Chapter 18

SATRINE IMMEDIATELY REGRETTED THAT GRIN, as it was greeted by Pra Yikenj’s fist. A hard shot, drawing blood on her lip, though her teeth stayed intact. She stumbled back, forced to release any hold she had on Yikenj.

Yikenj launched a flurry of attacks, hands and feet, but Satrine was ready for them, using the handstick to block. No fancy attempts to grapple her this time. She didn’t need to win, she just needed to buy time until backup came.

“You’re not as fast as I remember,” Satrine said, striking back with the stick.

“You should have let this be,” Yikenj said. “We are not your concern.”

Satrine took an opening for a jab, feinting toward Yikenj’s chin. She dodged, and then effortlessly blocked the real blow aimed at her chest.

“This is my stationhouse,” Satrine said. She couldn’t land another hit now that Yikenj was fully engaged. She was managing to keep Yikenj’s attacks from being devastating, but a few blows were getting through.

Fifteen years later, she was still incredibly outmatched. The fact that she was still on her feet was pure luck. Satrine needed to change tactics. Yikenj might be faster and more skilled, but that didn’t mean her bones weren’t breakable. Especially at her age.

Satrine let herself take a punch that gave her a bit of purchase on Yikenj’s arm. Taking the opportunity, despite the pulsing pain in her chest from the blow, she hammered the handstick on Yikenj’s arm; three hits as hard as she could until she heard a snap.

Yikenj was not impeded. Her other hand shot out at Satrine’s neck. “There is little reason to show you mercy now.”

Then she cried out, a cry so savage it surprised Satrine. She was certain Yikenj was about to kill her, but instead she bashed Satrine against the wall and let her drop to the ground. She strode toward the door, pulling a pointed crossbow bolt out of her broken arm.

“On your knees, hands behind your head,” Kellman said, his huge frame filling the doorway. He was reloading his weapon, while Satrine struggled to find her feet. Yikenj charged at him.

“Don’t speak Trade, tyzo?” he said, raising up his loaded weapon. He fired again, and his shot would have been true, but Yikenj plucked the bolt out of the air, throwing it right back at Kellman. He was struck in the chest.

Satrine gasped, surprised to see Kellman wasn’t felled by the shot. “She’s dangerous!” she shouted to Kellman.

“And I ain’t?” he said with a smirk, pulling the bolt out of his chest. He swung a meaty fist at Yikenj, but she dodged and grabbed his arm. She used the force of his punch to flip him onto his back.

Kellman coughed sharply as he hit the ground, and then had her foot come down on his chest, then his stomach, then his groin. He groaned in pain as she spun around and delivered another kick to his head.

Satrine was finally up as Yikenj walked back toward her, calm as anything, despite the fact that one arm was twisted at an impossible angle. Satrine raised up her handstick, ready for another bout with the Lyranan woman.

Without missing a step, Yikenj kicked up her bandolier from the floor, caught it over her broken arm, and drew two darts out, swift as a hummingbird.

Satrine didn’t even have time to realize that the darts had hit her square in the chest before she dropped back down to the ground, unable to move a muscle.

As she drifted into a gray haze, she heard Yikenj whisper in her ear, “You are fortunate I was instructed not to kill any constables. You have earned no mercy from me today.”

Clouded fire. Falling, burning. Words whispered in his ear.

Walking.

Minox realized he was walking, but he didn’t know where. Or for how long. Or why.

“Jabi—” he said. He wasn’t sure why. Words—thoughts—didn’t hold in his brain. Some went to his mouth. Everything was so hot.

Burning.

Minox tried to lift his hands in front of his face, so he could see them on fire. Eyes couldn’t focus. Hands and feet didn’t obey.

But he was walking.

“The purchase,” he said. It made sense a moment ago, but then it was gone.

“Shush,” a voice said. “Let’s just—” The voice continued, but it sounded so far away. Minox couldn’t hear the words. Or he heard them but they didn’t make sense as words.

“Wait,” Minox said. He was walking, but he could decide not to. Or his legs decided not to. He wasn’t in his body. He was a passenger.

He was on the stone. Wet. Cool on his burning flesh. He was sitting now. When had he sat down? He remembered walking. He remembered a room, an Imach man.

Corrie.

“Where’s Corrie?” he said. Words lost their purpose from mind to mouth. But he knew that he said things for a reason, and that reason mattered. He held on to that like an anchor. “Corrie?”

“I think she’s fine.”

The voice was familiar. Minox couldn’t figure out why, but it was known. Trusted. Moving in and out of hearing.

