Chapter Fourteen: “A Soldier’s Deal”

Bryon stared into the cold hearth, glad to be left alone, not that he was alone in the physical sense. Members of Nikki’s gang moved in and out of their hideout throughout the day, but they let him be on the couch. At times, he could feel their eyes on him, but they never talked to him, and so for that part, he was alone.

Nor had he been left to his thoughts entirely. Gavrial and Vlad had both tried to talk to him in their own, idiosyncratic ways: Gavrial with all the tenderness of a bear, and Vlad with the raving of a mad drunk. Bryon had barely spoken to either, and they had given up. Surprisingly, after she had finally been found, Margot tried to talk to him as well. She forgave him for the satchel incident, offered to listen if he needed to talk, then ended with a threat to his manhood if he did not snap out of it. Perhaps it was his lack of response to the threat, or perhaps she had just run out of ways to try and coax a reaction out of him. Regardless, she left too.

Surprisingly, Gust came over and sat next to him at one point as well. The man only mumbled something in Krellin then they both sat, staring into the empty hearth. It felt almost comforting, having someone sitting there but not trying to talk to him. Almost, but not quite. After perhaps a half-hour, Gust nodded and went about whatever other business he had as well.

Gavrial made a point of forcing Bryon to the table to eat, but he only picked at his food and offered as little conversation as he could. His thoughts were not the kind to be shared, and when the others had finished, Bryon stood up from his mostly untouched meal and returned to his seat on the sofa. He had only noted in passing as Gavrial, Vlad, and Markus left to whatever errand they had come up with over dinner.

He felt the couch shift to his right as someone sat down next to him, but he did not look up. He honestly did not care if Praedin himself was sitting down right now. And because of this, he was caught completely off guard by the voice that spoke.

“Didn’t eat.”

He looked over at Cook. The boney woman was staring into the hearth and sucking on her teeth.

“I wasn’t very hungry.”

“Haven’t eaten much at all,” she said.

“Haven’t been hungry at all,” he said.

She snorted. “Been too busy feeling sorry for yourself is what you’ve been.”

He narrowed his eyes. In all the years he had known Cook, she had never said this many words together. “What?”

“You take care of people,” she said. “That’s what you do. The urchins, your gang, Kira, but who takes care of you? I’ll tell you who. Cook does. And now that the fire is damped, time to be about it.”

“Thank you for the offer—” He hesitated. He was about to call her by her real name, but it suddenly occurred to him that he did not know it. He just barreled on. “I can look after myself.”

“Troena wearing a skirt, boy,” she said. “I think I know the look of a man who needs some sense beaten into him.”

“I have plenty enough sense,” he said. “I’m not exactly new to this game, and—”

She made a guttural sound in her throat that was halfway between a laugh and a cough. “I’ve been in this longer than you, boy. I remember the day old Dally brought you in, all wide eyed and thinking you were more clever than you were.”

He looked back at the fireplace, unwilling to meet her gaze. He had somehow forgotten Cook had been an ancient fixture of The Hole well before him. The immutable nature of the woman tended to make one overlook her.

“Now look at you, too clever by half, and not even using it.” She reached over and smacked him on the back of his head. “Stop wasting our time and figure out how to save that girl. I rather like her.”

He rubbed the back of his head and looked back to the woman, but she was already on her feet and moving back to the kitchen. He looked after her for a moment then turned his eyes back to the hearth. The last day, he had been in a stupor, staring at the fireplace. Any thoughts he had were those of a man in shock. Now, his mind raced. Kira needed his help.

The bell rang above the mantle, and Bryon glanced back at the stairwell. A part of him reached for a gun that was not there, another cursed at himself for not having one on him, and the third realized this was the first time all day that bell had rung that he had reacted to it. Across the room, two of Nikki’s men had their hands casually in their coats, but they pulled them out empty when they saw who was on the stairs.

Gavrial burst into the room and immediately looked at Bryon. He stopped, confused, when he saw Bryon looking back at him, then turned around to the other two men.

