A Parliament of Bodies

by Marshall Ryan Maresca

  “Then take him,” Welling said.

  “Get out of here,” Quoyell said, grabbing Welling’s arm, pulling him out to the hallway.

  “Are you taking him into your custody?” Satrine asked, glancing at the curtain to the observation room. Dayne was in there, even if she couldn’t see him right now. She didn’t want to leave Sholiar—damn it, she had accepted that was who the fellow was, hadn’t she?—without eyes on him. Dayne would have to do.

  “We’ll question him,” Quoyell said. “And then we’ll decide if he’s of interest to our case.” He spit that word at her with much venom. Satrine kept herself half in the doorway, where she could still pay attention to Sholiar and see Quoyell and Welling. Four marshals were in the hallway, waiting with their hands resting on sword pommels.

  “Rainey, let’s just let this go,” Cinellan said.

  “No, I’m not,” Quoyell said. “The fact that I had to come down here, twice, because of your overzealous people—”

  “My people did their jobs,” Cinellan shot back hotly. “You will respect me and my house, and my people—”

  “What I’m going to do is get a Royal decree to crawl up inside the Constabulary, especially this Grand Inspection Unit, and tear it apart.”

  “Just try it, Chief.” Cinellan made the man’s rank sound like a slap.

  “Your man Enbrain can’t protect you!”

  “Enbrain,” Sholiar said lightly. “There was something for him, too. But that’s past. You all ruined it.”

  “Shut it,” Quoyell said. He turned to his men. “Take him out of here.” The four marshals came into the room, brushing Satrine aside.

  “Coming here wasn’t my plan in the first place,” Sholiar said. “But sometimes a man has to improvise.”

  He whipped his arms around and the irons came flying off, smacking one marshal in the face. Then he hurled three darts at the other marshals. All three fell to the floor in a fit, foaming at the mouth.

  “And, yes, quia mosha, you should have checked the coat.”

  * * *

  Dayne knew he shouldn’t have let that rat Sholiar out of arm’s reach. Four men down in a breath. And with the marshals on the floor, Welling and Rainey wouldn’t be able to get at him easily. But it also meant that Sholiar would likely try to jump through the curtain into the observation room to make his escape. Which left it up to Dayne to stop him.

  “Stay back, miss,” he told the clerk who had come to transcribe the questioning. She had already jumped out of her chair and scurried to the back corner.

  “Don’t think I don’t hear you, old top,” Sholiar said from the other side. He tore the curtain open. “You think this can help you atone?”

  “You’re not going anywhere,” Dayne said. Rainey and Welling were trying to get over the fallen marshals, Welling’s hand now lit up in blue flame.

  “Maybe, maybe not,” Sholiar said, stepping farther into the questioning room, putting the table between him and the window to the observation room. “Doesn’t change the fact that somewhere in Lacanja there’s a crippled boy, all thanks to you.”

  “That was your doing!” Dayne tried to get into the room, but the window from the observation room was small, and Dayne could barely squeeze through it. He had only managed to get his head and one arm through so far. At least Sholiar couldn’t get past him.

  “I didn’t smash him with a barrel lid, old top.” Sholiar kicked the table, knocking it into Rainey, pinning her to the wall. “You weren’t the one I had wanted to play with, dear,” he said to her.

  “Were you trying to get my attention?” Welling asked, getting in front of him. “The Enbrain message?”

  “You noticed that?” Sholiar asked, ducking a swing from Welling’s handstick. “Oh, Inspector, I could kiss you.” He popped up, grabbed Welling’s head, and did just that.

  Welling startled, and the flame around his hand lit up into white-hot. Sholiar grabbed the inspector and spun him toward Dayne. Welling’s hand smashed into Dayne’s face, and suddenly Dayne was engulfed in light and pain.

  After a momentary eternity, Dayne pulled himself out of the window, breaking contact with Welling. He felt like every part of his body was on fire, and even trying to use his eyes was painful. But he had to see, he had to move. Sholiar was already gone.

