Chapter Nine
CHAPTER NINE
Sarai’s first day of trials began with stormfall.
She kept to herself on the journey to the vigile station, unsure of how to act around Kadra after his pronouncement at Decimus, and stayed out of the way while Kadra’s people loaded their mounts with pens, inkwells, and parchment in between shooting her the occasional glower. By the time they were done, Edessa was roaring to life with the sun, bright-eyed tradesfolk preparing to hawk their wares under a lightening sky.
Following Kadra out of the station, she stared when he dismounted at a bazaar where—to her bewilderment—he drew up a seat at a shopkeeper’s table. Queues wriggled to life within seconds, and Sarai suddenly found herself the focus of every Urd in the vicinity as Kadra quite literally prepared to hold court.
Here? Lost, she watched his vigiles clear the center of the market to place two chairs there, rudimentary seats for the plaintiff and the defendant. She’d heard of fancier goings-on in Sal Flumen.
“Petitor Sarai, you’ll sit at the other end.” A familiar vigile with deep lines marring his forehead indicated a chair at the opposite corner of the table from Kadra’s.
The one at the main gates when I arrived . He’d also been at the Robing. “Thank you. Gaius, isn’t it?”
He gave her a stiff nod, and her smile drooped. Harion was right. These people would never forgive her for publicly disobeying Kadra. Sighting the disapproval souring many a face in the audience, she sat down, feeling small without anger to buoy her.
Kadra unrolled a petition. The crowd fell quiet as he read out the plaintiff’s name. An irritated man elbowed his way to the front and sat in the plaintiff’s chair. And the strangest court session she’d ever heard of began.
With zosta active, she focused on the plaintiff and outraged defendant as they made their cases. At the plaintiff’s first lie, she turned to Kadra, unsure of how to bring it to his attention. She found him already watching her, silently asking how she wanted to do this.
She steeled her nerves and spoke to the crowd. “He’s lying.”
Some spectators gave her dubious looks but most gasped, riveted. She released a breath. At least they weren’t throwing tomatoes.
When it came time for judgment, she was a bundle of nerves. The plaintiff, guilty of theft of an astronomical sum of denarii, and now perjury, fell to his knees before Kadra, pleading for mercy.
She winced. Dear Lord Fortune, please let him take a finger. She couldn’t stomach a repeat of Ennius’s pyre.
“A year in the mines,” Kadra announced pleasantly.
What? She stared when two vigiles seized the struggling man and dragged him away. Turning back to Kadra, she stiffened at the cruel edge to his smile, like a knife catching sunlight, telling her that he knew what she’d expected. Swallowing, she reached for the next petition, feeling rather like he’d taken a knife to her insides.
She kept up with the first ten trials, transcribing judgments as quickly and legibly as she could. Then, they started to blur. Plaintiff, defendant, her Examination of both while they spoke, Kadra’s verdict, repeat. Barely registering the hundreds squeezed into the bazaar, she only broke focus from writing to interject when she’d caught a lie. But that didn’t stop the whispers.
“That’s the northerner who defied Tetrarch Kadra,” she caught a particularly loud one. But even more concerning than the dirty looks and tsking were the sly glances flicking quickly from her to Kadra as though manifesting some sort of … connection . Every time she caught Kadra’s gaze and gave her answer, a buzz ran through the crowd like she’d committed a crime.
Impervious to it all, Kadra threw her for a loop with every judgment. Be it estate management or negligence, he was suddenly following the very letter of the Corpus. Shaking her head as he handed out yet another reasonable verdict, Sarai wondered if two souls inhabited his body, one being Ruin’s spawn, and the other the soul of justice.
By noon, she’d Examined so many people that she had half-forgotten who she was and had a splitting headache to boot. A quick check of nihumb and zosta explained the latter. They glowed an ugly crimson, warning her that she was running low on magic. Passing Kadra a completed judgment, she closed her eyes in relief at the empty expanse of table between them. Praise the Elsar, we’re done.
“Wait!” A man stumbled out of the crowd, covered in bruises. An cut on his forehead bled down the side of his face. “Tetrarch Kadra! Please hear one more!”
Without thinking, she started to her feet when two well-dressed men emerged from the hubbub and seized the wounded man. Blood marred their knuckles.
“Ignore him,” one in a red tunic called to Kadra. “This is a private matter.”
“And this is my Quarter,” Kadra said in the too-calm tone she’d come to recognize meant danger.
