Wings of Justice (City of Light Book 1)

by Michael-Scott Earle

  "Fallon, your new pigeon is talented." Fulvia smiled to my wingmate, but the sour woman just rolled her eyes slightly.

  "You are in charge, Anelia. Which pier should we check first?" Hostia asked.

  "The closest one. Let's go." I commanded my Alula to change, and I felt the cloth begin to morph into feathers. Then I jumped into the air and let the wings carry me into the sky. The other three Potentia followed my ascent, and we angled toward Ver Lake's first pier.

  Chapter 8

  "There is the boat," I pointed into a grove of poplar trees near the pier. It was the farthest dock from the shipyard, and the vessel was covered with dozens of brown cloths. The camouflage had hidden the small ship from our aerial view, and I'd gone against Fallon's wishes by stopping to search inside the small forest.

  "Looks like they dragged it through the mud over here," Fulvia called out from the other side of the grove, and we walked toward her. Sure enough, there were ghost marks of the boat's keel in the soft mud.

  "This was planned," I said. "They must have had more workers to pull the boat out of the water." I looked back at the grove and saw a flash of light gleam from one of the poplar trees. "Block and tackle." I took a few running steps toward the tree and felt my cloak push me through the air for more speed. I grabbed onto the suddenly near branch and pointed to the pulley system.

  "Good eye, pigeon." Fulvia had followed my run and gave me a smile.

  "There is nothing in the boat," Hostia said from her spot on top of the deck. She'd pulled aside a few of the cloth pieces and had poked her head inside the vessel.

  "I bet we'll find cart tracks on the other side of the trees." I gestured in the direction away from the lake. Fallon grunted at my words, and she made a feathered leap over the boat before gliding that way.

  Fallon and I had only made a short glide around the city before we reported to the scene of Rafa Manus' death, so I hadn't really had a chance to observe the woman use her Alula much. My wingmate was extremely talented with the magical cape, and she twisted through the dense poplars with a combination of running, jumping, gliding, and hopping. She rapidly gained distance on me, and the other two Potentia also passed me before we reached the tree line. The difference between my sisters' prowess and mine was equal parts disheartening and exciting. I couldn't have expected myself to have mastered the Alula this quickly, but I felt a little ashamed at how much better the other women were at using the cape. On the other hand, it meant that I had more secrets to uncover with the cloak, and that was intriguing.

  I shook my head to rid myself of the negative thoughts. I'd only worn my mantle for a few days, and I shouldn't be judging my performance by my wingmate's standards.

  Even if the woman was doing it so that she could break my spirit.

  "Anelia is correct. Here are the tracks," Fulvia pointed at the divots in the clay soil.

  "They can't be that far ahead of us. We must hurry," I almost jumped in the air, but Hostia waved her hands.

  "We must use caution. I will admit that I had trouble believing your story at first, but now it is apparent that we might be up against criminals with flintlocks and magic. I advise we keep a low flight path and attempt to keep the element of surprise." The woman's sharp features were thoughtful as she spoke, and I nodded at her advice.

  "Let me take the lead. The pigeon is too inexperienced to be at the head of our formation," Fallon said without looking at me.

  The two other women glanced between us. It was obvious that they agreed with my wingmate, but they had also been ordered to follow my command. I was almost tempted to tell Fallon to shut up and follow my orders, especially since I'd found the boat concealed in the trees, but I also knew that the older woman was correct.

  "That is a great idea, Fallon," I said as nicely as I could force myself to speak. "Please lead us." My wingmate met my eyes and nodded before she took to the air.

  Fallon flew close to the ground, and I took my position at the rear spot in the diamond formation behind the other two Potentia. Their speeds were incredible, and after a few minutes of flight, I fell behind the flying women. I couldn't seem to make my wings move me any faster, and they were soon fifty yards ahead. Then they were a hundred. I felt a small spark of panic in my stomach, and it began to spread like a fire to the rest of my once-relaxed muscles. What if they made it there and found the black-clothed assassins in mid-transport? What if my sisters attacked, and I wasn't there to help them? What if they were killed because I couldn't keep up with their pace? As my body tensed, I flew slower, and I realized that I needed to relax. They probably understood that I couldn't glide as quickly, and while I didn't like my wingmate, I trusted her experience and didn't expect her to rush headfirst into a battle that she couldn't win.