  Dayne pushed himself out of the room, despite the pain, forcing himself to stay on his feet. In the hallway, Sholiar had grabbed the clerk and was holding a cord around her throat.

  “Now,” Sholiar said loudly. “I’m going to walk out of here, because you all want this girl to not bleed all over the floor. Am I clear?”

  Rainey and Welling were in the hallway, both looking slightly dazed.

  “Nyla,” Welling whispered. Then his voice rose to a roar. “You will release her!”

  “Nothing doing, dear Inspector,” Sholiar said, dragging the woman down the hall. “No one is going to try to stop me. All I have to do is jerk my wrists and she dies.”

  “Minox, please,” the woman said.

  Rainey had her crossbow up, but she wasn’t aiming at him yet.

  Sholiar was at the stairs.

  “Stay with them,” the Constabulary captain said. He had a bleeding gash on his face. Sholiar must have struck him on his way out the door.

  “Everyone keep away from me!” Sholiar shouted as he went up. Dayne charged after him, despite every nerve in his body crying out. Welling looked like he was feeling the same way, nearly collapsing as he tried to pursue Sholiar. Rainey grabbed him before he fell, and hauled him with her up the stairs to the main stationhouse work floor.

  Sholiar was crossing the room, still holding the clerk by the throat.

  “No one, and I mean no one, even come close to us,” he said.

  Dayne drew out his sword. “You will let her go, Sholiar.”

  “Try it, old top,” Sholiar said. “You probably will kill me, I’ve no doubt, but she’ll die, too. You want that on you?”

  Welling raised his hand, but instead of it being engulfed in flame, it just sparked and crackled, like the last embers of a dying campfire.

  “I really expected better,” Sholiar said. “But now I can at least get things back on track. And you’ll help, won’t you, dear?” he asked the clerk.

  “Please,” she whispered. “Anyone, help.”

  “No one can,” he whispered back. He had crossed over to the entry desk. Ten more feet, and he’d be outside.

  Then suddenly the device around her neck flew out of his hands, and Sholiar went flying in the air, crashing into a wall.

  The clerk collapsed, and someone ran in to catch her before she hit the ground.

  “Got you,” Joshea Brondar said.

  Sholiar was on his feet in a heartbeat. “Well, that’s interesting.”

  Dayne tried to make his legs charge forward, but they felt like wood, rooted to the floor. Rainey raised up her crossbow and took a shot, but Sholiar slipped to the side. Her bolt embedded itself into the wall.

  “That’s enough of that,” Sholiar said, and barreled through the one patrolman who stood between him and freedom. Rainey ran after him out the door, while Welling stumbled toward the clerk and Brondar.

  “Are you—did you—” Welling said, gasping for breath. Dayne could barely keep his own feet and let himself collapse to his knees. His sword fell from his hands, clattering to the floor.

  “It’s fine,” Brondar said. “I’m fine. She’s safe, that’s what matters.”

  Chief Quoyell and the Constabulary captain came up the stairs. “Where is he?” Quoyell asked. “Did he escape?”

  Dayne tried to answer him, but he couldn’t even get words into his mouth. Minox Welling had also dropped to the ground.

  “Yellowshields, doctors, hurry!” Dayne heard someone yell, before his vision blurred, and then everything went quiet.
r />   Chapter 20

  SATRINE HAD LOST Sholiar. She ran down the alley she assumed he had gone down—based on the scatter of the crowd in the square—but there was no sign of him there. There was no point in just running blindly, wasting more time. She returned to the stationhouse.

  “Is everyone all right?” she asked as she came in, even though it was clear the answer was no. Nyla was on a bench normally reserved for new arrests, looking Poasian pale as Brondar and Corrie hovered over her. Joshea Brondar’s attention wasn’t completely on her, though, as he glanced furtively around the room.

  It was his magic that had separated Sholiar and Nyla, not Minox’s. It didn’t occur to Satrine until now, seeing the guilty look on his face. Probably no one else in the stationhouse would make the connection, save Minox and Corrie. No one else needed to know, as far as Satrine was concerned.

