“Yeah, you probably will,” Jerinne said, holding her chin up. “By the time the three or four of you move in, it’ll be impossible to hold you off. But the one who comes first, he’s getting his neck snapped. So go ahead.”
All of them looked to each other, waiting for one of them to take the lead, but none of them did.
“Fine. I’m at your disposal.” She sat back down next to the older woman.
“Saints,” the woman whispered. “You’ve got some brass.”
A few minutes later Dayne came storming into the stationhouse. “You are going to let that girl out right now!”
“Who the blazes are you?” one of the constables asked.
“Dayne Heldrin, of the Tarian Order, and liaison to the Parliament and King’s Marshals. And I can tell you that any accusations made against her are false and misleading.”
“That sounds terribly fancy,” the clerk said, getting up from her desk. “But I can’t just take that on your say so.”
Dayne came across the floor like he had every bit of authority to do so. He approached the cage. “Her lawyer is on the way, but she should not be sitting in that cage.”
“I can’t—”
“I told you—”
“Mister Heldrin,” the clerk said sharply. “I understand your feelings, but you do not have authority here. You say she has a lawyer coming?”
“I have a lawyer coming?” Jerinne asked.
“Lady Mirianne is sending one.”
“Oh, my, Lady Mirianne,” the old woman said. “You are a fancy one.”
The clerk sighed. “When your lawyer arrives, we’ll see what we can arrange. A serious charge has been laid upon her.”
“They think I murdered a constable, but it was the woman with the hatchets.”
Dayne looked over at the other invaders from the household in the cage. “She cannot be left in there with them.”
“I’ve handled it, Dayne.”
He gave her a slight smile. “I’m sure you did. But it isn’t right.”
The clerk touched Dayne’s arm. “You can wait over there. Let me know when her lawyer arrives.”
Dayne, however, was not deterred. Instead he moved to the other side of the cage. “You. Who hired you? What were you trying to do?”
“Leave me alone, man. I’m already ironed up.”
“Why were you trying to steal the Acoran votes and then abduct Lady Mirianne?”
One of the ruffians slammed on the gate. “You’ll learn, man! We are never free as long as elections are a sham pretense that keep the elite in power!”
“What do the Sons of the Six Sisters want?”
“Truth and freedom!” the ruffian shouted. “Truth and freedom!” The rest started chanting with him.
“Stop riling them up!” one of the constables shouted, grabbing Dayne and pulling him away.
“We’ve got more trouble!” A group of constables were hauling a large number of people in, these looking quite different from any of the other people in the cage. These people were prim and modest-looking. A couple were even in religious vestments. And they all were singing.
“For the light of God
And the blessed Queen
The fruits of Scaloi
Are ever green—”
“Shut them up!” a constable shouted, clocking one—the priest—with a handstick.
“That is enough!” Dayne said, racing over.
“Who is this guy?” a constable asked.
“Dayne, what are you—” the priest started.
The ruffians were still chanting. Over and over. “Truth and freedom! Truth and freedom!”
Another swipe of the handstick knocked the man down. Dayne grabbed it out of the constable’s hand. “I will have charges laid against you, man.”
“Who the blazes do you think you are?”
“Get them in the cage, now!” the clerk shouted. “And shut all their mouths!”
One constable grabbed the woman in the cloistress habit and dragged her over to the cage, but when he opened the gate, all the ruffians stormed him. In a moment they were out of the cage and others rushed to join them. Jerinne instinctively put a hand on the old woman next to her.
“Don’t. You’ll get hurt.”
The ruffians and other prisoners broke into a full-out brawl with both the constables on the work floor and the new prisoners they were bringing in. The cloistress, despite being ironed, responded to the men attacking her with matching ferocity. Dayne scooped the priest up from the floor and pulled him away from the uproar.
“No, no—” the priest said. “No, we cannot, we must not—”
Jerinne dashed forward and closed the gate. Best way to protect the people still inside.
“Truth and freedom!” one yelled as he grabbed a handstick from a constable and brought it cracking down on the cloistress. Blood gushed from her head, but she was not deterred as she grabbed him by the throat.
“No, this . . . we cannot—” the priest said, looking pale and distraught.
Dayne tried to hold him up. “Come on, we’ll get you safe—”
“No,” the priest said again, his voice a low growl of thunder. “No!” The ground shook as he shouted, “Be still!”
The two words echoed through the room, and cut through Jerinne’s spine like a knife. As if ice filled her veins all the way to her heart, stopping it and everything else in her body. It wasn’t just that she couldn’t move, it was as if any desire to move had been torn out, written over her soul.
She wasn’t alone. Every brawling person was stopped in place. The stationhouse was completely silent, save for the tears of the priest.
* * *
Dayne had never before felt so helpless, even when he had failed Master Denbar. He couldn’t move at all, not even to breathe.
It was as if Ret had commanded them with the voice of God itself.
Ret stepped away from him, walking through the tableau of mannequins. “This was not how it was supposed to be. This was never what we wanted.” He was crying openly, as he knelt next to Sister Frienne. “You were supposed to be on a path of peace, child.”