The audience knew it too, because the bazaar fell silent. Seemingly realizing that he was out of luck, Red Tunic let the plaintiff go. Kadra nodded to a vigile who retrieved the man’s petition just as someone cleared their throat pointedly.
Behind her, Gaius groaned. “Fortune’s ass, not again.”
The onlookers parted for a stocky, pale-haired man in robes that made her suddenly very grateful that Kadra’s colors made them look like Death’s ferrymen. Gold, green, and blue, with bejeweled rings coagulated on every finger, the newcomer was the human embodiment of wealth .
“Why is he dressed like a bruise?” she muttered under her breath.
Gaius snorted, looking less antagonistic. “That’s Helvus, Metals Guildmaster. They’re Ur Dinyé’s most prominent Guild. A bit of a criminal group, too, the past few years.”
The Metals Guild again. Squinting at Helvus, she couldn’t imagine her younger self agreeing to go anywhere with him. “I thought people waited months for a scutum. Why would a Guild producing Ur Dinyé’s most in-demand commodity resort to crime?”
“Because they can. Forging scuta is slow, precise work, so supply is scarce. But need is always high, so the Guild sets what prices they want. They have the south at their mercy, so they’re untouchable.”
“Even by Ka—Tetrarch Kadra?”
“Without a Petitor, Tetrarch Kadra wasn’t allowed to hear any case against a favored Guild.” Gaius sounded outraged. “Helvus accused him of jailing people on baseless assumptions in other Guild cases.”
So there’s no love lost here . “Who are the favored Guilds favored by?”
Gaius began to respond when Helvus cleared his throat again.
“Tetrarch Kadra,” he drawled. “I’d recommend against hearing this now.”
“Recommendation noted.” Kadra unrolled the plaintiff’s petition. “Reason being?”
Helvus raised an imperious eyebrow. “This is your first matter involving my Guild, and my Guildsman has had no chance to prepare a defense.” Red Tunic crossed his arms, smug.
Kadra showed no signs of caring. “He can do so now.” He tilted his head at her in silent question, and at her nod, sent the petition rolling down the table’s distance to her.
“This is unwise—” Helvus stopped upon receiving the full weight of Kadra’s gaze.
“Step back, Guildmaster. Unless you’re including yourself as a defendant. ”
She skimmed the petition while Helvus stormed to the forefront of the crowd. Her breath caught at the charges. Praeripio , kidnapping, and wrongful detention, plagium .
“Sit,” Kadra ordered the plaintiff, who collapsed onto the chair. “Why do you accuse a Metals Guildsman of kidnapping?”
The man’s knobbly fingers gripped his knees. “I’m an engraver, my Tetrarch. A year ago, I borrowed fifty denarii from the Guild to purchase a chisel. I was ambitious. I thought I could pay it back. But when the time came a month later, I couldn’t even make the interest. After that, everything my family earned went toward the debt, but it grew and grew. So my son agreed to work it off at the Guild. We were told it would be paid in three months.” The plaintiff shot Red Tunic a bitter look. “It’s been six, and I haven’t seen him. I’ve begged. But they say I’m harassing him and that he doesn’t want to see me.” His voice broke.
“What are we to do if he’s better off without a useless father?” Red Tunic snarled. “The boy came to us , because you didn’t return our coin.”
Sarai bit her lip. Neither is lying . But that can’t be right . Red Tunic wouldn’t have beaten up the plaintiff or tried to stop the petition being heard if he was innocent.
Kadra tapped his pen against the table. “And the boy’s well?”
“He’s well and working, damn it! Who’d would want to return to a life of debt?”
He’s well. The remark stuck in her chest, vibrating disharmoniously. Shit .
Red Tunic threw up his hands. “See? No lies. What a fucking waste of time. And you ”—he stalked over to the plaintiff—“you’re going to pay for accusing me of—”
“You’re lying.”
A thousand pairs of eyes turned toward her. She swallowed.
Red Tunic looked like the dirt on his boots had started talking. “The northerner thinks she’s a Petitor. Look here, you’ve been announcing that this person and that are lying all day, but how do we know if you aren’t? Not like you’ve been properly trained.”
A few onlookers tittered, and for a second, she smiled. Because this , this was familiar. The eyes, the mockery. Instincts of over eighteen years reared their head, telling her to make herself small, to nod, and smile, and agree with all they said to save herself pain. But this wasn’t Arsamea. And she wasn’t a barmaid anymore.
