The Way of the Shield

by Marshall Ryan Maresca

  “You seem to have gotten it pretty bad,” Jerinne said, though the glare from Price made her regret it.

  “We tried to get the back kitchen doors open,” Aldric said.

  Price added, “When we couldn’t do that, we pulled the cooks and stewards out of there before the whole place flooded over.”

  “Any deaths?” Dayne whispered.

  “We stayed to the last,” Price said. Both he and Aldric had a strange expression, like they had seen something they couldn’t shake out of their heads. Dayne nodded, like he understood everything they weren’t saying.

  “Let’s talk to the marshals,” Aldric said, tapping Price on the arm. “Get this nonsense sorted out.”

  They both walked off, and Jerinne sat silently with Dayne for a while. Finally something struck Jerinne, and she was sure Dayne knew the answer.

  “Why the empty plinth?”

  Dayne raised an eyebrow, then looked over to the fountain. “You know about the Incursion of the Black Mage, right? When he executed King Maradaine IX, he disintegrated the statue and put the body on display up there. Later, when Oberon Micarum—you know, the Spathian warrior? When he killed the mage’s second-in-command, he also put the body up there as a message, announcing—” Dayne paused, a shock of recognition on his face.

  “Announcing what?”

  Dayne recovered. “Announcing it was the fate of all who betrayed Druthal. That was the event that sparked Geophry Haltom to organize his rebellion that overthrew the mage. Anyhow, in the years that followed the Reunification, there was talk of replacing the statue, but the newly formed Parliament decided that it would be disrespectful. That leaving it empty would serve as a reminder of the tragedy and hope that occurred there.”

  “Tragedy and hope,” Jerinne echoed. “That’s about right.”

  “Where’s the hope now?” Dayne asked.

  Jerinne pointed at the various men around the Circle who were shackled in irons and being led into Constabulary wagons. “The rest of the Patriots are arrested, including Lannic. They’re done. And I think after this, no one is going to be talking about the Patriots like they might actually be heroes.”

  “Don’t be so sure,” Dayne said. Lannic had been taken off to a lockwagon, a grin of satisfaction on his face despite his arrest. Madam Tyrell was being questioned by several people now. Not marshals or Constabulary. If Jerinne had to guess, they were representatives from various newssheets.

  Price and Aldric returned with a marshal, who removed Dayne’s irons with a look of utter resentment. “I’ve been told to release you to the care of these two as representatives of your Order. No charges will be laid upon you at this time. We reserve the right to seek you out for further questioning regarding these events.” He stalked off as soon as Dayne was unlatched.

  “Come on, Heldrin,” Price said, helping Dayne to his feet. “I think we need to get out of here and let the city’s people clean things up.”

  “We need to get cleaned up,” Aldric said. He looked over Jerinne. “Your dress uniform is in a state, Initiate.”

  “It’s not my—” Jerinne started, looking down at herself. The coat was torn and scraped in several places, not to mention blood and grease stains.

  Vien really was going to kill her.

  At that point Mister Seabrook emerged from the Talon, with Ressin at his heels.

  “There you are, dear,” Seabrook said. “Quite a bit of excitement we had, yes? And a good show from you, I hear.”

  “Sir,” Jerinne said. “Just doing my duty.” Her ears were burning, and she noticed that Price and Aldric seemed to be snickering at her.

  “Well done, indeed,” Seabrook said. He glanced about at the mess in Talon Circle. “We won’t get the carriage out of here in any reasonable time, will we, Ressin?”

  “I think not, sir,” Ressin offered. “I’ve been told they’re arranging cabs for us a block from here.”

  “Then let us stroll, Ressin.” He turned back to Jerinne, giving a glance at Dayne and the other two, and a bit of a wistful sigh. “Rest up, and we’ll see you at nine bells tomorrow. Ressin will send the carriage, provided we manage to rescue it.” They walked off.

  Both Price and Aldric started laughing once they were out of earshot. “Let us stroll, Initiate,” Price said. “I’m afraid we won’t have the carriage tonight.”