He touched her head, and she started weeping. Then she looked up at him, her face changing from sorrow to anguish. She reached out to him, and the scars on her arms had changed to angry, red welts.
Ret then reached through the bars of the cage, touching Jerinne, who was still frozen at the gate. “Look at this girl, Sister. Risking herself to protect people. This is how you find a path to redemption. You look to her.”
He brushed her away, and for a moment she stared at Jerinne as her cries turned to screams. Tearing at her cloistress robes, she ran out of the stationhouse. Once she was gone, Ret slumped down to the floor.
In an instant, whatever the hold was over Dayne released. He nearly fell over, as many people did. He felt as weak as a kitten.
More constables rushed in, looking utterly bewildered. They quickly grabbed just about everyone who wasn’t a constable and corralled them back in the cage, locking it shut. Ret went inside mutely, sitting on the floor in a collapsed heap. When the constables were finishing cleaning up the mess of the work floor, a Waishen-haired woman came in with an air of authority.
“Who is in charge right now, and why are they charging a Tarian Initiate with murder when she was defending people from violent interlopers?”
A clerk with sergeant’s chevrons came over, looking dazed by whatever happened. “Miss Wade. You’re the girl’s lawyer?”
“I am representing her. What has she been spuriously charged with?”
“Officer Jondel accused her of killing another officer.”
“Hmm,” Miss Wade said. She centered in on Dayne. “You must be Mister Heldrin. Jelia Wade, Master of Law. We will deal with this. Where is Officer Jondel?”
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The sergeant pointed across the room, where Officer Jondel was sitting on a desk. Miss Wade strode over and grabbed him by the chin. “This man is drunk.”
“No, no, I’m—” he said.
“Officer, when you responded to the whistle call, where were you?”
“With Uskly and Tenzy at the Lantern—”
“Hmm. So Miss Fendall is being held on charges based on the witness of a drunk man, when I can produce several other witnesses who will attest that she was attempting to subdue the true murderer, including Miss Jessel Mandelin and Baroness Yesenia Rinnar of Upper Tissen, both of whom are women of exceptional character.” She turned to the sergeant, stalking toward him like a cat. “Given that, any further imposition on Miss Fendall is criminal negligence on the part of the house, and I will make sure you, Officer Jondel, the lieutenant of the watch, and the captain of this stationhouse are all brought up on multiple charges!”
There was a stunned silence, broken by the old woman standing next to Jerinne in the cage. “Can she be my lawyer, too?”
The sergeant whistled to an officer to let Jerinne out of the cage, which he did with incredible speed.
“Thank you,” Jerinne said. “Both of you.”
“Glad to do it,” Miss Wade said. “I prefer not to have to come out at this hour, but it’s better that I did, and you didn’t have to spend the night here, or have them actually process an arrest. They didn’t process you yet, did they?”
“No, they seem rather backed up,” Jerinne said. “Can we go?”
“Yes, let’s,” Dayne said. They only made it three steps before Donavan Samsell and a cadre of King’s Marshals strode into the stationhouse.
“Excuse me,” Samsell announced. “We will be taking custody of Bishop Ret Issendel and any members of the Open Hand.” He stopped cold upon seeing Dayne. “The blazes are you doing here?”
“Getting Miss Fendall released, but—”
“Well, it’s good you are. I’ll want you on this. Sergeant, let’s get about this quickly.”
“Sorry, chief,” the sergeant said. “We’re rather overwhelmed here. Who is it you need?”
Samsell went to the cage. “That man, and those other dozen people.”
The sergeant threw his hands up. “If you want people still in the cage, you’re welcome to them. One less problem for us.”
“Chief,” Dayne said, leaving Jerinne and Miss Wade by the door. “What’s going on? Why are you taking Ret?”
“Ret?” Samsell raised an eyebrow at that. “Well, Dayne, it seems Ret and his friends have been busy. Today they stole the ballots and abducted the authenticators for the Scallic election.”
Chapter 20
DAYNE COULDN’T BELIEVE what he was hearing. After everything he did, the election was still subverted. “By who? Where?”
“I’m certain the bishop here will be able to tell us,” Samsell said. “Won’t you, your grace? You’ll let us know where your friends are.”
“My . . . friends?” Ret looked almost in a daze. “Almost all my people are here.”
“Except the ones who took the votes.”
“Took what votes?”
“The votes from Scaloi!” Samsell smacked the bars of the cage.
“How would I—”
“Who else would subvert the Scallic election, your grace?” Samsell snarled.
“Chief, that’s enough,” Dayne said, putting a hand on the marshal’s shoulder as the cage was opened up.
“You’re going to tell us.”
“I would never,” Ret said, coming out of the cage. “As much as I will fight for Scallic independence, I would never, not ever, subvert the will of the people. That is sacred. Dayne, please!”
“Don’t you—” Samsell said, bringing up his fist. Dayne grabbed his arm before he could strike.
“No,” Dayne said sharply. “You’re not going to do this. Not this way.”
“Don’t you tell me, Dayne—”
“I will,” Dayne said. “Lest you forget, my job is oversight of you. I’ve been politely yielding to your expertise, but not about this. Beating suspects for information they may not even have? That isn’t who we are.”
