A Burning in the Bones (Waxways #3)

Chapter 18 Nevelyn Tin’vori

18 NEVELYN TIN’VORI

It was like watching the end of the world.

Over the course of the day, Nevelyn and her siblings and Josey had sat together by the bay window in her room. Witnesses to the fulfillment of Agnes Monroe’s dreadful prophecy. First there were the medics and paladins. Brightsword Legion activated every reserve unit. She’d never seen so many uniforms on the streets. It took less than an hour for the conditions of the city to outpace their efforts. Recovery units stopped visiting homes. Patients were forced to make their own way to Safe Harbor’s hospital.

Next came the market rush. People abandoned their work posts, or else slipped out of their residences, to buy everything they could. Long queues formed. The queues led to crowds. And the crowds quietly stumbled into something more like a mob. As they watched, a fight broke out near the back of one of the lines. The food stalls were running out. When the first punch was thrown—spinning a man unconscious to the ground—Nevelyn decided it was time for Josey to go to bed.

He groaned and mumbled but his own protests were interrupted by several ill-timed yawns. She tucked him in with a quiet good night. Nevelyn wasn’t one to pray—but as she closed the door, she paused on the threshold and muttered a proverb her mother had always spoken to them.

May darkness not knock at your door.

She wasn’t sure why she said it. She didn’t believe in prayers or fate. Nor did she fully understand the protectiveness she felt for Josey. It wasn’t until she walked downstairs, passing the secret door near the library, that Nevelyn realized he was the same age she’d been when a group of masked men crashed through the front doors of their estate all those years ago. It was hard to imagine sweet Josey hunched in that same darkness, hoping his hunters would not find him.

Nevelyn made a mental note to show Josey the passage. Tomorrow. Just in case.

When she returned to her room, Ava had dozed off in one of the armchairs. Dahvid had covered her with a blanket. The two older siblings sat and watched the events below, stoic and silent. The fighting in the crowd had intensified. Proper brawls were breaking out. Nevelyn spied a patrol of paladins approaching from the south. The trio had a brief discussion—then started walking in the opposite direction.

Now it really begins , she thought. The darkest hours come next.

If society’s normal shields would not step forward, the rule of the street would become law. All that mattered then was who was the biggest or who had the best magic. A glance in the other direction showed the neighborhoods of the Wedding Quarter. She saw families herding children back inside. Partners conversing. Many of them seemed unaware of the violence unfolding just around the corner. Each couple would send one person out. Perhaps in search of some final item the family needed. Bread or cheese or apples. She watched them walk past the Tin’Vori estate before turning the corner and coming face-to-face with the market scene. Some were wise enough to retreat. A few went forward, thinking they could help, and not realizing just how much danger they were in….

“Do you feel bad?” Dahvid asked quietly.

Ava was snoring.

“For what?”

“We have an excess of food,” he said. “They don’t have any.”

Nevelyn had already traveled down that particular rabbit hole. “You’re right. Let’s go open the front door. We can hand out care packages. How much of the crowd do you think we can feed before we run out? And do you think everyone will wait in a neat line to take their rations? Or do you suppose that it will end up looking like that ?”

Her words were punctuated by the outbreak of a magical duel. One man slashed the air with his vessel. There was a spray of blood. She thought she saw a severed finger, but she couldn’t be sure from this distance. Maybe it was a hand. A bright flash answered, sending him crashing into the nearest crate. It didn’t take long for the fight to echo. A stone dropped into a pool. Duels, both physical and magical, rippled across the whole market square. Chaos in a matter of seconds.

“Do you know how many people live in Kathor, Brother?”

Dahvid shrugged. “It’s been a long time since primary school.”

“Nearly three hundred thousand, according to the last census. What we’re watching is a small fraction of what is to come. There are still people at work that don’t even know a disease has reached the city. The next wave will be much worse. And the wave after that?” She shook her head. “We cannot shield an entire city. We can only try to survive. Do not make me apologize for saving the people I love the most in the world.”

She could see Dahvid wasn’t fully satisfied by that answer, but he made no reply. It was as much of an agreement as they could hope to reach on the subject. Below, the streets were emptying. The market had been picked clean. Most of the stalls had been damaged. Streams of people moved toward the Lower Quarter—perhaps hoping some of the other, larger markets were not yet overrun. There were warning bells ringing out over the city. They didn’t use them often, but she knew it was signaling for people to return to their homes. A curfew was in effect. The city’s leadership was asking for people to begin a quarantine.

Nevelyn could feel her eyelids getting heavy. It did not help that a light rain was beginning to patter on the rooftops. The city grew quiet and gray until her vision of it faded entirely.

Later, she awoke in discomfort. She’d fallen asleep in the chair. A massive knot had formed in her upper back. Her throat had run dry. Ava had slipped off to her own room. Dahvid too. She could not have said what time it was. The night lamps were all on. Nothing moved in the world beyond her window. The city a still painting stretching in every direction. All the doors looked like eyes that had been shut. The buildings like soldiers with slumped shoulders. Guards meant to be watching the city, derelict of their duties.

Nevelyn pushed to her feet, dreaming of curling up in bed, when movement caught her eye. Out along the rooftops. Nearly invisible. She squinted and saw that it was a gargoyle. One of the livestone creatures charged with protecting the city. She followed the direction it was heading and saw smoke quietly rising over the tops of buildings. A flickering red in the distant windows. There was a fire beginning to rage in the dark. She shook her head.

Better there than here.

Nevelyn stumbled wearily to bed. There was a half-filled pitcher of water on the table. She poured one cup, drank the entire thing, and then poured a second. She glanced one more time through the distant window. All the world was framed there with all its troubles.

“Stay out there,” she warned. “Leave us alone.”

And then she sank into the comfort of the pillows. Sleep took her. When morning came, she walked downstairs to find that the world had not listened: Ava was sick.