  “Let it lie,” Dayne told them both. Amazingly, they acceded to him and made no further comment. They started walking toward the chapterhouse, Dayne taking one last moment to glance back at Madam Tyrell. Jerinne noticed her looking back at him, despite answering questions from the press. They seemed locked together, only for a moment, before Dayne broke away and continued to walk.

  No one spoke again the whole way home.

  Chapter 15

  DAYNE AWOKE TO Grandmaster Orren sitting on the edge of his cot. The man was not watching him, but rather sat with his eyes closed in quiet contemplation.

  “Sir?” Dayne said, sitting up.

  “Ah, Dayne,” the Grandmaster said, turning toward him. His face was a mask of neutral serenity, impossible to read. “I wanted you to wake naturally. Yesterday was a very trying day for you.”

  “It . . . had its challenges.” A guarded response seemed best at this point. The Grandmaster did not seem upset, but Dayne considered it highly unlikely that he was in Dayne’s quarters at sunrise to express his satisfaction.

  “I’m certain it did. It took me the greater part of the night to fully untangle the events that have occurred since yesterday at this time. I must confess, I’m not entirely sure I have been completely successful.”

  “You haven’t slept, sir?”

  “Not yet, no. Nor am I likely to for some hours yet.” Now there was a hint of irritation in his voice.

  “Have you come to get my version of last night’s events?”

  “Your version, yes.” The Grandmaster stood up. “You are familiar with the Question of the Gate?”

  Dayne was definitely in trouble.

  The Question of the Gate involved a gatekeeper being assigned to a post far away from his compatriots. The gatekeeper sees trouble in the distance, which he believes poses a grave threat to his compatriots. He cannot warn them without leaving his post. The mistake most Initiates make when responding to the Question of the Gate is presuming it is about following orders. Of course, that was part of the lesson learned in the Question of the Gate. The real core of the lesson, though, was trust and pride. A Tarian must trust that his fellows can handle their own fights. A Tarian must not be so proud as to think he is the only one who can take action.

  Despite knowing that was where the Grandmaster was leading him, Dayne wasn’t interested in being shamed. Not over this. He rose off his cot. “I was not assigned to watch a gate, sir.”

  The Grandmaster’s voice became tight and clipped. “You were given an assignment, though. You were the ranking member on Watch. You abandoned that post.”

  “With good cause, sir!” Dayne immediately regretted raising his voice, as a single look of recrimination made his heart wither.

  “From what I’ve gathered from the Initiates, some pipes burst, and you took this as a sign to run off into the streets.”

  “I had a hunch, sir. And you cannot deny that I was right about it.”

  The Grandmaster sighed and motioned for Dayne to sit back down. “Were you right that something was going wrong in Talon Circle? Yes. You have very good instincts. But you went racing to a place where there already were several Tarians. Which you knew, yes?”

  “I knew they were with members of Parliament, and many of them were at the Talon, yes.”

  “Did you doubt their capabilities? Are you so proud—”

  “Even with me there, sir, it wasn’t enough. Mister Parlin is dead. If you’re going to reprimand me, then it should be for that failure.”

 
; “Dayne—”

  “I apologize for speaking out of turn, Grandmaster,” Dayne said. “But if I know that lives are in danger, I will always run toward it and save every life I can. Are you truly saying that I—that any Tarian—should do otherwise?”

  The Grandmaster’s jaw went tight. “Humility, Dayne, is also the mark of a Tarian. As is sound judgment. To abandon your charges here—”

  “Abandon?”

  “Yes, Dayne. Your assignment to stay here with the Initiates may have felt minor compared to the glory of another victory, but—”

  “Glory?” Dayne couldn’t believe it. “Do you think I am some swell seeking to promote my name about?”

  “That is four times you have interrupted me.” The Grandmaster did not raise his voice, but his anger was quite clear. “I will point out that you and Master Denbar were the subject of many items in the Lacanja newssheets, and you have already found that here as well.”

