A chorus of shouts filled the streets, echoing mostly from the city’s east side near where the sixth was camped. People could be seen dashing in that direction while others fled it, and nearly every other window featured a pair of eyes peeking out to observe the fray. There were no more sounds of musket fire, which Daniel assumed was good, but there was an angry tension to Konti that put him on edge.
“The west gate?” Daniel suggested. His companions nodded in agreement, and they started to work their way away from the commotion. Arnica was as unperturbed as ever, but Daniel noticed Taur fidgeting nervously, casting wary glances over his shoulder every few seconds. He’d put on a strong face for the innkeeper, but he was not in his element here. Daniel could relate to the sentiment, but his heart broke a little seeing the big hunter scared. If it weren’t kind of sad, it would have been comical.
By rights, Daniel should have been the terrified one. But for some reason, the same enigmatic tranquility he’d felt during the duel had fallen over him again. Maybe the way he’d held his own had given him confidence. If so, that courage might very well get him killed.
“This is what comes of cities. Too many people, not enough space to breathe,” Taur muttered to himself, loud enough for them to hear. Perhaps some conversation would ease the man’s nerves, Daniel decided. It was good to be ready, but getting this worked up wouldn’t be helpful at all.
“You aren’t from a city then?” he asked, trying to get him talking.
Taur shook his head. “No. You can’t have cities on the steppe. Not big ones anyway. Rhud Keep had the most people of anywhere around, and it wasn’t close to a quarter the size of this place.”
“Why no cities?” Daniel asked.
Arnica hushed him with a gesture and a murderous glare. She pointed forward. Following her finger, he saw a bar, windows open to the street and blazing with firelight. There was a crowd of people filling the space inside and spilling out the doorway.
Taur’s eyes widened. He grabbed Daniel by the back of his shirt and tugged toward a nearby alley. “We should hide,” he hissed.
“We should listen,” Arnica shot back. “Honestly Taur, they’re just people.”
“That’s what scares me,” he said. “You know the kinds of things people do to each other?”
Daniel had to admit, he made a good point there.
“You could crush any of their skulls if you wanted to,” Arnica said.
Also a valid point. Taur was a full head taller than the tallest person in that crowd, and half again as wide.
“You stay here, we’ll attract less attention that way. Arnica and I can see what’s going on. If it goes bad, you can help get us out of there. I don’t think it will though, it’s not like we’re wearing uniforms.”
The necromancer rolled her eyes, but Taur reluctantly nodded.
“Come on,” she said, then walked smoothly toward the crowd, acting despite everything like a queen in her palace. Daniel squeezed Taur’s arm in reassurance before following. A few people glanced at their approaching footsteps, but they lost interest quickly. Whatever was happening inside the bar held them rapt.
“Show some compassion,” Daniel told Arnica in a low voice.
“Don’t you dare speak to me of compassion,” she whispered back. “You torture him with every kind word, haven’t you realized? He still thinks that his friend—his beloved duke—is somewhere in there. That you’re going to wake up someday as the Telann of old and all will be well again. The fool.”
Daniel, taken aback, couldn’t find words to say before they reached the edge of the crowd. Arnica, far shorter than Taur, rose to her toes to look over the heads of the people in front of her. Daniel himself had a little trouble and could make out the silhouettes of people filling the small building while a few notable figures stood on chairs or tables, shouting back and forth. The haunting accusation from Arnica distracted him as he listened.
“It’s murder! Plain and simple. Murderers hang!” one man yelled.
“It ain’t just murder, it’s invasion!” said another.
“They don’t need to invade you dolt! We’re friendlies,” said the first.
“Maybe you’re friendly with ‘em, but I’m not!”
“Oh shut up, both of you!” shouted a woman. Daniel couldn’t tell if more of her skin was covered in tattoos or scars. “Nobody cares about no legal charge. They won’t live long enough to hang. The only trouble is getting our hands on ‘em!”
That prompted a round of cheers from the crowd. Daniel—worried by the violent attitudes—exchanged a glance with Arnica. He gestured toward the alley where Taur hid and cocked his head questioningly. She jerked her chin toward the speakers inside and made a staying motion with her hand. She wanted to hear more.
“They let loose their mages in the city!” someone piped up from the crowd. That’s not allowed! My ma told me—”
“Those weren’t mages!” the woman said. “They’re muskets! Just weapons, like crossbows but bigger.”
