Whimsy led Abbee out of the courtyard and back into the Yard District. The adrenaline drained from Abbee, and her legs felt leaden. She forced herself to keep up with Whimsy’s trot. It had gotten dark out, and the street was lit by torches. Flickering yellow pools of light covered most of the street. Not enough to make Abbee comfortable as Whimsy ran right out into the road. An open buggy whizzed past them. Too close. Its drover thought so as well and yelled at them to move. His voice faded, so Abbee didn’t hear all his discouraging words.
Whimsy flagged down a covered cart. Flashed her badge when the drover tried to maneuver around her. The cart rolled to a halt a few meters past. “I’m done for the night. What’s this—”
“Take us to four Row Street,” Whimsy said. “As fast as you can. It’s an emergency.”
The drover wore a leather jacket and cap. Plain wool trousers. She frowned at Abbee. “Is that blood? Forget it. Find a different cart to get blood all over.”
Whimsy wasn’t having any of that. “Take us, or I’ll pull your chit.”
“You can’t do that,” the woman blustered, “just because I won’t—”
“Refusing an emergency ambulance order from a constable healer is grounds for losing your chit,” Whimsy said. “I don’t even have to do any paperwork over it.”
Enough light from a nearby torch illuminated the drover’s deepening frown. She pointed at Abbee with her chin. “She looks okay to—”
“You’re this close,” Whimsy barked, holding her finger and thumb a centimeter apart. “Your next words should be ‘Yes, ma’am.’”
“Fine, fine,” the drover grumbled. She kicked something at her feet, and the cart’s door popped open. “Get in. Try to keep the seats clean.”
Whimsy held the door and gestured for Abbee to get in. Abbee climbed up the step and found a richly appointed interior lit by two small lanterns. Soft leather seats and a carpeted floor. The walls were polished wood, and the doors had ornate brass handles. Each door had a small window in it. This was the first time Abbee had ever been inside a covered cart. The blood on her hands and clothes was getting sticky. The cart was clean, and she was filthy.
“Move,” Whimsy ordered, poking Abbee in the back.
Abbee slid across a seat. Whimsy climbed up after her and closed the door behind her. Sat down across from Abbee as the cart took off. The momentum pushed Abbee back against her seat. She rested her dirty hands on her thighs and tried to keep the blood facing up.
“You sure you’re okay?” Whimsy asked.
“I’m fine,” Abbee said. “Not a scratch. And I’d have healed by now, anyways.”
“Oh, right,” Whimsy said. She looked out the window. “We should be there in fifteen, maybe twenty minutes.”
“Where’s ‘there’?”
Whimsy swore. “I can’t believe Baylor sold me out.”
“I don’t think he sold you out,” Abbee said. “It was me they were after.”
“But they came to my house,” Whimsy said. “I heard what they said. No witnesses. Yes, they were going to take you, but they were going to kill me.” She didn’t appear to be in shock over the ordeal. Just angry. “He’s done. He’s so done.”
“If Baylor thought I was a wizard,” Abbee said, still holding her hands away from the leather seat, “why’d they only send three people? And no refractors? The three they did send didn’t seem to be all that smart. Grabbing me inside a house, in tight quarters, and not using a mover against me from the get-go. Tactical blunders.”
“I don’t know,” Whimsy said. “Baylor’s made a lot of dumb decisions tonight.”
“Baylor sent that squad?”
“I doubt it. No, I still think it was the university. Maybe they couldn’t scrape together enough good people on short notice. Whatever the reason, I think we got lucky. It could’ve gone a lot worse.”
Abbee almost said, “For you,” but kept that to herself. Then she remembered Joor. Trapped in a basement. Changed her mind. That was worse than death.
The cart went around a sharp corner and started climbing. Abbee pressed back against her seat.
Whimsy braced herself from sliding off hers. “Tower Road,” she said. “We’re almost there.”
Abbee looked out the window but didn’t see anything. The glass had a tint, presumably for privacy inside the cart, but it made seeing out in the dark difficult. “Where are we going?”
“To someone who can help,” Whimsy said. Her brows lowered. “And he’d better help, if he knows what’s good for him.”