“I have no reason to lie,” she said calmly. “Can you tell me that the boy’s well? That he doesn’t want to see his father?”
“He’s eating well, drinking well, and shitting well. Going to say I’m lying?”
A cacophony of sound thrummed through her. “You are,” she whispered. “Is he alive?”
“I don’t need to answer this,” Red Tunic sneered. “Not to some jumped-up northerner hiding behind a table. This is a private Guild matter.”
Biting her tongue before she could spit out a retort, she turned to Kadra, hating that she was going to have to ask him for help. Then, she saw where he was looking. Hunched over in his seat, the plaintiff stared at the ground, arms wrapped around himself, all hope gone. And this, too, was familiar. Hadn’t she done the same in Cretus’s shed? Holding herself together, weary of knowing she couldn’t win, wondering if she could simply sit and never get up again.
“I’ll ask you again.” She came out from behind the table to face Red Tunic. “Is he alive?”
He mimed locking his mouth. “What now? Will you Probe me? I won’t consent, so that’ll be assault. The likes of you …”
His voice dulled to make way for the sustained scream in her head. Think . If he wouldn’t answer, she needed an excuse to Probe him. But that was reserved for serious crimes, like homicidium or … assault. She looked at Kadra, still watching the plaintiff, at the rapt audience, at Red Tunic, now shoving his index finger in her face. She took a deep breath.
Lose your temper. Just a fraction .
Sarai laughed. “That’s a lot of big words from a man who tried to prevent this trial. Were you scared?” She scrunched her face in mock pity as he swelled. “Was that why you ran to your Guildmaster with your tail between your legs? And you call yourself a man—”
“You bitch!” In one step, he was before her, fist at the ready.
The irony. She’d taken his abuse for long minutes, and it had taken four sentences to enrage him. Dodging his first punch, she watched the second approach, bracing herself and slowing her movements so it would land. One hit and we’ve an assault charge. He threw his body behind the blow, and every second of it was all too familiar. North or south, cruel men were cruel men.
A rustle of fabric. The slap of flesh and a violent thud. But no pain.
She opened her eyes, bewildered at the absence of impact. Her mouth fell open. Kadra stood in front of her, one hand on Red Tunic’s wrist, having slammed it into the table hard enough to embed it within. The man screamed at his shattered knuckles as Kadra turned to her, his hard face frozen in what looked oddly like shock. Reeling, she stared back, completely lost on why he’d stopped the blow. Silence spread between them and hung among the stunned crowd, before she found her tongue.
“Is the boy alive?” she stammered.
Kadra glanced at a still-screaming Red Tunic. Whatever the man saw in those eyes immediately loosened his lips.
“He’s alive, damn it.”
True . She nodded at Kadra, muttering a prayer of thanks to the Elsar.
“You’ll return him.” Kadra leaned against the table, ignoring Red Tunic’s attempts to dislodge his broken fingers. “Any others like him?”
A familiar throat cleared itself. Looking furious, Helvus stalked over to Kadra. “That’s irrelevant. This trial has only one plaintiff.”
Her heart sank. True . The Corpus only allowed for a victim or their families to petition for relief. If the other debt-slaves’ families didn’t know that they were being held prisoner, then there was no rescuing them. The law needed a plaintiff, a defendant, and a well-attested crime to rouse itself from slumber. Feeling hollow, Sarai returned to her seat to transcribe.
“The boy shouldn’t have agreed to work if he wasn’t up to the rigor,” Helvus argued. “Or his father would have done well to pay his debts. Tetrarch Tullus will hear about this if we’re punished for abiding by the laws of business.”
“Profit above all, yes.” Kadra looked bored. “Debt-slaves are still illegal, Guildmaster.”
“The boy agreed! And any harm is superficial.”
Glancing at the now-sobbing plaintiff, she tightened her fingers around her pen. But there wasn’t much more that even Kadra could do. The Corpus dictated that punishment for wrongful detention was damnatio ad metalla , time in Ur Dinyé’s notoriously harsh mines. That time would be whittled down by the mitigating factors here: the initial debt, the boy’s gender, that he’d come willingly, even that he hadn’t died. The plaintiff would be lucky if Red Tunic got six months.
At the end of Helvus’s tirade, Kadra nodded. “He’s going to the mines for a year.”
