At that most inopportune time, the pieces finally fell into place. I saw how everything fitted together – Jack, Malgyne, the portalstone, Solomon. Everything. Zorya had been more right than she knew when she'd suggested our own actions were colouring how we perceived those of others. Unfortunately, I couldn't determine how that information could any longer serve me, or anyone.
What a depressing way to end a life. The fate of the entire living realm was at stake, and I could do nothing to influence it.
The keep's gates swung open. A widening shaft of noonday sun pierced the smoky gloom. Every eye was on those massive doors as they swung inward, mine included, and I saw that each was being pushed by a half-dozen great-coated and masked figures. A dozen more walked through the now-unobstructed archway and into the fire-worn tower. All were armed. Most had swords, but a few had crossbows which they now levelled at Solomon and his men. I barely noticed. My attention was on the two men who preceded them.
The first was Jamar, his clothes torn and bloody, his walk marred by a pronounced limp. I was desperately glad to see him alive, though I had no idea how he'd survived. But it was the presence of the second figure, whose steady stride was that of a man savouring a long-awaited moment, which nearly tore a cheer from my lips. For the first time since leaving Avanov's house, perhaps for the first time since I'd entered Otherworld, I felt that we'd a chance of surviving.
No, not just surviving, but winning.
"Even by recent standards, I've had a very strange day," said Quintus. He looked around, taking in the sight. "First, there was that terrible business in the cemetery: graves ransacked, bits of bodies taken. Most unpleasant and rather distressing for the families involved." He raised a pipe to his lips and puffed contentedly – it seemed there wasn't already enough smoke already in the air. "Some people reckoned we had gnawbones trouble again, but they aren't exactly famous for picking and choosing, and these graves were all from the same families."
Quintus started pacing, enjoying his moment perhaps a little too much, but under the circumstances I found it hard to resent him for it. "Then a councillor comes to see me, tells me he's made a terrible mistake. Turns out he'd been blackmailed into abetting some murky plot and he wanted me to put a stop to it. I'd have liked to, of course, but he didn't know the 'where' – he just knew the 'who' – so there wasn't much I could do, was there?" No one responded to this rhetorical flourish, so Quintus pressed on. "Then I hear reports that one of the towers is on fire, and has even partially collapsed."
That explained how Quintus had gotten in: Solomon had been correct in his assumption that the enchantments had faded once the tower was breached, though I suspected that he'd now rather have been wrong.
Quintus was still speaking. "Now, I can sometimes be a little slow on the uptake..." That was as large an untruth as I'd ever heard. "...but some disaster playing out at the ancestral home of the Trelan family? The same Trelan family whose graves have been ransacked? Tales of blackmail and coercion aimed at the sole heir of said family? Now that's a powerful coincidence, wouldn't you say, my lord?" For once the hated honorific was wielded against Solomon, not myself. "And here I find you, Lord Solomon, and in your possession an object taken from the scene of a crime. I can't help but leap to certain conclusions."
"Captain Quintus, get out of my way." Solomon's voice shook. "I'm ordering you to let me pass. There are fugitives in this building. I've recovered the items they stole, but..."
"Ah, you're labouring under something of a misunderstanding, my lord." Quintus drew on his pipe, a man enjoying himself immensely. "I'm no longer inclined to take your orders."
"Suppose I insist?" Solomon asked acidly.
Quintus shrugged. "Your lordship must do as you think best, but I wouldn't hold hope."
"And these others?" Solomon swept a hand around at the masked figures with Quintus. "Are they as resolute?"
"Not at all, my lord. You see, it turns out that you've earned something of a reputation for nastiness, and my lads and lasses are far too scared to cross you. These are just some concerned citizens who offered their services. One of the towers on fire? That's a serious matter, and deserving of everyone's attention. Don't be fooled by the greatcoats – it's a cold morning and I didn't want them catching a chill." He leaned forward. "Me, on the other hand? I don't scare easy." The relaxed geniality vanished. "So why don't you give yourself up and let me sling you in a hole black enough to match your soul?" He took another drag on his pipe, and thought for a moment before continuing. "My lord."
