Spiritwalker 3: Cold Steel (41 page)

“Roderic, why don’t you accompany the magister so you can bring him along this evening,”
said Brennan in a hearty voice as he grabbed my cloak and tugged me out the door.

I resisted. “But I… what if…?”

He cut me off as the door shut. “Nothing Rory can’t handle. Better to leave the two
of them to get acquainted without you there, for I perceive they are each in their
own way a bit… shall we say… protective of you, Maestra Barahal.”

“Call me Cat, please,” I said, for I perceived it was time to turn the subject entirely.

“So I shall, Cat, for that is what Bee calls you, and since she talks about you a
great deal, I rather feel I know you better than I ought.”

“Oh dear,” I muttered.

He indicated a ramshackle carriage waiting at the intersection, driven by a young
man burly enough to be a boxer, who was accompanied by a scarred fellow armed with
a stout cudgel. The driver acknowledged us with a nod. The carriage started forward
the moment we settled in the seat. Grimy glass windows rattled as if likely to shake
right out of the frames.

“Are you the rats who brought news of Camjiata’s victory to Pinfeather & Quill?” I
asked.

“I mean no offense, but before I take you into my confidence, I must know if the magister
means to support the radical cause. Bee has repeatedly assured me that in Expedition
the magister declared his intention to break from Four Moons House. Yet you are guests
at the local mage House.”

“If you were a cold mage traveling in winter, you would stay at a mage House, too,
or else you would freeze to death!”

He chuckled. “I am not accusing the magister of anything, Cat, although I appreciate
your spirited defense. I am sure he would appreciate that defense, too, if he were
here, for I have a suspicion he was a little reluctant to allow you to leave with
me.”

We pulled into the heavier traffic along a main thoroughfare. Enchanting as Brennan
Du might be, I was not about to discuss Andevai’s character with him!

I changed the subject. Ahead rose dark clouds, the surly smoke of iron furnaces and
bustling manufactories. “I am surprised to see so many trolls in Sala.”

“The trolls see forests that need to be managed and mines that have been left untapped.
Laborers who owe their service as a tithe to their prince or House masters travel
here for the chance to be paid a wage for their labor.”

“And you’ve come to agitate for revolution among the laborers. Never in all my childhood
dreams did I imagine I would one day conspire with radicals!”

His answering grin kicked me right in the gut, for he really was quite attractive.

“Yet you’ve grown up, Maestra. You were a girl when I met you at the Griffin Inn.
I would say you are a woman now.” He reached inside his coat and withdrew a printed
pamphlet. “Did you write this
account of the Taino kingdom? As Beatrice would say, it’s splendidly engrossing. Especially
the bit about the shark.”

I accepted his compliment with a calm, sensible smile. “It is true I have had some
unexpected adventures.”

I had not set foot in the easternmost district of Sala because it was known as a rough-hewn
laborers’ camp where restless men congregated. As Brennan had explained, many came
from principalities to the west, escaping indentured servitude in the hope of finding
employment in the manufactories. A Venerday market had been set up under shelters.
Braziers heaped with wood burned merrily to cast a bit of warmth on passersby. I was
grateful for my cloak.

The carriage rolled along lanes where butchers and bone-boilers hung their signs.
We pulled up by empty livestock pens. On one side stood trolls like berries on a bush;
no troll stood alone, and most stood in clusters of three or four, while each group
kept at least three arms’ length from any other. They wore garments that mimicked
human fashions, but their clothing was so adorned with bits and baubles of polished
metal, glass, and beads that I had to look away or get a headache.

On the other side, the fences were crowded with men shoulder to shoulder on the rails
and in the pens. They had the unwashed look of men who haven’t the coin to pay for
a tub of water in which to bathe. A few shawled and cloaked women moved through the
outskirts of the crowd, selling food or, judging by the furtive movement in the shadow
of a half-hidden alley, their own bodies.

The heat of so many people had churned the frozen dirt into a mire. Yet despite the
crush, and the occasional bark of a dog, the crowd seethed in a remarkable silence.
All stared at a barrel on which a petite young woman stood giving an impassioned speech.

