People of the City

by Marshall Ryan Maresca

  “Fascinating,” the groomed one said. “Well, by all means, bring them to my sanctum. It seems to be a day of surprises.”

  “But . . .” Senek said, gesturing to the machine. “My experiment.”

  “I would prefer you not waste the fuel, Senek,” the groomed one said. “Besides, further testing should not be necessary. We will soon have all our missing pieces in place.”

  “Missing pieces for what?” Dayne asked, still suspended in the air. “Who are you?”

  The man came over to Dayne and gently touched his face. “Rejoice, friend. You are most blessed. The Nine wait below, and you will have the privilege of audience with me, their High Dragon.”

  Chapter 16

  THERE WAS NO SIGN OF Rynax. Hemmit couldn’t wait, not with the little boy, who was clearly hungry and exhausted. Despite his own pain, he carried the boy down the tunnels. Fortunately, the chalk marks were there and easy to find. After pushing himself, forcing himself to take each step, he found an exit to the open air.

  Both he and the boy laughed and whooped once they realized they were out, even though it was clearly late. It took him a bit to get his bearings—he was somewhere in North Seleth. After a bit of searching, he went to the one place he really knew in the neighborhood: Kimber’s Pub. By the time he got there, the boy, spent, had fallen asleep in his arms.

  It was a quiet night, only a smattering of patrons. Or perhaps it was just that late.

  “You can’t bring that boy in here,” the matron of the place said as he came in.

  “Ma’am,” Hemmit said. “You probably don’t recognize me, but I was here the night of the riots? The election?”

  She shook her head. “I’m afraid not.”

  Hemmit frowned. “I was meeting with the Rynax brothers. And that boy was hit in the head?”

  “Of course I remember that,” she said. “Still, you—”

  “Apparently one of the Rynaxes went searching for missing children in the tunnels underground today.”

  She shook her head and sighed. “Oh, Asti.”

  “This boy was one of the ones taken. But there are more. And I think Rynax is still down there. As are other friends.”

  “You were down there?” she asked. “I mean, sir, you look a frightful mess.”

  “I feel it.”

  “Let’s take the boy to a cot in the back, and then work on finding his parents or such in the morning. You should do the same.”

  It was awfully tempting. He wanted to lie down and not move. His whole body was hurting.

  But Dayne was still down there. Jerinne and Maresh and Lin. He couldn’t just walk away. He couldn’t rest now.

  “I wish I could,” he said. “Take care of the boy, and if you see the other Rynax, let him know—”

  “I will,” she said. She went to the bar and came back with cup of water. Hemmit took it gratefully. He never was so happy to drink water.

  “Are you going to be all right?” she asked.

  “Not yet,” he said. “But I have to help everyone else, or I couldn’t live with myself.”

  Finishing the water, he handed her the cup back, and went into the night.

  Sleep was not going to come easy. Satrine had embraced that fact. She had come home, had dinner with the girls, checked on Loren, and chatted for some time with Rian. Rian was insisting she could handle her last year at prepatory and hours at the Majestic. Satrine wasn’t thrilled with the idea of that, but had to admit, Rian’s income had made things so much easier. Especially since Rian had marks that could easily get her into the Royal College of Maradaine. That would cost a lot, but Satrine really liked the idea of her continuing her education just a few blocks from the apartment.

  Rian went to sleep, and Satrine lay out on her couch, not wanting to bother going to her own bed. In her state, she’d just disturb Loren.

  She couldn’t shake the idea that something was very wrong. The night was trouble.

  The knock on her door, after she had dozed off well after midnight, solidified that feeling.

  She went to the door, crossbow in hand, in case the trouble was coming for her.

  Instead it was a dark-skinned girl, likely Napolic or Turjin descent, who looked frightened out of her mind.

  “Can I help you?” Satrine asked.

  “Are you Inspector Rainey?”

  “Who’s asking?”

  “My name is Kaiana Nell . . . I’m a groundskeeper at the University of Maradaine, and . . . Inspector Welling is in trouble.”