“We have a guest,” he said. “We blindfolded him most of the way here, so he doesn’t know the location. And he’s trustworthy enough besides.”

The men nodded, and Gavrial called down the stairs for Vlad and Markus to bring up the guest before walking over to Bryon. He looked Bryon in the eyes and furrowed his brow.

“You alright?”

“I’ve been better,” Bryon said.

“What happened?”

“I had some sense knocked into me.” Bryon looked over to where a squat, hooded man was being helped up the stairs by Vlad. “What’s—?”

“What’s this about?” Nikki stormed out of her office, and Margot was close behind her. “A guest? You’re pushing the limits of my hospitality, Thrust!”

“Let’s find out who it is, first,” Bryon said.

Nikki blinked and looked at Bryon. “Fine.”

Gavrial nodded back to Vlad, who pulled the hood off. Jasyn blinked and looked around the room and focused on Bryon. “Well, you don’t look as bad as they described.”

“They probably weren’t exaggerating,” Bryon said. “Considering what I was like when they left. But that doesn’t have much to do with the price of sand. Why are you here, Jasyn?”

Jasyn nodded slightly. “Your boys told me about what happened, and I think I can help.”

“We could definitely use some help,” Bryon said. “What do you have in mind?”

“Well, Markus here needs fixed and in a hurry,” Jasyn said. “I could do it, but I need those documents you handed over to the rebels, and I doubt they’re going to give them back, or even let me look at them, for free.”

“They don’t need the money,” Bryon said. “If anything, we’d have to trade them something of equal value.”

Jasyn smiled and patted a satchel at his side. “I have something they’ll want.”

“And what will that cost us?” Bryon said.

Jasyn’s smile broadened. “Ever the businessman, but I can’t blame you. Not money, I don’t need it either. But I’ll accept the promise of a favor.  Can’t say it isn’t appealing, having a gang in debt to you.”

“Markus will be in debt to you,” Gavrial said. “I don’t see how this helps me.”

Jasyn turned. “Because without Markus, I doubt you’ll be able to get Kira back from wherever it is that she’s been spirited away. Fixing him helps the entire gang.”

“Why not just take Markus to the rebels?” Vlad said. “I’ve heard Lector Cennet is a pretty smart fellow, and he has the schematics already.”

“No,” Bryon said. “I don’t trust Lector. In fact, if we go there, Markus won’t be coming with us. It will be Gavrial, myself, and Jasyn that go.”

“So you’re accepting my offer?” Jasyn said.

“The more you help us, the bigger that favor will be,” Bryon said. “I can trust your motivation.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?” Markus said.

Bryon looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes. What indeed. Fortunately the past day had not been completely wasted, but they still were not any closer to knowing what had happened to Kira. What Bryon needed now was information.

“Markus, you think you could find that lieutenant friend of yours?” Bryon said.

Markus grimaced. “I don’t think she’ll be much help, Bryon. She has a bit of a thing against criminals in a violent way, if you get my drift. The only reason she tolerates me is because I’m ex-military.”

“Could you find her?”

He sighed. “Probably.”

“Good, take Vlad and Margot with you for backup.” Bryon looked to the other two to make sure they were not going to try and speak up. “See if she knows what happened.”

“I don’t need backup,” Markus said.

“You just said she’s violent towards our kind,” Bryon said. “For all we know, she was involved in this. In which case, I want you to capture her. Margot can take you someplace safe to put her so we can question her.”

“Whoa now,” Markus said. “I don’t think she was involved with—”

Bryon cut him off with a gesture. “She’s in the military, and if I recall correctly, her superior officer is Captain Rojer Hares.” He gave Markus a meaningful look, and Markus nodded curtly. “Rojer is who I suspect betrayed me, thus this lieutenant could have been part of it.”

“Wait, you sure it’s Rojer?” Jasyn said.

Bryon looked at him. “Fairly. Why, you know him?”

“He’s my kid brother,” Jasyn said. “Don’t go thinking I can help, though. He hates me, and the feeling is mutual. We haven’t even talked in years.”

