by Jay Posey
“Maybe just a night or two,” Painter said. “If it’s n-n-n-not any tr-tr-trouble.”
“No trouble at all,” said Mouse. “We’ve got it all taken care of.”
“Well… alright. Th-thank you.” Painter’s shoulders relaxed and Wren could tell he was really moved and relieved. It would be good for him to be surrounded by friends.
We need to go, Able signed, and Cass nodded.
“We’ve got to run, Painter. After you… when you’re done, just come to the side gate again, OK? We’ll take of everything.”
Painter nodded. “Th-th-thanks.”
“Mouse, you’ll be on the wall after?” Cass asked.
“Yeah, Finn’s covering till I get there. Shouldn’t be long.”
“Alright, see you in a few,” she said. “Painter.”
Painter raised his hand in goodbye. He looked at Wren. “Good luck, l-l-little buddy.”
“Thanks,” Wren answered. He almost said “you too”, but stopped himself. “See you later.” It sounded too casual for the moment, but he didn’t know what else to say.
Wren took his mama’s hand again, and together they followed Able through the wide and empty halls up to the Council Room. His stomach churned the whole way, adrenaline and anxiety mingling together. He was still shaken from Painter’s violent reaction, and the thought of standing in front of a crowd of people made his chest feel like it was buzzing.
They reached the Council Room where Aron, Vye, and North were waiting for them.
“Lady Cass,” Aron said, bowing slightly when he saw them. “Governor.”
“Hi, Uncle Aron,” Wren said.
“The others?” Cass asked.
“Already outside,” North answered. “The crowd formed earlier than we expected.”
“Then we’d better get out there,” Cass replied. An attendant brought her veil to her, and she began to put it on. Before she covered her face, she drew Wren to her and knelt in front of him. “Are you ready, baby?”
“Not really,” Wren said.
“You’ll be great. Just speak up, be confident. And see if you can spot Wick.” It was sort of a game they played, though it had other purposes. Looking for Wick gave Wren something to think about besides all of those eyes staring at him. And Mama said it made it seem like he was talking to everyone in the crowd. And though no one had ever mentioned it, it didn’t take much for Wren to figure out Wick was down there for security, too. He’d only managed to spot Wick once out of a dozen times.
Cass gave him a strong hug and kissed his cheek, then looked him in the eye. There were tears in her eyes, reflecting their hollow glow.
“What’s wrong, Mama?”
“Nothing, baby,” she said quietly. “I’m just so proud of you, and I love you so much.”
“I love you too.”
“Let’s go get this over with.”
“OK.”
She stood and drew her black veil down over her face. Wren hated when she wore it. Hated that Cass felt like she needed to. She was his mama, no matter what she looked like, and she was beautiful.
He followed Cass out, with North and Aron coming on either side and slightly behind him. Vye trailed further back, and Wren had the sense that she wasn’t going to join them on the wall. Something in her posture. He glanced back over his shoulder and caught her eye. She smiled quickly, but it felt false. He smiled back as best he could. She was nervous, but then she always seemed nervous. Maybe she was just feeling the same anxiousness that Wren was.
This wasn’t the first time he’d had to address the citizens of Morningside. The people. His people. He’d done it maybe a dozen times by now. The Council agreed it was important, that his words reassured the city. Letting himself be seen, really. But it felt different this time. More dangerous. More at stake.
The hardest had been after the last big attack. Some people blamed Wren, of course, for not doing more. For not saving more. But the anger had been defused by his order to open the city to everyone – to bring all people inside the wall. And it had been his order. The first and only time he’d ever overridden the Council’s vote. His right as governor. Now it seemed like maybe a terrible mistake with delayed results. Too much change, too fast. Too many unintended consequences. And no way to undo it.
The doors opened and sunlight flooded into the hall through the main entrance. The tall steps seemed higher, the walk to the gate farther. And beyond the gate, a press of people – held at a distance by a thin line of guardsmen. When he stepped out onto the stone staircase, a cheer went up from the crowd. It made Wren feel sick to his stomach.