The cart rolled to a stop ten minutes later. A slat behind Whimsy’s head slid back, exposing darkness. “We’re here,” the drover said. “Get out.”
Whimsy opened the door and clambered outside. She looked around and gestured for Abbee. “It’s clear. C’mon.”
Abbee climbed down to the ground. They were in a courtyard. Cobblestones on the ground, a wall, and a wrought-iron gate. The gate was open. Abbee turned and saw a big gray house. Three stories with windows and shutters and manicured shrubbery around the ground floor. Several windows were lit, and Abbee saw movement in two. Oil lamps burned in sconces around the courtyard, but Abbee spotted a single lamp near the front door that burned with the unwavering intensity of a magical lamp. Rare. The house had a double front door, flanked by men with swords. Both had hands on hilts.
“Next time,” Whimsy told the drover, “don’t argue with an ambulance order.”
“Maybe next time actually be injured,” the drover shot back. She engaged her crank, and the cart rattled out of the courtyard.
“State your business,” one of the armed doormen barked.
“It’s me,” Whimsy said. “I need to see him.”
Both men relaxed. “Who’s your friend? Wait, is that blood?”
“It’s not ours,” Whimsy said, “but it’s the reason we’re here. He’s going to want to hear this, Perci.”
The guard on the left, Perci, nodded and opened the door. Light flicked out and illuminated the landing. Abbee heard light music coming from inside. Perci went inside, and the door closed.
A minute later, the door opened, and two men stepped out onto the landing. One was Perci. The other man was Parn Trippers. He was older than Abbee remembered. He was dressed in plain but fine woolens. No jewelry or other adornments, and his waistline had the extra centimeters of someone who no longer chased people for stealing chickens. Parn’s face was lined, and his brow was furrowed with what looked like a permanent frown. His eyes reminded Abbee of Ipsu. They saw everything. Whimsy frowned at Parn, and he frowned back. Abbee got the impression that Whimsy had expected to go inside. Parn opened his mouth, but Whimsy got there first.
“We need your help,” Whimsy said. “The university came to my house. They’d have killed me, Parn, just to get to her. My house!”
Parn’s frown deepened. “Your house?”
“It’s got three dead people in it,” Whimsy said. “They were there for her.”
Parn shifted his attention to Abbee. Pursed his lips, considering. Turned to the guards. “Perci, do you and Denni mind covering the front gate for a minute?”
Perci hesitated.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be all right.”
“Yes, my lord,” Perci said. He signaled to his companion, and the two guards walked around Abbee and headed for the gate. Perci gave Abbee a steady look on his way by.
“Who’re you?” Parn asked Abbee.
“My name is Abbee.”
“Abbee…?” Parn asked.
Abbee set her jaw. “Danner.” Her surname still reminded her of her father. Saying it aloud hadn’t gotten much easier, even after all this time. She’d found the only time she didn’t mind giving it to someone was when they were about to fight. Abbee hoped she didn’t have to fight Parn. He looked soft and would go down easy, but she wasn’t sure about the guards here. They looked competent. “You’ve arrested me before.”
“I … I what? I’ve not arrested anyone in years.”
“It was before the golems. I was a lot smaller then.”
Parn squinted at her. “I don’t recognize—”
“You thought I’d stolen a couple of chickens.”
Parn blinked. “Oh.” A thin smile tugged at his cheek. “That was you?”
“She’s been living in the woods with Ipsu Billings,” Whimsy said.
Parn blinked. “Ipsu?”
“Since Towerfall, apparently.”
“You’ve been with Ipsu? I’ve not seen him in years. Where is he?”
“I don’t know,” Abbee said. “We … we had a falling-out. Four days ago. I tracked him into the city. I need to find him, and Whimsy was going to help with that.”
“You were?” Parn asked.
“Well, you were,” Whimsy said. “I just hadn’t told you yet.”
Parn sighed. “Whimsy—”
“Don’t ‘Whimsy’ me, Parn. I—”
“We talked about this,” Parn said, sounding tired. “At length. We aren’t doing this again.”