She seemed like one of the ringleaders, but the crowd descended into a chorus of murmurs at that claim. It was difficult to make out specific words over the din, but it sounded like the common agreement from these people was that nobody had ever heard a crossbow make a noise like that.
“I don’t care what weapons they’ve got, or sorceries or what have you. We’re Konti folk, and we won’t stand for this!” someone yelled. “I say we just go out and grab ‘em from their camp, let ‘em try and stop us!”
“The night watch shut the gates,” said the woman. “Nobody in or out. Half the city’s already beatin’ on the doors!”
“If the watch is protecting ‘em then they’re with the imperials!”
“Of course they are! Nobody wants a fight with the imperials. We just want the murderers.”
“They’re not just murderers, it’s an invasion!”
Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.
“I already told you to shut your mouth you goose-brained son of a—”
Arnica interrupted the woman’s tirade by pulling on Daniel’s sleeve. She’d heard enough. Nobody stopped them as they returned to Taur, or when they slunk deeper into the dark alley to confer. The necromancer related what they heard to their companion, leaving out a few of the more colorful bits. Taur nodded along.
Daniel tried to piece out events in his mind. There had been a lot of soldiers in the city, many drunk. Some of them must have brought their weapons inside, and they’d set them off for some reason. The people had already been fed up with their guests but shooting citizens—as seemed to have happened—was a step too far. It seemed however that the perpetrators had escaped to the army’s camp.
“If the gates are shut, we can’t leave,” Arnica said. “This doesn’t involve us, we should wait it out.”
“Unless it gets worse,” Taur replied. “Lord Diallos won’t want to give up his soldiers for execution.”
“We shouldn’t risk ourselves getting involved where we don’t have to. The guard will need to open the gates eventually,” she said.
“And when they do, that mob will be on them like a pack of dogs,” Daniel said. “People will die, on both sides probably. Can’t we do something about that?”
“Like what?” Arnica mocked. “Are you going to duel the mob too Daniel?”
“Arnica, don’t—” Taur began.
“I’ll say what I like!” Arnica said. Something seemed to snap inside her, and the calm façade that kept her anger cold dropped, revealing a more fiery temperament. “People die Daniel. You can’t do anything about it. Maybe the place you came from is some god-blessed utopia where everyone is fat and content, but here we live in reality. Both of us,” Arnica gestured to Taur and herself, “saw family die. We saw friends die. The lucky ones are cowering somewhere in exile, but a lot of people weren’t so fortunate. For goodness’ sake, you’re walking around in one of their corpses!”
“That isn’t my fault!” Daniel bit back, his anger kindling. “You put me here! Do you think you’re better than me because I was unlucky enough to get snatched by your spell?”
Arnica threw her head back and laughed. There was no amusement in the sound. Just pain. She began to dig through her satchel as she spoke. “Oh no Daniel,” she said, “You miss my point. I’m more wretched than you could ever be. I know very well whose fault it is that the duke isn’t here with us, and it isn’t yours.” She pulled out a small pouch and dangled it in front of him.
“Do you know what this is?” she asked, jangling it to make a muffled rattling noise. “They’re finger-bones. Human bones. Do you know who they belonged to?”
“Please stop…” Taur said, weakly.
“They belonged to my comrades. My mentors. Every necromancer in Rhud’s service. The enemy hunted us you know. They were all killed, except for one that is. One little girl without the decency to die with everyone else. Now she walks around carrying their ghosts trapped in a pile of bones, just hoping she gets the chance to unleash them on the gods-forsaken bastard that drove her to this!” Arnica tucked the bones away angrily. Her voice had risen loud enough to risk attracting attention. She lowered it.
“I’m going to get my revenge, Daniel, and I won’t risk you ruining that by getting us killed.”
“Arnica…” Taur said, his hands clenched into fists as he sat on the dirty cobblestones. “…stop. The duke wouldn’t want—”
“The duke isn’t here—”
“I don’t care!” Taur shouted at her. The big man rarely raised his voice, but when he did it made thunder. “I will honor his memory regardless. Now you,” he pointed at Daniel, “The city has a governor. We’ll go to her and reveal you as the duke. You outrank her. With her resources, we might make a difference.”
“Taur,” Arnica said, “he doesn’t outrank anyone. He isn’t the duke.”
Taur opened his mouth as if to speak, but no noise came out.
Daniel hesitated, his gaze darting between Arnica and Taur. A resilience had shown itself in the hunter’s demeanor, but it had cracks. Arnica was poking at those cracks, trying to tear it down.