“She hates him, too” Markus said.

“Then she will be all the more willing to betray him,” Bryon said. “Go find out what you can.”

Markus looked like he was about to say something more, but Vlad put a hand on his shoulder. He turned around, and the strange, foreign man shook his head then gestured back to the stairwell. Margot joined them at the head of the stairs, and they left.

Gavrial turned to Bryon. “Should we bring Gust, too?”

Bryon shook his head. “Have him follow them at a distance, just to keep a wary eye.”

“Little paranoid,” Gavrial said.

Bryon turned to him. “So, have you started trusting Markus this last day?”

Gavrial frowned then nodded. A few moments later, after Gavrial had spoken in what broken Krellin he knew, Gust nodded and headed out after Markus. Gavrial then looked from Bryon to Jasyn.

“Shall we?”

“You two go on ahead,” Nikki said. “I want to talk to Bryon. It won’t take but a moment.”

The two men looked to Bryon, and he nodded and shooed them off. When they were gone, he turned to Nikki. “Yes?”

“You alright, hun?”

“I just had my hideout destroyed, my trust betrayed, and a woman I look on as a daughter kidnapped,” he said. “Do you think I’m alright?”

“You looked alright considering a half hour ago,” Nikki said. “You know, back when you were a drooling fool on my couch. But this passion you have now . . . are you sure you’re alright?”

“Time’s wasting,” Bryon said. “I don’t have the luxury of being alright. The fates have conspired against me, but I will not let them win. Not this time, not any time.”

Nikki sighed. “Remember that job we pulled together? Tresling Gardens?”

“One of the most successful heists I’ve ever been part of,” Bryon said.

“Also one of the most poorly put together,” Nikki said. “There was more improvisation and slipshod work than two bands of rookies would have done.”

“What’s your point?”

“The only reason we pulled that off is because we kept level heads,” she said. “You most of all. This business you’re in, it might turn into something like that, and they’re going to need you calm and on your game. Can you do that?”

Bryon clinched a fist, then relaxed and took a sigh. “I don’t know. My blood is boiling over this, Nikki. Yours would be, too.”

“Never said it wouldn’t be,” she said. “If someone took Kass, I’d tear this city apart to get her back, and you know it. And if I actually tried, I’d just end up in irons, the same as you will if you don’t take the time to be careful about this.”

He frowned but nodded. “I’ll keep it in mind. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some documents to go procure.”

* * *

The downtown flats rose before them, and Bryon shook his head. “I don’t like it.”

“Going belly up on me, Bryon?” Gavrial said.

“Hardly,” Bryon said. “But these are not the kind of men you just barge in on and offer deals to. They think they are the rightful rulers of Sentat in their own deluded view of things. If we do not treat them like the kings they think they are, this could end very poorly for us.”

“They’re rebels and they know it,” Gavrial said. “They should be happy to get any attention at all.”

“Bryon is right,” Jasyn said. “I know Lector, and he might not be much of one for politics, but he is every inch the High Meister that Tesma is. Moreso, for thinking his fall from power was unlawful.”

Gavrial sucked on his teeth. “Was it?”

“Shady, but legal,” Jasyn said. “I was one of the arbiters in the decision.”

“Were you now?” Gavrial said. “He isn’t going to be happy to see you then, is he?”

“I merely interpreting the bylaws,” Jasyn said. “I didn’t cast a vote to throw him out or keep him in. And one vote wouldn’t have mattered much anyway. Tesma won his seat by a rather healthy margin.”

“Regardless of the history of it,” Bryon said. “Lector feels jilted by what happened and was rather adamant when I met him that he was the rightful High Meister. Antagonizing that will not help us. Understand, Gavrial?”

“Don’t step on the toes of the man who thinks the world is out to get him,” Gavrial said. “I think I can do that.”

Something in Gavrial’s tone caught Bryon’s ear, as if he meant more than what he said, but he cast the thought away as foolish. That Gavrial was able to grasp the concept was fairly impressive for the man. He was good at executing plans, but the finer points of the thought often seemed to be lost on him.