“This is different,” Whimsy said.
“It’s always different, but the end is the same. Boundaries don’t work if one person keeps stepping over them.” He looked at Abbee in a calculating way that she didn’t really like. “Why would the university be interested in you?”
“They think I’m a wizard,” Abbee said. “I’m not, by the way. But Whimsy took me to see an empath and—”
Parn rolled his eyes. “Baylor?”
“Yes. How did you—”
“Don’t you give me that big ol’ Parn sigh,” Whimsy warned. “They tried to kill me. No witnesses, they said. A telepath, a mover, and a torch. I’d be dead if not for her.”
Parn’s brows shot up. “A kill squad was at your house?” He looked at Abbee. “And you … all three of them?”
“Not sure it was an actual kill squad,” Whimsy said, “but something like it. Ten seconds, Parn. She took down all three of them in ten seconds. Maybe less. I think Ipsu was holding out on the constables, if he trained her to fight like that.”
“What’s a kill squad?” Abbee asked.
“Murder Guild operates that way,” Parn said, “for high-value or dangerous targets. A telepath to find their victims in the dark, a mover to hold them fast, and a torch to burn them alive—even cremate if the torch is strong enough. Were they carrying hand crossbows?”
“No.”
“Coats with masks sewn into the hoods?”
“Not that I saw,” Abbee said. “They had some leather armor, but it seemed secondhand. They weren’t that smart, to be honest. Akken still has a Murder Guild?”
Parn nodded. “The sanitation depots didn’t survive reconstruction, but the guild did.”
Abbee frowned. The depots used to be in every district. Big, tall buildings with a magical portal to an incineration pit outside the city, where Akken disposed of its trash. Most houses had had a bin that teleported refuse to the depot, where it was dumped into the depot portal. No wizards meant no bins, which meant no depots, but she didn’t get the guild connection. “What do the depots have to do with anything?”
“They were a front for the guild,” Whimsy said. “The incineration pit was great for getting rid of a body, which conveniently fit in a household bin.”
Abbee blinked. “I had no idea.”
“Nobody did,” Parn said. “Well, the constables did, and so did the Tower.”
“And you let that happen?”
Parn shrugged. “It’s how it was back then. The wizards made everything more complicated. The point is, the golems destroyed most of the depots, and the remaining ones were torn down. Everybody knew the guild had operated out of the depots, and we had the mistaken idea that removing them might also remove the guild. It just forced them underground. They’re not as active, but they’re still around.”
“It wasn’t the guild,” Whimsy said. “They weren’t good enough. If I’d had a wand—”
Parn’s expression grew pained. “There was no way I could—”
Whimsy waved her hand at him. “Don’t bother. We don’t have to rehash all of your pathetic excuses again.”
Parn set his jaw. Looked at Abbee. She wondered if he was thinking about sending them away. She needed help, and she knew Parn was on the Akken Council. If anyone could move mountains to find Ipsu and keep the university off her back, it was him.
“I wanted to thank you,” she said.
“Why?” Parn asked, startled. “What for?”
“If I hadn’t met you, I wouldn’t have met Randall, and I wouldn’t have been the precinct gofer for a few weeks. Some of my best memories are from that time.” And some of her worst. She kept those to herself.
“Ah,” Parn said, nodding. He gestured at Whimsy. “That’s how you two know each other. It’s becoming a little clearer. What’s not clearer is why Baylor would think you a wizard. If he thought you were a wizard, why not the hunters?”
“Maybe because I’m not a wizard,” Abbee said. “And the hunters have already looked at me.”
“They … what?”
“Or maybe they did tonight, sent a telepath, and they saw something … else. Enough for the university to be interested.” She glanced at Whimsy. “I guess they’ve been experimenting on … uh, people like me.”
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“Like you?” Parn echoed. His eyes narrowed. “You’re talented.”
“Yes.”
“You presented during the night of the golems, didn’t you?”
Abbee wasn’t sure if she should confirm that to him. She glanced at Whimsy, who nodded. “Yes,” Abbee said. “I did.”
“Perci,” Parn called. “I need you.”
