Abbee approached the city from the southwest. The terrain changed from high to low hills within a few kilometers of the city, affording Abbee a good view as she got closer. Even from a distance, the city looked so different. No Tower perched atop the High Falls, and the walls had been smoothed over. No golem alcoves. Abbee saw two big tent camps outside the walls. One on the west side, and another to the south. Each camp had hundreds of large tents around a few permanent structures. The tents were all different sizes and colors.
Abbee saw the roundish gray tents common in Kiva, the square tents matching Veronna House colors, and the wide brown tents she was used to seeing around Morat. Two camps was a surprise, because she remembered three camps. There used to be a camp on the city’s east side, near the exit tunnels from the train yards.
Thousands of laborers from all over the continent were helping to rebuild Akken, for both the coin and a shot at a new house in a new city. Abbee had heard there was a lottery for laborers for a home in the North Bend. The golems had wiped out over half the city’s population during Towerfall, and Akken had plenty of room for newcomers. Abbee had no idea what she’d do with a whole house, but she wondered if maybe she could get one.
The western work camp was closest, and Abbee headed in that direction. As she neared, she found tents dotting the hills around the camp, likely those people who needed to be close for work but wanted some privacy. Abbee walked beneath a crude sign marking the edge of New Bend and stepped onto what passed for a main street for the makeshift town. It ran for several hundred meters and ended at Akken’s West Gate. Abbee looked down the dilapidated road and wondered if she should go around.
The camp’s tents spread apart from the road like a growing fungus. The buildings here were constructed from a combination of wood and canvas, and everything was dirty. Abbee decided she could hurry through the camp. It was midmorning, and the work camp was sparsely occupied. She walked by several general supply stores, a barber, a bakery, two blacksmiths, a leatherworker, and at least six alehouses.
In the middle of the camp was a big building with a canvas roof. Curious, Abbee walked through an open door and found a narrow hall lined with unlit torches. She went down the hall and stepped out into a big open space. Bleachers rose up behind her and circled a pit of hard-packed dirt. A bout hall.
Abbee had heard stories of these showing up in Akken. Veronna justice depended heavily on trials by combat. Private duels were strictly forbidden. If two people couldn’t solve a disagreement peacefully, they ended up in a bout hall. Seconds were allowed, though deferring to the biggest fighter didn’t always work out, because House soldiers could step in and second at their discretion. Abbee knew weapons were forbidden but talents were allowed. She’d heard talented House soldiers drew the biggest crowds.
Wooden boards up to her midriff separated her from the fighting pit, twenty meters in diameter and covered with straw. Abbee wondered if the dark patches beneath the straw were shadows or dried blood. Probably both. Abbee saw a few grubby teenagers sitting up in the back. They muttered to each other and watched her. A few toothy grins.
Abbee left the bout hall and continued down the road. She counted no fewer than seven signs for healers. More healers than there should be for a camp this size. Mostly Class Twos, one Three, and no Fours. Abbee wondered why they were all here instead of inside the city. People got the best outcomes when the healers were near where people got injured, and that would surely be at work sites, where people suffered frequent accidents.
Abbee passed a frosty bread cart manned by a grizzled old torch. She knew he was a torch on account of the flames he periodically shot from his good hand at the oil vat at the bottom of his cart. Her stomach growled at the smells. Abbee realized she had no money. She hadn’t done any errands for Ipsu on their trek north from Joor. No change. No coin.
The bread seller’s eyes were sharp, and he arched a brow at Abbee. “You’re new.”
Abbee slowed. “What, you know everybody in the camp?”
The bread seller gave her a toothy grin. “Never forget a face. Not seen yours before.”
He twirled his tongs. Abbee considered that a feat, given he was missing three fingers on his left hand. The skin around the missing digits was smooth and free of scars.
She stopped. “Have you seen a man with one arm come through here in the past few days?”
He waggled his left thumb and middle finger. “Lots of people around here are missin’ limbs. Gonna have to be more specific.”
“About my height, shaved head. Deerskin coat and trousers. He’s missing his right arm. Older than me but not as old as you. Satchel on his back. He probably ate something and would’ve passed you by without stopping. He doesn’t like frosty bread, for some reason.”
The old man nodded. “Oh, that one. Yeah, I seen ’im.”
Abbee felt a surge of triumph. A lead. “When? Where did he go?”
The old man’s eyes narrowed. “Information’s not free.”