He made up his mind.
“I have Telann’s memories,” he said.
Two pairs of eyes immediately found his. One full of hope, the other doubt and scorn.
“Not all of them, not right now at least. They’re blocked, but they’ll come to me with time, apparently. That’s how I fought the duel. His old skills, they came back.”
“How?” Arnica asked, incredulous.
“A priestess, she found me and knew who I was. She said it was a gift from her goddess.”
Taur wasn’t quite smiling, but his hands were no longer clenched as tightly as they had been. Daniel felt a twinge of guilt deep in his gut, looking at the man and remembering what Arnica had told him. He was feeding the man’s delusion, but it pained him to see Taur so upset.
“The gods are with us then,” he said, assured. “We will go to the governor and proceed from there. No more arguing tonight… please.”
He stared at each of them in turn with his big, watery eyes, and neither one could resist nodding.
“Come, I know where the manor is,” he said. He gathered up their things and hoisted them on his back. He gestured the others forward and began to lead them down the road.
While both Daniel and Arnica followed without verbal complaint, the necromancer shot Daniel a disappointed look.
“You offer him false hope,” she accused. “Is it even true?”
“It is,” Daniel answered. “She was a priestess of the goddess Veil. You know about her?”
Arnica paled at that as if the name itself sapped her previous bravado. She answered hesitantly. “The relationship between her and my profession is strained at best.”
That made sense. The goddess of death probably had feelings about mages meddling with the natural order of things. The priestess Dira had mentioned Arnica, hadn’t she? He couldn’t recall any ill will in what she’d said. Maybe dismissiveness, if anything.
After a tense minute of walking, Arnica spoke again, her voice carefully even.
“Putting that aside, Daniel, you’d best beware of gods bearing gifts. They always have their reasons for doing what they do, and mortals caught up in divine games don’t tend to fare well.”
“I haven’t been faring well regardless,” Daniel said, “but I’ll take it under advisement.”
He remembered the goddess’ other offer. Patronage. Dira hadn’t been subtle about the purposes behind that. Should he accept, he would become Veil’s hand, an instrument by which she could accomplish what she was bound from doing herself.
Daniel shivered. What could the goddess of death desire so badly that she was bound from accomplishing? Even stranger, why would she want him? Surely this world had many of its own heroes that could fill the role. He was unique, sure, but how would his alien nature benefit the goddess?
The streets they crossed now were empty, though they could still hear shouts in the distance. Apparently, most people had figured out where the excitement was. Daniel was content to stay away from that for now.
Taur led them into a wealthier part of Konti, with bigger, cleaner buildings. Daniel noticed guards posted outside of the more ornate structures more than once. Private security, or places important enough for the city watch to commit personnel. On a night like this, they would all be on high alert.
The governor’s manor had an ornate face studded with windows that looked more like decorations than functional things to see out of. The doors were tall, and sure enough four guards stood nervously out front, brandishing their heavy cudgels for comfort.
The trio approached, and Daniel was glad to see that Taur had found his confidence again. Odd that. Taur didn’t like the chaotic streets, but he had no fear of the guardsmen, and he’d been right at home among the soldiers of the sixth back in their camp.
“Who goes there?” One of the guards called out.
“Duke Telann!” Taur called back, voice booming.
That prompted a round of rapid whispers between the guards. “What’s a duke doing out here? Shouldn’t he be in his castle or some such?”
“Duke Telann, of Rhud” Taur emphasized.
“Oh. Oh. I’m sorry about that. I heard a bit of what happened up there. My aunt lived in Rhud you know.”
“Really?” Taur perked up. “What was her name?”
“Figure that out later!” Arnica said, impatient. “We want an audience with the governor. Can you take us to her?”
The guards exchanged glances. The one who seemed to be the leader spoke again. “Sure we can, but do you have proof of who you are? You don’t look like a duke…”
Taur dug through their bags for a moment and produced a signet ring. It was simpler than Daniel would have imagined, silver inlaid with some dark, black stone. The insignia featured two tusks, like those of a mammoth.
They did call it the mammoth steppe, Daniel remembered. He put on the ring and presented it to the guards.
Their leader scratched his head. “I don’t actually know how to tell if it’s real or not. Seems genuine enough I suppose. The governor will know at least. Come on in, she’s still awake. With all this trouble, she hasn’t slept a wink tonight.”
The guard opened the doors and gestured the trio inside.