“Just follow my lead.”

Bryon took a deep breath and walked up the steps and into the building. The same old man was sitting behind the desk at the front, and he looked up at Bryon with a mild disregard and disgust.

“Yes?” he said.

“I would like to speak with Mr. Ginken,” Bryon said. “Or, barring that, the High Meister.”

The man’s expression never waivered. “Who?”

Bryon fought down an exasperated sigh. He had hoped the man would not play difficult, but such was a fool’s wish. “I have a business proposition that I think would interest them greatly.”

“I’m afraid that I don’t know what you are talking about,” the man said. “Good day, sirs.”

“Might you point me in a direction that I might inquire further?” Bryon said.

The man only looked at Bryon, reminding him of nothing short of a frog. The expression was clear: they had been dismissed, and he was waiting for them to accept it.

Jasyn cleared his throat. “Might you deliver a missive to the orange room?”

The man turned slowly to Jasyn with a look that was half annoyance and half uncertainty. “Perhaps?”

Jasyn reached into his pouch and pulled out a small, clean piece of paper and a strange pen. He scrawled something quickly that did not even appear to be Sentatian, then folded the paper and handed it to the man.

“Do you wish to seal it?” the man asked.

“My messages guard themselves without want of wax,” Jasyn said. “The rightful recipient will know what it says.”

The man frowned and made a show of opening the letter and looking it over, as if he could read it. He then frowned and refolded the paper. “Wait here.”

He moved down the corridor, and once he was out of earshot, Jasyn looked at Bryon. “I thought you knew how to deal with these people.”

“I’ve only met them once,” Bryon said. “And they had summoned me rather specifically. They did not exactly instruct me in the proper procedures in contacting them if I had need.”

“Because you shouldn’t have need,” Jasyn said. “You are merely a hired gun to them, not even someone worthy of note as having a business relationship with. At least, not one they want to admit to.”

“And how do you know how to get in?” Gavrial said.

Jasyn narrowed his eyes. “I think that should be rather obvious.”

“You’re the spy,” Bryon said. “The one that betrayed those documents to Lector.”

“I’d hardly call myself a spy,” Jasyn said. “I’m just a man who fixes generators and has to make his way in this horrid city.”

“Why?” Bryon said. “Why help Lector, if you didn’t vote one way or the other, and you paved the way for his removal?”

“I keep my options open,” Jasyn said. “I didn’t vote so that I wouldn’t be on the wrong side of whoever won. I’m only a middle-ranked meister after all. I have to be mindful of my betters.”

“And you do that by betraying the High Meister?” Gavrial said.

“A man who rises to power quickly often falls just as fast,” Jasyn said. “Tesma will likely be gone just as quickly as he came, but Lector, that man worked and scraped his way up the ranks and earned his title. I don’t think he would lose it quite so easily.”

The sound of footsteps came from the hallway, and the three of them quieted down as the doorman returned. His face was unreadable, and he sat down behind his desk and handed a note back to Jasyn. It was covered in even more of the strange script, and Jasyn looked it over for a while and scratched his short goatee in thought. After a moment, he looked back up at the man.

“Marbury.”

The man frowned. “Correct. This way, please.”

They were lead down a narrow corridor, and the doorman knocked on and opened a door seemingly at random. One thing was for sure, it was a different door than Bryon had been lead to last time. Bryon pitched his voice only so Gavrial could hear him.

“Be mindful of what you see.”

Inside, Lector was pacing in front of a cold fireplace, a shockrod at his side and a bracer devoid of sigil on his left arm. He glanced up at them and frowned when he saw Bryon. His expression did not change when it shifted to Jasyn.

“And just what are you doing here?” Lector said.

“We’re here to make a deal,” Bryon said. “One we think you might be rather eager to make.”

Lector glanced at Bryon. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

“He has the right of it,” Jasyn said. “I want to see those papers you got a bit back, and I’ve brought something in trade.”

