What Tomorrow May Bring

by Tony Bertauski

  “It’s their loss.”

  “What are you talking about? It’s my loss. Fool Green. What do you think happens if no one marries me before the Infernam? There aren’t that many social events between now and then. I’d better get back out there. How do I look?” She presented her face. “Why am I asking you? What would you know?” She spun on her heel and dashed down the stairs.

  That went well, Bowe thought. I should probably leave on a high note. He tried to regain his earlier confident pose as he descended the stairs. Keeping his gaze fixed above head height, he strode to the entrance. He imagined himself as a king walking past his subjects, but didn’t think he pulled it off. Bowe nodded to Tokanu, then marched outside. As he passed between the double row of marshals, Bowe feared that an order would come to arrest him; but they remained still as statues. It might have been different if the ball had been held at Raine Mansion. A row of rickshaws waited to take the ascor and ascora away, but Bowe had spent the last of his money. He slipped past them and slunk away into the night.

  Chapter 10

  32 Days Left

  Bowe awoke. The sun’s morning rays streamed through the window. He rose, dressed himself, and walked onto the landing. “Glil?” he shouted, but there was no reply. Where had Glil gone? Bowe wanted to talk about the previous night’s adventure.

  Bowe looked around him and smiled. “Bellanger Mansion.” Saying the words gave him a thrill. Cobwebs, so thick that they were almost black, gathered in the corners and hung from the chandeliers. Dust clung to every surface, except where Bowe and Glil’s recent movements had tracked through it. It was impossible to make out the faces in the portraits that lined the stairs. One portrait had fallen, and the broken picture frame lay scattered in pieces at the bottom of the stairs. Yet Bowe could close his mind and imagine it as it had once been with the sparkling white bannister curving down into the hall, and hundreds of candles flickering from atop the chandeliers.

  He wondered briefly why no one else lived here. The Grenier marshals must have chased out any escay who dared, he figured. There wasn’t a shortage of living space in Arcandis. Bowe started at the sound of running feet. He looked down the stairs to the main entrance in time to see Iyra appear.

  She glanced behind her, then darted up the stairs. “You truly do have mush for brains,” she told him.

  “What have I done now?”

  “Quickly—there isn’t much time. Take me to one of the windows facing out the back of the mansion.”

  Bowe led her to the east wing. “What’s going on?”

  “The word on the street is that someone enraged Alandar last night. Someone who has unpaid Raine loans. It didn’t take him long to find out where you were hiding.” She walked alongside Bowe. “I arrived just ahead of the marshals. Why did I decide to warn you? I must have caught your brain mush disease.” She jabbed a finger in Bowe’s chest. “I’m not going to get caught, too.”

  “This way.” Bowe led her into one of the rooms, catching a flash of a silver-white uniform entering downstairs as he glanced behind.

  He reached the window an instant before Iyra. Below, more marshals in silver-white swarmed.

  “You declared yourself a Bellanger, pissed off one of the ascor, and came straight back here to the bloody Bellanger Mansion, mush-for-brains.” Iyra put her foot on the window ledge and stepped up. “What did you think was going to happen?”

  “I didn’t tell anyone where I was,” Bowe protested.

  “It’s not like it would be noticeable if a famous building that no one had entered for years suddenly had an occupant or two. It didn’t take much sleuthing on the part of the Raine marshals.” Iyra leaned out the window and wrapped her hand around the underside of the window frame.

  “What are you doing?”

  She scanned above the window, then to the left and the right, before pulling herself back inside. “If you have an escape route planned, don’t hold back.” Footsteps rattled through the house as the marshals searched downstairs. “No, of course not. Why did my bosses decide that the dumbest Green was the one to keep an eye on?” She climbed down from the window and moved away from it, pulling Bowe after her. “This is the last time I’m coming to save you. Come on. That window was no good, but the one farther down might work.” She ran into the room next door. Bowe followed.

  As they passed the hallway, two of the marshals downstairs came into view. “Up there!” one shouted. “I see him.” They started up the stairs.