Abbee tensed. She took a step back as the guard arrived at Parn’s side at a dead sprint.
“We’re going inside,” Parn said. “Close the gate. No more visitors tonight.”
Abbee relaxed a little.
“Expecting trouble, my lord?” Perci asked.
“Maybe,” Parn said. “I doubt our campus friends are dumb enough to try something at my house, but you never know. They assaulted a constable in her home tonight, so they’re feeling frisky.”
“Brazen,” Perci said. “We’ll be ready for them, my lord.”
He turned and walked away, shouting orders. Guards sprouted from several places around the courtyard. Abbee hadn’t noticed them at all. She revised her opinion of Perci and his crew.
Parn opened the door. “Come in. I want to hear your story.”
“Me too?” Whimsy asked. “Or are you going to hold on to your boundaries even now.”
“I’m thinking about it,” Parn said. “But yes, you too.”
Whimsy sniffed and walked inside. Abbee hesitated.
“It’s all right,” Parn added. “You’re safe here.”
Safety wasn’t Abbee’s issue. There was a lot in her story that she didn’t feel like sharing.
She sighed and followed Whimsy into a brightly lit foyer. A staircase mounted the far wall up to the second story. Under the stairs was a small door, and two open doorways on either side led to a sitting room and what looked like a library. Polished wooden floors and plaster walls. Parn had money.
Whimsy went into the sitting room, straight to a sideboard with several decanters filled with dark liquid. Glass clinked as she poured herself a stiff drink.
Abbee noticed a long gouge across the floor, perpendicular to the flooring. Looked fresh. “What’s the story with that?” she asked, gesturing at the cut in the floor.
Parn closed the front door. “A long one,” he said. He glanced into the sitting room. “Sure, Whimsy, help yourself to my liquor.”
“It’s been a night,” Whimsy said, sitting down on one of the two sofas.
Abbee went into the room. She was still dirty from the fight and didn’t want to touch anything.
Parn stepped past her and pulled the curtains shut. “Are you hungry?” Parn asked Abbee.
“What’ve you got?” Whimsy asked.
“I was asking her.”
“I’m fine, thank you,” Abbee said. “No, wait, I changed my mind. I’ll take anything you’ve got. Dunno when I’ll eat next.”
“Carver,” Parn called.
Footsteps in the foyer. A thin man wearing black appeared in the door and surveyed the group. His gaze flicked to Abbee and her clothes. “Is that blood?” he asked in a reedy voice.
“Not mine,” Abbee said.
“But it’s blood. In the house. You’re standing on a rug over three hundred years old and worth—”
“Looks dry to me, Carver,” Parn said. “Would you please get a plate for this young lady from tonight’s dinner? And a basin to wash her hands, at least.”
Carver huffed. “Yes, my lord.”
He stepped out of the room and came right back carrying a big basin of water. He set it down on the sideboard next to the decanters and laid a towel on the rim. “Something for the lieutenant?”
“I’m fine,” Whimsy said, looking over her glass at Parn, “but thank you for offering.”
Parn rolled his eyes. Carver left.
“Lieutenant?” Abbee asked, dipping her hands into the water. She scrubbed the blood off with her fingernails.
Whimsy shrugged. “Carver is old school.”
“I still don’t get it.”
“In the old days,” Parn explained, “before our time, people received an automatic rank based on their talent strength. It’s a silly rule. I know a lot of Class Threes who shouldn’t be sergeants. We’ve long since discontinued that practice, but the rules remain on the books. Technically, Whimsy would be a lieutenant in the army—if we had an army, which we don’t. Carver likes his history. Be careful if you ask him about anything. You might get a long-winded history lesson.”
“I heard that,” Carver called. He returned with a big plate piled with food. “Everyone could use a history lesson. Or four.” He handed the plate to Abbee. “Might avoid unpleasantness today if we learned about the same thing that happened in the past.”
Abbee dried her hands on the towel and took the plate. It was warm but not hot. Abbee wondered if Carver was a torch, and if he was more than just a butler. She was about to eat with her fingers when Carver handed her a small bundle. Abbee took it and realized it was a napkin. Something inside. She carefully opened it and found silverware. Clever.