  Satrine grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her inside. “Start at the beginning,” she said while getting her boots and gear.

  “Well, he came to campus because he was going to search the chapterhouse of the Blue Hand Circle, and he wanted . . . he wanted the Thorn to go with him.”

  Satrine picked up on that. “You know the Thorn.”

  “I do. And he had already gone off earlier to chase a lead about children being taken by a giant.”

  “Welling was doing the same. The Blue Hand Circle?” She got her boots on.

  “The chapterhouse led us to underground tunnels, where there was a strange cult and monstrous creatures, and they spotted us and Welling was captured.”

  “Captured?” Satrine said. “But you got away?”

  “Only because there was a girl also down there—she told me to find you. Jerinne Fendall?”

  “Wait, wait,” Satrine said. “Did she go down with you?”

  “No, she was already there. She rescued me, told me where to find you.”

  “Saints preserve us,” Satrine muttered. She knew there was trouble in the air tonight.

  “And I went looking for the Thorn first, but he never came back. If they’re both down there, both in trouble—”

  “I hear you,” Satrine said. She wasn’t even entirely sure where to start. Call in the Constabulary, a full Riot Call to go into the tunnels? She wondered if that was the right idea. She knew there were deep veins of corruption throughout the Constabulary. Calling a show of color might warn these people. She had to be careful.

  She stopped for a moment. “You said you’re a groundskeeper?”

  “Yes,” Kaiana said. “Why?”

  “As in a gardener?”

  “Sometimes.” Kaiana looked very confused. “How is that—”

  “Listen to the gardener, seek answers when she calls,” remembering the mangled passage that Alana had read to her earlier. A notion crossed her mind—a wild, impossible notion—and she went over to her coat, taking Sister Myriem’s copy of the Testaments of the Saints out of the pocket.

  “What are you doing?” Kaiana asked.

  “Bit of a mad hunch,” Satrine said. She thumbed through the book to reach the Testament of Saint Jessalyn.

  Myriem had crossed out words and written in others and drawn symbols and it didn’t make a lick of sense, but Satrine was compelled to turn the page. It was the same madness, but as soon as she saw the words and symbols, they bore into her eyes, each one of them slammed across her brain sideways. Memories overwhelmed her.

  She was Trini Carthas again, in a dirty tenement on Jent and Tannen. Protecting Lannie Coar. Standing in front of five angry, overeager boys, holding a piece of broken glass to fend them off.

  She was Quia Alia Rhythn, finishing her education at an exclusive school in Maradaine, taking a history lesson on Druth kings.

  She was Agent Satrine Carthas, fighting for her life against Pra Yikenj in an Imach boilhouse.

  She was all three at the same time, and yet still Inspector Satrine Rainey.

  Lannie Coar wasn’t Lannie—she was Sister Myriem. Pra Yikenj was Sister Myriem. The history teacher was Sister Myriem.

  All as Satrine remembered it.

  As each of them, she spoke, words that echoed in Satrine’s head.

  I’m
sorry

  —sorry—

  I had to reach you

  —reach you—

  Too much

  —your mind was already prepared—

  Receptive

  The only way—

  I can’t say the words when I’m awake

  Too much

  —can only tell you here—

  In your yesterdays

  —From my tomorrows—

  Too much

  —I only know in my dreams—

  You can’t go alone

  —You can’t trust anyone—

  The Brotherhood is everywhere

  —Trust is a weapon—

  Today is the moment.

  Seek the champions you need.

  —Listen to the gardener—

  Be ready to stop them

  Today we need you.

  —seek answers when she calls—

  Remember everything

  Eyes and ears open

  —The city will fall without you—

  Find the trapmaster

  Find the trapmaster

  —Find the trapmaster—

  He’ll die without you.

  They’ll die without you.

