“What is this interloper?” he heard someone else say. Asti was carried by his head around the machine—he saw it was stopped again, so that was something—to a thin and dark-eyed fellow who just looked evil. Even the way he spoke was filled with malice.
“Just looking out for the neighborhood,” Asti slurred.
“Asti, you will die, listen to me,” the imaginary Liora said.
“This fellow has no power in him,” the man said. “He couldn’t have done that.”
“I’m full of surprises,” Asti said. He drew another knife, despite being suspended by his head, but the evil man just waved his hand and the knife flew away.
“Petty thing. Feel free to kill him.”
“Asti, listen,” Liora pleaded. Asti was shocked. He had never known Liora—especially this vision of her that haunted him—to do anything but taunt him. “If you want to live, you have to say—”
“I don’t have to—” he slurred. He was hurled onto the stone ground. Now he saw—the great oily giant was above him, as well as several of his monstrous friends. They all raised their arms to pummel him into nothingness.
“I demand an audience with the High Dragon of the Nine! Say it!”
Somehow, before they smashed him, he found his voice and repeated her words.
They all froze.
“What did he say?” the evil man asked.
The giant spoke. “He demanded—”
“No, I heard.” The evil man crouched next to Asti. “Then I suppose we’ll comply with his demand.”
Amaya had spent the evening hours at the chapterhouse completely restless. The Initiates had all had dinner and were starting Contemplation Exercises, and Jerinne was nowhere to be seen. Amaya was a bit worried for her safety, but not much. She was with Dayne and Hemmit and the others, and the girl could handle herself.
But the curfew for Initiates had passed. There was no way to pretend that Jerinne was just elsewhere in the chapterhouse. Her absence in Contemplation had surely been noticed by the other third-years, and her empty bunk would definitely be once they went back to barracks.
That was all drumming through her mind, as were the revelations of Kemmer’s place. That man had made discoveries, and been disappeared for it. She was certain.
Something needed to be done. Amaya could barely think of anything else. Two thoughts kept driving through her brain. Find Jerinne. Find Kemmer.
She went to the Contemplation Exercises herself, joining the Initiates in the back of the room. She strove to follow the same instructions she had given when she ran the exercises, to focus her thoughts on the candle, her breathing, calm her nerves.
The exercises ended, and she was no calmer. Especially with Vien looking put out. As the other Initiates filed out, Vien came up to her.
“Fendall is missing. I know we don’t exactly put a close eye on her . . .”
“That’s what not having a proper mentor will do,” Amaya said. “I had put her on the armory, but I didn’t check up on her.”
“I looked there during dinner,” Vien said. “She hadn’t been there for hours. It’s not like her.”
“No,” Amaya said. “I . . . I have my suspicions of where she is. Tell the other third-years I have it handled, and let’s keep it between us.”
“What about the Grandmaster? Shouldn’t we—”
“I will handle it, Candidate,” Amaya said, perhaps too sharply. “Your duties are to the rest of the Initiates.”
“Yes, Madam Tyrell,” Vien said. She looked put out, but went off.
Amaya went to the training room. Maybe she could sweat out these feelings, even though she continued to have the pounding need to do something. If not for Jerinne, then for Kemmer. She grabbed a practice sword off the wall and went through her maneuvers, working through positions, wanting someone to aim her energy at.
She knew where to go. Hemmit had told her where to start.
The Opera House.
That thought kept coming up.
“Everything all right, Amaya?”
The Grandmaster had come in, barefoot in just his cottons. It was odd to see him dressed so casually out of his study. He rarely came down not in uniform.
“Just—had something to get out of my muscles, sir,” she said.
“I very much understand,” he said with resignation. “Usually you’re doing your exercises before the dawn, not after sunset.”
“Today—today has been—” She wasn’t sure what to say to him. Even now, she looked and saw the kindly face of the man who had been guiding the Order for as long as she had known. But yet there was a shadow over him.
“Trying, yes,” he said. “I find that to be the case for me most days. All the little things to . . . keep this place in line. It’s quite the burden.”
“I’m sure you shoulder a lot, sir,” Amaya said, placing the training sword back on the rack.
“You have no idea, Miss Tyrell,” he said. “I really hope you never will.”
“Even still,” she said, coming closer to him, looking into his dark eyes for some sign of deception. “No matter what the weight, I won’t waver from following what my heart knows is right.”
He blinked and looked away. “I’m sure you wouldn’t. But we all . . . we always think we’re making the right choices in the moment.” He took a few steps away from her, running his hand on the rack of practice weapons. “But the important thing, the most important thing, is that we endure.”
“With honor,” she said.
“Honor is a vice of the unburdened,” he said coldly. “It matters little when all your choices are terrible. I just wish . . . I wish you could understand that, Amaya. What it means to navigate through all that darkness.”
“I understand,” she said, her thoughts about Jerinne and Dayne and Kemmer and the Grand Ten all coalescing into a single course of action. “But that’s why it was on you to be a beacon in darkness.”
“Was?” he sighed. “Have I failed in your eyes?”
