Dinner at Frank’s restaurant was so delicious that even Kevin had to admit the meal was time well-spent. Sabin spent the whole time avoiding any talk about the upcoming ceremony and joking about the old days. Kevin waited until the last possible moment and then gently suggested to Sabin that it was time to go.
Twenty minutes later, Kevin and Sabin trudged up the steps to the top of the east wall, the highest in the city. As soon as they reached the top, a cold wind slapped against them, stinging the skin on Kevin’s face. He was dressed warmly for summer—a leather jacket over a wool shirt—but still the icy air made its presence felt.
From the dour expression on Sabin’s face, it was clear he too was feeling the effects of the weather. Not that he would have been smiling in the most pleasant of conditions. Sabin hated the annual Passing Ceremony, and he probably would have canceled it by now if not for Kevin’s insistence. The warlord went along with it, but not without complaint.
“Anyone’s late, we mount their head on a pike.”
“I approve of this plan.” Kevin glanced down at his watch, an old family heirloom that had been passed from generation to generation. As a boy, he’d stared at it on his father’s wrist, wondering at the strange symbol and the word, Omega, on its face. “Two minutes until Urich shows.”
Sabin scowled and said nothing.
They waited for the start of the ceremony in silence, watching the staircase on which their first supplicant would arrive.
When they had thirty seconds left, Kevin turned to Sabin. “Happy anniversary.”
“You too,” Sabin said. “Three years of peace. It’s longer than some rulers get.”
“Probably longer than most.”
Just as the second hand of Kevin’s watch touched the twelve, Urich appeared on the staircase. He moved slowly, limping along, his left leg dragging behind him a little. Sabin had given him that injury, as well as the jagged scar that cut across his face from eyebrow to chin. But that was all in the past.
Urich wore a thin gold chain around his neck, a large key hanging from it. Normally, that key belonged to Sabin, but Kevin had given it back to Urich the previous day for the purposes of this ceremony.
When Urich reached them, he glanced at Kevin. Kevin nodded, acknowledging that it was time to begin. The scarred man bowed his head and cleared his throat.
“I come before you with the key to the south west gate. Once, I controlled the gate as well as that part of the city. Now, on the third anniversary of our Peace Charter, I once again offer you my key and my loyalty. Let this be an annual reminder of the vows I’ve sworn to you.”
With that, he took the chain off his neck and offered it to Sabin. The warlord took it and put it around his own neck.
“Thank you, Urich. I accept your vow of service. And so the Peace will continue. I am the Warlord of Wicker City. My second- in-command is Kevin Matheson. In this city, you stand above all other men but the two of us.”
Urich reached out his hand and the two men shook. Then Urich shuffled off.
“One down,” Sabin muttered when the scarred man was gone.
Dalvin, the lieutenant of the west side, was the next to arrive. The ceremony played out again, with Dalvin vowing his loyalty and handing over the key, and Sabin reasserting the hierarchy in the city—Sabin, then Kevin, then the lieutenants.
Wade came next. He was the youngest of the lieutenants, and perhaps the most bitter even three years after his surrender. He’d been seen as something of a wonderkid before Sabin had defeated him. He might still carry a grudge, but Kevin made sure he didn’t have enough power to do anything about it. Grudge or not, he said the words and passed his key just like the others.
McDowell was the fourth arrival. He was a towering man who stood nearly seven feet tall. His expression was always the same, guarded and unreadable. He’d controlled a gang that some had considered a cult. It had been built on stoicism. Unlike the rest, he’d shown no emotion when he surrendered three years ago, and he showed none when he said the words that night.
Then, McDowell was gone, and there was only one lieutenant left.
Kevin glanced over at Sabin. He looked odd with the four large keys hanging around his neck. They appeared to be more of a burden than a gift. But the warlord stood ramrod straight—if the weight of the keys bothered him, he didn’t let it show.
A moment later, Peter stepped out onto the roof. The key around his neck was larger than any of the others, a sign of the size of his territory. He marched up to Sabin purposefully and looked him in the eyes for a long moment before bowing his head.
“I come before you with the key to the southern gate. Once, I controlled the gate as well as that part of the city. Now, on the third anniversary of our Peace Charter, I once again offer you my key…” He paused, clearing his throat. “I offer my key and my loyalty. Let this be an annual reminder of the vows I’ve sworn to you.”
He slowly took the key off his neck and handed it over.
Sabin regarded him for a moment before replying. “Peter, I accept your vow of service. And so the Peace will continue. I am the Warlord of Wicker City. My second-in-command is Kevin Matheson. In this city, you stand above all other men but the two of us.”
The two men shook, and Peter headed back down the staircase without another word.
“See?” Kevin said. “Was that so painful?”
Sabin didn’t answer. Instead, he walked to the edge of the wall and looked over.
Most anyone who stood on the top of this wall looked outward, past the massed gathered near the gates and toward the Elsewhere. When you spent all your life inside a city, it was only natural to wonder what was outside and to take a look when you got the chance. But Sabin was different. He always looked inward toward the city. His city. Wicker City was his world. It was all he cared about. He lacked the common curiosity most had to learn about the outside, perhaps because he knew how many problems there still were to solve within these walls. It was one of the things Kevin respected most about the man. Most warlords were driven by a mindless need for power and resources. Sabin truly wanted the best for his people, though he was often willing to go to extreme measures to bring his dream into reality.
“You were right about tonight. It did bring me clarity. It reminded me what we came through to get here.”
That surprised Kevin. “Good. I’m glad.”
“And you’re right about the New Gold, too. Once we close that deal and take delivery, we’re going to build Wicker City into something spectacular.”
“Yes. We certainly are.”
Sabin looked out over the city and its dim lights, some from candles, some from lanterns, and a few from electric bulbs. Then he turned to Kevin. “I’ve been lax lately, but that’s over now. I’m taking this seriously again. Starting with Elena’s investigation. I want daily updates.”
“Won’t be a problem.” Once again, his boss had caught him off guard. Normally, he just let Kevin handle such things.
“She’s a good one, that daughter of yours. You’re going to have to tell her the truth soon. About Thomas Young. And about her mother.”
Kevin swallowed hard. “Yeah. I know. I didn’t want to lie to her. She just surprised me, showing up like that.”
Sabin shrugged. “I’m not judging. I’m just telling you what has to be done. Make it happen.”
“I will.” Kevin had known since Elena arrived that he needed to have that conversation with her. He just kept pushing it off further and further. But Sabin was right. It had gone on too long.
Sabin turned back toward the city. “I sent her to investigate Peter.”
Kevin raised an eyebrow. “Really? That’s a dangerous assignment.”
“She can handle it.” He kicked at a small rock, sending it tumbling over the side of the wall. “I made a decision tonight as Peter was handing me his key. I decided that he’s dangerous. This can’t continue. If Elena finds anything, we’re going to act. If there’s even a shred of evidence he had anything to do with Knox, Peter has to die.”