People of the City

by Marshall Ryan Maresca

  Dayne knelt down and scooped the girl up. Jerinne took her shield back, while the mace felt to the ground.

  Asti and Verci came up, both of them taking note of the mace as they approached. “The people in the church?” Asti asked.

  “Safe, I think,” Jerinne said. “The monsters never got past the narthex.”

  “Good work, girl,” Asti said. Jerinne didn’t have the energy to correct him.

  “I can’t take the credit,” she said as they went in. “It was all her. Somehow.”

  Asti and Verci surveyed the carnage in the narthex. Verci went and righted the statue of Saint Bridget, while Asti knelt down by the body of the bald man.

  “Oh, Jared,” he said, touching the man’s face. “I hope you find some peace, my friend.”

  “He helped save everyone else,” Jerinne said quickly.

  “Old fool,” Asti said, wiping at his eyes. “He deserved better.”

  Verci went to the door to the nave and gave it a few knocks. “It’s all clear out here. It’s over.”

  A voice called from the other side. “How do we know?”

  Asti stepped up. “Is Kimber in there?”

  After some murmuring on the other side, a woman’s voice called, “Yes?”

  “Kimber, it’s Asti. I swear on Saint Bridget that it’s absolutely safe to open the door.”

  The door flew open, and a short, stout woman came out and wrapped her arms around Asti. “Thank every blessing,” she said. She then reached over to Verci and pulled him in as well. “You are both such blessings.”

  “Easy, easy,” Asti said. “I’m covered in bruises.”

  “Is everyone all right in here?” Dayne called out, centering his focus on one of the brothers. “The children?”

  “Those who are in here,” the brother said. “We’re all safe. But Sister Myriem?”

  Dayne lowered the girl to the ground. “I don’t know if she’s hurt. She’s breathing.”

  “She saved me,” Jerinne said. She was still very confused about what happened in the narthex. “I don’t understand how, but she saved me.”

  Asti took a good look at her. “She was in your pub yesterday,” he told Kimber. “She prayed with me.”

  “She came to the shop, called me Saint Terrence,” Verci said. “Who is she?”

  “She’s Sister Myriem,” Satrine said. She came in with Minox, both of them looking an absolute fright. Minox was as pale as curdled milk. Behind them, Hemmit and Lin walked slowly, both looking distraught and out of sorts. Then what happened to Maresh came flooding back to Jerinne. Sudden tears coming, she went over and embraced them both.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, almost choking out her words. “I . . . I know I failed you down there. I know I—”

  “No,” Lin said. “Don’t blame yourself. They did this. Only them.”

  Hemmit tried to hide his tears, but failed. “Maresh . . . the bodywagon is taking him away. He’s got . . . I need to write to his mother.”

  Dayne approached. “Do you . . . can we do anything?”

  “We’re going to go with Maresh,” Lin said. “But . . . stay and make sure everything is set here.”

  “We’ll see you soon,” Hemmit said, grabbing Dayne in an embrace. “Thank you, my friend, for continuing to be . . . everything that you are.”

  “I’m not entirely sure what that is,” Dayne said.

  Hemmit chuckled. “A champion, my friend.” He pointed to Jerinne, and to the Rynaxes and the constables. “All of you.”

  Lin led him out, and Dayne and Jerinne went back to the group around Sister Myriem.

  Satrine was kneeling down next to the cloistress. “Myriem, it’s Satrine Rainey. Are you all right?”

  The girl didn’t stir.

  The reverend approached from the back of the church, a group of children behind him. His expression was a cipher as he knelt down next to Myriem. “The sister is our charge, friends, and we will tend to her. It shall be our honor.” On his signal, a few of the brothers picked her up and took her back.

  From behind the children, a young woman came through. Napolic. After a moment, Jerinne realized it was the same one from the tunnels yesterday. Kaiana.

  “Where’s Ver—the Thorn? What happened?”

  Dayne looked stricken. “Um, he . . . that is . . .”

  “Miss Nell,” Minox said, stepping forward. He spoke quietly, as if his voice would break if he raised it at all. “Mister Calbert was instrumental in stopping the disaster that unfolded today. We . . . we would not have been able to end this crisis without him. He . . . his bravery . . .”