“Steady,” North said behind him. “You’ll be fine.”
The cheering continued during his entire walk to the gate, and as he mounted the stairs to the top of the wall. Climbing the stairs was always the hardest part. The height made him a little dizzy, but it was the memory of the place that brought such disgust.
It was the very place that the previous governor had died, thrown down by a usurper. Governor Underdown, the father he never knew. The murderer Asher. Wren’s half-brother. Him, he knew all too well. Now they were both gone, gone because of Wren.
And he was left here, in that same spot, with hundreds of people below just waiting to hear what he had to say. He’d never told anyone how horrible this place made him feel. Wren had been too scared to say anything the first time they’d made him give a speech. And after that, he figured since he’d done it once, they’d just tell Wren he could do it again. He climbed the final steps and tried to push the memories from his mind. Time to pretend he was someone braver and wiser.
As he crested the wall, Wren nearly choked. It wasn’t a crowd below. It was a sea. He had never seen so many people gathered before: thousands of them, as if the entire city had shown up to hear his words. He turned back to Mama. She was there, smiling gently towards him, an expression he more felt through the veil than saw. North and Aron stood on either side of her. North looked unfazed by the enormity of the crowd, but Aron’s eyes were wide as he scanned the multitude. And Wren noticed Vye was nowhere to be found. Three would’ve been proud that he’d picked up on that. It was small comfort.
The noise from the mass of people died down, and all the moisture left Wren’s mouth. He glanced up and down the wall. Finn stood further down to his left, scanning the crowd with a grim look. On his right, maybe fifteen feet away, Gamble stood guard. That made him feel a little better, knowing Gamble was watching over him. She was great.
Wren stepped up to the edge of the wall, looking out over the crush of humanity below. He drew a deep breath and through his internal connection accessed the secure frequency that would broadcast and amplify his voice to the masses. There were so many. So many faces, so many smiles, so many fears. And throughout, oversized pictures dotted the crowd, held aloft in hopes that he would see. Held by women, mostly – mothers, though here and there a father, or brother, or child. Pictures of loved ones lost. Taken. Silent pleas for Wren to find them and bring them back. It was overwhelming, and Wren felt as though his legs would give way at any moment.
Find Wick, he told himself. Just find Wick.
He started slowly sweeping his eyes across the people, looking for that one face, and in doing so, the mass of individuals faded into scenery. Not men and women and children waiting for him to save them all. Just a backdrop for Wick to hide in.
“Go ahead, Wren,” he heard his mama’s voice behind him, speaking in low tones. Wren realized he had no idea how long it’d been since the crowd had quieted. He cleared his throat, and tried to remember to speak slowly.
“People of Morningside,” he said, and the echo of his voice sounded thin and weak. He hated hearing his own voice. “My people. I don’t want you to be afraid.” Already it wasn’t going quite as planned. Wren was supposed to say they had nothing to fear, because Aron said that was reassuring, and it didn’t suggest anyone was a coward. Aron had said no one would ever admit they were afraid, and coming from a child it would so
und even more childish. But it wasn’t true. There were lots of things to fear, most of them they didn’t know about. And Wren couldn’t stand up here and lie.
He said, “Some things have happened these past few days. You’ve heard stories. Some of us are angry. Some of us are sad. Some of us are confused. I know, because I can feel it all myself.” Where was Wick? It seemed almost useless to look for him in that mass of people, but not looking for him seemed even more daunting. “I can’t tell you how you should feel. I just don’t want you to be afraid.”
For the most part the crowd was relatively still; as still as people ever are when they’re standing close together. But there was some movement off to Wren’s left that caught his attention. Some commotion; people being jostled. He tried not to let it break his concentration.
“Last night the Weir attacked the western gate, and we lost one of our guardsmen. But they were turned away. You can rest safely here in our city, because you have many men and women watching over you. We’re safe here.”