Solomon stood stock still as Quintus turned his back. His lordship quivered with rage, for once at a loss for what to do or say. He was nothing without his reputation and Quintus had shattered it. I didn't doubt the guard captain's accomplices were some of his constables, garbed and masked against possible recognition, but it didn't matter. Solomon's magic was gone and it would be some time coming back, if it ever did.
Solomon knew it too. If the realisation didn't hit home immediately, then it surely did when his lackeys exchanged glances, dropped their swords and raised their hands high, with the resignation of men who knew they'd run out of options.
With a scream of rage Solomon hurled himself at Quintus, his dagger aimed at the captain's broad back. Perhaps Solomon thought that the others would become biddable with Quintus' death. I suspected that he wasn't thinking at all any longer.
Jamar and two of Quintus' accomplices moved forward to intercept the crazed lord. They never reached him. Quintus' meaty fist came around and struck Solomon cold.
Stepping forward to admire his handiwork, Quintus tapped the ash from his pipe onto Solomon's insensate form.
"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," he announced, to no one in particular. He turned back to face his posse. "Right, I want two of you to sling this piece of filth in the Pit. Just remember, he doesn't know who you are, but I do, so don't disappoint me." He plucked the portalstone from Solomon's unconscious grip. "Another half a dozen of you take care of those innocent bystanders at the top of the stairs." He gestured at the praetorians. "I'm sure they'll be cooperation itself. The rest of you spread out and search the tower. There's bound to be a few other ne'er-do-wells lurking about and I want them found. But be careful. I'm not explaining to anyone's nearest and dearest how their loved one vanished under a pile of rubble."
With that, Solomon was trussed and bound, and his praetorians escorted outside. Several members of Quintus' posse moved past me and headed deeper into the tower. None of them spoke a word to me, but nor did they try to restrain me. I looked down the stairway to find Quintus staring back up at me.
"Don't you think it's time we had another little chat, my lord?"
I couldn't have agreed more, and went down to meet him.
Twenty Four
It turned out Quintus had arrived mere moments after Jamar had sent Constans into the tower. Jamar's injuries had occurred in that brief window of time, but he assured me none of his wounds rated immediate attention, let alone any worry on my part.
I asked Quintus if the masked men and women were indeed his constables and he laughed.
"Of course they bloody are. If there was an ounce of civic responsibility in the average citizen, I'd be out of a job. I just didn't want Solomon identifying them if this all goes wrong."
I could well understand that sentiment, though with his lordship en route to the Pit, I couldn't rightly see how he'd be much of a threat any longer. Not that he was our main concern.
"You can thank Nierev for your rescue, by the way," said Quintus.
"She's alive?" I asked with relief.
"More or less. The stupid woman wouldn't let me get her some help until she'd told me what happened in the Vaults." Despite Quintus' aggrieved tone, his pride shone through. "How do you think I got all these volunteers? I'd never have managed this level of support if I'd just announced I was going after Solomon. But once word about Nierev got out? Well, let's just say that I could have brought twice the numbe
r."
"And yet you didn't?" I needled. "I think I'm offended."
"Yes, well. There's this minor detail of keeping law in the city, and I could hardly do that if I pulled all my constables off the streets, now could I, my lord?"
"I suppose not. Thank you."
Quintus waved the acknowledgement away. "For nothing. It was worth it just to see Solomon humbled. I don't know what possessed him to behave so recklessly. I'd have locked him up years ago if he was always this careless."
And with that, I remembered the revelation I'd had immediately before Quintus' arrival. My feeling of victory ebbed away as if it had never been. But I couldn't tell Quintus, not yet.
"Have you seen Arianwyn?" I asked. "I need to talk to her."
Quintus raised an eyebrow. "One of my lads mentioned he'd seen her in the ruins of some library, talking at a statue. I'm afraid the girl may have taken leave of her wits."
