The room darkened as a large shadow blocked the door. Bowe backed away, but when the shadowed figure stepped into the light, it was Xarcon.
“Where have you been?” Bowe asked.
“Out of the way.” Xarcon rattled a set of keys. “I remembered the bunch that fell to the ground just as you opened the gate. Just have to hope one of them opens this.”
“Quickly.” Bowe leaned against the wall to let Xarcon move past, then took up position at the guardhouse entrance, glancing back the courtyard.
The fighting had died down. Sporadic storms of noise formed as opponents met, then died off as one combatant was killed or run off. In the dim light, it was impossible to make out exactly what was going on, but, here and there, pools of light revealed enough to allow the rest to be guessed: a hulking tattooed fighter with a bloodied sword in one hand and a gold candlestick in the other; three pink-cloaked corpses lying across each other, their blood mixing; a pounding on the outside harem door as fighters tried to break in. What Bowe had suspected when he’d urged the women and children to flee had proven correct. The Guild had won the night.
“Got you.”
Bowe turned to see Xarcon push the inner creaking door open. Picking up the lantern, Bowe followed Xarcon into the tunnel. It ramped downward initially, then swung around to the left and leveled out.
A hot fetid clawing smell enveloped Bowe, causing him to gag. To either side, the row of cells were jammed full. Thin arms and legs dangled between bars simply to give the other people inside a little extra space. In response to the lantern light, several shielded their eyes, but others ignored it, staring listlessly into the distance.
A large key on a wide metal ring hung from a hook on the wall. Bowe pointed it out and Xarcon took it and began to unlock the cell doors while Bowe slung the lantern to the key hook, where it was high enough to send light down to the end of the tunnel.
The first few who Xarcon freed simply fell out of their cells.
“Get out, you are free,” Bowe said. “Quickly now.”
It didn’t seem to register, the prisoners looked at Bowe, then at Xarcon opening cells further on, then back at Bowe. Then a man scrambled to his feet and, in a stumbling run, disappeared around the corner. That spurred several others into action, following after.
Another tried to run, but he was held back by a heavy-set woman. “Wait.” The woman stared at Bowe. “Everyone is freed?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“There’s plenty who won’t be able to walk out,” she told the man whom she held. The woman turned to face her fellow prisoners. “Those of us who can walk must help those who can’t.”
There was a murmur of agreement.
“My Steffi,” one man said. “I have to find Steffi.”
“Of course,” the woman agreed. “Those with loved ones must take care of them first.”
Bowe hurried further down to where Xarcon continued to open cells. The prisoners, now realizing what was happening, were more animated, gripping the bars of their cells as they waited their turn.
“When you have opened the cells, you better head out and make sure that they all get out safely. Make sure they aren’t attacked by mistake.”
Xarcon nodded.
“When all the prisoners have escaped, make sure that Hess locks the outer gates and sets guards. After all this, we don’t want Stenesso to come back and retake the Fortress.”
“Yes, boss.”
Bowe ignored the sarcasm. “And tell him to watch out for secret entrances.” Bowe continued on past the last of the cells. Ascor prisoners would be kept separately. The tunnel curved around to a new series of cells, this section already lit.
“What kept you?” Sindar stood with one hand on a bar of his cell. “I wouldn’t have waited this long to free you.”
“It is the Fortress.” Bowe glanced around. “I didn’t bring down a set of keys.”
“Over there.” Sindar pointed out a small hook on the far wall with a single key on it.
“What kind of thief are you that you couldn’t escape with the keys right in front of you?” Bowe unlocked his gate.
“I had to wait to be rescued.” Sorrin walked out of his cell. “An escape might have harmed Grenier-Bellanger relations.”
Bowe snorted out a laugh. “We don’t have to worry about that anymore.” He walked to the end of the section. “Anyone else in these cells?”
“Just me.”
