I thought I had known what to expect, a town confused by the sudden change in power. A town wondering where their Patrei was. A town waiting for something to happen. Anything.
But it already had.
The first thing I saw was the damage. The remains of a building that once housed a pub and apartments stood abandoned, splintered timbers poking out of the rubble like broken bones. A little farther down, an eight-foot crater gouged out half the cobbled street. Wagons maneuvered around, pretending it wasn’t there.
But the damage was the least of it. When I looked up, I saw soldiers stationed overhead. Everywhere. They manned the skywalks and roofs like birds of prey, their dark cloaks waving in the wind. How many mercenaries did he hire? Where did he get the money? The power astounded me.
The soldiers on the ground carried the usual types of weapons, swords, halberds, and such, but the ones on rooftops or skywalks were equipped differently. Slung over their shoulders were shiny metallic weapons, each about four feet long. I had never seen anything like them before, but I was certain these were the launchers that Jase had described to me. From their vantage points, they saw everything—and they were strategically out of reach of anyone who might try to overcome them and seize their formidable weapons. This wasn’t a town that was being protected. Rybart and his men were dead and gone. Now it was a town that had been invaded, and these soldiers were there to squelch any opposition.
A pervading grimness hung in the air. The sky was gray with winter. Frost dulled the windows and cobbles. Even the people were gray, their cloaks pulled tightly about them against the cold, their faces shadowed by scarves, hoods, and hats as they went about their business. A few heads turned as I passed, curious, but unable to get a good glimpse of me beneath my hood.
A bell rang out. Last bell. The clang shivered through my teeth. People stopped what they were doing and headed toward the plaza. By order of the king? Or from genuine hunger for news? Some sort of hope? The hope I could not give them.
I turned the corner and was stopped by the sight of the temple, another gaping hole in the city. Only the bell tower and the altar remained standing—the rest was rubble. The broken statues of saints stared heavenward. The air was punched from me, and I stared, not quite believing it. It had been the beautiful focal point of the entire plaza, its white marble walls casting an ethereal glow over everything. Now, instead of a sanctuary, it looked like a passage into hell. Jase had told me what his launcher was capable of—and it was not this. Unless Beaufort hadn’t been honest about what it could do. And of course, Beaufort was not honest about anything.
“The temple was a rat’s nest for loyalists. It had to go,” Banques explained. “It will be rebuilt when the last of them are gone.”
I had been so consumed with the temple I didn’t see what was above me—not until Banques glanced up. I followed the line of his sight and immediately turned my head and gagged. He grabbed my arm.
“Steady now,” he whispered. “Remember, you’re being watched, and you are the messenger who brings news of justice.” He lowered his voice. “Most important, remember who walks not far behind you. Take a deep breath now, and walk up those stairs with your head held high. Play your role respectably, as you should have done in the first place.”
My stomach churned as I climbed the steps to a platform overlooking the plaza. When I reached the top, I was surprised to find Garvin standing there. His eyes combed the streets and the approaching citizens.
“You’re working for them?”
His head dipped in acknowledgment. “Nothing personal. Someone else is meeting payroll now.”
“And that’s all it takes? A weekly wage?”
He shrugged. “It’s all business.”
“I suppose I should expect as much from someone who sells starving tigers to butchers.”
He grinned. “So you did recognize me after all those years.” He nodded like he was pleased that he wasn’t so forgettable after all.
“I mentioned your name to the queen. She said it was a pity I didn’t haul you back too. Something about trying to slit her throat?”
He shook his head. “That was only business too. A hired job. She took it too personally.”
He turned back to the streets he was eyeing. Looking for whom? Ballengers who had once employed him? I had to resist the urge to throw him over the rail.
Banques nudged me forward, and when I turned, I found I was now eye level with at least a dozen bodies that hung from the high branches of the tembris. I tried to force back the bile rising in my throat. The body closest to me was gray, his face covered with frost, small icicles hanging from his chin. I didn’t recognize him and began to avert my eyes from the rest, but not soon enough. A sick saltiness swelled inside my mouth. Hanging just past him was a body I recognized. Drake. One of Jase’s straza. Of course he was a loyalist. It was his job to be loyal!
I skimmed the other faces, afraid of who else I might find hanging, but more afraid not to look. Three bodies over from Drake I recognized another one. It was the dressmaker who had measured me for clothes. Her eyes were still open, sightless. My nails dug into my palms.
“She was hiding agitators,” Banques explained, as if that justified it. “We give every citizen a chance to cooperate and do what’s right. She chose not to, which made her a Ballenger accomplice and a danger to other citizens. Our job is to restore order and to make everyone feel safe again.”
I turned and looked at him. His voice again, familiar. Each syllable made the hairs on my neck rise. I knew him, but I didn’t. He went on, giving all the justifications. His story was almost word for word like the king’s, a repeated narrative, like an awl working wood, deepening a groove until it became a truth of their own making. We are keeping the town safe.
If they repeated it often enough, did they think that would make it true? That I would be fooled? That it would wash the blood from their hands?
“This is no way to protect a city,” I said. “You’re nothing but opportunists here to seize its wealth.”
He waved his hand, dismissing my accusation. “Let’s hurry this along, shall we? It’s cold and it’s getting late. The people want to go home. Let’s not keep our good citizens waiting.”
The king walked up the platform steps behind us with Nash still in his arms and Lydia at his side. Nash and Lydia didn’t seem to even notice the hanging bodies, or maybe they had become numb to them. What horrors had they already endured? Neither looked my way, as if they had been instructed not to, or perhaps before the city was seized, the family had made it known to them who had taken Jase away. Maybe they didn’t look at me because they couldn’t stand the sight of me.
The three of them moved to the opposite end of the platform, and the king set Nash down just in front of him, resting one hand on Lydia’s shoulder. He addressed the crowd, telling them that a premier soldier of the Queen of Venda had arrived with news that would help them to move forward, news that would close the door on the troublesome times they had been through. Better t