  I saw them halt their flight and land gracefully about two hundred yards in front of me. They were on the small crest of a grass-covered hill, and my feet touched the ground only a few seconds after they began to crawl through the high pasture. I followed their movements and then reached the edge behind Hostia.

  "The tracks lead to that barn," Fallon whispered. I peeked over the grasses and saw a massive estate with several barns, plow wagons, and cattle grazing within fenced pens.

  "Do you know the property manager?" I asked Fulvia and Hostia.

  "Yes, it is Quent Barton. I doubt he has much to do with this. The man lives on the seventy-fourth level, and he only visits once a month to ensure that the numbers are meeting the Priestess' expectations," Hostia said.

  I nodded at her words and considered making a comment about the idiocy of having a rich man living on the seventy-fourth level of the city manage an important farming location dozens of miles away, but I figured that these women might not appreciate my particular politics. It was doubtful that my sisters cared about such things, and Potentia were expected to serve as the Priestess' arms of justice.

  We were not supposed to question their policies.

  "There is no one around, but I can see that the tracks lead into that far stable. The lighter-painted one." My wingmate pointed over the crest. It looked as if the wagon had veered off the clay pathway, crossed the grass around the farm, and then entered the cream-colored building.

  "This seems strange. Why aren't there more footprints?" I gazed at the path of the wagon through the grass. "I saw many men pull the crates out of the shipyard building, and it would have taken even more to pull the boat out of the water and into the trees."

  "They probably walked in front of the wagon so that it would lay down their tracks," Fallon said with a huff. "We should fly to the barn immediately and claim the initiative. Those crates you spoke of must be inside."

  "As could be the men with the pistols," I said. "They might be waiting to ambush us."

  "Why do you suddenly have cold wings? You had no problem telling a story where you were victorious over four assassins and a trained fencer. Is there some other reason you want us to delay?" Fallon's blue eyes narrowed, and she whispered the question through gritted teeth.

  "No, I just feel as if this is a trap," I replied. Fulvia and Hostia had not voiced their opinions, but I doubted that they would disagree with my senior wingmate.

  "It cannot possibly be a trap. How would they know we are coming?"

  "Fine, will you lead us once more?" I didn't want to do this, but it was obvious that Fallon would continue to argue with me.

  "That is two good decisions in a row, pigeon." Fallon nodded to me and then glanced over at our sisters. "We will enter through the hayloft portal. Can you both go through the main entrance?"

  "Yes, Fallon," Fulvia nodded. All three women drew their swords, and I unsheathed my own rapier a second after. Then Fallon was in the air, and I leapt into the sky.

  We rose from higher ground than the distant stable, and Fallon's wings tucked closer to her sides so that she could dive faster. I mirrored her movement, and, for ten seconds, it almost felt as if I plummeted toward the open hayloft window.

  I had thoug
ht that my wingmate would halt her flight before the loft entrance and then cautiously look inside, but she just darted into the loft like an arrow. My trajectory followed hers into the darkness of the massive barn, and I prayed to the Priestesses that Fallon was right and that this wasn't a trap.

  My wingmate jerked up inside of the loft and landed on top of a wooden beam. I was too slow to join her on the perch and almost crashed into the far wall of the stable before I grabbed onto another beam with my left hand. My legs swung vertically over the wood, and I set my booted feet down with surprising softness. I glanced over at Fallon to see if she had noticed me make such a great landing, but the blonde woman's eyes were occupied with the interior of the barn.

  The inside was empty of crates or black-garbed assassins.

