People of the City

by Marshall Ryan Maresca

  He went downstairs, ready to face whatever it would be.

  Mother was waiting for him at the front door.

  “I really must be—”

  “I’m not sure what you’re doing today, Minox,” she said. “But, I’ve . . . I’ve lost a husband and a daughter already.”

  “I’m taking care of some personal business.”

  She gently touched his arm. “You’re so smart, but you are not good at lying. I don’t know what you have planned, and I won’t try to stop you. There’s nothing I could tell you that you haven’t argued against yourself already.”

  He nodded. “I have thought through my intentions.”

  “Fine. But I have two requests.”

  He couldn’t deny his mother that. “Yes?”

  “Go tell Evoy. Don’t leave here without seeing him.”

  Minox accepted that. “And the second?”

  She picked up a paper bag. “I’ve wrapped up a few of Zura’s spiced pork sandwiches for you. I . . . I have a feeling you might get hungry today.” Her eyes welled with tears as she handed the bag to him.

  “Thank you, Mother,” he said, accepting an embrace from her. “Do you remember that story you would tell us when we were children?”

  “I told you a lot of stories.”

  “‘Aladha va calix,’” he said. “The creature was called a dragon. Was that also a title or rank of some sort?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “It was just one of the stories my grandmother used to tell me. Is it important?”

  “I’m not sure,” he said. “Part of what I’m doing today is looking for answers.”

  “Be smart,” she whispered. “And come home.”

  “That is my intention,” he told her. She wiped her face and went back to the kitchen.

  He went out the door, and to the back of the house, to the stable. He knocked gently and went in. His cousin Evoy was there, as he always was, looking like only bones and hair and smelling of death. But, for once, Evoy was alert and active, reading through old newssheets.

  “Minox,” he said calmly. “And in daylight hours. Something is very afoot. Is today the day?”

  “That depends what you mean.”

  Evoy chuckled. “The day they finally decide to bring me to join Grandfather at the hospital. But, no . . . that’s likely not for another couple months, right? I assume my mother stops the discussion every time it is broached. And Corrie’s disappearance has muted anyone’s desire for further upheaval. For the time being.”

  “There’s been no discussion in my presence,” Minox said.

  Evoy nodded, going up to the wall where several articles had been affixed, as well as chalk scrawls of Evoy’s random thoughts. All of it madness, even though every time Minox looked at it, it made some small scrap of sense. He wished he could see what Evoy did, understand the grand picture that drove Evoy to spend all his time in the stable trying to figure it out.

  “Then today . . .” He spun on Minox, eyes wild. “You’re about to do something bold. Which makes sense. Things have been moving faster and faster, especially since that happened to you.” He pointed to Minox’s magic hand. “I didn’t understand that at the time, and . . . all right, I still don’t, but . . . I think how it happened is very important. What did that do to you? Where were they from?”

  The spike. One of eight spikes Nerrish Plum had used to neutralize the mages he had killed, and nearly killed Minox with. It was surely the exposure to the spike that had catalyzed the change in Minox’s hand, making it this unhuman, blackened non-flesh, holding immense amounts of magical power.

  What had Olivant said of it? Unholy power. Enough magic to destroy the city. Perhaps he was right.

  “Where had Plum gotten the spikes?” Minox asked Evoy.

  “Yes. And what were they truly for?”

  “Plum said something then. He was expecting retribution, from the Brotherhood of the Nine.”

  Evoy laughed. “Yes, that was why you wrote that there, right?” He pointed to that very name written on his wall. “The spikes had belonged to them, for whatever reason.”

  “Do you know who they are? I’ve dug through files, through newsprints. I’ve found nothing at all.”

  “I don’t,” Evoy said. He pounded on his bony sternum. “But I feel this . . . shadow moving over us all. The Grand Ten, the Brotherhood of the Nine, the eight pins, it’s counting down and . . . today isn’t the day for that, but it is a day for you.”

  “The missing children,” Minox said, hoping that would make it clear.