“I don’t have any money.”
He looked her up and down and smirked. “You’re young, and you got all your teeth. You got plenty for sale.”
Abbee didn’t like his appraising gaze. She put her hand on her belt knife. She hadn’t wanted to carry knives after the movers in Lencoe, but she couldn’t survive in the wilderness without a knife. “Hey. Keep your eyes up here.”
The old man’s gaze flicked to something over her shoulder. Abbee stepped left and turned. Kept the old man in her peripheral vision. The teenagers from the bout hall were a few paces away. One headed toward the bread cart. The other two walked past Abbee. She kept her hand on her knife. Just in case. They ignored her, but Abbee suspected they hadn’t been ignoring her before, when she hadn’t been looking.
Abbee wondered if the old man had even seen Ipsu or if he was trying to fool her out of some coin. He wasn’t looking at her anymore and had focused on his new customer. Abbee decided that she didn’t like the work camp. She left the bread seller and avoided the teenagers. Avoided everyone else until she reached several wooden posts driven into the ground, marking the edge of the camp. The posts reminded her of Joor, and Abbee didn’t like thinking of that place.
She entered the city through the West Gate. It looked the same as it had when she was a child, if only slightly smaller. The last time she’d been this close up, she’d been twelve, and everything had seemed bigger. The other major difference was that two golems no longer flanked the gatehouse. Fresh stone where their alcoves used to be, and the top of the gatehouse looked new. Inside the city, a pair of constables stood at the base of the gatehouse, watching foot and cart traffic. The constables wore the same uniform as they had before Veronna had taken over. Dark blue trousers and coats, with a shiny silver badge on their breasts. The caps were the same.
No artifact chip harnesses, though. Hardly anybody carried artifact chips these days, at least not openly. No wizards to make them anymore meant the chips were now the world’s scarcest, most valuable objects. Wearing one was an invitation to get mugged. However, Abbee didn’t see any hard leather case on the constables’ belts. Short swords instead. No wands? Abbee wondered how constables kept the peace without wands.
The West Gate was open and wide enough to drive two continentals through side by side. Abbee walked through the gate and past the two constables. They didn’t look at her that Abbee could tell, but she didn’t pay them much attention. She stared at the North Bend. Or what should’ve been the North Bend.
Where a narrow, claustrophobic road should’ve been was now a new paved boulevard. Straight. Trees lined the middle, and sidewalks running along each edge separated foot and cart traffic. The buildings were all new and solidly constructed from stone, wood, and brick. Every window frame had an unbroken window, and Abbee didn’t see any trash anywhere. The old North Bend had been a dirty, rough place. It had been a lot like New Bend but with running water. But this … Abbee wondered if she’d accidentally walked into the Overlook District.
“Oi!” someone barked behind her. “Out of the road!”
Abbee jumped, startled. She saw a big cart behind her, with an annoyed drover in the front seat.
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He spread his hands at her. “You right in the head? Move! Get out of the way!”
Abbee realized she’d stopped in the middle of the street. Gawking at the city and completely losing her situational awareness. Ipsu would’ve had choice words for her if he’d seen her like that. Abbee stepped up onto the sidewalk as the cart rumbled past. She was annoyed that she’d lost track of her surroundings. Annoyed that she’d thought of what Ipsu might say.
This was a different North Bend from the one Abbee had grown up with. All the buildings were new. It didn’t have the air of desperation anymore. Wide avenues stretched east in straight lines toward the river bridges. Up ahead was a small park with several trees and nice lawns. The streets had sidewalks and swept doorsteps. Abbee found herself happy that the bottom floor windows still had bars on them. She was happy something was the same, and some gritty part of the North Bend remained. You could take the North Bend out of Akken, but you couldn’t take all the rough out of the North Bend.
About a couple of hundred meters into the city, she encountered House soldiers. The crowd in front of her parted, and there they were. Two of them, coming her way. One soldier looked right at her. Fear seized her. Abbee had never seen a wizard hunter in person, but she’d heard they dressed a lot like House soldiers. She didn’t know if these were hunters. She’d overheard the gray wizard say she was no longer a target, but Abbee didn’t want to test one theory right out here on the street.
The soldier’s gaze slid off her, and the pair walked by. They were both walking armories. Two swords on their backs, thick pouch belts, and at least six knives each. They didn’t clink very much either.