Hands were on his face. “You’re burning up.”

“Put it out,” Minox said. He was clearly on fire. Why didn’t this friendly voice with cool hands understand that? Why didn’t Joshea do something?

Joshea. That was who it was.

“Josh,” Minox said. “I . . . I . . .” Thoughts to words still were hard.

“I got you, Brother,” Joshea said. “What do you remember?”

Minox wasn’t sure what he even knew right now. “Where? Where are we?” Through the haze of fire and darkness, his friend’s face came into focus. No, there was light, light from Joshea’s hand. Bright and soft magic, Joshea in command of it, illuminating the brickface tunnel they were in.

“Sewer tunnels,” Joshea said. “Or something like that. I thought it would be worse.”

“How?”

Joshea’s cool hands on his head. “Really, tell me what you remember last.”

Minox forced his thoughts to find order, even though they wanted to spill in every direction. Think through the fire. “Jabiudal trying to kill Corrie.”

“You did something . . . astounding.”

“Magical?”

“Exactly. It was like you released a thunderstorm in the middle of the room. Lightning and fire blasted out of you.”

Minox tried to understand that. It made no sense. “Did I hurt anyone?”

“A lot of people, I think,” Joshea said. “I had a sense something was about to come out of you, and I managed to protect myself and Beliah. I don’t know about anyone else.”

“But how?” Minox asked. That was all he could get out; further thoughts clouded around his brain, unable to find a path.

“How did we get down here?” Joshea asked him. Minox managed to nod—Joshea understood. “You—once everyone was dropped you were in a state. You were on the floor, clawing at it. Then you pounded on it, and suddenly magic burst out of you again. Next thing I knew there was a hole, and before I could stop you, you dropped down.”

“And you?”

“I jumped in after you, did my best to catch us—you know, magically—before we both cracked our necks.”

“I—thank you. But where?” Minox hoped Joshea would understand.

“You don’t—I’m sorry. You’ve been delirious for the past half hour.”

“I still am.” Minox tried to pull himself to his feet. Nothing obeyed.

“You said the Tsouljans were the only ones who could help you.”

“And that’s where you’re taking me?”

“I was at a loss for a better idea. I mean . . . no offense to the sew-ups in Ironheart, but they wouldn’t be able to do anything for you.”

“Can anyone?” Minox said. In the pale glow of Joshea’s magic light, Minox lifted up his left arm. Now he felt almost nothing but heat and magic in it. The rest of his body was burning up, but it ached and protested. Not this ruined hand—pitch-black, almost shining like glass. “Did I do this to myself?”

“I don’t know,” Joshea said, looking around. “This is just dead reckoning, but I think we’re just about to the Little East. Another couple blocks this way, I figure.”

“But—” Minox was finding it hard to keep his thoughts clear. They wanted to run away from him. “Why are we in the sewers? Why not take the street?” That’s what he wanted to say, but he only heard his mouth say “Why . . . sewer . . . street . . .”

“Not until we’re closer,” Joshea said. “You do understand you filled a hospital ward room with lightning, yes? And you’re not right in your skull.”

“No,” Minox said. He wasn’t sure if he was agreeing or arguing with Joshea.

“I don’t trust your fellow sticks not to fill you with crossbow shots right now.” Joshea pulled Minox up onto his feet. “Let’s get you to the Tsouljans. It’s probably the best plan we have.”

Minox wasn’t able to do anything except allow Joshea to carry him along.

The Tsouljans could help. If they wanted to. There was something about them he had realized, he thought, but he couldn’t remember what it was.

Corrie went in the front door of the Welling house at full stride. She didn’t have a whole lot of time. The whole neighborhood was hip-deep in bilge and sewage, and Minox was on the verge of drowning.

“Oy,” she shouted out to the household in general. “Who’s about?”

“Corrie?” Mama and Aunt Zura came out through the dining room. “Are you all—oh my saints!”

Her eyes filled with tears as soon as she saw Corrie. Zura immediately kissed her knuckle and began mutter Acserian prayers.

“It looks worse than it is,” Corrie said. “Who else is home?”

“Just us and Mother Jillian,” Mama said. “And Evoy in the barn, of course.”

“Right,” Corrie said, peeling off her clothes and dropping them on the sitting room floor. “I need to clean up, get a bite and a fresh uniform, and get back out there.”

“Corrianna, are you mad?” Mama said. “I’m astounded you—you were in Ironheart, and you look like you should have stayed. Where is Beliah? Does she know—”

“No, she—” So much to say, and Mama wouldn’t want to take it. “Look, both of you, better sit.”