  “Yes!” Evoy shouted. “What did you find out?”

  “Inspector Rainey was being taken to someone named Senek. He’s a member of the Blue Hand. So that’s where I’m starting.”

  “Dentonhill,” Evoy said with understanding. “The giant taking the children. The reasons are all intertwined, a rope wrapping around the entire city choking . . .” He shook his head. “No, you interrupted my line of thought. That wasn’t it.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “You’re about to do something foolish, Minox,” Evoy said. “But you know you need to.”

  “I do,” Minox said.

  “Then . . .” Evoy glanced around the barn for a moment. “No, that’s not it. I remember. Don’t go alone.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I can’t go with you,” Evoy said. “I can’t—” He looked at the sunlight streaming through the open door. “I’m not ready yet. Soon. So today, whatever you have to do, I beg you, find someone who can be at your back.”

  Minox wished he could. Who would he even ask? Inspector Rainey was not an option. That was a shame, because there was no one else he would prefer.

  He also considered Joshea Brondar—with his military skills and magic, he’d be very helpful in any emergency. But Joshea had definitely not recovered—physically or emotionally—from his ordeal at the hands of Sholiar. Minox had only spoken to him in brief moments since, and while Joshea was putting on a brave facade, it was clear he had been deeply affected.

  Joshea would say yes if asked.

  Minox would not put that on him.

  He briefly considered someone else in his family, perhaps Jace. Edard knew Dentonhill, as did Ferah. But he couldn’t bring himself to ask. Almost all of them would say yes, but he would be asking them to step outside the law. He was willing to take that step himself. He couldn’t ask it of them.

  Then the answer was clear: he had to seek assistance that operated outside the law. It was so obvious who to ask, he was embarrassed to not have already thought of it. Especially after thinking about the story “Aladha va calix,” and the aptly named hero of that story.

  He went out of the barn and got on his pedalcycle. The next stop was the University, to find Veranix Calbert.

  Chapter 7

  VERANIX PACKED HIS THORN OUTFIT, bow and arrows, and the napranium rope and cloak into a rucksack, changed out of his school uniform into normal city clothes. He wasn’t sure exactly what was going to happen right now, but he wanted to be prepared. His fighting staff, though, he’d leave behind. It was just a bit too conspicuous for a walk out west, and since he was going with Delmin, it was best to walk appearing as normal looking as possible.

  “So we’re really heading out to the west side of town?” Delmin asked when Veranix met him outside Almers Hall. “You and me, together, to meet those . . . friends of Mila’s?”

  “They’re fine,” Veranix said. “I may need your tracking skills. If the giant is that Tarian fellow, I’ve got him tagged.”

  “You really think a member of the Tarian Order is involved in this?” Delmin asked. “You did pass Druth History, didn’t you?”

  “Yes,” Veranix said. “I only know I saw him leaving Fenmere’s, with that official I’ve seen come and go a few times. Something hinky is there, my friend.�
��

  “Maybe,” Delmin said. He took a deep breath. “But, if you think I’ll be useful, and if this is about helping children, I’m there for you.”

  “I appreciate it,” Veranix said. “Besides, when we’re out there, you have to try this Fuergan restaurant . . .”

  They took a tickwagon through Gelmoor and Seleth, then walked the rest of the way to Frost Lane. At the corner of Ullen and Frost, a young Cloistress of the Blue, her blond hair tied back in a braid, walked straight into Veranix’s path.

  “You, young man, I need your help.”

  “Sister,” he said, taken aback by her abrupt approach. “How can—how can we help you?”

  She glanced at Delmin for a moment, as if his presence confused her. “I have an assignment to hear absolution from a man staying at Kimber’s Pub. You will guide me to this place.”

  “Of course,” he said. “That’s actually where we were going anyway.”

  “Good,” she said, taking his arm and starting to walk with him. “Earlier, I was reading the Testament of Saint Benton. You are familiar with it?”

  “I’m not, actually,” Veranix said.

  “Standing on the bridge—” Delmin started.