“The Metals Guild is the lifeblood of—”
“Without an arm.”
She dropped her pen as chaos exploded across the bazaar, cheers clashing with the Metals Guildspeople’s outraged yells. A primal shudder shot through her when Kadra smiled, pondering a terrified Red Tunic—who’d ripped his hand from the table—with terrible anticipation.
Helvus’s thick knuckles clenched. “This has gone on long enough.” He snapped his fingers at a Guildsman. “Inform Head Tetrarch Aelius that this man needs to be reined in. Your nonsense may fly in this Quarter, Kadra, but I will not have my men mutilated for—”
“Assault,” Kadra supplied mildly.
Assault?
“Whom did I assault?” Red Tunic yelled, above the Guildspeople’s furor. His gaze snagged on her, and he sneered. “Her? I didn’t strike her! ”
“No,” Kadra agreed. “You struck me.”
The man went stock-still with an almost piteous gasp of horror. Sarai’s jaw dropped.
He’s brilliant. “Anyone who inflicts harm upon a Tetrarch loses the offending limb,” she recited from the Corpus, “be it hand, eye, or tongue.”
How many steps ahead had Kadra been plotting when she’d set her plan into action?
Red Tunic fell to his knees. “Forgive me, Tetrarch Kadra. I’ll pay in lieu of my arm. As much as you want! The Guild will assist!” He turned pleading eyes to Helvus, who huffed and turned on his heel, pushing through the crowd.
“Cold,” Gaius remarked, then rolled his eyes. “A moment, Petitor Sarai.”
He strode to where Red Tunic had managed to free his hand from the table. The Guildsman sprung toward the crowd, attempting to make a run for it, just as Gaius gripped his tunic and dragged him back to the table, right between her and Kadra.
Bile flooded her mouth at the song of metal being unsheathed. Kadra’s sword gleamed in the sunlight, as another vigile came to Red Tunic’s side to hold his arm widthways across the wood.
“I beg you, please not my hands.” Red Tunic—gods, she still didn’t know his name—clawed at the vigiles. “Don’t take my livelihood! It’ll never happen again!”
Kadra’s teeth flashed. “That’s what I’m ensuring.”
He brought the sword down before she could look away.
An ugly crack. Blood sprayed across the table and into her inkwell. The arm hit the ground, lopped off below the shoulder, bone flashing white. She couldn’t breathe.
Screaming, the man scrabbled in the dirt, gripping the limb and pressing it to the gaping wound as though the seam would mend itself. “I need a healer! Bring me a healer!”
Kadra raised a hand. The limb burst into flame, withering quickly as Red Tunic howled .
And the quiet, monstrous part of her smiled.
She stood so quickly the world spun and stumbled over to the plaintiff. He stared blankly at the proceedings. Her eyes burned. All this bloodshed, and no one had asked what he’d wanted.
She knelt beside him. “Are you alright?”
“Yes.” She stilled when a bloodthirsty grin split his face. “Yes, Wrath be praised. The bastard deserved it.” He gripped her hands in his worn palms, and she halted a flinch. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Seeing justice.”
The heat behind her eyes spread like a stain. She looked away, looked inside to the black force caged in her head, grinning wide. Something she didn’t want to name clogged her throat.
“Yes,” she whispered. Gods forgive me. “It feels good.”
The crowd dispersed as Kadra called an end to court and discussed Red Tunic’s transport to the mines with his vigiles. Numbly returning to her now-blood-spattered judgment, Sarai blotted it with her sleeve, watching red vanish into the fabric. She sighted a figure watching them from the bazaar’s gate. Helvus’s eyes darted from her to Kadra in the slow manner of a blackstripe bear surveying its prey before launching an attack.
The most prominent Guild in Ur Dinyé and I made an enemy of them . Her hands shook worse than ever as she smoothed out the scroll and began writing out Kadra’s verdict. She gripped her wrist with her left hand to steady it when a shadow fell over the parchment.
“I’ll finish it.” Kadra’s voice brushed the shell of her ear.
Her breath hitched. “Don’t make allowances for me. I need to get used to this if I’m to earn anyone’s respect.” She paused. “ Tibi gratias ago for stopping him earlier.”
A wrinkle formed between his eyebrows. “You would have dealt with him anyway.”
“And gotten my cheekbone broken. I know you didn’t do it for me, but thank you. ”
The wrinkle deepened. “You’re my Petitor,” Kadra said softly, like he hadn’t tried to make her leave the job at the Robing. “No hand can strike you.”
