People of the City

by Marshall Ryan Maresca

  “Cedidore the Mad,” she said.

  “The great tyrant,” he said, telling her everything about Cedidore’s reign, how he decided that rather than trying to reclaim the parts of Druthal that had broken into new kingdoms, he would consolidate his power and cleanse his nation of any “subversive elements.” He hadn’t even gotten to the true start of the Quarantine after Count Rowland’s failed coup when suddenly Jerinne was pulling him to his feet.

  “See?” she said. “You made it out.”

  He was out of the tunnel, now in a grand chamber that arched twenty feet high, a hub with several tunnels large enough to roll carriages through in many directions.

  Dayne said the first thing that came to mind.

  “Why didn’t we come here that way?”

  “I don’t know how to get here from that direction,” Maresh said. “Blazes, who knows where those even go?”

  “All right,” Dayne said. “But where do we go?”

  “That way,” Maresh said, pointing to the widest, largest tunnel. Just seeing that made Dayne breathe easier. “Southwest, under the river.”

  “Under it, incredible,” Hemmit said.

  “Near as I can reckon, this underbridge runs almost exactly under the Grand Maradaine Bridge, but that was only built twenty years ago. Right?”

  “This is all much older,” Hemmit said.

  “The current bridge was built using the support buttresses of the old Keller Walk Bridge,” Dayne said. He looked over to Jerinne, a warm smile on his face. “Built during Cedidore’s reign. This might have been done at the same time.”

  “Tyrant kings do get things done,” she said.

  “Thank you,” he told her.

  “Always.”

  “Everyone,” Lin said, pointing down the passage. “We’re not alone.”

  Dayne pivoted, catching the shield that Jerinne tossed to him. He stepped up to the passage entrance, shield high. Jerinne took a stance next to him.

  The passage was dark, but there were definitely two figures a few hundred feet away.

  “Hello?” Dayne called. “Identify yourselves. We mean no harm.”

  “Is that a good idea?” Hemmit asked.

  “We don’t,” Dayne said. “No need to provoke something.”

  Lin increased the intensity of her light. Not enough to see too far down the underbridge, but enough to better make out the two people.

  Only for a moment. They both ran off into the darkness.

  “Well, that was troubling,” Lin said.

  “You spooked them,” Dayne said.

  “I was spooked by them,” she said. “Did you see them?”

  “I didn’t get a good look, no,” Dayne said. “Two men, but they ran off.”

  “Men?” she asked. “Maybe in the darkness, but their bodies were misshapen, out of proportion. Like no men I’ve ever seen.”

  “Yeah,” Jerinne said. “What I saw wasn’t . . . normal.”

  Dayne wasn’t sure what to make of that. “Perhaps a trick of the light. Perhaps something else. But we shouldn’t just stand here.”

  “Right,” Hemmit said. “Ever forward. Even with . . . odd residents.”

  “But Jerinne and I will take the lead,” he said. “Shields up, at the ready.”

  “Right,” she said. “No telling what else we’ll find down here.”

  Dayne smiled, finally able to let the muscles in his neck relax, find an easy rhythm to his lungs and heart. “Whatever it might be, we face it together.”

  “Always,” she said with a sly grin. “Let’s stop wasting time.”

  Chapter 9

  “THIS IS A WASTE OF time, Trick.”

  Satrine waited at the gates of the Callwood Estate in East Maradaine, while Kellman was still getting out of the wagon. Kellman was dragging his heels even more today than most days, which was saying something. “You have a few too many beers last night with that clerk from the Protector’s Office?”

  “Nothing like that,” he said, a slight blush creeping to his cheeks. “Just . . . we got a few cases on our desk, so why are you fired up on this one?”

  “Instinct,” she said.

  “That’s some Minox sewage,” he said. “Sorry.”

  “Nah, it’s fine.” She rang the gate bell. “But you’ve got to admit, this smells hinky. Break in at a rich manor house, and they call in the Constabulary because they want the thief found and caught, but no one is talking about what was taken? Doesn’t that stoke a little fire in you?”

  “It’s odd, yeah,” Kellman said.

  “So, we’ll do a show about checking out the scene. Looking for boot prints, all that.”

  A servant was coming up the lane to open the gate. “Call in Leppin and his crew?”

  “That might be more show than we need. We won’t crack this with boot prints.”

  “What’s the plan?”

  “Follow along,” she said quickly as the servant reached them.

  The servant—a young woman in a housemaid uniform—opened the gate. “Terribly sorry for making you wait,” she said, in an accent that sounded back country, from a village outside Solindell in the northern part of the Sharain. “You’ve come back here to investigate the robbery?”

  Satrine matched the accent. “Right on that, miss. Hoped to save everyone here some trouble, we were, but I’m fearful we’re going to have to turn this place right upside down.” She walked down the lane to the house, patting the girl on the arm. “I know it’s frightful business, and I’m proper sorry about the upset it’ll all be.”

  “If that’s what needs be,” the girl said, her darting eyes betraying her confidence. “I’m sure his lordship will be very grateful for your service.”