“We?” Samsell asked. “Are you a marshal now?”
“Marshals were once the Hanalian Order,” Dayne said. “We are all still the Elite. We all still stand by a code. And I will hold you to that.”
“What?” Samsell asked, his voice rising.
Dayne turned to the other marshals as the constables pulled out the rest of the prisoners and handed them over. “I’m going to be supervising your interrogation of these people, Donavan Samsell. To confirm that it is being conducted in a fair and humane manner.”
“Don’t you interfere, Dayne,” Samsell hissed. “This is about the election!”
“All the more reason,” Dayne said. “Jerinne, go report this to the Grandmaster. And the Justice Advocate Office.”
She gave a slight smile to him. “And the press?”
“Absolutely,” he said. “And we’ll be keeping them updated at a conference in the morning.”
“I swear, Heldrin,” Samsell growled.
“Swear all you want,” Dayne said. As the constables put irons on Ret, Dayne took him by the arm, making his intentions as clear as he could to Samsell. “But we’re doing this the right way. Because that’s what Druthal is.”
* * *
The eerie light of high summer dawn filled the eastern skyline when Jerinne made it back to the chapterhouse. The streets were a mess, largely devoid of people, but filled with trash, glass, and smoldering remnants of fires. The Revels were often a raucous holiday, but this one seemed worse than most.
“Hello!” she called as she got into the lobby of the chapterhouse.
The Grandmaster came down the stairs in a rush with Master Nedell right behind him, carrying a lamp. “Miss Fendall,” he said. “Are you hurt?”
She looked down at her uniform—it really was a fright. “No, sir. I got caught in quite a bit of business, but this isn’t my blood.”
“One of ours?”
“No, sir,” she said.
“Good.” He shook his head. “I mean, of course it isn’t good, but . . .”
“I understood, sir.” She looked about. “The party was attacked, and I’m afraid in the chaos there was a misunderstanding with the constables . . .”
“I’ve heard some of it from the Initiates who have returned already. Are you still in legal trouble?”
“I don’t think so,” Jerinne said. “But sir, Dayne wanted me to—”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if the mention of Dayne had been enough to push his temper, and he needed to center himself again just to continue. “Of course you were with Mister Heldrin.”
“We shouldn’t be surprised at all that he’s at the center of this,” Master Nedell said. “Or that she—”
“Dayne is the one who came for me,” Jerinne said sharply over Master Nedell. “He’s the one who got me—”
The Grandmaster raised a hand, silencing her. “What is the situation?”
“The Scallic ballots were stolen, and the marshals arrested some bishop and his people, and Dayne went with them but . . .”
“My,” the Grandmaster said, “it seems Dayne has once again found himself in the center of serious events.”
Jerinne wasn’t sure how to take that. “He said to tell you—”
“Yes, I understand what is going on. I will gather some Adepts and attend to what needs attending. Master Nedell, I would like you to rouse two or three Candidates and make your way to Callon Hills to seek out the last of our missing people and bring them home.”
“But—” Jerinne said.
“As for you, Initiate, I suggest washing yourself and getting some small amount of sleep. Desp
ite these events, training for Initiates will not be interrupted. Attend to that, as you certainly need to devote your attention to your training.”
“Especially with your ranking,” Master Nedell added.
The bile filled Jerinne’s throat at that, but she bit back the words that she wanted to scream at him. Instead she said, swallowing down the anger, “I’m aware of my ranking.”
“Then be aware of orders, Miss Fendall,” Grandmaster Orren said sharply. He snapped a finger, and one of the servants brought him a sword and shield, which he strapped on. “Bring our people home, Master Nedell.” With that, he went out into the dawn.
“Wash up, Miss Fendall,” Master Nedell said with a sneer. “Not that it can get you clean.”
That was the limit. She was not about to let that slide. “If you doubt my skill, old man, you can try me any time you want.”
Master Nedell released a flurry of punches and kicks, all while maintaining a calm, confident air, as if knocking her down would be effortless.
That was clearly what he was expecting, but Jerinne slipped and dodged out of the way of every blow, never letting him score even a glance on her. Her rage was fueling her, but she turned it inward, not letting it come out in an attack. Instead, it drove her focus, eyes on his body, watching the flex of his shoulders, the step of his foot. Every punch that came, she dodged or blocked adroitly.
His moves were flawless, truly spectacular, but they were to the sequence, which made him easy to predict. She expected, anticipated, the moment where he would change that up, lull her into complacency and use that to baffle her defense. But that moment never came. His attacks followed sequence in order, each meticulous step in the combat training cycles. Not an ounce of imagination.
Her thoughts went to Evicka and Kelvanne, improvising weapons and styles in the midst of a fight. That was real. Impressive. Inspirational.
As she anticipated exactly where he was about to step, her hand went to her belt buckle. In one swift motion, she whipped the belt off and shot it around his leg just as he was stepping into the end part of Unarmed Attack Sequence Nine. She gave a hard yank before he was able to plant his leg, and that was enough to send him to the ground.
Shield of the People Page 24