More motion off to the right, similar to the other side. A couple of people made angry noises. And there in the center of the crowd, bodies shifting.
“Our walls are strong, and our people are stronger. There’s nothing from the outside that can touch us. But inside our walls…” Wren trailed off for a moment, not sure how to say exactly what he wanted to say. And he could see now what was causing all the commotion. Several men were shoving their way forward through the crowd, quickly and roughly. They looked angry. Find Wick. Find Wick. “Here inside, we have to do our part. Each of us. The only thing that can harm this city is its own people.”
A hand came down on his shoulder, grasping hard, and Wren felt himself being pulled back from the edge.
“Get him off the wall,” Gamble said, right next to him. He never even saw her move. She was turning him, pushing him towards his mama. “Get him off the wall.”
She wasn’t shouting or anything, not really even raising her voice. But it was so controlled and direct Wren knew without a doubt something was going wrong. A murmur came up from the crowd, punctuated by a couple of cries. Finn was closing in, moving swiftly towards them, somehow without looking like he was rushing at all. Mouse was behind him, pointing down towards the crowd. How long had Mouse had been there?
“What about us?” someone shouted from below. “What about us?”
Wren tried to turn back to see who it was, what was happening, but he couldn’t get free of the tide that was sweeping him from the wall, down the stairs. The crowd got louder then, people started shouting. As they got to the bottom of the stairs, Cass grabbed Wren’s wrist and started pulling him along, too fast for a walk, but not quite a run. Something thumped loudly, and there were screams, and the sounds of panic. Wren smelled smoke.
“What’s happening, Mama?” Wren said. “What’s happening?” he repeated.
“Just go, baby. Go.”
Wren tried again to turn and see what was happening but North and Aron were right behind him, shepherding him back towards the building. There was another thump. He thought of the line of guardsmen that had been holding the people away from the gate, wondered if any of them were hurt. Or, from the sound of it, if any of them weren’t.
“Back inside,” Aron said, his hand coming down on Wren’s shoulder, steering him along. “Up the stairs, quickly.” Cass slowed her pace for a moment.
“Not through the front,” she said, and she walked across in front of Wren, redirecting him. The pressure from Aron’s hand made Wren twist funny, and he nearly tripped. They all stopped awkwardly.
“We need to get him somewhere safe,” Aron said.
“Through the side,” Cass answered.
“There’s no time or reason–” said Aron, but Cass interrupted.
“Take your hand off my son.” She said it low, but there was almost a growl in her voice.
“Cass…” Aron responded, like she was being unreasonable. But he didn’t let go.
“Take your hand off or I will.”
Wren didn’t understand what was happening. There was so much noise, so much confusion, and the air was growing harsh with an acrid smoke. He stood off balance, stretched between his mama’s grasp and Aron’s. There was tension between them, and for a moment Wren thought Mama was going to do something to Aron. Something terrible. And just before it came, Aron let go and raised his hands. Cass didn’t wait. She pulled Wren along around towards the side of the compound.
“Where are you taking him?” Aron called, but Cass didn’t answer. Wren looked back to see that Aron was watching them go, with North’s hand on his chest. He couldn’t tell if North was comforting him or restraining him. They disappeared from view as Cass drew Wren around the corner of the main building.
He followed her silently through a side entrance, down a flight of stairs, and then another, and into a small maintenance room that accessed some underlying infrastructure to the compound. She shut the door behind them and locked it. Removed her veil.
“Mama?”
She didn’t answer. Cass just took Wren by the hand and led him to the back of the room, away from the door. There, in the corner, she sat down, and brought him gently into her lap. The way she used to. When it had been just the two of them. When they had been on the run.
Wren sat quietly there, with his head on her shoulder and her arms around him, just letting himself be held. Something had broken in the city, and he wondered if it could ever be repaired.