  “It’s what we do,” Kellman said, raising an eyebrow at Satrine.

  “The real shame of it is, we’ve got so little right now,” Satrine said. “But you know how these things go.”

  “I have no idea how these things go,” the maid said.

  “Oh, of course,” Satrine said. “Because you’re a good and decent girl, aren’t ya? I bet everyone in here loves you, and you are so fond of each of them.”

  “We—” Her voice faltered a bit. “We are proud to serve the Callwood family as best we can. Everyone here.”

  “And Lord Callwood loves all of you as well, I’m certain. I know how a noble soul like him knows his duty is to look out for the people below him.”

  “It’ll kill him to have to fire someone,” Kellman said.

  “Fire, what?” the maid asked.

  “I mean, we have to do this formal-like,” Satrine said. “Sit with his lordship, and then interview each person on the staff with him. Get down to the bottom of things.”

  “Each person?” the maid asked. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, and I know how frightful this sounds, but we’re going to need to get to the bottom of things, and that means . . .” She paused for dramatic effect, giving a glance to Kellman. “He’s going to ask some indelicate questions, miss. That’s just the nature of it. We’re going to have to figure where everyone was at each hour of the night in question. Where they were, who they were with, what they might have heard. Secrets will come out, and his lordship will have to take steps.”

  “Secrets?” the maid asked. They were now at the back door to the kitchen. “I mean, these are goodly people who work here. None of them—” Her voice cracked for a moment. “None of them deserve to have their personal matters turned upside down.”

  “I agree with you,” Satrine said. “I mean, I would hate if someone lost their position over some . . . personal matter that isn’t related to this investigation. But of course, as these things go, that’s sure to happen.”

  The young woman’s face flushed, and her hand reached out to Satrine’s arm, quivering ever so slightly. “Perh
aps—” she said, and then started again with her voice a bit more under control. “Perhaps you could have a discreet word with Mister Jescint in the stables before you begin all that. That might . . . it might . . . illuminate your investigation.”

  “Perhaps we should,” Satrine said. She pointed behind the house. “Are the stables over there?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the maid said. “Shall I let the head of staff know you are here?”

  “Please,” Satrine said. “But we’ll have that discreet word first.”

  “Very good,” the maid said, and went inside.

  Kellman let out a low whistle. “You are an evil woman. How did you know she knew something?”

  “I really didn’t,” Satrine said. “But everyone has secrets they don’t want getting out, and everyone is afraid to lose their job. A little pressure, and some time is saved.” She led the way to the stables.

  “So, is Jescint our thief?” he asked.

  “Doubt it,” Satrine said. “If anything, he was either bribed or blackmailed to facilitate something for the real thieves.”

  “Like leave a back gate unlocked for them?” Kellman asked. He clucked his tongue uncomfortably. “Yeah, that tracks.”

  “Let’s find out,” she said, raising her hand to knock on the stable door.

  “One thing,” Kellman said before she knocked. “Let’s give him a chance to be clean with us, and if he does, otherwise leave him be. He’s the small fish.”

  “Why, Kellman,” she said gently. “You’re kinder than you let on.”

  “He’s a working guy, like us,” Kellman said quietly. “Let’s give him a chance.”

  “Sure,” she said. “Let’s see where this takes us.”

  Minox was definitely out of his element, and far from his comfort. He stood outside the Blue Hand Chapterhouse—abandoned, by all outside appearances—ready to commit what was definitively an act of trespass, in the company of a young woman—a stranger—with an army blade on her hip.

  And yet he felt calm and certainty. This was what was necessary.

  Miss Nell also seemed calm about what they were about to do. Her sober demeanor had briefly dissolved when he rode her on the back of his pedalcycle—her whoops and shouts a combination of fear and excitement—but now that she was back on her feet and the pedalcycle secured out of sight, she was once again tranquil.

  “What we are about to do is in violation of the law, Miss Nell,” he told her. “I want you to understand that.”

  “Everything about these Blue Hand bastards is a violation,” she said. “Vee said they were gone, but—”

  “They seem to be,” he said. He pointed to the steps of the stoop, the handle of the door. “The level of dust and debris indicates that, if nothing else, no one has come or gone in months. At least using the front entrance. Hardly definitive, but notable.”

  “So do we kick the door open?” she asked.

  “It would have a certain degree of satisfaction,” he said. “But I insist on some measure of legal appropriateness, despite everything we are doing.” He climbed the steps and knocked loudly. “Hello, is anyone about?”

  She followed him up to the door. “Isn’t that going to give us away?”

  “If one of them is in residence, I’d prefer a frontal confrontation over being taken by surprise, where they might have advantage over us.”

  She shrugged, and pounded on the door herself. “Hello, I’ve got a complaint to lodge with you kidnapping, creepy, rabbit-wearing bastards!”

  “Rabbit wearing?”

  “It’s a long story,” she said.

  “I’m satisfied we’ve fulfilled the requirements of decency, if not law,” Minox said. “Now, let’s see if I can manage some subtlety.”