Abbee kept moving. She glanced over her shoulder. The soldiers weren’t looking at her. Blue sashes marked them as House Togrim. Abbee knew that Veronna had a council made up of the different Houses, and Akken had one with three people. They were both committees with equal votes on paper, but Abbee knew House Togrim was in charge in Akken, just like it was in charge in Veronna. She didn’t stay up to date on political machinations, living in the wilderness, but Abbee at least knew that much.
She kept heading east. The road from the West Gate wasn’t marked, but it seemed to be in the same place as Baker Street. It ran a lot further than Baker Street. The North Bend used to be a confusing ball of yarn in Abbee’s head, but she followed the same road all the way to the Charrin River. That was new. A person used to have to take at least four turns to get from the West Gate to the river. The road on the other side of the bridge looked straight too. Abbee wondered if there were any curves left in Akken.
The five bridges spanning the Charrin all looked original. Abbee stopped halfway across one and leaned over the railing. No bridgies. Abbee walked to the upstream side of the bridge, dodging two carts, and leaned over. No bridgies over here either. A few hundred meters upstream, she saw the bridge pier she’d briefly lived on. It was clean. No shanty. No bridgies anywhere. No Sammy. Abbee wondered what had happened to Timm and Chella. She hoped they had avoided the golems. They’d been nice to her and deserved to live. Not Sammy, and definitely not Mith.
Abbee knew she’d not find Ipsu tonight. Maybe not ever. The city was so different. She hardly recognized any of it. Abbee knew she’d get lost wandering around, and the sun was falling in the sky. She needed a place for the night. And food. She was surrounded by food but didn’t have any money. Didn’t want to steal anything. She wasn’t the stealing type, and besides, the last time she’d stolen something in Akken, she’d gotten arrested. Abbee felt her lips tighten with a sad grin. Randall. She wished she could see him again. And Whimsy. Abbee wondered if Whimsy was still a constable in the Yards. She’d like to see Whimsy again. Maybe the Yard District Precinct still had a stewpot and fresh bread. Abbee’s stomach grumbled at the thought.
She pushed off the bridge railing and headed east. She hoped the precinct was still in the same place.
***
Abbee found the Yard District Precinct in its old location, across from Three Points. Well, Two Points now. Tulley and Meeds Streets were still there, but to the south, where Roper Street had been, there was now a big park. The precinct was up on a little hill, and Abbee saw that the park stretched for several blocks. She’d passed a lot of parks on her way here. It seemed that adding parks and straight streets had been a design requirement when rebuilding Akken. Abbee wondered what else had been a design requirement, and if they were all as benign as adding more greenery.
She stepped into the Yard District Precinct, and memories flooded back to her. Her memories didn’t match the current precinct. The entrance used to open right into the bullpen, but now there was a short hallway and a big window across the end of it. On the other side of the window sat two constables on tall chairs or stools, high enough that they could put their elbows on the counter. A wall behind them blocked Abbee’s view of the bullpen. An open doorway led into the precinct proper. On Abbee’s side was a heavy door set into a reinforced frame.
Abbee walked up to the window and found a little opening with a narrow, curved cubby for exchanging documents or objects. A big, heavy book sat open on the counter, in front of the man on the right. This was the intake desk. Abbee remembered the Three Points Massacre and knew why this lobby had been added. She doubted the window or even that heavy door would’ve stopped the creature that night. The constables behind the window looked her up and down.
Abbee still carried all her wilderness gear and knew she looked out of place in the lobby. “I’m looking for Whimsy Gallaby.”
The left one shook his head. “Constables only. You need to go see a registered healer if you want service.”
“I’m not—I don’t need healing. I’m just looking for her. Is she here?”
“Who’re you?”
“My name is Abbee.” Abbee hoped Whimsy remembered. She hadn’t seen Whimsy for seven years, since the night of the golems. Abbee had only been twelve. “Ask her if the gofer is any good with a broom these days. She’ll know who it is.”
The left one squinted. “Martin, go give Whimsy the message.”
Martin slid off his chair and exited the room, grumbling something about not being the gofer. The other one looked ready to ask Abbee something when the precinct door opened, and two constables walked in, half dragging, half carrying a man wearing soot-streaked clothes. The man’s head lolled around, and the parts of him that Abbee saw looked bruised and bloody.
“Open the door, would you, Tyber?” asked one of the new constables.