  —They’ll die without him—

  This is the day

  —This is the moment—

  It has to be you

  —Find him!—

  Pra Yikenj’s fist smashed into Satrine’s face, and she dropped hard. She almost crashed to the floor, were it not for Kaiana Nell catching her.

  Kaiana. Her own apartment. Late at night. Here, today.

  Herself again, half on the floor, half in Kaiana’s arms.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Decidedly not,” Satrine said, getting to her feet. She belted her crossbow and handstick, as well as extra bolts. She left a note for the girls, apologizing for not being there in the morning. She knew—she knew—that this was going to take her all night. “You coming with me?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Kaiana said. “Back to the Blue Hand?”

  “No,” Satrine said as she went out the door. “To North Seleth.”

  Dayne’s feet didn’t touch the floor until he was brought into a warm chamber lit by hundreds of candles. Senek pulled him through the air, and the beasts took his shield and sword. They dragged in Rynax and relieved him of several knives, and Gurond carried in the Thorn. He was out cold and placed in a chair, his weapons and rope taken from him. Gurond stared at the Thorn’s face and growled for a bit, until the well-manicured man—this High Dragon—waved him away.

  “I know, my friend, I know,” the High Dragon said. “In due time. Bring in the other one.”

  “Other one?” Dayne asked. They had Lin and Maresh; where was Jerinne? Had they captured her as well?

  The High Dragon ignored him and went to a chest and took out a pair of shackles. “Cannot take too many chances with this one, I think.” He bound the Thorn with them, and then gently slapped his face until he came to.

  “What, where?” the Thorn asked.

  “There he is. Sorry about your head, but Gurond is . . . well, he is Gurond.”

  Rynax raised an eyebrow. “And you’re Crenaxin. The High Dragon.”

  “You asked to see me,” Crenaxin said. “And that was enough to earn your lives—briefly—while I sate my curiosity about you interlopers. Seven in all, I think.”

  “Seven?” Dayne asked.

  “Yes, you three, the two that I’ll let Senek play with, the girl who got away, and this one.”

  Two men in dark robes dragged in Minox Welling, shackled and trying to pull himself out of their grasp.

  “Minox!” Dayne exclaimed.

  “So you are together,” Crenaxin said, rubbing his hands together. “How glorious.”

  “Heldrin,” Minox said when he saw Dayne. His captors brought him over and placed him in a chair with the three of them. “And Mister Calbert as well.”

  “We’ll find your dark girl as well, soon enough,” Crenaxin said.

  That got the Thorn’s attention. “Dark girl?” He looked over to Minox, who just gave him a small nod.

  “She’s surely well out of here, and sensible enough to bring help.”

  “Help?” Crenaxin said with a mocking tone. “Members of the Constabulary? Perhaps a contingent of Tarian elite? The army? Or you?” He pointed at the Thorn. “Yes, you’re the one who started that trouble for the Blue Hand a few months back.”

  “I’ll show you trouble,” the Thorn said, trying to stand. He then screamed and fell back down.

  “Yes, you’ll find that what you and your friend there are wearing are far more insidious than the mage shackles the Constabulary uses. I imagine that was rather painful.”

  “The machine is more than magic,” Rynax said. “But it’s not complete.”

  “Very good, sir. Observant one, you are.”

  “Machine?” Welling asked.

  Rynax nodded. “There’s a machine in the other room, combines magic and science, I figure. To make people into those monsters they’ve got walking around here.”

  “Monsters?” Crenaxin said. “You say that of our faithful brethren, who have given so much of themselves in the hope of being worthy vessels for the Nine?”

  “What are the Nine?” Dayne asked.

  Crenaxin smiled. “They are the truest faith. Truer and older than you can even know. Beings of pure power and knowledge, fueled by and fueling all the churning energies in the world.”

  “Magic,” Welling said.

  “Beyond magic. Beyond science. Beyond faith and will and the focus of . . . they are the force of everything.”

  “And you’re their High Dragon?”

  “The vessel of their blessing. Filled with their power.”

  “Full of it is right,” the Thorn said weakly.