Carver straightened. “Does my lord require anything else?”
“No, thank you,” Parn said.
Carver withdrew.
Parn turned to Abbee. “What’s your talent?”
“Healer,” Abbee said around a mouthful of warm bread. She swallowed. “But backward.”
Parn’s brows shot up. “Healer? I don’t think I’ve heard of anyone like you from Towerfall. Mostly empaths. No healers.”
“How many?” Abbee asked.
“Not many,” Parn said. “Four or so. You make five.”
“Doesn’t seem like a lot.”
“But the numbers make sense,” Parn said. “When the golems attacked, Akken had half a million people in it. Talented show up in about a quarter of the population. At the time, about six percent of the population was in the age range to present. We know—”
“How do you know those numbers?” Abbee asked.
Parn smiled. “The Tower had a vested interest in the population of Akken and kept track. We found their records in the Tower’s wreckage. Detailed census numbers going back decades, tracking the population.”
“Why would they—”
“The wizards were dying out,” Parn said.
“They … really?”
Parn nodded. “They weren’t advertising it, of course. I found out a few weeks before the Tower fell. Fewer and fewer wizards born every year. If Raok hadn’t killed them all, they’d have all but vanished in seven generations.” He nodded at Abbee. “They said more talented were showing up, and stronger ones. It was as if magic was moving from them to us. Well, gradually, anyway.”
“Us?” Abbee asked.
Parn tapped his chest. “Refractor. Class Four.”
Abbee had been about to say, “Like Ipsu,” but Parn could choose the magical effect. Ipsu couldn’t. Abbee knew that Parn’s talent was very, very rare. There might only be one or two other people like him in the whole world.
“So a half-dozen backward talented makes sense from the wizards’ records?” Whimsy prompted.
“Yes,” Parn said. “We know talents present around puberty. So a quarter of half a million, take six percent of that, and divide by the number of days in a year … I’ve already done this. I’m not so fast at doing math in my head … So on average, give or take some, about twenty children present a day in Akken.”
“Twenty talented a day?” Abbee echoed. “Seems like a lot.”
“Back then, anyway.” Parn said. “There are fewer people here now, and we don’t do the census anymore. But on the day you presented, about twenty. And they’d had to have presented while the golems were near. We know that much. And survived too.” Parn’s face stilled, and he sighed heavily. When he spoke again, his voice was solemn. “The golems killed a lot of people.” He blinked and shook himself. “So, say a dozen presented at just the right time. You can assume the golems killed some, and the talents did too. We found a couple of burnt bodies with nothing else around. Could’ve been backward torches. One person had drowned in the middle of a street.”
“Drowned?” Abbee echoed.
Parn nodded. “A spout, we think. Most talents are lethal if you turn them around. I’ve not heard of any backward refractors who survived, and no elementals. No movers. A backward mover probably crushes or tears their internal organs by accident. Of the five backward talented that I know about, there are two empaths, a speaker, a telepath, and now you. A healer. You said you’re backward. So you heal yourself?”
“That’s right.”
“Amazing. What’s the worst injury you’ve healed?”
“I had a broken arm a few months ago,” Abbee said. “For a minute or so.”
Parn studied her. He looked at her like Ipsu had looked at her. Too long. “That’s not the worst one, is it?”
Abbee cursed inwardly. She wondered what had given it away. “No, it’s not.”
“What?” Whimsy exclaimed. “You held out on me?”
“It’s not something I want to spread around,” Abbee said. “Remember, I feel all the pain. All of it. I don’t need anyone testing the limits of my gift.”
“All the pain?” Parn asked. “What does that mean?”
Abbee gestured at Whimsy. “You take away pain when you’re healing someone, right?”
Whimsy sloshed the whiskey in her glass. “Mostly. I leave some on purpose.”
“You … what?”
“It’s a long story, but some people get addicted to it. I leave some pain.”
“I had no idea.”
