by Claire Luana
“Isn’t that the truth,” Olivia said, grabbing a cinnamon strudel. She’d seen Hale eat that much in a sitting and never exercise. Lucky bastard indeed.
She took a bite, holding her other hand out to catch the little avalanche of cinnamon crumbles and almonds pieces that fell from her pastry. It was delicious—perfectly flaky, with the nutty and sharp undertones of cinnamon and nutmeg. She could almost feel her taste buds radiating happiness, sending tingles of pleasure straight to her brain.
“Wow,” Olivia said through her bite. She had never tasted so strong a flavor—like the sugar and butter permeated her being. She stumbled against the counter, suddenly feeling woozy. But the feeling was gone in a flash, so quickly Olivia was sure she had imagined it.
“This is some pastry,” Lennon said, inspecting his donut with wide dark eyes.
It was. It was the best she’d ever had. And it was so considerate of the emperor to provide these gifts to them. It was exactly the type of thing their Emperor would do. He was always thinking of others—working tirelessly for the betterment of all who lived in the lands of the Aprican Empire.
Marina was looking at her father, her smooth face rapt with delight. “You must tell the emperor thank you. Tell him—he’s a fair and righteous ruler.”
Olivia found herself nodding. Truer words had never been spoken. “Yes.” She nodded, overcome by her gratitude towards their sovereign. “A fair and righteous ruler.”
Callidus knocked on the glass of the door and motioned to Dash sharply. The man slipped outside to follow them the short walk across the street to the Guildhall. It was ridiculous that he had even escorted them. The wind tugged at her and Wren corralled her whipping auburn tresses with one hand, her cloak in the other. A spitting rain was starting, the tiny drops stinging like needles against her skin.
A crowd was gathering down the street in front of the Sower’s Temple, where Virgil used to work. Wren pressed her lips together in a tight line at the thought of Virgil. Hopefully, he was drinking mead at the Sower’s right hand, smiling down at all of them. He deserved a blessed afterlife. As they always did, her thoughts of Virgil turned to thoughts of Lucas. Her chest tightened as she looked at the spot before the Temple’s doors where she had once in her anger barreled into Lucas, sending them both tumbling onto the cobblestones. Oh, Lucas, she thought. Where are you?
She pulled her attention from the memory. “What’s going on?” she asked, nodding her head towards the commotion.
“Not sure,” Dash said, his steps slowing.
“I’m going to check it out,” Wren said. Anything to distract herself from the grief and worry that tugged at her, from the thunderstorm of Callidus’s mood.
Dash looked between her and Callidus, hesitating for a moment before falling into step beside her. “You seem the more pleasant company,” he whispered with a wink.
“Don’t count on it,” she said blackly, heading down Guilder’s Row. The man reminded her too much of Hale for her to bear his presence easily. His friendly swagger, his unflappable good mood. Well, he reminded her of the old Hale. And that was an even worse reminder.
Before the ochre stones of the temple, a group of four Aprican legionnaires had set up a small tent and table. A heavy-ladened wagon sat next to them, the horse’s head drooping in the rain.
“What’s going on?” Wren asked a woman who stood with a little girl tucked in close to her skirts.
“The emperor is giving out free bread! You can take a loaf a person. Word is they’re going to do it all winter! To make sure we all have full bellies.”
Wren stood on her tiptoes, peering over the waiting crowd. The legionnaires were handing out what looked like loaves of bread wrapped in brown paper. She turned back towards the Guild, frowning.
“Why’d you look like you just swallowed a slug?” Dash asked as they walked back up the slick sidewalk. “Aren’t you glad the emperor is feeding your fellow citizens?”
Wren nodded. “I guess.” The gesture was surprisingly kind. So why did it leave an uneasy feeling in her gut?
“I told you life under the Aprican Empire isn’t all bad. You wait. Things’ll look up.”
Wren ignored him as they walked into the Guildhall, lost in thought.
“You should get out of those wet clothes, my lady,” Dash said with a pleasant smile. “And get something warm to drink. No need to catch a chill.”
