A Burning in the Bones (Waxways #3)

Chapter 21 Nevelyn Tin’vori

21 NEVELYN TIN’VORI

Nevelyn did not get sick, regardless of how much she hyper-focused on every soreness or ache. Josey also avoided the plague, though he seemed to be suffering from the incurable disease of boredom. Dahvid had initially seemed sick, but it turned out that he’d eaten some expired cheese. When Ava found out she was the only one, she’d instantly transformed into the world’s biggest brat. Nevelyn was genuinely worried for her—after all, it was an unknown disease—but the demand that they transport every book in the house to her room felt rather dramatic.

She didn’t have any sympathy until things got much worse. For lunch, she was delivering a tray of food and happened to spy Ava through a crack in the door. Her sister was leaning back against the cushions, teeth gritted, sweat running down her forehead. They’d all agreed to not enter the room, but Nevelyn could not do that. Not to Ava.

“I’m filling a bath,” she said, gliding into the room. She had her mask on with all its wards. That would have to be enough. “Come on. The warm water will feel good.”

Ava didn’t protest. She allowed her older sister to guide her. It was clear that without Nevelyn’s help, she would not have had the strength to pull herself over the rim of the great clawfoot tub. Ava groaned with instant relief as she was lowered into the frothing water.

“You can go,” her sister said, teeth still gritted. “I’ll be fine.”

Nevelyn ignored her. She went to the bedroom and found the book that Ava had been reading. She turned to the earmarked page, set out a stool, and began to read. Her sister didn’t ask her to leave after that. She sank deep into the water with her eyes shut against the pain. For the first time in weeks, Ava didn’t whine or complain. A temporary peace was found.

Afterward, she wrapped the poor girl in a towel, helped her into her pajamas, and ordered her to bed. She could hear the snoring before she’d even reached the door. As she turned the corner, she saw Josey at the top of the steps. He adjusted his body slightly as she approached, and she thought it could not be clearer that he was hiding something.

“What is that?”

He shrugged. “What is what?”

“In your hand. What have you got?”

He shrugged again, but this time he slowly turned to reveal a knife. Their father had kept it on one of the shelves in his study. A gift from a merchant who’d worked with him? In truth, she’d forgotten most of those stories. His words were always there. His face and his smile and his anger. But so many of the other details had already fallen through the cracks of her mind.

“Who let you have a knife?”

“Dahvid.”

A voice called from below. “That’s not true!”

That earned a third shrug from their ward.

“If you keep shrugging like that, your head’s going to roll right off your shoulders. Why do you need a knife?”

“There’s a mouse.”

She lifted one eyebrow. “And you’re going to catch it with that?”

A fourth shrug. Gods, he must be going for a record .

“Will this keep you entertained?”

His eyes widened hopefully. “Yes.”

“Don’t damage the house. Don’t damage the knife. Don’t run down the stairs. Don’t accidentally stab yourself….” She thought that covered most of it, but then she remembered that he was only nine and creatures that age lacked basic logic. “Don’t lick it either.”

He made a face at the last one before nodding. “The mouse or the knife?”

“Both.”

He nodded. “Deal.”

She watched him stalk down the hallway and knew it would only be unpleasant if he actually caught the poor creature. Sighing, Nevelyn headed back to her room. Their own drama felt small in comparison to what was unfolding outside. As the day spun on, the city seemed to briefly recover. Vendors ventured out to inspect the market. Some attempted to restore their stalls before a roaming group spotted them. There was a brief conversation, an even briefer snatch of violence. The two shopkeepers were forced to empty their pockets. The group shoved them away before continuing on to some other section of the city.

No paladins appeared. Kathor was still subject to a different set of rules. How long, she wondered, would this sort of anarchy last? The only real surprise was the total absence of the great houses. None of them had stepped in to establish any kind of order. She wondered if they were counting on these smaller forces that had formed in the city to batter against one another. Tire each other out, then they could return to put their boot down on the city’s neck just as the dust began to settle. It was also possible that Agnes Monroe’s boldest prediction had come true. Maybe the great houses had been hit by the plague with consequences just as devastating as everyone else.