  Welling and Dayne were both on the ground, as a couple of Yellowshields attended to them. Mister Olivant stood over them both, scowling, while Jerinne paced aimlessly.

  Captain Cinellan was having his face bandaged, while Chief Quoyell was dropping a Riot Call on his head.

  “What sort of outfit are you running where a prisoner is not properly searched and disarmed before putting him in holding?” Quoyell shouted. The other marshals were being carried out on stretchers by Yellowshields.

  “He wasn’t in holding—”

  “My men are down, your house is a shambles. If you thought I wouldn’t bring down the weight of the crown on you before—”

  “Get out of my house,” Cinellan said quietly. “And if you come back you better bring a box of writs and a Grand High Judge with you.”

  “Don’t think I won’t,” Quoyell said. He pointed a thick finger at Satrine. “Stick to your side of the river.” With that, he left.

  Satrine went over to the captain. “Thank you, sir.”

  He shook his head. “Someone will have to be hit with the hammer for this, you know.” He looked over to Welling, still lying insensate on the floor next to Dayne, who was in the same condition.

  “What happened to them?” Satrine asked.

  “Foolishness,” Olivant said. He held his hands over the two of them, a faint violet nimbus surrounding him. “I have no idea how, but the inspector managed to bind himself to this Tarian fellow with some sort of numinic tether. Sucked half the life out of them both.”

  “Can you—” Satrine started.

  “Maybe,” Olivant said. “But try to remember I’m a lawyer who happens to do some magic.”

  Satrine took this as a cue. “I can go get someone. At the university? Or I know a few—”

  “I’ve already started, and I’ve stemmed the bleeding, so to speak. They won’t get worse. But if I hadn’t been here, they’d have both died here on the floor.”

  “We appreciate it,” Captain Cinellan said.

  “I really don’t care what you appreciate. I should just let him die from his own incompetence. But Welling dragged this other fellow into it, and he doesn’t deserve that.”

  He yanked both his hands apart, and the violet nimbus shattered like glass. In that moment, both Welling and Dayne opened their eyes and gasped for breath.

  “Easy, easy,” Jerinne said, crouching next to Dayne. “You’re going to be all right.”

  “He’s probably starving. The both of them,” Olivant said. He shook his head and stepped away from them, giving an odd glance over to Brondar at the bench with Nyla and Corrie. All three of them had gotten to their feet to look at Minox.

  “Kid,” Satrine said to one of the pages who was standing in the middle of the work floor, gawking. “Run out to the wrap stand and get as many fast wraps as Missus Wolman can make. Tell her it’s for Inspector Welling, and it’s an emergency.” The page ran out.

  “What happened?” Welling asked. “I never—I don’t—”

  “You had no control, Inspector,” Olivant snarled. “Like I’ve been saying.”

  “No need for that,” Satrine said. “They both nearly died.”

  “And thankfully someone who knew what he was doing was on hand,” Olivant said. “I’ve been saying this, and it is the formal opinion of Lord Preston’s Circle.” He pointed over to Miss Morad, who had been quietly sitting at a desk writing in her journal. “Regardless of her decision, rest assured that we will be taking action, and filing an injunction with the Trust of Circles—”

  “This is not the time,” Cinellan snapped. “You do what you want, but you do it elsewhere.”

  Olivant raised an eyebrow, and gave one last disdain-filled glance at Welling, and then another to the bench. “Constabulary. Always building a wall around themselves.” He flung his capelet over his shoulder and stalked off.

  “Rainey—” Welling said, reaching up past the Yellowshield. “I can’t—”

  “Just stay put,” Satrine said.

  The page ran in with a handful of fast wraps. “She’s cooking more. Is this enough?”

  “It’s a start,” Satrine said, taking one and kneeling next to Welling. Jerinne grabbed a couple and got close to Dayne. Welling wasn’t able to hold it, barely able to get his head up. She had to feed him directly, which he accepted voraciously, though she could see shame in his eyes.

  At least there was something in his eyes. Otherwise this would be far too close to how it was when she fed her husband.