Zura took one of the chairs, still praying quietly. Mama took another. “Don’t you dare tell me Beliah is. . . . She . . .”

“No, she’s not dead, Mother,” Corrie said. Though she might have gotten a lot rutting closer than Corrie would want to admit. “A real mess went down at Ironheart. Beliah was in the middle of it, but they’re taking good care of her. She’s going to be fine.”

“And you?” Mama asked.

“What happened to your hair?” Zura finally asked.

“A crazy mach lady chopped it off,” Corrie said.

Zura muttered something about Imachs that made even Corrie’s ears burn.

Mama took Corrie’s hand. “Your hair, your eye—Corrie, I know your dedication to the Constabulary, same as anyone else in this family, but . . . for today you’ve done enough. Saints, dear, this is the first you’ve been home in two days.”

“Minox—” Corrie started to say. Mama needed to hear this.

“If Minox were here, I’d say the same thing.”

“Minox is in trouble out there, Mama.” She lowered her voice a bit. “You know how he—you know. Something went mighty wrong with him and he nearly destroyed Ironheart.”

“Wrong?” Mama flushed. “You mean like Fenner and Evoy?”

“No, I mean with—” Corrie shook her head. Mama was going to make her say it. “I mean the rutting magic.”

“Corrianna!”

“It’s the truth, Mama. He was a mess, shaking. One hand has turned black as pitch. He let loose a rutting thunderstorm in the middle of the ward.”

“He can do that?” Zura whispered. She got up from her chair and went into the kitchen.

Mama sat quietly for a moment. “So where is he now?”

“We don’t know,” Corrie said. “Somehow in the madness of it all he just . . . ran off. That’s why I’ve got to go back out there.”

“Why you, Corrie?”

“Because he’s a mess, and the other inspector put out an All-Eyes for him.”

“The woman Nyla hates?”

“Nah, not Tricky. She’s . . . I don’t even know. She wasn’t there. One of the other ones. An All-Eyes with every steve and bastard on the force with a finger on their crossbow. Most of them never liked Minox. Something goes wrong, they could—”

“Enough!” Mama shouted. “You think you can find him first?”

“I have to try, Mama. And we need more family on the street. Every bloody one of them if we have to.”

“How are we supposed to do that?”

Corrie stepped away. “Put out a call. Get Jace home and have him run to everyone else. I need to get back out there.”

She went up the stairs to the water closet, cleaning herself off as best she could once she was in there. For the first time she got a good look in the mirror at her face. Her eye really was a mess. Now she could sort of see out of it, all blurry and red. Her hair was a choppy mess of stubble. She grabbed some bandages from Beliah’s supply and wrapped it over the eye. Better to keep it covered, let it heal. Maybe it would be right again in a few days.

She went to her room—the one she shared with Nyla and Ferah, though she almost never saw them in it—and changed into a fresh uniform. She rebelted her weapons and went back out into the hallway.

“I heard,” Granny Jillian said, standing in the hallway. She looked like such a frail thing, though she still held herself like the street tough scrapper she had been back in the day. “You’re sure Minox isn’t . . . he’s so like Fenner was at his age. He might be going on us.”

“Nah, Granny,” Corrie said. She didn’t think about that. She didn’t want to. “It’s the . . . it’s the magic, pure and simple.”

“Ain’t nothing simple about rutting magic, child,” Granny said. “I could tell you a few things.”

“When I have the rutting time,” Corrie said, embracing her grandmother. “I need to go look for him.”

“You do. Keep a good eye out for him.”

“It’s all I got left,” Corrie said.

“Corrie,” Granny called as Corrie got to the top of the stairs. “It could be both things at once. And there may be nothing we can do for him.”

That was so rutting horrible Corrie didn’t even want to think about it.

“I’ll get him home,” Corrie said.

When she reached the front door, Mama had her own coat on. “Zura is completely useless right now. She’s gone to her shrine in the cellar and won’t speak to me.” She handed Corrie a cold pork and flatbread wrap, with Zura’s pickled onions—Corrie’s favorite whenever she stopped in the middle of the night.

“What are you going to do?” Corrie asked before she took a bite.

“First I’ll find Timmothen. He should be at the Keller Cove Stationhouse, and he can get the kind of rally we need.” Uncle Timm was a captain; he had the muscle. Corrie kicked herself that she hadn’t thought of that. “What are you waiting for, girl? Go find your brother.”