“I’m your rightful High Meister, Hares,” Lector said. “A soldier does not make deals with his general, and you do not make deals with me.”

“A soldier makes deals when he has two generals that are fighting each other,” Jasyn said. “A general makes deals with soldiers when he is not in a position to give orders.”

Lector narrowed his eyes. “You tread a perilous path, Meister Hares.”

“Here now,” a voice said from the next room. “What’s this about?”

Mikhail Ginken walked in and looked at each person in turn. “The fight is out in the streets, gentlemen, not in my parlor.”

“Just a case of insubordination, Mikhail,” Lector said. “This meister here is trying to sell me something that is rightfully mine.”

“Trade actually,” Jasyn said.

“Yes, yes,” Mikhail said. “I heard you; you’re loud enough to wake the dead in here. Lector, while I back your case, please remember the reality of the situation. Now, Meister Hares, what is it you wish to offer in trade?”

Lector frowned, but Jasyn seemed to not notice. “I have brought some documentation that I think the High Meister might find interesting.” He pulled out a bundle of papers from his satchel. “I have here detailed schematics and documentation of Tesma’s power grid.”

Mikhail made a polite grunt, as if he understood what Jasyn had said. For all Bryon knew, he did, but he somehow doubted it, especially with the way Lector’s eyes widened with hunger.

“Give them to me now,” Lector said. “That is a direct order from your High Meister.”

“The legal High Meister has given me no such order,” Jasyn said. “But, for the man I think is more rightful to the office, I would be willing to part with these in exchange for the notes on revenants that came up from Adervyn.”

“Never!” Lector said.

Mikhail made a shushing motion. “And why might you want those, Meister Hares?”

“Why do you bloody want them?” Gavrial said. “A butcher doesn’t ask a cook what she plans on doing with the meat. Do we have business or not?”

Lector glowered but then seemed to notice Gavrial for the first time. His face became a sudden, blank slate, and he had the appearance of a man deep in thought.

Jasyn winced, and Bryon probably looked the same. From what he heard of these people, such an outburst could land them in the street, if not dead in the gutter. But Mikhail only looked at Gavrial for a moment then laughed.

“Well put,” he said. “And you are?”

“Gavrial Thrust.”

“I’ll remember you, Gavrial,” Mikhail said. “But, fair enough. So, Lector, are we interested in these documents?”

“They could be of passing use,” Lector said.

“You could sabotage the power grid at your leisure,” Jasyn said. “Much of the Garden District and some of the factories are coming to rely on that grid. You could also tap into it unnoticed.”

“You assume that we haven’t already,” Lector said.

“I know you haven’t,” Jasyn said. “I’m the master of the millhouse. I’d know if anyone was on the grid that wasn’t supposed to be.”

Mikhail furrowed his brow. “But you just said—”

“My blind eye is part of the deal,” Jasyn said. “I think those revenant documents are a fair trade. It isn’t like you haven’t copied them already.”

“Like I’d trust my copy when there might be a transcription error,” Lector said. “I’ll sell you a copy.”

“If you won’t trust them, why should we?” Bryon said. “How do we know you don’t have a copy with mistakes purposely in it that you planned on leaking back to the Meisters’ Guild anyway?”

“You accusing me of trying to fudge a deal, boy?” Lector said.

“Just thinking about what I would do,” Bryon said. “We want the originals.”

Lector frowned and looked down into the cold hearth. While he stood there, the door to the hall opened, and Arik Spears walked in. He looked around the room. “What’s this then?”

Mikhail put an arm around Arik’s shoulders and took him to the corner where he whispered into the shorter man’s ear. Mikhail was mid-sentence when Arik spun around and brandished his hook-hand at Jasyn. “Never! We need those notes.”

“Calm down, Arik,” Lector said. “Those notes alone won’t get you a new hand. They are informative, but that is about all. Without a meister actually trained in the Secret of Silver, I won’t be able to make you a revenant.”

Arik’s face burned red. “Be mindful of your tongue, peasant, and the filthy accusations that play on it.”