  Bowe ducked into the room after Iyra just in time to see her disappear out the window. Had she fallen? “Iyra!” he shouted, running to the window. His mouth felt dry as he looked down. Below, marshals milled about in the narrow alleyway. No sign of Iyra though—how had she disappeared?

  “Hey, mush-for-brains.” A voice from the heavens.

  Bowe twisted his neck and looked up to where Iyra’s face poked out from over the edge of the roof. “How did you get up there?”

  “A few bricks are missing above this window, creating handholds and footholds.”

  Bowe examined the outside wall. It was true that there were a few crevices, some even large enough to have one or two small plants growing out of them, but they looked like they would crumble at the first touch. Still, he didn’t have much choice, and Iyra had already made short work of the exercise.

  “He’s climbing up on the roof,” someone shouted from below as Bowe reached up and dug his hand into a crevice above his head. Dust ground beneath his fingers and fell into his eyes. The grip was even less firm than he had imagined. He glanced down, shaking the dust from his face. It was seven or eight paces to the ground. It wouldn’t be the fall that would kill him; it would be those nasty-looking marshals with swords in their hands.

  “What are you waiting for, mush-for-brains? You want the marshals inside to cut off your legs so you have less weight to pull up?”

  Floorboards rattled as the marshals ran into the room. Bowe reached up with his second hand and grabbed a handhold, turning his face away from the falling dust. He lifted his leg, but it couldn’t reach the ledge above the window. The marshals were closer now—only a few paces away, from the sound of their footsteps. He had to go for it and hope for the best.

  Bowe took a breath, crouched, and sprang upward, pulling with all his might with both arms. At the peak of his jump, he kicked his toes against the wall. The first foot scraped back down to the empty window. The second one caught on the tiny ledge above the window and held. Bowe let out a breath. Putting his weight on his leg and upper hand, he let go with his lower hand and pushed upwards. His toe slipped, but not until after his hand had curled over the edge of the roof. He scrabbled both feet against the brickwork until they got purchase. He planted one arm on the roof, then the other.

  Iyra pulled him up until his belly rested on the rooftop, his legs still dangling down. Bowe was finally feeling safe, but Iyra roared at him, “Lift your legs—now.” He raised them into the air and heard a clang from below—the sound of a sword hitting rock. The bastards must have tried to chop at his legs. Iyra pulled on his tunic and dragged him fully onto the roof.

  Bowe stood and looked around. Before him was a panoramic view of the city. The three other mansions were the first thing he noticed: Raine Mansion with its distinctive four turrets, one on each corner of the building; the Fortress—the blackened, blockish building that the escay dreaded; and Lessard Mansion, similar to Bellanger Mansion, designed with four wings and a large courtyard in the center. Not far from the Fortress was the fighting Eye, with its distinctive circular shape overlooked by another black Grenier building, the Brow. The rest of Arcandis City consisted mainly of simple one-story structures. From up here, the expanse of rooftops seemed like a single red plain with cracks formed by the streets and alleyways. Grasslands led away from the city, turning into hills and then mountains. The island nature of Arcandis was obvious from here: in all directions Bowe could see the sea, except for beyond the mountains.

  “Stop gawping, mu
sh-for-brains.” Iyra was circling the rooftop. “We’re not out of this, not by a long shot. It won’t be long before we’re followed up here.”

  Bowe thought about that for the first time. The mansion was surrounded by streets on all sides. “We’re trapped.”

  “Not exactly.” She stopped above the little alleyway and looked down. “Here’s the best spot, I think. The rooftops are called Helion’s Highway by those who know them well, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to get caught here.”

  Bowe joined her. “The best spot to learn how to fly?” The same marshals were still down there, watching. Not far away, a marshal was climbing out of the window that Iyra and Bowe had just come from. The marshal hooked his fingers on the edge of the roof. They might be able to stop one marshal from getting onto the roof, but they wouldn’t be able to stop them all. Trying to fight would just be delaying the inevitable. Iyra moved back to the center of the mansion’s roof. Bowe began to wonder about Alandar’s capability for mercy. That wasn’t a comforting line of thinking.