“Most people don’t,” Whimsy said. “The good healers leave some pain. The smart ones, anyway. It takes finesse to keep pain reduction from tipping over into euphoria. If you make people feel euphoria, they’ll chase you for that high.” She downed her glass. “If you could do that to yourself, you might put yourself into a stupor all the time.”
Abbee turned back to Parn and found him watching her. His expression was unreadable. “What?”
“If your worst injury isn’t a broken arm, then that’s significant pain. Significant trauma. You’ve been through a lot.”
Anxiety seized Abbee. He was going to make her talk about it. She wasn’t talking about it. The panic she’d felt in Whimsy’s house brushed against her. Abbee felt tears stand in her eyes. Fury followed. I’m not breaking down in front of this man. Abbee gripped the arms of her chair. Don’t ask. Don’t you dare ask.
Parn didn’t seem to notice her struggle. “You’re a backward healer, and Ipsu Billings trained you to fight. And from what Whimsy says, Ipsu didn’t train you like he trained the constables. He taught you the same way he taught the White Ring. Lethal.”
Abbee’s anxiety evaporated, and curiosity replaced it. She knew hardly anything about Ipsu from before the golems. He’d been tight-lipped about his past with her. “The White Ring?”
“I didn’t know that,” Whimsy admitted.
Parn nodded. “Ipsu taught hand-to-hand combat to the Ringers. They didn’t do halfway measures. They fought to kill.” He considered Abbee. “You sound very capable, and very durable. I want to know what Ipsu was doing with you.”
“Pushing me around, mostly,” Abbee said. She remembered their last argument. “And lying to me. He lied to me for years.”
“What’s the worst injury you’ve healed?” Parn asked. “You’ve dodged this question once already.”
Abbee shook her head. She wasn’t going there.
“We’ll come back to that. When did you connect with Ipsu?”
“He found me right after the golems,” Abbee said. “Him and a wizard. Pretty sure she was a wizard. Had a staff that made me sick.”
Parn sucked in a breath. “Black ball at the top that moved by itself? Made you pass out?”
“You know what that is?” Abbee demanded.
“A suppression staff,” Parn said, nodding. “A certain kind of wizard carried it. What did he look like?”
“It was a woman. I didn’t get a good look at her. It was, uh, dark. Ipsu never used her name. I passed out before I saw her face, and when I woke up, she was gone. I never saw her again. Ipsu didn’t talk about her.”
“They knew each other?”
“Seemed to.”
“Why did Ipsu take you out of Akken?”
Abbee looked at the floor. Bad memories fought for purchase in her head. “He never said.”
“But you have some ideas,” Parn pressed.
“Some. I don’t want to talk about it.” Abbee looked him in the eye. “And I don’t see how this is relevant here, anyway.”
“We’ll come back to that too,” Parn said. “So Whimsy took you to an empath operating without a license, who’s a known front for the university, and—”
“What?” Whimsy yelped. “I didn’t know he was a front—”
“I distinctly remember telling you to stay away from him.”
“You said he was a crank and a fraud,” Whimsy retorted. “You never said anything about him working for the university.”
“You knew these things when you took me to him?” Abbee demanded.
“He’s not a crank, and he’s not a fraud,” Whimsy said. “He helped me get over a particularly bad relationship.”
Parn snorted. “Not a great job so far, from my perspective.”
“Can you two work out your problems without me?” Abbee asked. “Whimsy, you said he could help.” She stood up. “If all you’re going to do is interrogate me, I can just go.”
“Sit down, please,” Parn said. “I’m just trying to fill in some blank spots. I need to know the whole picture. Otherwise, I might just make things worse. Do you want me to make them worse?”
“No,” Abbee said.
“Then please sit.”
Abbee sat back down but didn’t lean back. She stayed on the edge, ready to rise again if she didn’t like what Parn said next. Leave Akken and be on her way. But Parn knew things. And he was a councilor. The first constable too. He had resources Abbee didn’t. He could find Ipsu a lot faster than she could, especially if Ipsu had left the city.
“You mentioned before that the hunters had looked at you already,” Parn said. “What did you mean?”