  “I was not asking you,” the sister snapped.

  “Benton isn’t my saint,” Veranix said.

  She looked at him with a puzzled expression. “No, that can’t be right.”

  “Always more of a Saint Senea fellow.”

  They reached the front door of Kimber’s and the cloistress stopped and faced Veranix. She cupped her hand on his head and said, “Then pray to her with me.”

  Veranix almost pulled away, but something about the touch of her hand filled him with a sense of pure calm. The instinct to withdraw fell away. He closed his eyes and bent his head down, and she touched her forehead to his.

  “Give me your blessing, Saint Senea,” they said together in reverent whisper. “Put your eye upon me, protect me, as I act in the name of the right. Give me your strength, to fight against the unjust, to stand for the oppressed. If my body is broken, guard my soul and deliver it to stand before judgment, which I will never fear as I act in your name.”

  He opened his eyes to see hers piercing into him: cool, blue, and strong. “Go without fear today, my friend. You are watched over.”

  She let go and went inside, leaving Veranix standing in the walkway, not even sure why he was crying.

  “I am very confused,” Delmin said.

  “You’re not alone,” Veranix said, wiping the tears from his face. Despite that, he felt more peace than he had in months. He didn’t know who the cloistress was, or what the day was about to bring, but he knew he was ready for it. “Let’s do this.”

  Asti was in the taproom, nursing a cider while two pairs of strikers sat in front of him.

  “I figured I had a couple of mages coming,” Asti said. “So I thought I’d be prepared.”

  “Thank you,” Delmin said as he sat down.

  Veranix took a seat. “The kid is upstairs?”

  “Verci and his wife are with him now,” Asti said. He was looking at Veranix with an odd regard, and Veranix realized why. It was the first time Asti had seen his face. Blazes, for all Veranix knew, Asti didn’t know his name. Perhaps it was best to keep it that way. “He’s not in a good way, let me tell you.”

  “How so?”

  “Let me tell you about this kid. I’ve known my share of tough kids on the streets out here. I was one of those tough kids. Verci and me, we ran our share of scraps back then.”

  “All right,” Veranix said, not sure where Asti was going with this. He started eating one of the strikers to give the man a chance to talk.

  “This kid, he puts us all to shame. I ain’t never seen one this tough, this angry, this willing to fight. He’s only six, best we figure, and he’s a downright terror.”

  “Lovely,” Delmin said.

  “And whatever he saw, whatever he went through, it’s scared him to his core. Maybe that’s a good thing. It’s the most normal, human thing I’ve seen from him.”

  Veranix understood. “What did he lose?”

  “Everything,” Asti said. “I mean, I’ve only known him as a street orphan, so I don’t even know if he had parents around. But he had a brother. A twin brother. He—he got his head split open in the Election Riots here.”

  Verci came up to the table. “When Tarvis saw him, he made a sound like . . . I’ve never heard a person make that sound.”

  “So what’s going to happen to him, once he’s recovered?” Delmin asked. “There’s orphanages, or the church, or—”

  “He won’t take any of that,” Verci said. “I mean, his instinct is to escape. That’s probably why he got away from whoever took him. He’s ready for you all.”

  Veranix finished the strikers—which were quite good, he had to admit—and followed Verci upstairs to the room. The little boy—and saints, he was tiny—was lying on the bed, pale as a Poasian, while a woman sat next to him holding a damp cloth to his head. Asti said this boy was six years old? He looked like he was four.

  “Hey, Tarvis,” Asti said. “How are you?”

  “Angry,” Tarvis said. “I rutted up and lost Telly.”

  “Who’s Telly?” Veranix asked.

  “Who are these ninces?” Tarvis asked.

  “We’re here to find out what happened to you, stop the people who did it,” Veranix said.

  “You ninces?” Tarvis asked. “You ain’t got nothing that can handle these rutters.”

  “That guy’s the Thorn,” Asti said. “He’s in disguise.”

  Tarvis peered at him. “I don’t see it.”