Wren glared at his retreating form. Why did he have to be so damn nice? It would be much easier to hate him if he were an ass like Ambrose or creepy like Daemastra. She pushed her wet hair off her forehead. In truth, something warm would be nice. She walked up the steps, headed towards the library. A cup of coffee. Then a long, hot bath. Things would make more sense after a hot bath.
Wren rounded the corner into the library and pulled up short at the heavenly smell of fresh baked bread and frosting. On the long marble countertop lay a cornucopia of baked goods. Olivia and Lennon stood at the counter surveying the plenty, Olivia giggling over a cinnamon strudel.
“What’s all this?” Wren asked.
“Wren!” They cried in unison, turning. Olivia’s cheeks were flushed and lovely. Lennon opened his arms wide with welcome, half a frosted donut in one hand, the other bite being rapidly chewed. “Come try something! A gift from the emperor to apologize for the belated return of Grandmaster Beckett.”
“Beckett is back?” Wren asked, shocked. She hadn’t thought they’d ever see him again. “Where is he?”
“He and Marina went back to his room to get him settled and talk,” Olivia said.
“And he’s...all right?” Whole? She wanted to ask.
“The emperor treated him like an honored guest,” Lennon said. “He’ll tell you himself! Now, seriously, you’ve got to try something.”
Wren approached and surveyed the smorgasbord. They did look good. There were maple bars frosted with fresh maple syrup and what looked like tiny crumbles of bacon. Her stomach rumbled. She picked up the sticky maple bar, examining the craftsmanship. “What I don’t get is, why would the emperor send all this to us? What is this? A baked good bribe?” She thought of the table with piles of bread being handed out. Perhaps that was exactly what this was.
“A bribe?” Olivia said around another bite of her strudel. “How could you think such a thing? The emperor is a fair and righteous ruler.”
Wren froze, maple bar halfway to her mouth. “What did you say?”
“She’s right,” Lennon said. “If we trust in him, he will bring glory to all the lands of the Aprican empire.”
Those words. She had heard those words before. Coming out of Chandler. And the other guild members. A heaviness settled over her—gluing her to the floor where she stood. What had Guildmaster Beatrix said? A baker’s guild member was missing. A Gifted guild member.
The maple bar fell from her hand as the pieces clicked into place. This food was infused. The pastries at the Guild meeting. The bread on the street. It was all infused.
“Wren? Are you all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Olivia said.
Lennon snapped his fingers before her face. “You’re as white as a sheet.”
“Who...else...?” Wren swallowed. “Who else has eaten these pastries?”
“Marina and Beckett. They were just delivered fifteen minutes ago.” Olivia frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“Callidus grabbed one with his coffee a few minutes ago,” Lennon added.
“Callidus?” Wren’s eyes widened. “Where did he go?”
“His office, I think.”
Wren dashed from the library, spinning around the bannister to take the stairs up to the third floor two by two. The guards on the stairs leaped out of her way in surprise.
“Callidus!” she screamed as she tore down the hallway and burst through his closed office door.
Callidus sat at his desk, the cruller in his hand moving towards his lips.
Chapter 11
Wren dove bodily across the desk, batting th
e pastry out of Callidus’s narrow fingers.
Callidus held his hands up, frozen in shock at Wren’s sudden appearance before him. “What in the Beekeeper’s name are you doing?”
Wren let her head fall down, relief washing over her like a sugar glaze. “Infused...pastry.”
Callidus shot to his feet, retrieving the offending cruller. He held it between two fingers and examined it as Wren crawled off the desk, pushing her hair out of her face. “How do you know?”
“They’re infused. All of them. The ones at the meeting this morning. The ones in the library. Olivia and Lennon were spouting the exact same nonsense as Chandler. What was it?” Wren paused. “Oh, right. ‘The emperor is a fair and righteous ruler,’” she said, her voice as even as an automaton.
Callidus fell into his chair with a heavy thunk, staring at the cruller. Wren sat in the leather-wrapped armchair before him, weariness washing over her.