  “He’s not bluffing,” Minox said. “I saw him bring a dead man to life.”

  “He what?” Dayne asked.

  “That’s impossible,” the Thorn said.

  “Impossible is nothing but your limited mind, young man,” Crenaxin said, placing his hand on the Thorn’s head. “And soon that dead man will complete his mission, come back with the final statue . . .”

  “Tell me about the statues,” Rynax said.

  “Fascinating, aren’t they?” Crenaxin said.

  “What are they called? Tazendifol?”

  That took Crenaxin by surprise. “Very good, sir. But do you know what that means?”

  “They’re sacred idols of a forbidden religion. This ‘Brotherhood of the Nine’ business, clearly.”

  “Not entirely correct. Though they are forbidden where they came from, Poasia. That’s where the truth of the Nine came from. It was a faith they knew . . . millennia ago. But the faithful were hounded and killed, and only a handful kept it alive, hidden beneath their civilization. And then our soldiers took Khol Taia. The tazendifol—and the faith—came here.”

  Dayne couldn’t believe his ears. “Why would you subscribe to a Poasian religion? One that even they rooted out?”

  “Because it is a source of pure power, Tarian,” Crenaxin said. He went over to the trunk and pulled out a book, finding his page. “‘And now today, the day wakes in the sword, with a sliver of white and three children ahead. Now is the day, and we will tap into power—real, true power—that will make Maradaine tremble before us.’”

  “And why are you telling us?” Thorn said.

  “Because I want you to know,” Crenaxin said. He went over to the Thorn and grabbed his head. “For you are going to Serve the Brotherhood.”

  His words came with a weight, and the Thorn screamed. He shook his head wildly for a moment. “What the blazes—” he snarled.

  “Mages ar
e always a problem,” Crenaxin said with disappointment. He went over to Minox. “But I hope you will Serve the Brotherhood.”

  Minox grit his teeth and then spit in Crenaxin’s face.

  “No matter,” Crenaxin said. “You’re going to be useful, regardless. But you—” He went over to Rynax. “You will be very useful, I think. And you will Serve the Brotherhood.”

  Rynax screamed, a scream of pure animal rage and pain. Then he became oddly calm, looking up at Crenaxin. “Blessed be the Nine.”

  “Blessed be the Nine, my brother,” Crenaxin said. He came over to Dayne. “And as for you, Tarian.”

  “I will never—” Dayne started.

  “But you will,” Crenaxin said. “You will Serve the Brotherhood.”

  The words hit with a power that filled Dayne’s bones. He remembered the words, the power, of Ret Issendel, but that had been a gentle stream in comparison. This was an ocean, washing over Dayne, filling his heart, breaking his soul, demanding his—

  Clarity.

  He looked up to Crenaxin. It was so clear.

  “Blessed be the Nine,” he said.

  “Blessed be, my brother,” Crenaxin said. “Now let us be about things. Take the constable here. He will be useful.”

  “Of course,” Dayne said. He grabbed Minox and threw him over his shoulder.

  “Heldrin. Heldrin! What are you doing? Stop! Fight it, man, fight it!” Minox tried vainly to fight back, but in his bound state, he wasn’t very effective.

  “Now let’s bring him to Mister Senek, my brother,” Crenaxin said. He picked up a large knife and handed it to Rynax. “As for you, I would love it if you would carve out all his bones.” He looked over to the Thorn. “His meddling caused so much pain, and I would love to have that repaid.”

  Rynax nodded. His face made it clear he understood. He examined the knife with meticulous care as he approached the Thorn. The Nine were glory, and he served them. Dayne served them, served the Brotherhood, whatever the High Dragon would need.

  “Asti, no,” the Thorn said. “Asti, wake the blazes up. Asti!”

  “Come, my Tarian brother,” High Dragon Crenaxin said. “The power and the blessings of the Nine await us.”

  He left the sanctum, and Dayne followed happily, the futile screams and protestations of the Thorn fading in the distance.