  Dayne took a moment to be sure that the Grandmaster was done speaking. “Not by my choice, sir. I explicitly went to the writers of the Veracity to keep me off their pages.”

  “You went to them? You are familiar with them?”

  “I—” Dayne broke. He couldn’t lie to the Grandmaster, not about this, but he was suddenly shamed at the implications of what he had done. “I met them for the first time the other night at The Nimble Rabbit.”

  “Just coincidence.”

  “Indeed, sir.”

  “Hmm.” The Grandmaster paced about the room in silence, and his demeanor made it quite clear that he did not want Dayne to interrupt his thoughts. “I am not a man with a devious or suspicious mind, Dayne. Therefore, when you tell me that it is merely a coincidence that you met the writers of this newssheet, I am inclined to believe you. Just as I’m sure it was a coincidence that you attended the event that was first attacked. And another coincidence that your instincts led you to their second attack. I am inclined to believe these things, Dayne. Many others would not be.”

  Dayne wanted to protest. It was true, meeting Hemmit and the others was just a coincidence. So was being at the museum. It had to be. And it was his instincts that led him to Talon Circle last night.

  “Perhaps so,” Dayne said. What else could be said? “Will you be wanting my shield and tunic now?”

  Dayne had made the same offer two days ago, and the Grandmaster had immediately refused it. Now he looked at Dayne with weariness for several seconds before replying. “I presume that you are deeply troubled by the news I gave you. It is for that reason, Dayne, that I’m allowing you a fair degree of latitude. I will not be officially reprimanding you at this time.”

  Dayne did not feel relieved. He wasn’t sure what he felt. There was a horrible tension in his jaw and chest.

  “I do feel compelled, however, to remind you that there is no shame or dishonor in serving three years of Candidacy and moving on to a new career. I am not sure the same could be said of being cashiered out after only two.”

  Dayne understood and nodded.

  The Grandmaster’s face lightened, ever so slightly, as he continued. “I am given to understand you are invited to a dinner this evening in the household of Lady Henson. I see no reason why you should be forced to decline. That said, I expect you to fulfill your duties here until that time.”

  “Of course, sir,” Dayne said.

  “Very good. We are still in Quiet Days, but many of the Initiates will be seeking some last-minute guidance before their Trials. You shall be available in the practice room to assist anyone who may require it. I think until five bells this afternoon.” Dayne was well aware of the Grandmaster’s style of punishment from his Initiate days. He needed to go to the practice room immediately and stay there. No meals, no breaks, until the end of shift, twelve hours from now.

  Grandmaster Orren bowed his head slightly to Dayne, showing they both understood each other, and left him alone in the room.

  Dayne hurried to get his uniform on and make it to the water closet. It was going to be a very long day.

  * * *

  Morning breakfast brought Jerinne many stares. She was wearing only her regular uniform this time, of course. Two ruined dress uniforms were more than enough. Vien didn’t stare at her, she glared. Jerinne’s many profuse apologies and promises of restitution over the night had done nothing to improve her mood.

  “So what’s on deck for your second ‘quiet’ day?” Raila asked, sitting in across from her in the mess hall. “Carriage chase through Trelan Square? Rescuing orphans from a fire?”

  Jerinne gave her a warm smile. She was the only one of the Initiates who wasn’t staring or glowering or sneering. “I was thinking of sailing out to the Napolic Islands, foiling a pirate attack.”

  “That’s ambitious.”

  “That is the life of a Tarian,” Jerinne returned. Raila’s laugh was infectious.

  “Let me give you some advice,” Raila said. She leaned in close, conspiratorially.

  “All right,” Jerinne said, mirroring her.

  “Corner of Hale and Ross. There’s a laundress there—Iala—who works wonders. And she’s a gifted seamstress as well.”

  “Vien’s uniform?”

  “And your own. Iala will have them both looking fresh and crisp by this afternoon. Mark me on that.”

  “I’ll see if I have enough crowns hidden away to pay for that,” Jerinne said.

  “None of that,” Raila said. “Iala is my cousin. She’s got you, hear?”