Lector looked at Arik with disinterest. “Save it for the priests and courtesans.” He then turned to Jasyn. “The originals for these documents on the grid and the blind eye. I also want to see the revenant.”

“Beg your pardon?” Jasyn said.

“Don’t think me simple, Jasyn. Remember who it was that trained you. The notes from Adervyn won’t let you make a revenant, but they would be quite useful in fixing one.” Lector turned to Bryon. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I caught your name last time. I was rather distracted by the papers.”

“Bryon.”

“Salteen?” Lector said. “I’ve heard of your gang. Interesting rumors. I want to see him.”

“No,” Gavrial said. “That isn’t part of the deal, and it won’t be.”

Lector shrugged.

“What if we got you the schematics for a shockshield?” Gavrial said.

Jasyn glared at the large man, and Lector laughed.

“I don’t need any of Tesma’s inferior toys, thank you. It is the revenant I am interested in.”

Bryon looked over to Gavrial in shock, then turned back to Lector. “You know our terms.”

Lector shrugged again and walked out of the room. Mikhail made a noise in his throat then turned to Arik. “Entertain our guests for a moment, Lord Spears. I need to speak with the High Meister.”

Before Mikhail could cross the room, Lector returned with a satchel. The meister smiled and put it on a table. “The originals in exchange for your papers on the grid and a blind eye.”

“Just like that?” Bryon said.

“I had a feeling you’d deny me to look at the revenant, but I had to ask. Know, though, I will see him, one way or the other.” Lector took a step back from the table and rested a hand on the hilt of his shockrod.”

Jasyn stepped forward and switched the satchels.

“It is so reassuring to see grown men able to conduct business in a mature manner,” Mikhail said. “Was there anything else?”

“No, that will be the short of it,” Bryon said. “Thank you.”

Mikhail showed them to the door and closed it behind them, leaving them alone in the hall. They showed themselves out, and in the street, Bryon turned to Gavrial.

“What was that about?” he said. “I would have expected you to sell Markus out in a heartbeat.”

“I may not trust him,” Gavrial said. “But no man deserves to be treated like some oddity to be taken apart and examined. It isn’t right.”

Bryon laughed. “One of these days, my friend, I will figure out your strange sense of propriety.” His mirth died. “But, what do you think? Was it him?”

Gavrial looked back over his shoulder and shrugged. “Could be. Right build, but I’ve only seen that shockshield bastard once, remember. He was awfully sure he’d be able to get a look at Markus, though.”

“And he wasn’t interested in the shockshield,” Bryon said.

“That could mean he doesn’t think they have a chance in Hell of working,” Jasyn said.

“Could mean he has a working one already,” Bryon said. “Either way, let’s get back to the Aviary. You have some documents to study.”

* * *

Markus looked around the nearly empty church before he eased himself into the pew next to Megyn. She tensed slightly as he sat then relaxed, all without raising her head from prayer. He relaxed as well. He might have vehemently demanded that Margot and Vlad stay outside, but what Bryon had said was still in his mind. Megyn could have been part of the raid. She might have gladly taken part in it. Was she relaxed because she trusted him? Or was it because she was here to catch him, and was glad he had fallen into the trap?

“Hello Markus,” she said. “It’s been a while.”

“I suppose it has,” he said.

“I was worried that our last meeting had scared you off.”

“I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t have my doubts,” he said. “But what you did was justice. I cannot argue that.”

“Then there was the fire,” she said.

“The fire?”

“Don’t be coy.” She looked up at him. “You lived across the street, did you not? In a building that is now an empty shell of charred timber?”

He looked at her, trying to tell if she was trying to bait him, or if she was just innocently inquiring. Of course she knew he lived across the way, and it would be an innocent enough question to ask.

“What?” she said. “Cat walk across your grave?”

He took a deep breath. “Tell me honestly, Megyn. Were you involved in that, two nights ago?”

She furrowed her brow. “What?”