  He sensed a movement beside him, and turned to see Iyra run past. He reached for her and opened his mouth to shout, but she threw herself from the roof before he could react. An instant later, she landed on the roof on the other side of the alley. Her legs folded at contact, and she turned her fall into a roll. She stood. “Your turn.”

  Bowe mouth was still open, and he still held his arm outstretched. He stared in shock. Did I just see that? It took him a moment to get his brain working again so he could close his mouth and lower his arm.

  “Come on, mush-for-brains, what are you waiting for? You’ve seen how it’s done. I don’t have all day.”

  That was true. The marshal was already on the roof and drawing his sword. Bowe examined the width of the street Iyra had jumped. It seemed too far of a distance to jump, but the other roof was at a much lower level than this one. That had to be the reason it was possible. If an escay girl could do it, there was no reason he couldn’t. The marshal was busy helping his companion up, giving Bowe enough time to take several steps back. Before he had time to change his mind, he sprinted toward the edge.

  At almost full speed, he saw the chasm opening up in front of him. Terror flooded through him, and he tried to stop. Only it was too late; he was going too fast to stop in time. When he reached the edge, he half-fell, half-threw himself forward. He knew he didn’t have a hope of making it. Nevertheless, he flung his arms in front of him, and, with a shuddering jolt, his chest hit the wall on the other side. His arms landed on top of the roof, and managed to stop his immediate fall, though they felt like they’d been wrenched off at the shoulders.

  For a moment, his forward momentum kept him pinned against the wall, but his hands couldn’t grab onto anything. He began to fall back. A weight on his back halted his slide.

  “Try to hook your feet into the crevasses. Quickly. Before both of us become too tired to save you,” Iyra said from on top of him.

  Bowe scrabbled with his feet until first one, then the other foot found purchase. That eased the downward pressure enough to stop the slide. Iyra got off his back. She pulled him up by his tunic while he pushed with his legs. When his legs touched solid ground, Bowe rolled over onto his back and panted heavily. “Am I still in one piece?”

  “Clever plan, mush-for-brains. You made the jump look difficult enough that our followers aren’t going to risk it.”

  Bowe turned to see two marshals watching them from the top of Bellanger Mansion. They returned their swords to their scabbards and shouted something down at their colleagues below, pointing at Iyra and Bowe. “They likely don’t get paid enough to leap alleyways,” she said. “We’d better be off before they find another way up here.”

  Bowe groaned as he pushed himself to his feet. His chest and arms were on fire. Iyra didn’t give him a chance to complain; Bowe had to break into a run to catch up with her as she sped off across the rooftops. She knew where she was going, and every time they needed to cross onto another block of houses, she led them to a place where the gap was narrow and they could jump across easily.

  “This is a good place to rest up for a while.” Iyra led him to a room-sized structure nestled on the roof of a one-story building. The small structure leaned precariously against the wall of an adjoining two-story building. Iyra squeezed in through a small, square opening, and Bowe followed. The interior was bare except for a bundle of clothes in one corner. As Bowe looked closer, it turned out that the bundle of clothes was actually someone sleeping. Iyra gave the figure a shake.

  The man woke, startled, and scrambled backwards. Then he recognized Iyra, and he sat up and grinned. “Iyra, darling! Always good to see you. You shouldn’t scare me like that.”

  Iyra smiled at him. “What are you doing here, Sindar?”

  “Dawn caught me on Helion’s Highway and I decided to rest for a while.” Sindar had wavy hair black and a handsome face. He looked several years older than Bowe, and dust caked his clothes.

  “Are you a Green?” Bowe asked. “On the run from marshals?”

  “I’m a Green, all right. Don’t think anyone is chasing me yet, though. I like the rooftops and the night, so I find myself staying in places like this now and again.” He touched Iyra’s shoulder and smiled at her. “So are you babysitting this child?”

  Bowe bristled. “We have a business partnership. And whom are you calling a child? We’re both Greens.”