Callidus spoke. “They’re brainwashing the Guilds. With pastries.”
If she weren’t so overcome with despair, Wren might have laughed. It sounded ridiculous when you put it like that. “That’s not the worst of it. That crowd outside on Guilder’s Row? They’re handing out bread to the people. I bet they’re doing it all over the city.”
“They’ll have the whole city under their control in a matter of days. But this... How...?” Callidus trailed off, rubbing his sharp chin with his fingers, his eyes distant.
“They have a member of the Baker’s Guild. They must have discovered his Gift.”
“Blooming hell,” Callidus said. “This feels more like Vintner’s Guild magic.”
The thought chilled her. The Vintner’s Guild—the magic of secrets and lies. “Maybe the Apricans have some new way of combining magics. We don’t know. We’ve never really understood what gives one person the ability to create a certain type of infusion.”
“What if they can put it in other food? Beyond bread or pastries? Who’s to say that any of our food is safe?” Callidus asked, tossing the cruller onto the table, brushing the frosting off his hands with a grimace.
Wren blew out a slow breath. “He’s already gotten to so many. All the guildmasters. Lennon. Olivia. Marina and Beckett.”
Callidus looked up at that.
“Oh yes, Beckett is back,” Wren said. “He’s the one who brought the presents.”
Callidus wiped his mouth with the back of a shaky hand. “Once it spreads, the rebellion will die naturally. There will be no chance of removing Evander from the throne.”
“And we’ll all be mindless drones, marching to whatever beat the emperor plays for us,” Wren finished. She leaned forward, her head falling into her hands. This was worse. Worse than anything they had faced before. She hadn’t thought it was possible, but here it was.
Callidus looked up with alarm. “Thom. Where’s Thom?”
Wren and Callidus were out of their chairs and scrambling towards the door in the blink of an eye. They raced down the hallway, rounding the stairs, taking them at a breakneck pace. Lieutenant Dashiell was at the bottom, chatting with one of the guild guards. “Have you seen Thom?” Callidus cried.
“Dining hall.” Dash crooked a thumb behind him. “What’s wrong?”
Dining hall, Wren mouthed to Callidus in horror.
Without answering, they were off again, racing through the hallways, bursting through the doors into the dining hall. Thom was sitting at a table by himself in the empty hall, a forkful of pancake poised before his mouth. Wren ran forward, batting the fork out of his mouth. “Don’t eat that!” she cried.
The fork spiraled out of his hand, skidding across the wooden floor. “Sweet caramel, Wren, what’s gotten into you?”
Wren dropped onto the bench across from him. Please, by the gods, let that pancake be safe. “What do you think about the emperor?” she asked, her forehead scrunching in preparation for his stock answer.
“I hope the bastard chokes on a truffle and does us all a favor,” he said. “Why?”
Callidus let out a triumphant laugh of relief, grabbing Thom by the shoulders and shaking him with excitement.
Thom looked between the two of them, confusion etched across his freckled face.
Dash trotted into the hall, his hand on his sword. “Everything all right?”
“False alarm.” Callidus waved him away. He slid onto the bench next to Thom, adjusting his hair to return it to position.
Dash scowled at them, but he turned and left.
“Now will someone tell me what my pancake did to you?” Thom asked.
Wren answered in a whisper. “The emperor is spreading infused baked goods through the city. When you eat them...it changes you. You become his number one fan.”
Thom looked between them in disbelief. “Is that even possible?”
“I assure you, it is. And it has happened,” Callidus said grimly.
“How long does it last?” he asked.
Wren shrugged. “We’ll see. But if people keep eating the infused bread, they’ll keep getting re-infected.”
“All the other Guild heads are under his spell,” Callidus said. “And we can’t trust anything in the city. Swarms, I hate to admit it, but the emperor’s plan was genius.”
“Evil genius,” Thom said. “So...can I finish this pancake? It came from the guild kitchen, not from the palace.” He motioned to the half sitting on his plate.
Callidus nodded sharply.
Thom retrieved his fork, wiped it on his napkin, and dug in.