“I just . . .” She found the words coming together, finding voice to her surprise. “I just know when I am doing the right thing, the light is clear. And I will follow that light.”
And it clicked in her head. She couldn’t just wait in here for things to resolve themselves. She had to take action.
The Grandmaster’s head went up, as if he had heard that very click, but it was just the dark-haired servant coming into the training room.
“Sorry,” she said. “I need to clean this room now.”
“Of course,” the Grandmaster said, his voice now subdued and flat. “We all must do what we must. If you’ll excuse me.” He stalked off.
Amaya waited for him to be gone, and then hurried to her room. She would do what she must, what she could do. She would find out what happened to Kemmer, find the Grand Ten, and get to the truth. No matter what the cost.
Dressed in her civilian clothes, sword at her belt, she slipped out of the chapterhouse, making sure no one took note of her. She moved now with purity of purpose, certainty leading her toward the Grand Opera House of Maradaine.
The Thorn had led the way down the passage, claiming he could feel where they needed to go. Dayne was dubious, but he didn’t have a better solution. Still, he couldn’t help but feel he was getting even farther away from Jerinne, Maresh, and Lin. He prayed they were all right.
“How can you feel it?” he finally asked.
“Mage,” the Thorn said, as if that said it all.
“What do you mean by that?”
The Thorn sighed, and turned back to Dayne. “Numina—magical energy—is all around us, flowing and moving. I’m attuned to that. I’m not great at sensing it . . .” He looked down the hallway, pursing his lips. “I’m actually pretty bad at it.”
“So why—”
“Because there’s something happen
ing up ahead that’s making enough noise that even I can hear it.”
“Noise?”
“As good a word as any,” the Thorn said.
“All right, and then what?”
“Then what what?”
“What do you intend to do once we get to whatever that is?”
“We’ll see when we get there. Hopefully find the people who have been taking these children and putting a stop to them.”
“Putting a stop to them?” Dayne asked. “Meaning, what? Filling them with arrows, like you tried to do to me?”
“The thought occurred to me. And I rather liked it.”
“What are you?” Dayne asked, grabbing the Thorn’s shoulder before he walked away again. “Some common goon?”
“I think I’m rather uncommon, thank you,” he said, brushing Dayne’s hand away.
“Thus the whole costume.”
“Says the man wearing an outfit from two centuries ago.”
“This uniform has a history of honor and respect—”
“So much respect you can walk in and out of a drug lord’s house.”
“You mean Fenmere? He’s—”
“He’s a killer.”
“And you aren’t?” Dayne asked. “I saw you back there. Shooting to kill. At me and at Gurond.”
“Oh, I’m sorry I tried to kill the unstoppable giant who’s kidnapping children!” the Thorn shouted. “What was I thinking?”
“It really is that easy for you?” Dayne asked. Did he not understand? Was nothing serious to him? “Taking a life?”
“What do you have that sword on your belt for?”
“Defense. Disarming. And even then, only when it’s necessary. There are other ways—”
“Other ways,” the Thorn scoffed. He stalked down the passage.
“Do you ever think about the people you’ve killed? Or is that another joke to you?”
The Thorn turned back on Dayne. “Do you know what I think about? I think about how I go out there, every night, to stop someone from getting that dose of effitte that leaves them dead in the gutter, or burned out and left in Trenn Ward. And even then, even then, every day someone still ends up that way.” The shading over his face flickered and vanished, showing his hot tears. Saints, he was so raw, so angry. “That’s someone I didn’t save. That . . . that’s on me. I carry that every rutting day. So spare me your moralizing.”
Dayne was silent at first, feeling the Thorn’s burning gaze on him. “No, I get it,” he finally said quietly. His own guilt was a weight on his heart. “I . . . I’m haunted by the people I didn’t save. And for me that . . . that means trying to save every life. Even maybe the ones who don’t deserve it.”
“Hold on,” the Thorn said. “You’re the one who stopped the killer at the Parliament. Who captured him alive.”
“Guilty,” Dayne said.
“Madness,” he said. “You’ve got to—”
He turned his head sharply, looking down the hallway, his shading coming back over his face.
“What?” Dayne asked.
“Something big just burst down that way. I think—” He started to run.
Dayne chased after him, barely able to keep up. They rounded a few corners, the Thorn moving with absurd confidence, until they came to an opening, overlooking a wide chamber that was dominated by a monstrous machine. The thing made Sholiar’s creation in the Parliament look like a child’s toy. And like that atrocity, there were people trapped in it. Children in cages, and Lin and Maresh shackled to a platform on top. Several other people were on the ground—most of them the same misshapen horrors that had attacked them at the bridge. Two were men—one of them clearly in control of things, the other being held by the creatures. The man in control—a man who seemed to embody vileness—was lecturing to the other, though Dayne couldn’t make out the words.
“Where is he?” the Thorn asked.
“Who?”
“My friend, he . . . he shouldn’t have come down here. I felt him, but . . . he’s not there.”
“Maybe he escaped?” Dayne asked.
“I hope so,” the Thorn said. “Children. Not all of them.”
