Does it hurt?” Tori asked.

  “No,” Josen answered. “It tingles a bit.”

  Akelle watched as mist started seeping from the ground around them as they walked further down the ramp. It spun lazily around Akelle’s legs, growing and swelling as he walked.

  “Meaning it hurts like a kick to the face,” Tori said, tensing even more, the mist swirled in a tight pocket around them, up to their waists now.

  “It’s weird,” Akelle said, “but it doesn’t hurt.”

  “It takes some getting used to,” said Josen, as the mist rose to the top of his chest. It was up to Akelle’s nose, and then…

  Rushing, tingling light filled Akelle’s body as he walked—he didn’t know what would happen if he stopped, but he had no desire to test it. Suddenly, he felt as though he had been turned upside-down—like he was walking on the ceiling. Tori stumbled and panicked, gripping hard at Josen’s arm, but there was no sound. There never was inside the Pass. The kept going, pushing through the mist. The rushing sensation was making Akelle dizzy. They had to be close…

  The mist broke without warning, bathing them in soft evening light. Sound rushed back all at once, the murmuring crowds of people and bellowing oxen and chattering squirrels. Ceralon’s mountain air was cool, and it would get colder fast as the sun disappeared over the mountains across the basin from them.

  “What is… Where are we?” Tori asked, coming to a full stop, eyes wide. Her arms were already covered in goose bumps.

  “Welcome to the beautiful city of Ceralon,” Josen said.

  “Yeah. Great, stunning,” Akelle whispered as loud as he dared, eyeing the pair of Pass guards who stood gawking at them. “Oh, and also—”

  “Hey!” yelled one of the Pass guards, standing at the entrance to the ramp. “What are you doing? The Pass is closed! How did you get through?”

  A pair of Deferate Carters walked to the edge of the ramp, their wagonloads of ceral rolling to a stop behind them as every eye fell on Akelle, Josen, and Tori. The Church had to make the grain deliveries several times a day in order to keep ahead of demand, and it used those ceral shipments to demarcate a right-of-way switch—switching from inflow to outflow, or visa-versa. The Pass was supposed to stay closed until those wagons went through.

  “Easy, sir,” Josen said back. “The lady is Pass-sick. It’s her first passage.” He said it with such an air of authority—just as with the Deferate on the Ludon side of the Pass—that no one seemed to notice the evasion.

  The guard’s face softened. “I’m sorry, Deferate sir, but we’re running behind. I’m sure the lady would be more comfortable somewhere other than the Pass ramp.”

  “We’re on our way,” Josen said.

  Tori seemed to have regained her composure, and no one bothered them as they made their way down the bluff overlooking the city. The sun was barely visible now, but it was still light enough for a perfect view of Ceralon as they descended the switchbacks leading down to the city in an open carriage.

  “What are those?” Tori asked, pointing to a line of four lights coming alive on bluffs at the opposite end of the basin.

  “Those are the other Passes,” Josen said in answer. He pointed to each of the four in turn. “Sefti, Jurdon, Kendai, and Chessay. Pomay Pass is over there,” Josen said, pointing to their left, “on top of that bluff, but we can’t see it from here. Basin Pass in down there, next to the Temple.”

  “What about that dark spot?” Tori asked, pointing toward a break in the otherwise regularly spaced lights marking the various passes, between Chessay and Kendai Pass. “It looks like there should be something there.”

  “There is. Kind of. That’s Tasoor Pass.”

  “Oh,” Tori said, wide eyed.

  “Right,” said Josen.

  Tasoor was an almost mythic place no one knew mu
ch about. They had a Pass to their city, and so should have been a part of the Passbound Union but weren’t for some reason Akelle didn’t understand. Josen tried to explain it once, saying it had to do with a refusal by the Tasoorians to enter into some sort of treaty or other such technicality. For his part, Akelle was glad the Tasoorians didn’t want to keep their Pass open. All the stories said people in Tasoor were violent, insane barbarians—worse even than the Okeelay islanders or Amorlens nomads from the mountains of Pomay.

  “It’s beautiful,” Tori said softly.

  “Hmm?” Josen said, seeming distracted.

  “The city,” Tori said. “It’s beautiful.”

  Josen smiled but didn’t reply.

  Akelle agreed with Tori. It seemed nice here, though he and Josen had never spent any amount of time in the city. They always rushed through, going straight to whichever Pass they needed to take them to their next destination.

  Ceralon was a large city, but not dense. It sprawled, the streets wide and irregular without looking messy or random. Instead, they looked like they had been drawn by some godlike painter who gloried in asymmetry. The buildings, houses and businesses alike, were clustered in tight bunches, like little islands of architecture in a sea of grey brick roads and open grass fields just starting to turn green with the warming mountain spring weather. In the center of the city stood the Temple of the Faceless God rising high above anything else in the city. The entire city, nestled neatly in the mountain basin, was split in half by a deep river canyon.

  But Akelle wasn’t really watching the city. He was watching Josen. He had been acting funny ever since getting into the carriage. He looked sad to Akelle—faraway. And nervous. In fact, instead of growing less nervous as they got farther away from the Ludon Pass and the people chasing them, he seemed to be growing more nervous by the second.

  As they entered the city proper, Akelle couldn’t help but stare at the streets and buildings. They were so clean. There were no beggars on corners, no menacing shadows looming in the alleys, not even the occasional semi-conscious addict leaned up against the building sides. It was unsettling. Everyone Akelle saw was upright and conscious, clean and—as far as he could see—happy. Their coach took them through half the city before Josen called for the driver to stop, and Akelle hadn’t witnessed so much as a single cutpurse, let alone any kind of more violent encounter.