“I got the part north of Dugalle . . .”
I listened and watched as we walked a half mille past Dugalle before we got to Feramyo.
“Here.” Horazt turned.
I kept pace with him
“Not so many equalifiers down here,” I said.
“Youdh doesn’t like ’em.”
The buildings were older than those near the Temple-or the House of Equality-and even the handful of better-kept dwellings with recently washed windows seemed to have years of grime caught within the glass itself-at least that was the way they seemed from the lamplight coming from within. The faint but acrid smell of elveweed was more prevalent. With the sun completely set, only a handful of streetlamps lit, and neither moon more than a crescent, seeing more than a handful of yards in any detail was difficult.
Just short of two blocks along Feramyo, two men-barely more than youths-eased from a side alley toward us.
“This isn’t your part of town,” said the shorter one, revealing a blade.
“Better just turn around,” added the taller.
“I’m Horazt. I walk where I please.”
“Youdh doesn’t care if you’re the Namer. We don’t either.”
“The streets in L’Excelsis are open to all,” I said mildly, readying a nonlethal imaging and hoping it would not be necessary.
“We warned you.” The shorter one lunged, but his feet slipped from under him on the oil I’d imaged under them, and he hit the pavement hard enough that the knife skittered across the worn stones.
The second one fired his pistol through his cloak. The impact on my shields forced me back a step, but I imaged a bit of caustic into his eyes, and oil under his feet before giving him a shove. He also went down hard. “Shall we continue?” I asked Horazt.
The taudischef glanced at the two figures, one unconscious and the other moaning and rubbing at his eyes. “Another block.”
We didn’t make it quite a block before three muscular figures in dark brown appeared. They didn’t say a word, just began swinging blades-for the moment before I imaged all three blades from their hands and onto the pavement.
One of them backed away. The other two drew old-style heavy pistols. I imaged the cartridges from both before they pulled the triggers.
“You fellows might get hurt if you keep trying to cause trouble,” I offered.
One of the two remaining took one step back, then another. The remaining tough, a good half head taller than me, charged. He took two steps before he rammed into the extra-hard shield I’d imaged for just a moment. As he staggered back, his feet went out from under him on imaged oil, and he went down hard. The only problem was that he immediately jumped to his feet . . . and slammed down a second time. When he started to rise a third time, Horazt kicked him in the temple.
He didn’t get up after that.
No one bothered us on the way back out to South Middle, but I kept full shields and a wary eye. We walked back along the south side, the way we had come.
As we neared Dugalle, Horazt finally spoke. “You’re the first patroller or imager to walk the taudis alone at night in years. Maybe ever.”
Possibly the last and stupidest, as well, I thought. “It’s not something I plan to make a habit of, but I asked for a favor, and it’s best to repay them.”
Horazt laughed, a touch nervously, I thought.
“If you do hear of things that don’t really belong in the taudis, I would appreciate hearing about it,” I said. “That might be best for both of us.”
“It might.” He paused. “It’ll come through Mama Diestra.”
“That’s fine.”
He turned down Dugalle, and I kept walking toward the Midroad.
At that moment, something flashed before my eyes-some sort of fire, I thought, climbing up the side of a brick building. For the moment that I saw the image, I tried to identify what I’d seen.
Had I really seen it?
Or was it just an illusion because my legs were shaky and my vision blurry from too much imaging in a short time? Outside of holding heavy shields, I really hadn’t done that much imaging in weeks, even several months, now that I thought about it. I made a mental note to remedy that . . . when I wasn’t already exhausted.
As I trudged westward, I hoped I didn’t have to do any more imaging anytime soon-and that I could find a hack to hail before too long. But the brief image of the fire climbing the brick wall remained with me, and I tried on the ride back toward Imagisle, without success, to recall anything-or any place-that looked like what I’d briefly seen.
15
I did stagger back to Imagisle on Meredi night, and almost overslept on Jeudi morning. I thought I’d had more dreams about fires, but I didn’t remember them at all clearly. The newsheets I picked up hurriedly after breakfast didn’t mention any large fires, either, but they might not have, because they were reporting that Ferrum was ready to declare war on Solidar, if our ships insisted on protecting “the enemies of Ferrum.” One of those enemies happened to be the Abierto Isles.
There wasn’t much I could do about that and, fortunately, all I had to do on Jeudi, again, was watch justicing proceedings, and keep mental track of two more cases where the charges were dropped.
Jeudi night, after Mardoyt was tied up with the final scheduling of prisoners, witnesses, and evidence for Vendrei’s hearings, I checked the cases. One charge sheet was missing, and in the other case, the charges were listed as being dropped. That made sense, because the accused already had a record of a year on the road crew, if three years earlier. If his record sheet suddenly disappeared, a few too many questions might be asked.
By Vendrei morning, even after a more spirited hand-to-hand sparring contest with one of Clovyl’s assistants, I was feeling back to normal. But I tried to remind myself that there was definitely a limit to what I could image. Vendrei was like every other day that week, with more cases being disposed of quickly by the presiding justice. In only two cases were there Not Guilty pleas, and in one, the justice actually acquitted the accused. That might have been because the case probably never should have gotten that far-the girl had been fast and loose with her favors, but clearly not soliciting, and she’d never used or had a weapon.
When Baluzt and I and the coach-wagons returned to headquarters Vendrei night, through a mist that was threatening to become a full-fledged rain, a patroller greeted me almost as soon as I’d stepped down into the back alley.
“Master Rhennthyl, sir, the subcommander would like to see you immediately.”
“Thank you.”
Cydarth was standing by the window again, and I had to wonder if that happened to be his favorite position for meeting people. He turned. “Master Rhennthyl, how have you enjoyed your week at the justice hall?”
“It has been informative in many ways,” I replied.
“That’s good. Both the commander and I felt that seeing the charging process and the trials would give you a better idea of what happens to offenders. Now that you’ve seen that, the commander feels that you need to see the street side of the Patrol. Starting Lundi morning, at seventh glass, you’ll be accompanying various patrollers out of the Third District station off South Middle. Captain Harraf will be expecting you.”
“Yes, sir.” Seventh glass. That meant a very quick shower and breakfast snatched on the run. Third District was the station with the responsibility for the South Middle taudis . . . and an additional two milles from Imagisle.
“I’m most certain that you will find that duty more interesting, Master Rhennthyl. I won’t keep you. If you would tell Lieutenant Mardoyt of your change of duty, I would appreciate it.”
“I will, sir.” I inclined my head, then departed, making my way down the upper level hallway to Mardoyt’s study. I caught him as he was about to leave, probably for the court preparation room.