“I see them.”
“And that’s Rynax. He came down with me. If those beasts were able to capture him, they’re tough customers.”
“Like Gurond.”
“Hold on,” the Thorn said. He waved his fingers, and then Dayne could hear the man as if he were standing right next to him.
“—since you are so interested, I will show you. Time is short, of course, as the ripe moment is upon us. Right before the sunrise will be perfect. But I can’t resist another experiment.”
“Like these?” Rynax asked, nodding at the grotesques.
“These poor friends . . . they were part of the learning process. But none of them came out as well as my crowning achievement.”
“Gurond?”
The vile man’s eyes went wide with excitement. “Yes, indeed! You are familiar with my work. He is a marvel, you must admit.”
“I really mustn’t,” Rynax said.
“Well, he’s my masterpiece, which I’ve not yet figured out how to repeat. Some factor made him work so perfectly when no one else did. But we learn through failure! So now to these two.” He went over to the machine and raised his hands. It started moving: gears turning, rings spinning, steam belching.
“Those are my friends,” Dayne told the Thorn.
“And that guy is a mage,” the Thorn said. “A powerful one.”
“So is she,” Dayne said, pointing to Lin.
“I’ve got an idea,” the Thorn said. “One that suits your peculiar urge for other ways.”
“Which is?”
“You get his attention—talk to him or some such—and I’ll get those kids and your friends out.”
“How?”
The Thorn grinned, and then the whole color of his body shifted so he blended into the wall. “Magic.”
Nearly invisible, he leaped out of the tunnel into the open air. Dayne couldn’t see where he went at first. Then he saw just a shimmering outline on top of one of the cages. Amazingly, he had managed to slip through the spinning rings. Dayne needed to do something before the vile man took notice himself.
“Hold!” Dayne shouted, stepping into view from the high tunnel. He rested his hand on the pommel of his sword, trying his best to emulate the painting of Xandra Romaine that hung in the chapterhouse. “I demand you stop this wicked act, and release those people who are clearly being held against their will!”
Dayne had never felt more stupid.
“Why am I beset by interrupting fools today?” the vile man asked. “You, sir, are you here with an army or something?”
Dayne decided if he was going to have to play the fool for this, he’d do it to the hilt. And the Thorn was getting one of the cages open. Best keep attention away from the machine.
“I’m Dayne Heldrin of the Tarian Order, and I am commanding you to stop this horror!”
“I grow weary of this,” the vile man said. “I am trying to conduct critical research before we attempt to crack into the very fabric of reality.” He looked over at Rynax like he was a confidant. “I mean, we only have hours.” With a wave of his hand, Dayne came flying out of the tunnel, and then was hurled down to the ground.
“Dayne!” Lin shouted from the platform on the machine.
“Oh, I see,” the mage said. “You know them. Now it makes some sense.” He started waving his hands over the controls of the machine. “None of this is right.”
Dayne forced himself onto his feet.
“You can still make the right choice,” Dayne said. “No one else needs to be hurt.”
The mage sighed. “I mean, something is wrong. Everything is out of balance. Is one of you a mage? If so, it’s mess
ing up the experiment.”
Maresh looked up. “She is. Let her go!”
He waved to one of the creatures. “Go get her down.”
“Sir!” Dayne said. “I insist—”
The mage frowned. “No, something else is wrong. That cage is open. And—ah. Now it makes sense.”
Another indifferent wave, and the Thorn was fully visible. The Thorn leaped over the mage and the monsters, firing arrows like a blur. “Switch jobs, Dayne!” he shouted.
Dayne jumped over to the machine, where the rings were still spinning about. How did the Thorn get through them? Dayne couldn’t worry about that. He jumped into their path, holding his shield ahead of him. Then one spinning ring slammed into the shield, knocking Dayne back.
“Adorable,” the mage said. He threw a blast of green fire at Dayne, which burst over his shield.
Dayne looked up at the machine. The children looked terrified. Maresh and Lin were the same, struggling with their shackles. Dayne couldn’t fail them.
“Thorn, hold him off!” Dayne called back. But he looked back to the Thorn and saw how useless that was going to be. Gurond had come into the room through grand double doors. The Thorn hadn’t seen him, and landed right in front of him. “Look out!”
Too late. Gurond’s massive fist knocked the Thorn across the room like a doll.
“Stop, Tarian,” the mage said, grabbing Dayne magically and lifting him off the ground. “This is truly pointless.”
“It is, Senek.” A well-groomed man with a manicured beard strolled in, looking oddly out of place compared to every other denizen in this place. “Whatever are you doing?”
“I have time for another experiment,” the mage said. He must be Senek.
“You said the ripe time was right before sunrise.”
“Thus a few hours,” Senek insisted. “And look at all these new toys to play with.”
“Fascinating day this has been,” the well-groomed one said. “Who are they?”
“He asked for an audience with you,” Senek said, indicating Rynax. “I’m not sure about the Tarian and the baby mage, but they seem to be friends.”
“They’re with me,” Rynax said.
People of the City Page 23