  We heard a door open, and light spread through the open space. There were a dozen stalls along one of the longest walls, a trio of broken-down wagons in various stages of repair, and a barn cat that ran when the other two Potentia opened the door. Fallon dropped the forty feet to the floor, and I followed the woman to the ground. Dust actually blew aside from our landing, and the four of us glanced around the empty space with our swords ready.

  "This is disappointing," Fulvia laughed after a few seconds. "I think we have been tricked."

  "The tracks outside are clear. A wagon did leave the road, wrap around the property, and then enter," I said as I glanced out of the open door and confirmed that the grass outside was laid down.

  "It wasn't one of these wagons. Look at the dust." Hostia blew against one of the carriages with a theatrical motion and sprayed brown dirt onto the barn floor.

  "Could it be hiding in here somewhere?" I asked and then almost immediately felt as if the question was stupid. Half of the stalls contained horses, and, while there was a stack of hay on the ground floor, it was only a half a dozen bales. Most of the hay lay in the loft.

  "No, we must have picked up a false trail, or maybe this whole thing was just a fabricated story, and you happened to get lucky again with the circumstances," Fallon growled and then glanced around the empty barn floor.

  "Perhaps there is something we are missing. Maybe we should search here? We could also question the cowpokes to see if they noticed something." Fulvia shrugged her slender shoulders.

  "There is nothing to find here but endless dust," Fallon sighed. "If you two could question the ranchers, I would appreciate it. I'll take my pigeon and backtrack; maybe we missed a trail back on the main road."

  "Very well, we will find you in half an hour," Fulvia smiled at both of us, and she walked out of the barn with her wingmate.

  Fallon turned to me as soon as our sisters had left. Her square jaw hardened with a grimace, and she crossed her arms. I prepared myself for her verbal onslaught, but the woman just stared at me for a few seconds before turning to leave the barn.

  "Will we go back to the road then?" I asked as I stepped after her.

  "You can do whatever you want to do. I am going to ensure that I have something to report to the captain. I'm starting to realize that you are worse than a burden. You are a curse sent by the Priestesses to test my faith. I've been trying too hard with you. Now I will just ignore you and hope that you will eventually go away."

  She didn't even bother to look at me when she spoke, and, as soon as her words ended, she jumped into the air. Her light-blue cape turned into feathers, and my wingmate floated away with a sudden breeze. I thought about following her and explaining that I had the notes memorized. We still had to locate Pruet Carna and Damara Trillion and attempt to find out who Laramae A. was. We also had to revisit Rafa's tavern and speak to his wife and employees. There was much more we could still do with this investigation, but the veteran's words were an icicle through my heart, and my legs froze. I could only watch her fly away while I fought against the stinging tears in my eyes. Why did Fallon hate me so much?

  How would I figure out what was going on without her help?

  I needed to go back to Rafa's inn. The man's name was on my list, and Fallon had not questioned his widow thoroughly. I turned the decision over in my head to examine it from different angles, and then I took to the air and flew toward the lower-mid levels of Petrasada.

  Chapter 9

  "Greetings, citizen. I was here yesterday. Do you recall?" I asked the short woman who peered through the cracked doorway of Rafa Manus' tavern.

  "Do you have more questions for me?" The woman's eyes were red, and it looked as if she hadn't slept since yesterday. I also hadn't slept in what I guessed was two days, but only felt a slight amount of fatigue. It was said that the Alula would provide us with energy to work for a week or more without sleep, but I didn't think I would need to test the magic so soon.

  My fledgling career had not gone quite as expected.

  "Yes, may I enter?" I asked, and the woman nodded before she opened the tavern door further. It was mid-morning, and the lack of customers confirmed my belief that the tavern was closed for breakfast. It might have to close for a long time unless Rafa's widow was able to continue without him. As I recalled, they didn't have any children to pick up the ownership.

  "I am sorry to bother you again. I wanted to continue the questioning that my wingmate started yesterday," I said. Rafa's body had been found behind the counter of the bar, and there had been a struggle in the main room before he was murdered. The tables and chairs that had been tossed aside during the fight still lay in their discarded places, but a walk around the bar confirmed that her husband's corpse had been taken by the city mortuary workers.