The remaining constable on the intake desk, Tyber, shook his head. “Sign him in first.”
“We’ll come back and do it. The bastard’s a torch, and he was free with the flames during his arrest. Gotta get him to some snuffer before he wakes up again.”
Tyber sighed. “Fine. I’ll be expecting you back, then.”
He pressed something under his counter. The heavy door clicked and popped ajar. The constables dragged the unconscious man past Abbee and into the precinct.
Through the open door, Abbee heard a familiar voice talking around the corner. She had stepped forward to look when an older woman with a round face and a brown ponytail tripped on the way out. She swore and stumbled.
Abbee caught her and set her back on her own two feet. “Hi, Whimsy.”
Whimsy smoothed her uniform and looked at Abbee, starting with her feet. She got to Abbee’s face, and her eyes flared with recognition. “It is you. I thought Martin was pulling my leg.”
“You haven’t changed at all,” Abbee observed. “You’re the only person I know who trips sitting down.”
Whimsy opened her mouth to retort but stopped. She searched Abbee’s face. “Something happened to you,” she said in a quiet, serious voice.
Abbee fought with a dark, terrible memory. A fresh memory. Anger pricked her. She pushed all that away and gave Whimsy a tight, forced smile. “Lots of somethings. I’ve been on the road a long time, and—”
“More like the road is on you,” Whimsy said, looking Abbee up and down.
“Yeah, well, I think my road days are over. Look, I barely recognize this place, and you’re the only person I could think of who might help.”
“What do you need?”
“I’m looking for someone.”
“Who?”
“Ipsu Billings. He’s got—”
Whimsy’s brows shot up. “That’s not a name I’ve heard for a very long time.”
“You know Ipsu?” Abbee asked, surprised.
“He used to train the constables,” Whimsy said. “Called me clumsy and unteachable. Don’t look at me like that. I know it’s true, but he didn’t have to say it in front of the whole precinct.”
“He doesn’t know how to be sympathetic,” Abbee said.
“Very true. For someone who asks ‘Who are you?’ all the time, he seems to form negative opinions about everyone a lot. How do you know him?”
“It’s a long story. I need help finding him. I don’t even know if he’s here in the city, but it’s a big place, and I’m only one person.”
“We can help with that,” Whimsy said. “We still do a lot of missing persons these days.”
“I’d be grateful,” Abbee said. “I also need a place to stay for a little while, until I get my feet under me. A line on a job too, maybe.”
Whimsy squinted at her. “How old are you now?”
“Nineteen,” Abbee said. “Why?”
Whimsy pursed her lips. “That’s perfect.”
“For what?”
“Academy’s next session is starting up in a few days. Could solve both your housing and your job problems in one go.”
Abbee realized what the other woman was saying. “What … really? A constable? Me? You serious?”
“Why not?”
Abbee had been thinking of something temporary, not permanent employment. Not a constable. Especially if Ipsu had left the city. She’d need to go after him. But … a constable. Maybe being a constable would let her search in places she couldn’t otherwise go. Abbee hadn’t considered it until now, but maybe it would be a way to honor Randall’s memory. Maybe she would find his family and thank them for producing such a fine person who had given her a chance. And maybe, just maybe, she could finally put down some roots. Abbee knew it was a fantasy. Her search for Ipsu and the truth would take her out of Akken if she didn’t find him in a few days. Still, the promise of a roof and food was enticing. Abbee could stay a couple of days.
She brushed a twig off her coat. “Not sure I’m cadet material.”
“Yeah, well, applications have been declining for years, ever since the House soldiers moved in, so we can’t afford to be choosy.” Whimsy wrinkled her nose. “We’ll get you some new clothes, though. There might still be a line, and it’d be unfortunate if you found it.”
“It’s not a terrible idea,” Abbee said. She gestured at Whimsy’s hip. “You don’t have wands anymore?”
“No,” Whimsy said, frowning. “It’s not the worst thing Parn’s done since cozying up to the Togrims, but it’s near the top of the list.”
Abbee remembered Parn Trippers. Remembered him from the alley and the chickens, and his involvement with the White Ring. She’d heard that he’d catapulted up to first constable on the night of the golems. Abbee knew Parn was on the Akken Council, along with Ekon and Sera Togrim. Lots of opportunities for cozying. He always seemed to be in the right place at the right time.
“How long’s the list?”
Whimsy snorted. “There’s not enough paper in the world for that.”