“Two nights ago, constables and military raided a thieving gang’s hideout,” he said. “Most of the gang escaped, and the next thing you know, an entire city block is on fire.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What are you accusing me of?”

Her tone was so genuinely insulted that he sighed in relief. “Nothing, thankfully nothing.”

She scooted away from him a bit and looked at him more fully. “You aren’t making any sense, Markus. Military working with the constables, let alone to raid a gang’s hideout?”

“Oh, where to begin,” he said. “I’ll get straight to the point. The constables raided my home, and hidden among their ranks were two soldiers. Our leader is convinced that your commander, Captain Hares, is behind it.”

Megyn tapped her lip. “Your boss, is he middle-aged, with sandy hair? Somewhat on the lean side?”

Markus narrowed his eyes. “That’d be him.”

“He visited Hares a while back,” she said. “Had me pull a file. Your file, Sergeant McGrigor. Hares and this man seemed to get on rather well. Now you are telling me they don’t?”

“Hares wasn’t after my boss,” Markus said.

“Then you?”

“No, a girl that was in our gang,” Markus said. “Kira Jons. Blond, a little shorter than you, marked with the nautilus.”

“And why would he be after her?” she asked.

He shook his head. “We don’t know. I was hoping you might. They took her, Megyn, and I have a feeling it has nothing to do with any crime she ever committed. The constables don’t have her.”

She sighed and stood. “My break is almost over, Markus. I need to head back.”

He stood as well. “Please, try and find out what happened to her.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “I’ll see what I can do.”

She gestured for him to move, and he hobbled out of the way so she could get to the aisle. He stumbled as he moved, though, and had to catch himself on the back of the next pew.

She rushed up to catch him. “Are you alright?”

He waved off her outstretched arm. “I’ll live.”

“You’re hurt,” she said. “What happened?”

“I’ll be fine. I was only shot.” He regretted the words the moment they came out of his mouth. He looked up to see her eyes wide.

“Only shot?” she said. “In your leg?”

“It wasn’t anything serious,” he said. “I’ve already had it looked after.”

“You shouldn’t be up on it,” she said. “You don’t even have a crutch?”

He had left it outside, hoping to avoid this conversation. “I said it isn’t that bad. A graze at worst. It just stings a little sometimes, and it catches me off guard. See, I’m fine now.”

He took a few tentative steps and ignored the weakness as best he could. Fortunately, there was no pain for him to have to grimace against. Megyn eyed him skeptically, but nodded slowly and started for the door.

“I’ll see if I can find out what happened to your friend,” she said. “Or—”

She cut off as Markus took another step and again stumbled. He still caught himself, but the sound of gears grinding and straining echoed through the cathedral. Megyn eyed him in confusion, and then understanding dawned on her face. She took several steps back and put a hand on her pistol.

“You—”

“Megyn,” he said. “Please, just hold on a moment.”

“You . . . you’re a revenant?” Her voice was filled with a plea for him to deny it, but also with an understanding that he could not.

He stood tall, although he still had to steady himself on a nearby pew. “Yes.”

“You hid this from me?” she said.

“What was I supposed to do?”

Her lip pulled back into a snarl. “Die like you should have? Who are you, some Adervynian spy?”

“I’m Sentatian,” he said. “Born and raised here, in Uptown, and I’m no traitor, I swear to Troena above on that, Megyn.”

“But you’re a revenant!” A tear slid down her cheek, and her voice was rough.

“It was not my choice,” he said. “I had to make a soldier’s deal.”

She shook her head and took several more steps back. “You’re a monster, choice or no. How can you stand to even keep breathing?”

“I had this done to me,” he said. “And I endure it because it was what I had to do. I’m making the best of a hard lot, Megyn. You know something of that, don’t you?”

“Don’t you dare compare yourself to me!” She turned to leave.

“We do what we must to survive,” he called after her. “That’s what Father Morgan told me, and I’m sure he’s told you, too.”

She stopped and half glanced over her shoulder. A moment later, she kept walking, and then she was gone.

 

Story by Richard Fife | Art by April Herron