Does that include yours? She couldn’t move when he took the parchment from her. Suddenly, it was all too much. The harsh sunlight, the buzzing of people in the bazaar, the bloodstains on the table. Him.
“Am I …” Her voice came out ragged, and she tried again. “Are we done today?”
Studying her, he nodded. “Gaius will accompany you back.”
She bowed stiffly, not insisting on finishing the damned judgment or asking why he wasn’t coming with her. She’d only taken one step away when he spoke again.
“You did well.”
Her guard cracked. Storming off to her horse with Gaius trailing after her, she dug in her heels, fighting tears all the way to Aoran Tower. A single realization tormented her throughout.
Kadra hadn’t lied once all day.
This time, when the knock came at her door, she was ready.
Sleep had eluded her for hours. Upon her return to Aoran Tower, Cato had taken one look at her and made a lovely orange and honey brew in what seemed to be a never-ending apology for a minor bit of deception. But the nightmares had still found her, garish visions of Jovian’s mangled body coming to life on the ice block, pleading for justice.
Staring at the ceiling, she’d tried to rationalize Kadra’s actions that day. Even evil men performed a few decent deeds, didn’t they? Nothing changed the fact that Kadra had been present the night of the Fall and hadn’t mentioned that pertinent fact even with the discovery of Jovian’s letter. He isn’t after justice , she reminded herself. He just likes blood.
So when the knock came again, her shield was firmly in place. Scars hidden, she drew the bolt open. “I’m ready. ”
Mercifully clothed, but entirely in black instead of his customary robes, Kadra gave her a rapid but piercing assessment, stern mouth pulling into a line. “You haven’t slept.”
“I’ve enough magic for another day of trials. That’s all you need, isn’t it?”
“Not today.” He handed her a tunic and trousers exactly like his own. “I’ll be outside.”
Her eyes narrowed at the clothing. Black. Nondescript . “What’s this for?” she called, but he’d left.
Dressing quickly, she found Kadra saddling two unfamiliar horses.
“Wherever we’re going, you don’t want to be recognized,” she accused.
A sliver of a smile. “On the contrary, I probably will be recognized. But this creates plausible deniability.”
Dread seized her. “Where are we going?”
“To the remaining debt-slaves.” He inspected a vicious-looking knife before tucking it into her saddlebag.
“But we don’t have a petition! Do we even have a warrant?”
His ferocious smile was confirmation enough. She took a step back in disbelief. Is there ever a day when he doesn’t abuse his power?
“The Metals Guild is a piece of work, but shouldn’t we, at least, try to play by the law?”
“The law is a game the powerless play and lose.” Having mounted his horse, Kadra stared down at her with perilous intensity. “Coming?”
This is illegal. She only had to hop on that horse and ride east to Cobhran Tower to bring Aelius’s wrath down on Kadra’s head.
“Fine,” she heard herself mutter instead.
Following him out of Aoran Tower, she told herself that this wasn’t a mistake. She could just as easily inform Aelius later. Better to observe how he operated and let the bodies he left in his wake shatter her ridiculous awareness of him. Perhaps there’d be a clue about the Fall in this Guild establishment they were sneaking into. Perhaps .
Out of the Academiae and down the citadel, they rode to the north of Kadra’s Quarter, where the cobblestone roads petered off into dirt trails by the city’s outer ring of farmland. Kadra dismounted several yards from a shabby domus, unremarkable but for the Guildsmen guarding it.
“Here.” He passed her a thick strip of black cloth.
Resigned, Sarai tied it around her nose and mouth, pocketing the knife he’d packed her. “I gather we’re taking every precaution except the legal ones.” Wrath’s cursed blade, am I a bandit or a Petitor?
“Both decide who lives and who doesn’t,” Kadra said mildly, and she realized she’d said it aloud. “It comes down to if you prefer the robes.”
Sarai gave him a withering look and paused. Masked, his eyes held an enigmatic sort of mischief that struck her silent. Evil men joke, too , she told herself, extinguishing the part of her that wanted to chuckle. He was there the night of the Fall.
She crossed her arms. “How are we doing this?”
“Uncomplicatedly.” Leaving their horses, he walked toward the front door. The two burly Guildsmen dropped their hands to their swords the moment he entered their line of vision.