“They leave the lantern burning here for you all the time?” Bowe asked. The contrast between these cells and the others couldn’t have been starker, with clean sheets on Sindar’s bed, and the unfinished remains of a tasty-looking meal sitting on a side table. Bowe wasn’t sure how it was possible to eat at all in the other cells, the smell was so bad, but he was sure they received nothing like Sindar had.
“They normally douse the lantern for the night. They must have forgotten tonight. Maybe distracted by other happenings.”
“If I’d known you were living in luxury down here, I wouldn’t have bothered coming.” Bowe wondered if the Greniers had considered bringing some of the escay to this section of the prison, given the numbers they were arresting, instead of just cramming them all in the escay section.
“So want to tell me what’s going on? I was under the impression that you were going to help Stenesso bring down the Guild, then I’d be freed. Instead...” Sindar headed over to where he could see the escay part of the prison. “I am part of a mass jailbreak.”
“Change of plan.” Bowe was freeing Sindar and betraying him at the same time. At least, this time he would admit it openly. “I helped the Guild attack and capture the Fortress.”
Sindar peered into Bowe’s face. “Sometimes I can’t tell when you are joking.”
“No joke.” Bowe swallowed. “And there’s more.” Bowe hesitated, finding the words hard to form in his mind. His fingers drifted to the hilt of his knife, then away. If Sindar decided to kill him, Bowe wouldn’t try to prevent it. “I burned down Bellanger Mansion as a diversion.”
Sindar started laughing. “That was bold.” He slapped Bowe on the back. “So we aren’t ascor anymore. I think I like this better.”
“You do?”
“Of course. It never suited me. But when you are a Green, it’s either become an ascor or become a corpse. And I like life a bit more than I should. Too much to enjoy being a stiff ascor, in fact. So what next?”
Bowe hadn’t thought past this moment. There was usually only one end for a disgraced ascor. Despite everything, he had been a worse Guardian than the previous Bowe Bellanger. “I guess I’ll have to take Paradise’s Kiss.”
Sindar slapped Bowe on the shoulder again, laughing. “Don’t kid yourself. That’s not happening.”
“Everything I built, everything we have built, is gone.”
“It’s better this way. Remember when we attacked the ship and let the Jarindor spy get free? Those were fun times. Maybe we can live a better life now, with fewer worries.”
“Don’t be an idiot.” A large amount of people would want Bowe dead after this night. And that was just the start of Bowe’s problems. Live without worrying, indeed. Still, Sindar’s attitude had cheered Bowe up, not least that he hadn’t wanted to kill his old Guardian. “I didn’t know you were unhappy as an ascor, Sindar.” Though perhaps that was why he had affairs with women that he shouldn’t, and broke into houses as a thief. He needed the danger.
Sindar raised his eyebrows. “I am enjoying this heart to heart, but don’t you think we should, you know, complete the daring escape first?”
Bowe nodded. The escay cells were almost empty, just a few of those most injured being helped out.
“Leave me be,” came a shout from one of the cells they passed.
The voice stopped Bowe dead, and he turned toward the source. Tealman struggled out of the grasp of two men trying to lift him and fell back to the ground with a scream.
“Leave him. I’ll take care of it,” Bowe told the two men
as he knelt beside Tealman. Tears ran down the side of Tealman’s face, his features contorted in agony.
“You.” He became aware of Bowe. “I should have killed you rather than help you three years ago. Look what they have done to me.”
Tealman’s body was contorted worse than his face. His arms stuck out from his shoulders at a strange angle and his hips were twisted. Bowe had been glad to hear Tealman’s voice, to know that what he’d done hadn’t cost the man his life. But there were things worse than death. “Come with me,” Bowe told him. “I’ll see that you are fixed up.”
“I’m beyond fixing,” Tealman said through gritted teeth. “Leave me here to die. And jump into Helion’s fires on the way out.”
“Help me with him,” Bowe told Sindar.
“It’ll be too painful to lift him by his arms or legs,” Sindar said. “I’ll get the sheet from my bed, and we can use that to carry him.” Sindar ran back to his own cell.
“Leave me,” Tealman said. “A man has a right to die.”