"Did he say whether or not the statue was replying?"
Quintus snorted. "Of course not. My lads and lasses have any number of undesirable traits, but fanciful notions can't be counted amongst them."
I smiled, knowing Quintus was likely in for a surprise later. "Will you stay? When I come back I'll tell you everything I know."
"Aye, I'll not be going anywhere. There are bodies to remove, prisoners to decamp and I'll even see if I can get some engineers to stabilise the tower. We're fortunate it's not all come down on our heads." He jabbed me in the chest with the stem of his pipe. "Just see that you come back. I want those answers, and I'm about to stop asking politely."
I left the portalstone with Quintus for safe keeping and went in search of Arianwyn. As I'd expected, I found both her and Zorya amidst the wreckage of the library. The constables had already removed the surviving praetorian from the room. He'd only been stunned by Arianwyn's attack, and the flames had been extinguished so quickly after that he'd even managed to avoid serious burns.
Arianwyn offered a sad smile as I entered. "It's like everything I've known is being taken from me, piece by piece."
Glass crunched under my feet. Some books had survived, but the majority were now nothing but ash and charred paper. The great table had split down the middle.
"At least the tower's intact. It could have been much worse."
"I know," she said. "Apparently the upper floors are almost completely undamaged, but it's still horrible."
Neither of us, it seemed, wanted to talk about the conversation we'd last had in this room. That was just fine with me, as I'd just as soon forget it had ever happened. I no longer had doubts about whether or not I could trust Arianwyn. Actions mattered far more than thoughts, and my desperate, unthinking flight back to the Tower of Stars had brought me a great deal of clarity.
"The sentinels below: are they alright?"
[[The chamber is intact, Master Edric. Thank you for your concern.]]
Arianwyn stared distantly into space. "And Constans?"
"I've not seen him," I replied. "Not since, you know..."
I'd made a brief search on my way upstairs, but had found no trace. Not that I'd expected to find him alive, not between the dagger and the fall.
Arianwyn shrugged. "I'm sure he'll turn up."
I stared at her for a moment. That was a fairly callous reply, even accounting for the fact that she wasn't quite herself. Or was it? For the second time that morning I rearranged a puzzle and found I'd been holding some of the pieces the wrong way up.
"Did you find what you were looking for?" I asked.
That question dragged Arianwyn back to her old self.
"If anyone's seen an arch like that before, I found no mention." She spread her arms to encompass the library. "I'm not likely to find anything now, am I?"
I quickly told Arianwyn all I knew and all I thought I knew, about Solomon, Malgyne and the portalstone.
"That's even worse than the scenario we discussed," she said breathed. "What are we going to do?"
"We're going to stop it, of course," I said, with a confidence I didn't entirely feel. " I'm going to tell Quintus what I've just told you. He won't have any choice but to help us." I turned to Zorya. "I'd like you to come with us, if you can. One of Quintus' people is badly hurt and she could probably use your expertise. It will mean leaving the tower."
[[Of course, Master Edric. Devani and Jarilla were not destroyed in the attack. They can act as safeguard in my absence.]] Devani and Jarilla, I assumed, were two other active sentinels.
Arianwyn looked at me quizzically.
"It's Nierev," I explained. "She survived."
That news brought life back to Arianwyn's face, and she beamed with genuine pleasure. "We'd better talk to Quintus, don't you think?"
We left Zorya in the library and made our way down through the ruined lower levels. Several times, I worried that a fresh glimpse of her devastated home would plunge Arianwyn back into misery, but it seemed I needn't have worried. The indomitable Arianwyn was back and had put her misfortunes behind her – at least for now.
A constable awaited us in the entrance hall. While Arianwyn spoke with him, I caught sight of something familiar. Tossing aside a lump of charred wood, I retrieved my sword. As I slid the blade into its scabbard, Arianwyn walked over.
"Edric? They've found Constans."
"I'd like to see him."
She nodded and led me deeper into the tower. Jamar had waited by the door and followed us unbidden, despite his injuries. I probably should have stopped him, but I knew that would have involved an argument for which I had neither time nor patience.