  Kaiana’s face fell as the meaning of Minox’s words became clear. Her whole body crumpled, and she would have fallen had a skinny young man not been there to catch her.

  “We’re very grateful to him,” Dayne said. “He was—” That was all Dayne managed before he started crying.

  “We should—” Asti said haltingly. “We should figure out what do with these children.”

  “I’m having a wagon come to bring them to the Grand Inspection Unit,” Satrine said quietly. “We’ll . . . we’ll find their homes, and take care of the ones without any.”

  “Good,” Dayne said, wiping his eyes. “This is all a good day. You all will be able to go home in time for Terrentin.”

  “Indeed!” a voice boomed from the church door. A figure strolled into the church—dressed all in yellow and soaking wet, and every step left a wet footprint. He walked confidently, with a sack over his shoulder. “So Rejoice, Rejoice, Rejoice!”

  Kimber fell to her knees, “Blessing upon us, Saint Terrence has come.”

  “Indeed!” he said, coming closer. “I’ve come because I heard there were several children here, some of whom have never received a gift for Terrentin.” He put the sack down and opened it up, revealing that it was filled with toys: jape-snaps and wind-ups and clamor-boxes.

  “Wait a minute—” Verci said. Saint Terrence looked up at him and winked.

  “So many beautiful, incredible toys for these children,” Saint Terrence said, handing them to the children. “For you, and you, and you.”

  Kaiana looked up and screamed. She leaped on top of Saint Terrence, wrapping her arms and legs around him.

  “Does he have a gift for her?” one of the children asked. This one must have been the baron’s son, based on his accent.

  “I think so,” Dayne said.

  “Let’s let the children enjoy their toys,” Asti said, urging everyone to step away. “I’m sure the saint has a lot more places to go today.”

  “Indeed,” Saint Terrence said, letting Kaiana back on her feet, though her arms stayed wrapped around him. “In fact, let’s adjourn to the back room.”

  “All of us?” Jerinne asked.

  “Yes,” Satrine said, her voice dripping with honey. “We’re all the saint’s helpers today.”

  They—Dayne and Jerinne, Asti, Verci, and Kimber, Satrine and Minox, Saint Terrence and Kaiana and even the skinny fellow—went through to the back to a small meeting room. Saint Terrence slumped into a chair. “I know, I know, I owe you about sixty crowns, Rynax.”

  “At least,” Verci said.

  Saint Terrence sighed, and his features, yellow suit and even his wetness melted away to reveal the Thorn. He looked a mess of cuts and bruises, but he had a wide, if exhausted smile on his face.

  “Can you explain what happened?” Dayne asked. “How are you—”

  “Not dead?” the Thorn asked.

  “You let me think you were dead!” Kaiana said, slapping at him.

  “I did nothing of the sort,” the Thorn said. “So those last moments on the platform, we had sucked the last bit of dragon out of Crenaxin, and I jumped clear. Except I’m just brimming full of numina, so I sort of jump, like . . . how can I explain this? Like, sid
eways to the world. A direction that doesn’t exist. I land about five blocks away from here. And right by your shop. So, I think, it’s going to be Terrentin, and my survival was a damn miracle, so why not make the most of it?”

  “Seventy crowns,” Verci said.

  “Fair. Besides, Dayne owes me five.”

  Dayne broke out laughing. “You did win that bet.”

  “You fool,” the skinny kid said. “Do you know most people go through rigorous study of magic and its effect on the physical world and the body for years before even attempting something like that, and you do it by accident?”

  “Listen,” the Thorn said. “I would love to continue this whole conversation with all of you, but I am utterly famished. And I bet Minox is as well.”

  “That is accurate,” Minox said.

  “So, I’m telling you, around the corner is this fabulous Fuergan restaurant that is absolutely one of the best things you’ve ever tried. Can we please just go there?”

  “He’s been talking it up,” Dayne said. “And I haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday. Shall we?”

  “Why not?” Jerinne said. “It’s not like I’m not going to get in more trouble with Amaya.”