  Veranix remembered this kid now. He was with the other kids who had helped him and Mila. So was Telly. “Telly got taken, too?”

  “Got taken. Couldn’t get him out. Him or any of the others.” Tarvis whimpered a little. “He told me to run, so I ran. Shouldn’t have left him. But that guy, that giant, I couldn’t kill him. Couldn’t even hurt him.”

  Veranix sat down next to him on the bed. “What do you mean?”

  “I stabbed him,” Tarvis said. “My knife didn’t even go through his skin.”

  “Wait, was this a person?” Veranix asked.

  “Didn’t seem like one. Barely spoke like one.”

  “He spoke?” Verci asked.

  “Yeah. ‘Gurond take children. Take them for the Brotherhood.’”

  “The who?” Asti asked. His face looked like it was ready for violence.

  “You heard me,” Tarvis said.

  “All right,” Veranix said. “And he was the one who grabbed you and Telly? Where? And where did he take you?”

  “We were by the abandoned factory, across the creek,” Tarvis said. Veranix glanced to Asti and got a small nod—he knew where it was. “The bastard just came out of nowhere, grabbed us both, and took us into a tunnel to the sewers. Kept going, deeper.”

  “How deep?” Asti asked.

  “I don’t rutting know, deep,” Tarvis snapped.

  “When you came up, did you go up a slope, steps, a ladder?” Asti asked.

  “All of ’em,” Tarvis said. “Like I said, deep. I don’t even know all of how I got up. It was a blur. I just knew I had to—”

  He paused and looked at Asti.

  “You found me, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, in the alley.”

  “Dumbest thing,” Tarvis said. “I was down there, hungry, dying, blind in the dark. Lost. But I knew I had to get out to find you.” He growled a little. “I don’t even like you, Rynax.”

  “You remember where you came out?” Verci asked.

  Tarvis shook his head. “Nothing. I was down in the dark, and it’s a blur ’til I woke up here.” Another growl, this one more aimed at Veranix. “I’m tired. Get out. Let me s
leep.”

  Veranix got up off the bed and went to the door, everyone else following behind him, none of them speaking until they returned to the taproom.

  “So what’s the plan?” Delmin asked when they sat down.

  “What does he bring to this?” Asti asked, pointing to Delmin.

  “He’s the best damn magical tracker in the city,” Veranix said. “If any of this involves magic at all, Delmin can sense it.”

  Delmin shrugged. “I mean, maybe. Is the idea we go to this factory, find this sewer entrance, and . . . see where it takes us?”

  “Sewers and tunnels under this part of town are extensive,” Asti said. “I mean, the city has got all sorts of catacombs and quarry digs, and . . . around here, some of the old street bosses built all sorts of tunnels and passageways using them. Nobody knows it all.”

  Verci nodded. “He’s done a bit of mapping.”

  “I know enough to know there’s a lot I don’t know,” Asti said.

  “Right,” Veranix said. “But I know one thing: Telly and who knows how many other kids are still down there. I’m going to try to find them. The question is, am I doing it alone?”

  Delmin grabbed Veranix’s arm and squeezed. “No, you stupid fool.”

  “I’m with you,” Asti said. He had clearly been stewing on something Tarvis said, either Gurond or the Brotherhood. He glanced at Verci and his wife. “You stay up here, though. I’ll mark our path on the way down and if we’re gone too long, you get everyone you can for a rescue party.”

  “That’s a good plan,” Verci’s wife said.

  “That’s what I’m good for, right?” Asti said.

  Veranix stood up, feeling flushed with the same serenity he had received from the cloistress’s prayer. This felt right, and now was the time to move. “Let’s get to work, then.”

  Satrine couldn’t think at her desk, partly because Kellman was tapping his stylus while he read over the report on one of the murder cases they had caught yesterday. It had been a straightforward investigation. The victims had been identified, and with a few choice questions to the folks in their lives, it had been simple to ascertain the guilty party: one victim’s husband. The husband had tried to run when they confronted him, so Satrine had to tackle and restrain him. That was engaging.