“You have a daughter.”
“What good am I to her like this?”
“You can chose to die if that is your wish,” Bowe told him. “But not today.”
Chapter 12
14 Days Left
Even wrapped in both a blanket and dark shadows, Tealman’s body looked misshapen. He thrashed and emitted a groan, then returned to stillness.
Bowe and Sindar had carried Tealman to Finshire’s place, because Bowe couldn’t think of anywhere better to bring him. As they had carried him, a false dawn of red light burned the air, spreading the smell of smoke and destruction. When they had finally arrived at their destination, Bowe had collapsed, his body having reached its limits. When he’d woken it was late into the afternoon.
As he sat in the dim light of Finshire’s back room, he listened to Tealman’s feverish moans and watched spots of light track across the room. With no windows, Finshire was content to let bad roof repair allow light into his back room. Motes of dust hung trapped by the crisscrossing rays of light that cut through the darkness. Bowe had been watching one spot of light in particular. It had been on his chest when he’d first woken, and as the sun moved through the sky, it had crept as far as the door.
Bowe wondered if a small circle of light would be the last thing he saw. If he took Paradise’s Kiss, would the light of the world shrink ever smaller, then disappear entirely? Though Paradise’s Kiss was for true ascor—perhaps Bowe should go out in one of the escay suicide barges instead. He would hug a rock close to him, feel the warm waters envelop him, then watch the sunlight flash through the waves, the light fading as he drifted ever downward.
The door opened, and all the narrow rays were subsumed by the wash of light entering. Sindar carried a tray of food and he placed it in front of Bowe, then sat down cross-legged. “Eat,” he ordered. “Finshire told me you refused food earlier.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Eat.”
Bowe picked up a forkful of food and put it into his mouth. He chewed mechanically, without tasting it.
“Don’t you want to know where I’ve been all day?”
“Where have you been all day?”
“I was just inside Raine Mansion.”
Bowe spat out his food and the fork dropped to the floor. Sindar picked it up again and gave it back to Bowe. “Eat.”
“What were you doing in Raine Mansion?” Had he changed his mind about accepting what Bowe had done? Had he told the ascor where to find Bowe?
“I sneaked in.”
“Today?” The Raine marshals would be on high alert. “How did you manage that?”
“Normally, it’d be easy. But all the Grenier marshals and ascor are there. Plus the Grenier children. Must be over a hundred extra bodies squeezed in.”
By Bowe’s calculations, closer to two hundred extra. “And I thought I had a death wish.”
Sindar shrugged. “Someone made fun of my skills as a thief last night.” He reached into a pocket, pulled out a silver dessert spoon, and presented it to Bowe. “If you examine the handle closely, you’ll see the Raine towers engraved there. They keep the silver cutlery locked up except for special occasions.”
“Remind me never to joke with you again.”
Sindar nodded seriously. “Probably for the best. You are never funny when you joke. Only when you aren’t trying to be funny.”
“Thanks.” Bowe held up his fork. “This works for me.” Bowe stuck it into a chunk of meat to demonstrate. “I didn’t need you to break into Raine Mansion for a spoon.”
“Ah, but for information. You are always going on about how important it is to know what’s going on and why.”
“I never knew you actually listened to me.”
“I try not to. But you tend to be rather loud.” Sindar shouted out the word “loud.” Tealman moaned and shifted under his blanket.” You are hard to ignore completely.”
“That was when we had a Bellanger family to protect.”
Sindar stood. “Okay. If you don’t want to know the fallout of events last night...” He started toward the door.
“Wait. Tell me.”
Sindar lips twitched as he sat back down.
“And no need for that grin. The days when we could laugh are over.”
The grin faded from Sindar’s face, revealing the deeper sadness inside him. “Gretina’s dead,” he said.
“Who?” Then: “Oh. I’m sorry.” Gretina was one of Stenesso’s wives. From the way Sindar said the name, it had to be the one he was sent to prison for. “She died last night?”