“Halt!” one roared. “Identify your—”
Fire engulfed the door behind them and both men sprang away, shrieking. Her head swiveled from the door to Kadra’s raised index finger.
“How many debt-slaves do you have inside?” he asked pleasantly, and her jaw dropped.
I thought we were keeping a low profile! There was no one within city limits who wouldn’t recognize that voice.
“Who the hells are you?” the first man demanded. She stared. Apparently, she was wrong.
The man charged, blade aloft. Unconcerned, Kadra sidestepped the slash, hooked an arm around the man’s throat and squeezed. A sickening crack filled the night air. The man fell, unmoving.
Her pulse halted. There’s the monster. She forced herself to take in the Guildsman’s open eyes and sagging mouth, death so new that he hadn’t registered it. Perhaps he hadn’t been involved in the debt-slave ring beyond serving as a sentry. He could have been a father, a husband. Or you’re writing epitaphs to justify that he tried to protect the ring even after it was clear why Kadra was here , the vicious part of her hissed.
Meanwhile, the other guard had fallen to his knees, arms raised in surrender. “There’re ten slaves inside,” he blurted out. “And two more guards.”
Knocking him out, Kadra moved his hand in a tugging motion, and the fire spreading across the front door trailed toward a stockpile of logs to crackle there merrily. Still shaken, Sarai followed him through the charred door. He hugged the shadows, glancing back occasionally to see if she was floundering. She gave him an exasperated look after the second time. Sneaking was a skill embedded in every tunnel rat.
The domus was built on a single level. Past the vestibule, the atrium’s courtyard was populated with stone ovens, hammers, anvils, and all manner of tools, the square roof opening allowing for rainwater to drain into a pit of black water, likely used for smithing. The courtyard walls were lined with barred cells where huddled figures stared through the gaps in the metal, looking lost.
Fury boiled in her. She nearly started toward the cells when a shadow crossed the courtyard. The two remaining Guildsmen . Beside her, Kadra was one with the dark, a blade to its sheath. Alert, yet unruffled. He was clearly no stranger to nights like this.
“They’re on either side of us.” His breath brushed her hair.
Shivering, she followed his gaze to a pair of oblong shadows at the far back of the courtyard.
“Stay here.”
Before she could hiss her outrage, he strolled out of their vantage point and raised a palm in the direction of the Guildsman on the left. She saw the second his tunic caught fire. Batting frantically at the blaze, the man ran across the courtyard and threw himself into the water pit, and right into Kadra’s grasp.
While they fought, Sarai spotted a flicker of movement on her left. The inky spot where the previous man had been hiding separated into two. Each figure slunk behind a pillar. Her breath seized. The Guildsman outside had lied about there being two men inside.
On the other side of the courtyard, Kadra had dispatched Burnt Tunic and engaged what he probably thought was the last guard. He ducked a wild swing that placed his back to the two hidden Guildsmen. Moonlight winked off their blades as they flanked him, creeping closer.
She moved without thinking. Gripping the knife Kadra had given her, she slipped out of her hiding place, melting into the dark. Her breath came fast.
Steel rang in the courtyard. Kadra’s sword pierced the chest of the guard he was fighting. The Guildsman behind him raised his knife at the same time she did.
“Watch out!” She let her knife fly right as the Guildsman jerked at the realization that Kadra wasn’t alone.
It hit him square in the shoulder. Pivoting, she grabbed a discarded board and jumped in front of Kadra just in time for the other guard’s blade to thud into the wood. The impact sent her stumbling back into Kadra, who regarded her as if she’d done something utterly baffling.
“I—” her breath cut off when he locked an arm around her waist and thrust her behind him. His sword rose, dripping crimson. Halting it at one of their necks, he traced a thin line.
“The keys to the cells,” he said, his tone soft and lethal.
“You’re trespassing,” blustered the Guildsman with Kadra’s sword to his jugular. “Our scout’s already on the way to inform the Guild.”
“Even if that were true, the mines will have you before your Guild arrives.”
The man chuckled. “Do you know who I am? Every Minewarden knows my name. I’ll be out in minutes.”
Kadra’s teeth gleamed. She’d seen Arsamean wolves grin like that before they tore into rabbits.
“Then I’ll just have to ensure that no one knows your names.” He moved like lightning, a black storm cloud gliding behind them to slam their heads on the closest anvil. Ripping the knife from the first man’s shoulder, he cracked the hilt into his mouth and gripped the man’s tongue when he screamed. Then, the blade descended.