  He channeled just a hint of magic, a bare fraction of the torrent that flowed through his hand, and with it reached into the latch of the door and twisted it. The door slowly creaked open.

  “Nice,” Miss Nell said. “I thought you were Uncircled.”

  “No formal training,” he said, stepping across the threshold. “But my current situation demands I learn control over every aspect of my power.”

  “Because of your hand?” she asked.

  A flash of anger coursed through him, but he tamped it down. It was not reasonable to be angry at this young woman for her deduction. “How did you know?”

  “Vee—Veranix. He told me that it’s changed somehow. He could connect to it like he can the rope he carries. And you could connect to the rope.”

  “There is some—resonance there, yes.” The antechamber of the house had a level of dust that indicated no regular occupation for several months. A glance about the sitting room revealed the same. And the scent pervading the place was inhuman.

  “So did your hand become napranium?” she asked.

  “Become what?” That was a term he was wholly unfamiliar with. “I suggest we focus our search of the house on finding a basement.”

  “Why a basement?”

  “I have specific suspicions of how the kidnappers are operating—specifically using underground tunnels—so the basement is a logical point of examination.”

  She glanced about. “Most houses like this, the way down is from the kitchen, which is usually back that way. Do you know what napranium is?” She took the lead walking down one hallway.

  “It is not a term I have come across before.”

  “All right, first of all, Veranix should do better by you, given what you’ve done to help him. Get you some Magic Theory books. When we’re done with whatever this is, I’ll see what I can do about that.”

  Minox stopped mid-step. “You would do that?”

  “I mean, I’ve done some reading. A lot goes over my head, like about how gemstones—especially cut ones—can divert and alter the flow of numina—”

  “Numina?”

  “The—” She turned and looked at him. “The energy of magic. Did you not—sorry. Rude of me. We’re definitely going to get you some books, Inspector.”

  “Thank you, Miss Nell.”

  “Napranium is a metal. It’s what the rope is made of. Or, more correctly, very thin fibers of it have been woven into the rope. And the cloak he wears.” She entered the kitchen, which stank of filth and decay. Clearly, when the Blue Hand had left the house for the last time, no one had taken the care to wash dishes or put things away. Plates and bowls covered in mold, and no aspect of the original food was remotely recognizable.

  “It’s a metal with magical properties?” he asked.

  “Not exactly, but it . . . as I understand, it draws numina to itself, focusing it, and accepts it more readily. That’s why Veranix can control the rope so easily. With a normal rope, it would be much harder.”

  “Intriguing,” Minox said. Not wanting to linger in the fetid kitchen, he went to the door that should lead to the basement. It was notable because it was reinforced with iron, and a large bolt-latch held it shut. “That is troubling, to say the least.”

  “I wonder what they wanted to keep down there,” she said. “Saints knew they were up to some strange business.”

  “As many people in this city are,” he said. He drew up his crossbow. “I once encountered a bear someone was keeping in a dug-out pit in a back room.”

  “You think there’s a bear down there?” she asked, her voice cracking.

  “I think you should draw that sword and be prepared for any eventuality,” he said. He lifted the heavy metal bar of the latch and slid it open with a hard clanging sound that echoed through the house. Cautiously he opened the door, revealing a wooden staircase that descended into darkness.

  “Do you have a lantern?” she asked.

  He held up his left hand and made it glow, while training his crossbow down the steps. He went down slowly, with her right behind, until he reached the landing.

>   The room was chaotic madness. Slateboards with scrawls and writings that made Evoy’s ravings seem sane. Shelves filled with jars of chemicals of every color, and more jars with bizarre objects suspended in liquid. Another shelf covered with a heavy tarp. Several tables with copper shackles on them, and other devices of metal and gear work that made Minox’s blood run cold.

  “By every blessed saint,” Miss Nell said in a hoarse whisper. She walked over to the shelves, peering at the jars. “Are these dead animals? Is this a rat or a toad?”

  Minox went to examine what she was looking at. In all honesty, the dead creature floating in the jar could be either one, or neither, or both at the same time.

  “Some wicked business has been done here, that is certain,” he said.

  “Magical experiments?” she offered. “They were the ones who had commissioned the rope and the cloak in the first place, and it was for some ceremony to create a creature of pure magic.”

  That was interesting. “How so?”

  “I don’t know, exactly, but—that was the bit with Lord Sirath wearing the dead rabbit on his head. Veranix stopped it and . . . well, they’re all gone now.”

  “All except for Ithaniel Senek,” Minox said. On one of the tables he found a stack of journals, all of them with “I. Senek” emblazoned in gold lettering on the spine. Opening the top book, he found pages filled with notes and sketches and symbols.

  “Who is he?” Miss Nell asked.

  “He is why we came,” Minox said. He thumbed through the notebook, and on immediate inspection, most of what was written was beyond his understanding. “My partner rescued a group of kidnapped children who were to be delivered to him. You said you’ve read some Magic Theory, yes?”

  “I’ve gleaned a little,” she said, looking over his shoulder. She stopped him from turning a page, mouthing out the complicated words on the page. “But this is nothing I’m familiar with.”