Sindar shook his head. “She took Paradise’s Kiss several weeks ago. Stenesso must have made her do it. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Or even sad, really. She wasn’t due to get into Refuge, so it would have happened soon anyway. I thought I’d get to see her at least once more.” He sighed.
“You broke in to meet her?”
Sindar held out the spoon. “We already established that I went to steal this.” He tapped Bowe on the head with it. “Keep up.” The humor didn’t hide his pain, and Bowe was surprised that her death had affected him so much. Sindar had a reputation for having many lovers, so Bowe had just assumed he didn’t care too much for each one.
“What about the other Grenier ascora?” Bowe asked. “Did they escape the Fortress in time?”
“Yes, most of the ascora and Greenettes escaped and are now safe in Raine Mansion. And the children. Drakasi died in the fighting, and I believe three other ascor did too. And a great many marshals, obviously. Hess didn’t take prisoners.”
“He controls the Fortress?”
“He does. By the time that Stenesso returned, the gates were barred to him and dawn fast approaching. He didn’t try to retake it.”
“And our family?”
“The ruins of the Bellanger Mansion are still smoldering. Sorrin was declared the new Bellanger Guardian and the Lessards are sheltering our family. Except...” Sindar hesitated. “When Stenesso found out that Bellanger Mansion wasn’t under attack, he asked who ordered it to be burned.”
“I did.”
“I’m sorry, Bowe. Toose admitted responsibility and Stenesso killed him.”
The fork fell from Bowe’s fingers, landing in the plate of half-eaten food. Another death at Bowe’s door.
“It was my fault.” How much hurt could Bowe cause to those around him before his guilt consumed him in an inferno bigger than the one that destroyed his home?
“There’s no value in assigning blame. Gretina’s death was my fault, and her own fault, and Stenesso’s fault, and the fault of the servant who informed on us. It was Helion’s fault, the fault of the rules of the society in which we live. Letting blame eat away inside you is the easy way out. The harder option is to shoulder responsibility and get on with what has to be done. Against any deaths you caused last night, you have to weigh up the lives of the escay prisoners that you saved.”
“Easier said than done.” The thought of Toos
e lying dead in the dirt as Bellanger Mansion burned behind him was a ball of hot lead in Bowe’s stomach. Toose hadn’t needed to accept responsibility for Bowe’s order. He must have known at the end, known that Bowe had betrayed him and the whole family. Was that why he’d said what he did?
The door opened and Finshire entered and behind him came an old man with a dirty white beard.
“I brought the healer.” Finshire placed a lantern by Tealman’s side. “But I told you he won’t be able to do anything.”
The healer turned sharply on Finshire. “You didn’t tell me that when you summoned me. I only came as a special favor. Up all night, sewing up sliced-up bodies and I’m dragged here for nothing.”
“Did many die?” Bowe asked. “Other then the Grenier marshals?”
“Of course. Dozens. Not just combatants. Servants, escaping prisoners, anyone caught in the wrong place. I haven’t seen the likes of it since the Battle of Pots and Pans.” His eyes narrowed as he turned his gaze on Bowe. “And if I recognize you correctly, you were in the heart of that battle as well as what happened last night. The escay who became an ascor.”
“The what?” Bowe asked.
“It’s what they are calling you,” Finshire said. “The escay have returned to the taverns and the squares, and the newsbards are talking themselves hoarse. The stories have evolved throughout the day, the narrative changing rapidly at first, but it has solidified by now. Bellanger marshals and servants told of Xarcon, who they thought dead, arriving to the mansion as an escay. And the newswriter who reports to the Lessards had the story of Bowe Bellanger being born an escay. It’s all feeding into the events of last night, creating a news frenzy such as I’ve never seen before.”
Sindar glanced at Bowe. “In your confession last night, you never mentioned you were an escay, my old Guardian.”
“I’m not. Well, I’m not sure. I was told I might have been born an escay. By an unreliable source. It’s probably not true.”
The Collapsing Path (The Narrowing Path Series Book 3) Page 15