Constans had been laid out in a small room at the bottom of the tower. This one had gone almost untouched by the fire, but the acrid tang of smoke had permeated here as it had everywhere. The constables had arranged him as neatly as possible on a long table and he looked far more peaceful than he'd any right to. The dagger no longer protruded from his torso; it had either been removed or jarred loose by the fall. But it was the blood upon his clothes, or rather the lack of it, that confirmed my suspicions. I was careful not to let any of this show on my face. I wasn't sure how Arianwyn would react to what I needed to do next.
I sighed. "Well, that seems to be that."
Arianwyn nodded, seemingly lost for words. It was almost funny how, for all our mutual fondness, she and I could stand there and lie to each other, if not directly, then by omission. She knew something she thought I didn't, but, not knowing that I already knew, wasn't about to tell me. For my part, I didn't want to tell her I already knew, as I wasn't sure how she'd react. How people stayed married, I had no idea.
"I'd like a moment alone with him."
Arianwyn was clearly puzzled by my request, but nodded and slipped out of the room.
Jamar moved to follow, but I tapped him on the shoulder and shook my head. I mimed closing and locking the door. Jamar swung the door to, and with neither bolt nor key in evidence, settled for leaning his massive weight back on it. No one would open that door any time soon.
I looked down at Constans' silent form. "You can stop shamming now." When there was no response. I raised my voice. "Jamar, we're going to need an axe and some firewood."
The door bucked slightly, but Jamar's weight held it closed. An angry hammering broke out on the other side. Arianwyn had been listening, and didn't like what she was hearing.
"Actually," I went on. "Don't worry about the axe. I can get things started with my sword."
The scraping of steel on scabbard was loud in that confined space, clearly audible over the increasingly frantic banging on the door. The result was all I could have wished for. Constans sat bolt upright and held up two calming hands.
"Easy, easy," he said soothingly. "Don't let's be hasty."
I turned to Jamar. There wasn't so much as a flicker of surprise on his face. Had he too worked out what I had, or was he simply playing at inscrutability once again? "You can let her in now."
Arianwyn burst in, looking none too happy. "Edric..."
&
nbsp; "Don't bother, Ari," said Constans. "He was bound to find out."
"Find out what?" asked Jamar. Inscrutability it was, then.
"That he's an eternal," I said.
Arianwyn closed the door and stared at me expectantly.
"I should have seen it before, really." I sheathed my sword. Keeping my eyes on Constans, I addressed the whole room. "You're always looking at events from the outside, as if you're not really part of them. From your perspective, you're not. I've met two other eternals, and they were both fascinated at moving people around like pieces in some abstract game, but I don't think you've been doing that."
Constans shook his head. "I realise this seems pedantic under the circumstances, but that's hardly clinching proof. I mean, obviously you don't need to prove anything now – I've done that for you by falling for that transparent ploy – but still."
He was wary, unsure as to what I meant to do next. "I didn't have any proof," I said. "But the oddities were mounting." I counted points on my fingers. "We'll start with the ghost I saw in Otherworld. For a time, I believed Arianwyn's explanation, that I'd simply imagined things. Then I started thinking about our encounters with the strawjack. It couldn't hear or see you, could it? That's why Jack didn't answer your question on the first occasion, and why the strawjack trampled you on the second. It wasn't trying to hurt you. Jack even said as much, though I didn't believe him at the time. It simply didn't know you were there."
"I hoped you'd missed that," Constans admitted.
"I did, at first. But, as I said, my encounter with the ghost made me rethink things. Strawjacks are, on some level, spiritual creatures, and it occurred to me that perhaps they can't see the soulless. Eternals don't have souls."
"I have a soul," Constans objected.
"Indeed you do, but it's elsewhere. That's why you didn't escape Quintus through Otherworld like the rest of us, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"Why? I couldn't work that part out."
Shadow of the Raven (The Reckoning Book 1) Page 29