“There was an incident in Lencoe a few months ago,” Abbee said. “I healed in front of someone. I guess they thought I was a wizard, and the town marshal reported me to the hunters. They aren’t looking for me anymore.”
“They interviewed you?” Parn asked.
“I never saw them,” Abbee said, “but I don’t think they’re looking for me anymore.”
“How do you know that?”
This was getting into gray-wizard territory. Too close to home. Too close to why Ipsu had taken Abbee away. She wanted to find that out herself. Besides, the reason might turn Parn against her. She already had too many enemies. “Well, it’s been three months.”
Parn studied her again. “Your reasoning is weak. So, you might still get a visit while you’re here. You’ve got both the university and the hunters interested in you. Hmm.” He tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair and watched her. A small smile appeared on his face, and his tapping stopped. “There’s one thing that I could do, but it might make you more of a target than you already are. But it’ll push them off-balance, and that could be useful.”
“I don’t understand,” Abbee confessed. “What do—”
“You were a gofer in the Yard District Precinct?”
“That’s right.”
“Randall vouched for her,” Whimsy said. “Barnes too. I kept her on after Three Points, to help in the infirmary. She’s good people, Parn.”
Abbee felt grateful for the vote of confidence but wished it didn’t feel hollow. If Whimsy knew what Abbee had done in Joor, she’d be turning her away in horror, not sticking up for her.
“And you didn’t quit,” Parn said.
“No,” Abbee said. “I mean, technically, I was kidnapped, but everything was wrecked, so—”
Parn nodded. “You didn’t quit, and you weren’t fired either.”
“I guess?”
“So you still work for the constabulary.”
“That’s a big reach. I mean, I didn’t show up for seven years. That’s sort of like quitting.”
“Yeah, but I doubt we fired you for it.”
“You want to make me a gofer again?” Abbee asked. “How is this going to help me?”
“Oh, no,” Parn said. “But you being the gofer lets me do this: Abbee Danner, as first constable, I bestow upon you the field promotion of special constable, and you will perform duties at my discretion.” He grinned at her. “Congratulations. You work for me now.”
Abbee blinked. “What? Why?”
“You’ve got the university after you,” Parn said. “This will protect you from them.”
“I was thinking you could just help me get out of the city tonight,” Abbee said.
“Don’t you want to find Ipsu?” Parn asked.
“Yes, but—”
“A badge will help you do that.”
“You didn’t even ask. What if I don’t want the job?”
“You don’t want to be a constable?”
“I—” Abbee hadn’t thought terribly hard about it. Maybe she did. Maybe. Abbee remembered her brief time in the Yard District Precinct. Her first island of safety since losing her mother. Sammy’s bridge pier hadn’t felt safe. Abbee had felt safe with Captain Barnes and Randall and Harald and even Madge Poe. Felt needed. She’d even felt safe with Ipsu, until it had all fallen apart. Abbee wanted that safety back, and if she couldn’t get it, she at least wanted an explanation. She deserved an explanation. Abbee was going to get an explanation from somebody. “If Ipsu’s left the city, I’m not staying.”
“That’s fine,” Parn said. “It’s not like the old days. A special constable’s jurisdiction doesn’t end at the city walls. You’d have resources for your search.”
“You have no idea who I am, and you just make me a constable?” Abbee asked.
Parn nodded at Whimsy. “She vouches for you. Good enough for me.”
Whimsy looked mollified. She rubbed her lips and watched Parn.
Abbee shook her head. “After one meeting? Just like that? You want something. What is it? What exactly am I going to be doing for you?”
Parn raised his voice. “Carver.”
Footsteps. Carver appeared in the doorway. “My lord?”
“You were listening? Good. Please set up the spare room for an overnight stay. Find suitable accommodations for Special Constable Danner in the morning. And a uniform. Start her out at a sergeant’s standard rate. And ask Perci to come in here.”
“Very good, my lord,” Carver said. He left again.
Abbee realized that people were going to call her Constable Danner. Danner. She was going to hear the name a lot. She’d only had the job for a minute and was already having second thoughts. This had better be worth it. “What’s the job?” Abbee repeated.
“Investigating,” Parn said.
