44. Dead or Alive

14th of Dema, Continued

I darted between the vendors' stalls, weaving behind stands till I was nearly at the top of the hill. Too much depended on getting to the Innkeeper, but there was still a hot ache in my throat. Arramy would go on with his life, I would go on with mine. It wasn't the liberating thing I had thought it would be. Instead, it was more like stepping off a cliff hoping there would be a mountain of pillows at the bottom.

At the top of the hill, I made like an old woman, hunching over and gripping my shawl at my chin as I hobbled clumsily across to the other side. Then I hurried down the street the mendings woman had indicated, untying my red scarf as I went, heading for the shop door beneath the shingle with a badly painted ruby ring on it. 

I had just exchanged two of my opals for a hundred lyr when there was a shout outside, followed by rapid footsteps. I turned to look out the front window in time to see a man go running past, a long-barreled Magistrate-issue pistol in one hand. 

"Tell your grandmother I'd be willing to buy any more finery she wishes to part with," the simpering little jeweler was saying. 

I nodded and quickly pocketed the money. "I will, thank you. Is there a back door?"

"Yes," he said, blinking in surprise, his smile faltering. "But it's not for customers —"

"Through here?" I asked, making for a curtain at the rear of the shop. 

The jeweler stopped smiling and hustled down the length of his display cabinet, both of his chins jiggling. "Oy, look, I must insist that you not go in there."

I ignored him and pushed through the curtain into a messy parlor. A tiny, dirty kitchen was visible through an open doorway, and I made a dash for it, skirting a two-burner round-stove, then continuing on out through a swinging screen door, down a short set of steps, and into a back alley. 

The Magi deputy had been running from the same direction I had come, which meant he must have been going toward the street that would take me down the hill to the Island ferry station. So, I should either run the other way, to the left... or hope that he had caught whoever he was chasing between the jeweler's shop and the street corner, because the road down to the Island ferry station was closer than the one that ended in the market. 

The jeweler was coming through his kitchen, shouting that if I had stolen anything, he was going to report me. Decision made, I took off to the right, racing down the alley as fast as my boots could carry me, praying that the street at the end was indeed the street to the ferry.

I didn't reach it. Voices brought me up short as I pelted past a narrow side alley. 

One of the voices had the nasal lilt of poor district Tettian. "Turn t'face wall."

The other had a distinctive Northlander brogue. "No. You pulled the gun, you look me in the eye."

I skidded to a stop. Arramy was standing a good distance down the smaller alley, hands on his hips, facing a man wearing the grey jacket and black pants of a Tettian deputy – the same deputy who had run past the jeweler's, and was now aiming his long-barreled pistol at Arramy's chest. 

The deputy smiled. "Suit yerself," he said, his voice low. Wary. Dangerous. He cocked the pistol. 

"There ya be!" The words were out before I had time to think. 

Both men swiveled in my direction. 

I hadn't been shot yet, so I lifted my chin, pulled on a furious glare, and marched stiff-legged into the alley, keeping up my own poor district Tettian. "Where were-ee?" 

A look of panic crossed Arramy's face, but the Deputy seemed absolutely at a loss, gaping at me, his gun wavering between the two of us. 

"I went down pub last night. Weren't found, were-ee?" I demanded, loud and angry. "Mates din't know where-ee be, niver, but they got a long laugh an' all, given' me such ribs an' looks!"

Arramy's expression changed, his nose wrinkling in confusion. 

I turned my glare on the deputy as I got closer, deliberately trying to distract him. "What-ee be doffin' yer piece at, man? Ee's not been out tart's 'ouse long 'nuff t'ave done nowt-all."

The deputy frowned and lowered his gun a fraction, his lips parting as if he were about to ask a question. 

That was the last thing he did before Arramy's fist slammed into the side of his head and he dropped like a rock. 

Arramy bent and swiped the pistol from the deputy's hand, tucking it into the back of his own belt. Then he snatched a folded sheaf of papers from the man's breast pocket, stood up, and turned slowly to look at me, brows lowering. 

I didn't lose my glare. I did, however, back up a step. 

Arramy tilted his head, eyes narrowed. "I've a good mind to turn you over my knee." 

"A simple 'thanks' would do," I retorted. "I just saved your life. Again." 

"We wouldn't be here if you had gotten on the damned ferry." He took a step toward me, unfolded the papers, and held them up with a flick of his wrist. "Instead, you wasted time we don't have."

I glowered at him for a beat longer, but then my gaze drifted to the papers. 

They were Magistrate's Bureau bulletins. Two of them. The first was a Missing Person's notice with Braeton's handsome mug on it, and a plea for information leading to the safe return of Lexan Rammage, Lord Braeton, Earl of Anwythe. Below that was the description of a person of interest in the search: a petite blonde woman going by the name of Pendar Tarastrian, who was last seen in the Earl's company. 

I frowned, reached out, and plucked the papers from Arramy, shuffling to the second sheet. A front and side sketch of Arramy's face scowled at me from beneath thick black letters declaring Captain Rathe Arramy of the Coalition Navy a dangerous fugitive, to be shot on sight for treason and murder.

Rathe. His name is Rathe...

"What in all blazes were you thinking?" Arramy growled. 

"I don't know!" I snapped, quickly folding the bulletins back up. "I don't know what to think, anymore!" I let out a breath and put a hand to my head. "I can't go to Southside. I have to get to Vreis Island, but I'm supposed to go alone or with Braeton. I have no idea what will happen if I show up there with you —" 

"Show up where?"

I closed my eyes. "Braeton's safe-house. He left papers there for me... I don't know what else to do."

Arramy's voice was quiet. "You're going back." 

"I have to," I choked out. "Penweather was in the manor. He went down into the bunker with them, he knows who NaVarre is, he knows the location of Aethscaul... And Braeton went down into the bunker. Just... ran after them... " I brought my head up and looked Arramy in the eye, needing him to understand. "I have to get to the Innkeeper. Or at least try." I swallowed hard. "So... I can't go with you. And I don't know if you can come with me."

He had gone completely still, watching me, and remained that way after I finished. Then, finally, he shifted his weight. Nodded. He was about to say something when I held up my hand, concentrating hard. He heard it then, too, the tramp of boots on the street in front of the jeweler's, fists pounding on doors, voices asking, "Have-ee seen this man?" 

As one, we both turned back the way I had come, dodging around the unconscious deputy slumped against the wall before breaking into a run and careening into the larger rear alley.