  “Babysitting sounds about right.” Iyra grinned.

  Bowe scowled. He didn’t like the way that Sindar touched Iyra and smiled at her. He liked the way Iyra smiled back at Sindar even less. “So what do you actually do?” he asked Sindar.

  “He’s a thief,” Iyra said. “Already a pretty famous one in the right circles, even after only a few weeks.”

  “You’re too kind, Iyra.” The lecherous bastard touched her hand this time. “It’s true that I’ve taken a few interesting items from the mansions of the ascor.”

  “Stolen a few hearts, too, from what I’ve heard,” Iyra said.

  “The ascor don’t treat their wives well. Coming up to the Infernam, a few ascora run the risk of allowing a thief of the night into their rooms. Some of them already know there’s no place in the Refuge for them.”

  Bowe was sick of listening to Iyra’s glorification of the Green’s exploits. “So you’re nothing but a Deadbeat.”

  Sindar’s smile didn’t falter. “Is there something wrong with being a Deadbeat?” he asked.

  “Of course. Deadbeats are the lowest of the Greens.” Bowe felt guilty even as he said the words, thinking of Vitarr. “You have no hope of surviving the Path.”

  “And is the Path a good thing?”

  And the start of the Path, Bowe would have been certain it was. Now he didn’t know what to think. “What difference does that make? It’s the only way forward.”

  “I tried to talk to him about this,” Iyra said. “He doesn’t get it.”

  “I do get it.” Bowe clenched his teeth. “What difference does it make if the Path is evil? It’s still the only way forward.”

  “The only way forward, but not the only way,” Sindar said. “You see the Deadbeats as the lowest of the Greens, but what if they are actually the highest? The truest, the most noble? To be an ascor is to be willing to accept death. Deadbeats accept death over the Path. We choose our own way. I’m not willing to suck up to Zidel and backstab other Greens just to save my own life.”

  Bowe didn’t know what to say. It was a way of thinking he’d never considered; yet it tied into some of his recent thoughts about the Path. Maybe Deadbeats were the most noble of the Greens. Like Vitarr.

  Sindar moved to the window exit. “I should be moving on. This place is too crowded for three. I’ve had my sleep, and I need to get some food.” The interior darkened as he crept over to the window, then brightened again.

  “Maybe I should be a Deadbeat,” Bowe said.

  “Bit late for that, mush-for-brains. You still have to pay off
what you owe to the Raines. Plus, you owe us a neck clasp.”

  That was true. Bowe needed to consider his options more carefully. Was there another way for him? “The neck clasp is gone,” he said. “Hopefully it’s done its job. You need to sell your ruby garnets for a gold each, or more, and add some spice to the sale. Try to incorporate dark tunnels, masked strangers—that sort of thing. Make it seem dangerous.”

  Iyra snorted. “That’s crazy. These aren’t actual rubies. If I could get two silvers a gem, I’d be delighted.”

  “Only sell them at a premium price. That’s the only way this will work. Hopefully Kirande has done enough to create the demand.”

  “And how did you manage to get a Grenier marshal to help us?”

  “He’s doing what he is for his own reasons. This time, his actions should end up helping you.” Bowe was beginning to feel claustrophobic in the confined space. “Should I stay here longer, or do you think it’s safe to leave?”

  “Fear of infection once again, is it?” Iyra moved closer to Bowe. “Afraid of being touched by a diseased escay?” She grinned and inched even closer.

  “I’m not afraid.” He didn’t step back. He wasn’t going to be pushed around by her anymore. He could feel her breath on his face.

  “Are you sure?” She placed her hands on his upper arms. “Do I make your skin crawl?”

  She made his skin burn. His gaze locked onto hers, and he couldn’t look away. He grabbed her. He had been intending to push her away, or he thought he was. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her and clutched her to him. She didn’t push away; she melted into him. He felt dizzy. Some small part of his brain knew he was being crazy, but the larger part didn’t care, just wanted to revel in the sensations pounding through his body.