In two breaths, both men’s tongues dropped to the dirt. Their fingers joined them several screams later. Torn between revulsion and awe, she could only watch the blood trickle through gaps in the stone, indelible.
Metal glinted from the pocket of a guard Kadra had killed earlier. Sarai stooped to grab the keys and halted at the sight of a glass-paned door that provided a perfect view of the courtyard behind her. She laughed, a miserable ghostly thing. He hadn’t needed her help earlier. He’d seen the hidden men coming and let them think they had the upper hand.
Catching his sidelong glance, she busied herself unlocking the cells. The captives had pressed away from the walls during the fighting, but now eyed her with desperation, stumbling out when she pulled the doors open. Most were able-bodied adolescents, only a few years younger than her.
“They worked us like animals,” a girl raged, stretching out hands toughened with calluses and burns.
“There’s nothing they didn’t do to us here,” another rasped. His first move upon leaving his cell had been to bludgeon every piece of equipment in the courtyard. He spat on the now-tongueless Guildsmen. “Elsar be praised for you both.”
Hollow, she shook her head. “I did nothing.”
She repeated the refrain through every tearful thanks and nod of gratitude. By the time Gaius showed up to help the children return to their families—or renounce them—and cart the men off to the mines, she was wrung out. Sitting on an upturned bucket, she cleaned and oiled Kadra’s knife while he instructed his vigiles on where to dispose of the bodies. When the hushed voices came to a stop, she knew her reprieve was over.
Odd how she could tell his footsteps at a distance now, the eerie pad of a predator. She held out the blade when he loomed over her. “I know. I shouldn’t have jumped in earlier. Like you’d ever be in danger.”
The stern line of his mouth quirked. “It’s happened. ”
The fool’s probably fifteen feet below ground. Dismembered . “They didn’t recognize you.”
“Not everyone knows what their politicians look like.” A breath. “You did more than ‘nothing.’”
Her every muscle went still. “No.” She raised her eyes to his. “No, I didn’t have zosta active, so I didn’t know that Guildsman had lied about the number of guards inside. I didn’t survey the landscape to note the glass door and interfered when you knew what you were doing. I struck that Guildsman’s shoulder when I should have gone for his neck for what he put these children through. And if it had been up to me, I may not have come here at all. I’d have waited for a fucking petition and a warrant and let everyone here suffer while I stuck to the formalities, because even though I care nothing for the law, I thought I was duty bound to adhere to it.” Her voice had risen steadily until she realized she was shouting. She took a deep breath, shame coursing through her. “I did nothing .”
The irony was that she wouldn’t have thought twice about aiding anyone in Arsamea. But in the six days she’d been a Petitor, the weight of that mantle had grown. In the bazaar with everyone watching, at Cobhran Tower with Tullus eyeing her like a cut of meat, and at the Robing with Kadra waiting for her to fail. Every instinct had screamed caution. But her hesitation hadn’t helped anyone. And the man she’d condemned had.
Dark eyes roved over her face. “You came.”
She stood, squaring her shoulders. “Not for the right reasons.”
A pause. Then he bent toward her, and her pulse jumped. “Was taking measure of me the only reason you came?”
He knew. Frozen in dejected horror, she gave him the truth. “No.”
“There.” That glorious voice wrapped around her heart like a fist. “I’ve little use for perfection, Petitor Sarai. I won’t hold you to it.”
This was manipulation. He was watching her even now to gauge his effect. But by all the gods, how she foolishly wanted to believe him.
She stared at her feet. “I’m still not choosing you. ”
“Of course.” Amusement back in his eyes, he returned the knife to her. “Keep it. That was a precise throw earlier.”
“Every snowgrape harvester learns to throw a knife. It was—”
“Nothing?” he finished dryly, tilting his head outside. “Come, Petitor Sarai. Adjudication awaits. We’ve a great deal more nothing to complete before noon.”
She stared at the curve of his lips, at the spray of blood across one cheekbone. And it all came together with devastating silence. The caged force in her head ceased to rattle its bars because she finally understood.
Perhaps, just perhaps, it didn’t matter if he was after justice or just wanted a reason to kill. And perhaps the gods despised her more than she’d fathomed. Because the madman she’d set out to ruin was everything the most desperate, anguished parts of her had always craved.
And he was still hiding that he’d been there the night of her Fall.