  Jerinne couldn’t accept charity from Raila or take her cousin’s sweat for nothing. “That isn’t right.”

  Her smile faded only slightly and her eyes became very serious. “Twice in one day you saved many, many people.”

  “Helped save.”

  “Saved. So let me save you with this.”

  Jerinne sighed. “Hale and Ross? I won’t be able to bring them until this afternoon.”

  “No, this afternoon you’ll be picking them up,” Raila said. “I already grabbed them and brought them over.”

  “Raila!”

  “I don’t want to hear it.” She lowered her voice and leaned across. “Just don’t forget about me when I’m flushed out after Trials.”

  Forget about Raila? No chance. “You won’t be flushed. I’m more likely to.”

  Raila laughed again. “You really have no idea, do you?”

  “About?”

  Before Raila could answer, one of the stewards stepped over. “Initiate, there is a carriage here for you, sent by the Good Mister Seabrook of the Parliament.”

  “Don’t keep the man waiting,” Raila said, giving a little shake of her head.

  Jerinne took one more bite of her breakfast and followed the steward out to the main hall.

  The carriage waited out in the street, Mister Seabrook and Ressin reading through newssheets. Seabrook even had a tea tray laid out in front of him, with fine porcelain cups. Jerinne was mostly surprised that Seabrook would even be interested in tea on a day like this. Even for late spring, it was unseasonably hot.

  “Dear Jerinne,” Seabrook said as Jerinne came up into the carriage. “As you can see we were able to rescue the carriage. Have you read the newssheets today?”

  “Not yet,” Jerinne said. “I presume last night’s activities made the news?”

  Ressin passed one of the newssheets—the News of Throne and House—showing a front page story about the attacks in Talon Circle. The story was dominated by an image of Madam Tyrell triumphantly holding Lannic in submission. One part of the story was all about Madam Tyrell. Farther down the page were the usual stories about Parliament votes, the dress Princess Carianna wore at an event, and an evolving scandal involving city aldermen.

  “I’m afraid you didn’t quite seize your moment, dear,” Seabrook said. “It seems Adept Tyrell has taken the glory.”

 
“It’s quite all right, sir,” Jerinne said. “I fear my shoulders are not broad enough to rest so much upon them.”

  “I love this girl’s modesty,” Seabrook said to Ressin. “She really is a jewel.”

  “Indeed, sir,” Ressin said. He turned to Jerinne—Mister Seabrook’s attention was now entirely on his newssheets and tea—and read from his notebook. “Today we will be in session at the Parliament. Am I correct in presuming you’ve never attended a session?”

  “That’s right,” Jerinne said.

  “The protocol dictates that only the members are allowed on the floor proper. Every member has his box in the gallery, which is where you and I will be seated for the duration of the session.”

  “How long is the session?”

  “As long as it is.” Ressin shrugged. “Sorry, that isn’t helpful. Typically, it’s over by three bells. But it goes until the Prime Speaker accepts the call to end the session.”

  “Today’s session will be quite short,” Seabrook offered from behind his newssheet. “We’ve lost a man. Ending the session early in his honor is the standard response.”

  “Even in a situation like this?” Jerinne asked.

  “There, I couldn’t say,” Seabrook said curtly.

  “I’m fairly certain this is the first time that a member has died . . . quite like this,” Ressin said.

  “Killed?”

  “Executed.”

  Jerinne kept silent for the rest of the trip to the Parliament House.

  Jerinne had walked past the Parliament House several times, so she was familiar with the outside of it: a grand circular building of bright white stone, raised up over the wide plaza, surrounded by ten sets of stairs. The entrances—also ten— were all flanked by tall columns, each one carved from stone unique to each archduchy. The carriage came to a stop in front of the Sauriya entrance.

  King’s Marshals stood at attention at the bottom of each stairway. Dozens of citizens were gathered around the plaza, many trying to get as close to the approaching Parliamentarians as the marshals would allow. A small group gathered near the base, serenely holding a wooden placard that read: “The True Line Lives.”