  Amaya found almost everything she needed at Hemmit’s flop. A place to hide, something to bandage her side, and a bottle of Fuergan whiskey to dull the pain.

  But no Hemmit.

  There had been a bundle of documents already delivered to his flop, though. Evidence of the Grand Ten, the vast conspiracy seeking to undermine the crown and the government, with the ten conspirators named. Including herself as The Warrior.

  If he had received it, so had all the other newssheets. Surely interesting enough for those reporters to investigate on their own, confer with each other, contact the Constabulary and the marshals. Before midday they would find the slaughter in the opera house—it was there to be found, after all—and that would surely be proof enough to confirm everything in the bundle.

  But Hemmit wasn’t here. She had checked first at The Nimble Rabbit with the owners—who she clearly had spooked—but they hadn’t seen him, or Maresh or Lin since lunchtime the day before.

  It was possible none of them had come back from the excursion with Dayne and Jerinne.

  She had no idea how to reach out to either of them. They were the only other ones she trusted right now, or at least trusted enough to listen to her fairly. But they would either be at the chapterhouse or the Parliament, and there was absolutely no way she could go to either of those places.

  Where else could she even go?

  Someone knocked on Hemmit’s door.

  “Hemmit? Are you there? No one is in the office.”

  Lady Mirianne.

  More knocking. “Hemmit?”

  Amaya had to make a choice. She opened the door, grabbed Lady Mirianne by the wrist, and pulled her inside.

  “Amaya!” she exclaimed. “What are you—are you all right?”

  “Decidedly not,” Amaya said, sitting on Hemmit’s bed.

  “Oh my saints,” Lady Mirianne said, noting the bandage on Amaya’s side. It was already seeping with blood, and she’d need to change it. “What happened? Why are you . . . why did you come here?”

  “I guess it’s not in the newssheets yet,” Amaya said.

  “What isn’t?” Lady Mirianne said. “I had noticed there was a stir of a story in many of the sheets—something about a conspiracy—but I wondered why my own newssheet hadn’t printed anything today. I found no one at the offices or at the Rabbit, so I came here.”

  “That,” Amaya said, pointing to the bundle. As Lady Mirianne thumbed through the papers, Amaya went on. “Hemmit and the others went with Dayne and Jerinne on something. They were going to sneak into the Necropolis of Saint Terrence. But maybe they’ve not come back yet. Maybe they got in as much trouble as I did.”

  “Oh, my,” Lady Mirianne said. “These are . . . this is all quite serious. I presume you deny the allegations in here.”

  “I do,” Amaya said. “There is an actual Grand Ten, but I’m not a part of it. Though Grandmaster Orren and Colonel Altarn of Druth Intelligence are.”

  “What?” Lady Mirianne said. “Are you certain?”

  “Of those two, quite.” Amaya nodded, pointing to her injury. “This was the cost of tangling with the two of them. Barely escaped.”

  “Grandmaster Orren did this?” she asked with incredulity. “He did this to you?”

  “After killing three people right in front of me. I . . . I never . . .”

  “Three?” Lady Mirianne choked on the word as she sat down. Lady Mirianne let out a deep breath. “Well that . . . that must have been . . . very difficult to see. And you saw Colonel Altarn as well?”

  “She taunted me. This was a trap for me that I just walked into, and . . . I had suspected her and the Grandmaster, but . . . to see it? See them both be so savage, it was . . .”

  Lady Mirianne got to her feet. “We have not been close, Amaya. I understand if that’s at all my fault. I have not been the friend to you that I could have been.”

  “This isn’t the moment—”

  “But it is,” Lady Mirianne said. “I believe in you, in your innocence in this conspiracy. That you have been incriminated by malefactors who wish to use you as a patsy.”

  “Thank you,” Amaya said. It wasn’t much, but in this moment of complete failure, she would take any bit of kindness she could find, even from Lady Mirianne. “I was thinking, I need to get ahead of this. Maybe turn myself into the marshals, or the Parliament, so I can get my side of the story on the record.”