  "Did you catch the man you chased yesterday? Was that my husband's murderer?"

  "No, citizen. He was just a suspect. We do not believe that he was the murderer. Can you please sit?" I positioned one of the fallen chairs and gestured to her.

  "Thank you," she said after she had slouched in the seat.

  Rafa's tavern was located on too high a level for me to think of visiting while I grew up at the orphanage, so I had never met Rafa's wife before yesterday, but I knew from Juliana that owning a tavern was a hard business with endless hours. The widow was probably much tougher than her teary eyes indicated.

  "You told my wingmate and me that you had come downstairs in the early morning because... I'm sorry, my notes were ruined in a lake accident." I smiled to the woman and pointed to my new notebook. I had returned to my apartment after Fallon had left me, taken a quick bath, changed my clothes, oiled my weapons to prevent rusting, grabbed a new notebook, and then came here.

  "I woke up and realized that he hadn't come to bed. I didn't know exactly what time it was, but the suns were low. I guessed it to be four in the morning," she confirmed. I recalled exactly what she had said when Fallon interviewed her briefly, but sometimes the stories had a way of changing when told a second or third time.

  "I thought he might have already started on the day. He's been having problems sleeping. I came downstairs and I found him here. Then I ran to get the guards."

  "You don't have any employees living with you?" I asked.

  "No, we have four employees, but they don't live with us. Two come to help us with breakfast at around six," she said.

  "How long have you been married?" I asked.

  "Over thirty years, and no, we don't have children. Tried a few times." A tear slid down the stout woman's cheek, and she wiped it away.

  "Has he always had trouble sleeping?"

  "Oh no, we are so busy during the day and night. We don't get much rest, mind you, but he would normally sleep soundly when the suns were low."

  "But he had insomnia recently?"

  "Yes, for the last month," she said.

  "Do you know why?" I asked.

  "No, but I had suspicions that he might have been selling some of his moonshine."

  "He made moonshine?"

  "Yes, we've got a small room hidden in our cellar. He didn't want to register the stuff or pay taxes on it, so he never sold it. He would give it to special guests sometimes."<
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  "But you think he was selling it?" I felt my heart begin to beat a little harder, and I sat forward in my chair.

  "I found some extra money hidden in the house a few weeks ago. Actual gold pieces. I'd only seen them a few times. It is the only answer that makes sense. I keep all of our books, and the restaurant wasn't performing well enough to have that kind of money." The woman nodded as she spoke.

  "Did you ask him about the money?" I realized that the woman must have really wanted to find her husband's killer. Admitting to a Potentia that you weren't paying taxes on income wasn't something most business owners would do.

  "No, I figured I would let him have his fun. I did take a few silver pieces. I bought some new furniture and new clothes for him. He never mentioned that he missed the money, so I guessed that he wasn't keeping track of it."

  "Do you know any of these names: Pruet Carna?" She shook her head.

  "Damara Trillion?" I asked, and she shook her head.

  "Laramae?"

  "He knew a few Laramaes," the woman's face suddenly shifted from sadness to anger.

  "I just have the initial A after the name. Does that help?" I asked, and the woman stared at me. She opened her mouth to speak and then closed it again.

  "Potentia, why are you asking me this question now? I've just lost my husband," she finally said with a huff.

  "I'm sorry. I am trying to solve his murder. Have I said something wrong?" The woman stared at me, and then she shook her head.

  "You don't know who the Laramaes are, do you?" she asked. "Are you from a lower level?"

  "Yes. I lived in an orphanage in the mid-teens." As soon as I answered her question, the woman sighed.

  "Laramaes are whores. They are an expensive escort service of the mid-levels. All the women, or men, go by the name Laramae. So, to answer your question, yes, he knew a few of them. Sometimes they would come down to our level with their clients so that they could do their activities with more discretion."