“Callidus...” Wren’s mind was working. “Not all the Guildmasters are infected. Well, at least we don’t know that for sure. What about Pike?” The notorious head of the disbanded Spicer’s Guild. He hadn’t been at the meeting. Presumably, he hadn’t eaten an infused pastry yet. “He might be our only ally.”
“By the Beekeeper, I hate that Pike keeps turning up as our only ally.”
“You should go see him,” Thom said around a bite of pancake.
“You?” Wren asked, turning to Thom. “What are you going to be doing?”
Thom was chewing his last enormous bite and pushed up from the bench. “I’m going to warn my family. Maybe they haven’t eaten the bread yet.”
Right. Sometimes Wren forgot that Thom had another family.
“Go see to them. But come right back here. And eat nothing.”
“Aye aye, Captain.” Thom saluted, fixing his hat over his curls.
When Thom was gone, Callidus turned back to Wren.
“We have to at least see if Pike’s infected,” she protested.
“You’re forgetting one thing,” Callidus said. “The emperor has deemed Pike an enemy of the crown. If anyone is caught cavorting with him, they’ll be arrested too. He’s likely in hiding.”
“We know where some of his hideouts are. It’s worth a try. We should at least warn him.”
Callidus grunted. “Fine. You’re an expert at skulking about. How do you propose getting around our guard friend?”
Wren looked over her shoulder at where Dash had disappeared. That was right. If Dash knew they were going to meet with Pike, he’d be forced to arrest them. They’d have to ditch him.
“The direct way is the best way. We walk out the back door. Let’s go.” She stood.
“Now?”
“No time like the present.”
The Unicorn Mercantile, a dance club on Nysia Avenue, was one of Guildmaster Pike’s lesser-known business ventures. They had found him there once before, when he was hiding from King Imbris’s watchful eye. Perhaps they’d find him there again.
The brick building sat empty and dark in the low light of mid-morning.
Callidus banged on the metal front door with his fist. “The place looks deserted.”
“Pike’s office was downstairs. He could be in there and you’d never know.”
Callidus banged again, more insistent this time. No answer.
“Should we go around back?” Wren offered. “See if we can look in the window?
”
“It’s a club. There are no windows by design,” Callidus said, pounding a third time, keeping up an even tempo, his fist echoing on the metal door.
The door cracked open as Callidus’s hand was poised for another round. “What?” a deadpan voice said.
Wren squinted. She recognized the man. It was Pike’s second-in-command, a dark-goateed man named Rizio.
Wren peeked her head under Callidus’s arm. “Can we come in? Is the Guildmaster here?”
“Nope. And I’m not taking visitors.” Rizio started to close the door.
“Please! We bring important news to share about the emperor.”
Rizio sighed and closed the door. A chain on the inside rattled, and he opened the door, standing back to let them in. “Quickly. Prying eyes everywhere these days.”
They descended the dark staircase into the still dance hall and beyond, into the bowels of the building, where Pike’s office lay. The office was empty, desk drawers pulled out, files piled on the sofa and in boxes.
“Going somewhere?” Callidus asked, surveying the scene.
“It’s not safe in Maradis for us anymore. The Guild has been disbanded. Time for us to return to sea. It’s where we belong anyway.”
Callidus spoke. “It’s even less safe than you might imagine. For all of us. The emperor has a member of the Baker’s Guild producing infused pastries and breads. He’s distributing them all over the city. They remove your ability to think freely. By eating the bread, you become brainwashed to believe the emperor is the best thing for Maradis since...well, since sliced bread.”
“Coward,” Rizio said, his mouth twisting in distaste. “Politics. The Guilds have become like rats, scheming and maneuvering in the dark.”
“Where’s Pike?” Callidus asked. “Can we speak with him?”
“He’s already left the city. He’s safe.”
“When do you leave?” Wren asked. She wanted to ask where Pike was but feared that was too blunt a question.
“I and the last of the spicers leave tomorrow. I appreciate you sharing your intelligence. We will be able to avoid any of the infused foods before we leave.”