  “No,” Lady Mirianne said firmly. “If this is true, think about it. The corruption is everywhere. Chief Toscan. Chief Quoyell. There are surely people who are working with Altarn and Orren. The corruption in this city is deep, and there’s no trusting whoever you might turn yourself over to isn’t part of it.”

  “So what do you suggest?” Amaya asked.

  “My carriage is outside,” Lady Mirianne said. “Let’s get you into it, and from there to my household, and then to my lake cottage in the Sharain.”

  “You want me to hide?”

  “I want you to recover, safely,” Lady Mirianne said. “We can assume your reputation is already shredded. But I will make sure that Hemmit and Lin and Maresh believe in your innocence. That they—and Dayne and Jerinne—and especially me, we’ll all work to exonerate you. In the name of the law and the public eye. But you will be safe away from all of it, ready to come back when it’s time.”

  Amaya wanted to cry. She had misjudged Lady Mirianne, convinced she was a privileged popinjay more interested in fashion and money than anything else, empty in thought and spirit. But now she saw what Dayne must have seen in her all this time, why he loved her so much.

  “Thank you, my lady,” Amaya said. “Thank you for everything.”

  Lady Mirianne took her in a warm embrace, though she made sure to position her body to not get blood on herself. “Of course, Amaya. You’ll see. We will make sure justice is done, have no doubt.” She stepped back, a warm smile on her face. “Come. Let’s get you out of the city.”

  Seven of them went to Jonet’s Clay Bowl. Kimber, the sweet woman who clearly had overwhelming affection not for just both of the Rynax brothers, but all of the North Seleth neighborhood, stayed at the church to arrange services for Jared Scall, the man who had died helping Jerinne protect the church. Delmin and Kaiana, the friends of Veranix Calbert, chose to go back to the University to lay the groundwork for whatever story they were telling about Veranix missing classes this morning, as well as the multiple injuries that were clear on his face. Before they left, Minox presented Kaiana with the sword he had used in the fight.

  “It’s hers,” Minox explained as they went into the Clay Bowl. “Or rather, her father’s. But I’m grateful that it found its way back t
o her hands.”

  “Good friends,” Veranix said to the proprietors. He had abandoned all of his trappings as the Thorn, looking just like a normal University student, if one covered with cuts and bruises. “There are seven of us here, but feed us as if we are twice as many. We have had a long night and a longer morning and are deeply famished.”

  “You again!” one of the proprietors said. “But where is your lady? Or do you have more ladies and gentlemen now? Very nice.”

  “Don’t give him a hard time, Gessin,” Asti said, stepping forward.

  “Asti!” the man said, grabbing him by the shoulders and kissing both cheeks. “You are coming to eat? With your natir? I am most honored.”

  Satrine chuckled. “We aren’t all married to each other.”

  “Because you Druth are very closed-minded. Seven is good number for marriage. Not as good as nine, and truly, eleven is very good, I hear. But seven is good.”

  He led them to a table, and in just a few moments, dish after dish of culinary delights were brought out to them. Veranix and Minox wasted little time digging into them, and while Dayne was not familiar with the cuisine, he was hungry enough to try anything at this point. And, to his pleasant surprise, he found it quite agreeable. Savory and piquant, without the overwhelming sense of burning spice that other foreign dishes he tried usually had.

  “Fortunately,” Satrine said, “the ranking officers on the scene in all this were Minox’s uncle and brother. They were more inclined to believe the story we gave them.”

  “Which was what, exactly?” Verci asked.

  “Largely what happened, though I glossed over the Thorn’s involvement,” Minox said. “And we painted the two of you as civilians and local businessmen who proved useful in a crisis.”

  “Not untrue,” Asti said.

  “Incredibly useful,” Satrine said. The two of them shared a knowing look, and then she said, “I think we should stay aware and vigilant about the Brotherhood from now on.”

  “Really?” Jerinne asked. “I mean, Crenaxin’s gone, Senek’s in custody—”

  “Gurond escaped,” Dayne said. He had noticed that at some point the bell had been overturned, and Gurond was gone. Perhaps he did reconsider his loyalty to the Brotherhood, or at least to Crenaxin and Senek, and abandoned them. Still, Dayne worried about the giant, twisted man.