  “All right, all right,” he said when he finished a fourth. “I think . . . I think I can get on my feet.”

  “As can I,” Dayne said weakly. “I’ve never . . . I’ve never felt anything . . .” His Yellowshield was now checking his face and eyes.

  “You’re both lucky to be alive,” Jerinne said.

  “My fault,” Welling said.

  “Sholiar,” Dayne said hotly. “Blame no one but him.”

  “Where—” Welling started to ask.

  “In the wind,” Satrine said. “I’m sorry, he got outside, and I . . . I just lost him.”

  “Not your fault,” Welling said. “He . . . I don’t know . . . used me against Dayne, or . . .”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Dayne said, getting on his feet. “We must find him and—”

  He stumbled to his knees.

  “I’m taking you back home,” Jerinne said, helping him up.

  “I’m going to rutting do the same for you,” Corrie said, coming up to Welling. “You and Nyla should both get home and rest.”

  Cinellan coughed.

  “With your permission, Captain,” Corrie added.

  “No,” Miss Morad said from her place at the desk.

  “I’m sorry?” Captain Cinellan asked.

  “Mister Welling cannot leave until I’ve presented my decision, which I’m now prepared to render.” She stood up and crossed over to them. “The rest is of no moment to me, but I will follow some procedure here. This has all already been far too irregular.”

  “It’s fine,” Welling said.

  “But—” Corrie started.

  “Take Nyla home.”

  “Like rutting blazes I’m leaving you to get home alone,” Corrie said.

  “Language,” Miss Morad said in gentle song.

  “I can . . . I can wait,” Nyla said weakly. Satrine didn’t believe she meant it, and clearly no one else did either.

  “Nothing doing, Miss Pyle,” the captain said. “You should go home and rest. Blazes, most of us should.”

  “I can take her,” Brondar said.

  “Are you certain?” Welling asked.

  “Absolutely,” Brondar replied. Minox stumbled closer to them for private counsel, and Satrine kept her distance.

  Jerinne came up, half holding Dayne’s massive form up with her shoulder. “I’ll bring him back to his apartment, and then come back—”

  “I cannot condone that,” the captain said. “I appreciat
e the . . . involvement of the Tarian Order today, but as we are no longer dealing with the Parliament case or the Gearbox Murders, it’s not appropriate.”

  “But Sholiar—” Dayne said weakly.

  “Is out of my hands,” Cinellan said. “Frankly, from what I saw, maybe you and yours should be the ones to handle it.”

  Jerinne nodded, and gave Satrine as much of an embrace as she could manage while holding Dayne up. “If you need—”

  “Come to the house when you can,” Satrine whispered. “I have . . .” She faltered. The idea was still only half in her head, nothing she wanted to formalize as a real idea. “I have something to talk to you about.”

  Jerinne nodded, and took Dayne off. Nyla and Brondar also left, after some embraces and handshakes with Welling.

  Corrie led Welling over, and Satrine got on the other side to support him. “Shall we do this then?”

  “Come along, then,” Miss Morad said to Welling, beckoning him to the stairs upstairs. “Inspector Rainey, there’s no need for you to bother.”

  “Like blazes,” Satrine said, taking a small amount of joy from the wince in Miss Morad’s face at that. “He’s my partner. Right next to him is where I’m going to be.”

  * * *

  Minox wanted to get up the stairs to the inspectors’ floor unassisted, but despite his best efforts, he was unable to. Corrie and Inspector Rainey did their best to aid him only when he absolutely needed it, which amounted to almost every step.

  He almost thought that Miss Morad was doing it this way to watch him suffer. If that was the case, then he was giving her a very good show.

  On the floor, Inspectors Mirrell and Kellman were pacing about, going over a large map of the city. It looked like Kellman, at least, was taking Minox’s advice seriously, and Mirrell seemed to be engaging in the idea. For some reason, Iorrett and the rest of the Special Response Squad were milling about as well, like they were waiting for something. All of them, including Mirrell and Kellman, looked expectant.