SEVEN
The light rain pattered on the roof with all the comforting sounds of a leaky faucet. Boss was sore from a bad night’s sleep, which meant he was cranky and tired. The numbers weren’t making him any happier. They’d pushed out a shipment two days before, ahead of schedule, but the buyers still hadn’t received the goods and naturally hadn’t paid up yet. Which meant Boss was short on men, and worse, short on money to pay off the greasy dealer that was standing in front of him right now.
“Look,” the dealer said, “I got places, so if you don’t deal, I’m cut loss and head on, you know?”
“Relax,” Boss answered. “I’ve got the points.”
“So what’s blockin’ the stops, pops?”
The words made so little sense it made Boss’s teeth hurt. “Waiting to hear back from Moneymath. Market prices, you know.”
“Deal’s the deal, no time for chit-chat, take her at two hundred or we’re gone.”
Boss gave the dealer a good looking over. A gangly creature, with long stringy hair and blotchy skin like poorly tanned leather. His clothes were ill-fitting. His coat was surprisingly luxuriant and too big in the shoulders; the high collar of his shirt was so wide, it looked like he could pull it off over his head without unfastening it. But despite the disheveled appearance and his terrible grasp of human language, Boss recognized the keen look in the dealer’s eyes. Here was a man accustomed to walking into dangerous situations. And since he was standing here, he was also accustomed to walking back out of them. Boss was either going to have to come clean with him, or kill him real quick.
“What’s it, lawdog? Am I pricey or am I scoots?” he asked.
The lawdog caught Boss’s attention, made his hackles rise. He’d been a man of the law once, years ago, but he’d left that far, far behind. The dealer had a sly grin on his face, like he knew that’d get to him. Boss thought about the two-gun he had hooked on a swivel under his desk. That’d fold the dealer in half real quick and take his little grin right with it.
But Boss couldn’t help following the leash the dealer had in his hands, right over to where it hooked on the girl’s collar. She couldn’t be more than thirteen. Hands bound in front of her. Pretty too, under the grime and bruises. The two-gun wasn’t the most precise of killing instruments. Boss didn’t want to risk damaging the goods.
“Stray, kin, or kidnap?” Boss asked the dealer.
“She’s mine, don’t mind you the why.”
“My clients are the worrying sort. They expect details. W
here’s she from?”
“The Six-Thirteen. She’s mine, fair deal.”
“I’m no one’s but my own…” the girl said, looking up at Boss. She didn’t look as defeated as they usually did. The dealer jerked the leash hard, and she immediately looked at the floor again, but Boss could tell from the angle of her head that she was watching the dealer out of the corner of her eye. He didn’t see any need for treating her so, and he started feeling a little better about killing this guy.
“No one’s going to come looking for her?” Boss asked.
“Not without comin’ up gravelike.” The dealer smiled at that, like he was real pleased with himself. Probably stalked some poor family and murdered them in their sleep. For a brief moment, Boss felt a twinge of sympathy for the girl, which in turn made him feel more sorry for himself – for what he’d been reduced to. He was a good man caught in an evil time. But this was the hand he’d been dealt, the life of a once-lawman in a lawless world. Nothing to do but play it out as best he could. Boss sighed.
“Alright, finally,” he said, smiling through the lie. “Moneymath says one seventy-three and some decimals is the going rate for pristine. She doesn’t look quite pristine, though.”
“Don’t jerk, lawdog. She’s all she is, unspoilt. Two hundred says the deal.” The dealer’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and his left hand edged a fraction of an inch closer towards the inside of his coat.
“She is real pretty,” Boss answered. He pretended to think it over. Didn’t really matter, since he couldn’t afford it anyway. But supply was scarce lately, and he couldn’t afford to lose this one either. “Call it one-ninety, no more questions asked.”
The dealer rubbed the fingertips of his left hand together, either like he was already counting the money or he was getting ready to draw down. Boss leaned forward, like he was just shifting in his chair, and stretched his fingertips out to brush the grip of the weapon under the desk.
The dealer snorted something thick and nasty and made a little grunting noise in his throat, and then swallowed. Boss almost gagged at the sound.