The next phase was as predictable as the first. In the early afternoon, people were forced back into the streets. She knew only one thing could motivate such a risk: sustenance. She watched them knock at the back doors of local restaurants. Tapping windows of the local grocers. In some cases, they’d break the glass if no one answered. All of them searching and searching and searching. And it was all in vain. Every scrap had been claimed. For the first time, she felt guilty for how prepared they were—how little these people had. But the same problem existed now that had existed before. If they opened their doors and helped even one of these desperate wanderers—how quickly would the rumors lead back to their house? How long before they faced an angry mob of their own? All that mattered to her was their survival. Weather this storm. Make it to the other side.

As evening approached, she spied movement again.

A large carriage had pulled into the market. She watched the horses circle until they found a spot big enough to settle. Several people hopped down and began unloading. Their arrival was like carrion for vultures. In minutes, scavengers began to circle the location. Others crept out of their buildings in pure desperation. The packs returned too. Smaller groups who’d been working other sections of the city and now appeared to have found a proper prize. There was a collectively held breath, where everyone appeared to be waiting to see who would strike first. The people unloading took note. She saw pointing back and forth.

It would come to violence.

She waited for the first punch. The first slash of magic to cut through the air. Neither occurred. Nevelyn watched as the tops of the crates were popped open. Everyone was handed a few items. And then, to her surprise, they went on their way. Word spread quickly. More crates were unpacked. More boxes and cans passed out. For the first time, Nevelyn noticed that the original crew all wore the same red scarves. If not around their neck, then tied around a thigh or tight around one bicep. Maybe they’d been sent by the viceroy? Everyone who came was given food without argument. She watched until the crates had all been emptied.

Now, she thought. Now is when the violence resumes.

But she was wrong again. There was an initial reaction from the crowd. People pushing forward. That same desperation she’d witnessed in the market. A woman raised both hands, though. She called for quiet and they actually listened. Nevelyn was too far away to hear anything, but the woman spoke with emphatic hand gestures. When she finished, the crowd did not rebel. They didn’t try to steal the carriage or kill their unlikely benefactors. Instead, they dispersed.

Quiet as a dream.

Nevelyn bolted to her feet. She went to the window and started working at the latches. A pair of women who’d been in the crowd were passing on the street below.

“Wait! Excuse me!”

Both women looked up.

“What was that?” Nevelyn asked. “Who were those people?”

An exchange of glances. They were deciding whether or not to share what they’d learned. “Free food,” one of the women finally said. “They had free food for anyone who really needs it. Extra rations to see people through the next few days. But only if you’re hard up.”

“What did they say?” Nevelyn asked. “At the end?”

“Told everyone they’d be back tomorrow with more.”

“Who were they? Brightsword Legion?”

Nevelyn’s guess jolted a laugh from the woman. “Of course not. Those assholes retreated into their barracks and never came back out. The people handing out food were the Makers. All Lower Quarter folks. Through and through. Gods, I hope you weren’t holding your breath waiting for Brightsword to come and rescue you.”

And with that the two women continued down the street. Nevelyn’s eyes swung to the market. The group had finished loading the empty crates back into their carriage. Again, she noted their bright red scarves and ribbons. It was a clever touch. A memorable feature that others could see and recognize immediately. There was still a small crowd around them. The Makers waved, spoke briefly, and then allowed the horses to draw them away.

So, this was Agnes Monroe’s group. Nevelyn had been waiting for this next phase in their plan. A plague had spread. As promised. As intended . And she’d just witnessed step two. Nevelyn thought it was one of the cleverest kinds of violence she’d ever seen. A plague would be viewed as a natural disaster. No different from famine or drought. Few would know or believe that a specific group could play a role in the spread of such a disease. If the cause was seen as naturally occurring, then what mattered was the reaction to the plague. The Makers had perpetrated violence with their unseen right hand, and now shielded the population with their visible left hand. After all, who better to rescue from drowning than the one who’d been holding your head under water all along?

“How diabolical,” Nevelyn murmured.

Her eyes traced the tops of the buildings. At this hour, they were beginning to merge into a shapeless gray mass. A plan was clearly in motion now. First, the plague. Now, recovery and charity. What was the natural next step? Agnes Monroe had told her that everyone would have a choice. They would need to decide which road they wanted to walk down. As if this were some great turning point in all of human history. Which made the answer to Nevelyn’s question obvious.

Create a disaster.

Rescue the city.

And then? Ask for a reward.

The final step of the plan would be power .