“For what? Besides, I don’t know how to do that.”
“Do you know how to ask questions?”
“Sure, but—”
“That’s what the job is. You ask questions. You ask them until you find someone who doesn’t want to talk. That’s what we call a person of interest. Then you ask them more questions. Lots more. There might be some paperwork involved, but that’s the gist of the job.”
“Seems like you just need a telepath.”
“Turns out there aren’t that many of them,” Parn said. “Plus, the wizards got all uppity when we had them on the force. Had to do it the old-fashioned way. Well, and some Finley’s Dust, but that’s hard to come by these days.”
“And wands,” Whimsy said.
“Those aren’t coming back,” Parn said. “After that incident with Abol, we’re lucky we got to keep the constabulary.” He looked at Abbee. “Are you any good with a sword?”
“I prefer my knives,” Abbee said.
“Constables wear swords.”
“It sounds like special constables get to be special,” Abbee countered.
That small smile tugged his lips. “That they do. Tomorrow morning you’ll go back to Baylor’s.”
“And do what?” Whimsy demanded.
Abbee’s objections melted away at the idea of confronting Baylor. She cracked her knuckles. “I’m going to find out who he told about me.”
“We’ll start there,” Parn said. He leaned forward. “You have to keep them alive to ask the questions, though.” He raised a finger. “I want to know what’s going on at the university. What they were planning on doing with you, for instance. You won’t be able to go at the campus directly. Pull on the Baylor thread, and see where that goes. I want daily reports. In return, I’ll look for Ipsu. I doubt he’s still in the city. He’d have left already. You’re one person. You could go in the wrong direction and never find him. I have access to more eyeballs than you do. I’ll find him.”
“Deal,” Abbee said.
Perci emerged from the room on the other side of the foyer. He walked across to the sitting room, his boot heels loud on the polished wood. He regarded Abbee with a cool expression, then turned to Parn. “My lord, Carver says you made a field promotion. Her, my lord?”
“Special Constable Danner is opening an investigation. Talented kidnapping,” Parn said.
“Who was kidnapped?” Perci asked.
“Attempted kidnapping,” Abbee corrected. “Mine.”
“I’ll arrange a security detail,” Perci said, “but we’re stretched a little thin right now with your—”
“She doesn’t need it,” Parn said. “If anything, it’s the other way around. But that’s not why I asked you in here. A kill squad showed up at Whimsy’s house and tried to kidnap Special Constable Danner. They would’ve killed Whimsy had Danner not been there.”
Perci blinked. He gave Abbee an appraising glance. “The guild, my lord?”
“They weren’t that good,” Parn said. “I think it was one of Imara’s grab squads. The point is, there are three dead bodies in Whimsy’s house. Can you send a detail to her house to gather the dead and clean it up? Let’s see if we can identify the bodies too.”
“Of course, my lord,” Perci said.
“Whimsy,” Parn said, “if you’d rather not sleep in a war zone tonight, you’re welcome to use the other spare room here.”
“Thank you,” Whimsy said, brightening.
“For tonight only,” Parn added.
Whimsy arched a brow at him. “There you go, assuming I’d want to stay longer than that.” The two of them exchanged a long look.
Abbee exchanged her own look with Perci, who gave an ever-so-slight eye roll. Carver saved them by reappearing and announcing in a loud tone that the spare rooms were ready. Parn reminded Abbee to see Perci before she left in the morning and excused himself. Gave Whimsy another look on his way out. Abbee wondered if Parn and Whimsy’s rocky relationship was on the up-and-up, or merely pausing for a breather on the way off a steep cliff.
***
Abbee lay in bed awake. Her room was next to Whimsy’s, on the third floor of the house. It was hot, and Abbee kept the single window open for ventilation. She wasn’t used to sleeping in the city. The house creaked and groaned around her, and sounds of a city that never slept came through the open window. Rattling carts, distant shouts, and the peeps of birds roosting somewhere on the roof. Every little noise jerked her out of twilight slumber. As Abbee was about to drift off, she thought she heard footsteps leaving Whimsy’s room. She fell asleep listening for Whimsy to come back.