Bee had raised her voice in the cry for revolution.

As I reached for the latch, Brennan caught my arm.

“Don’t get out. The ghana has spies in the crowd.”

He pulled down the glass in the window so I could hear. Bee’s voice carried easily,
for she certainly never had any trouble making herself heard. She spoke in clear schoolroom
Latin meant to be widely understood.

“Our demands for new laws will not cede to the demands of blood and birth. We dispute
the arbitrary distribution of power and wealth which is claimed as the natural order.
We know it is not natural. It is artificially created and sustained by ancient privileges.
Why should those privileges be reserved to only a few communities? By what judgment
do the patricians claim they stand above the rest? It is on our backs and our labor
and our blood and our children that they rise. We need not stand bent beneath. We
can stand straight and say—”

“Kiss me, sweetheart!” shouted some wag in the crowd. “That’s what we say. You’re
the prettiest girl I’ve seen in an age.”

Raucous laughter followed this sally. I glanced anxiously across the crowd. Brennan
pointed to two trolls stationed intimidatingly behind Bee: Chartji and Caith.

“Kiss you!” Bee exclaimed without losing a beat. “Why would I kiss
you
when a Roman legate begged me to become his favored one and yet I turned him down?
Do you think you are as much of a man as a Roman legate?”

“More a man than any legate, as I can show you!” the fellow called to shouts of laughter.

“Thus you prove my point. If you wish me to look upon you as the
amatory equal of a Roman legate, then you must surely believe that justice is no different
from love. You cannot chain one community into clientage and call that justice while
you let another community enrich its coffers and feed its children off the blood and
toil of the first. The blood of a poor laborer flows as red as the blood of a prince.
Death hunts them both equally, for a corpse knows no rank. It is only those who survive
the dead man who dedicate themselves to making such distinctions. There should be
one law that treats all communities in equal part, so every person has honor and dignity.”

“She’s quite remarkable,” said Brennan, keeping his face in shadow as he gazed out
the window. “A natural orator. I’ve never seen a heckler get the better of her, and
they do try.”

“I had no idea she would ever be giving speeches!” I stared in rapt admiration at
the way she exhorted the crowd to consider how unjust laws and antiquated customs
were the means by which the many were sacrificed to exalt the few. Yet it was not
Bee’s bold voice I had doubted but the idea that people like us would ever get a chance
to speak at all.

“We do not need nor do we desire their false generosity or their dishonest counsel!
We seek only the honor and dignity that by right fall upon every person. The law must
unchain all communities from clientage, from indenture, from slavery. That is what
we ask you to consider.”

A rumble stirred the air. A troop of soldiers swung into view at the far end of the
livestock yards. Their flowing tunics and feathered caps gave them an imposing presence.

“Consider wisely!” cried Bee with a glance at the approaching cavalry. “Your ghana
wishes to enforce my silence and compel your obedience.” She jumped down from the
barrel.

A voice rang out. “There’s a reward for the man who hands seditionists over to the
ghana!”

Brennan rapped on the ceiling, and the carriage began rolling.

“I’m not leaving her out there in that!” I grabbed the latch.

He slammed me back against the seat. “Stop! You’ll never find her in this crowd and
will only make things more difficult by going in search of her.”

I twisted, trying to get free, but he knew the same dirty fighting tricks I did. “Ow!
You’re reckless to let her go into a crowd like that!”

“I am reckless with my own life, but never with the cause. Stop fighting me, and look!”

As the men began to run, dissolving into a din of fright and panic, the trolls blocked
the lanes down which the soldiers rode. Their heads swayed as they scanned the formation.
There was something uncanny in the way the trolls bent forward from their usual upright
stance, bodies lowering. The riders slowed. I sucked in a breath, gripping the edge
of the window.

A gun went off. Spears lowered and swords flashed as the soldiers rode down the unarmed
trolls. If trolls could ever be said to be unarmed.

They scattered. Whistles shrilled. A cascading melody lilted like a pretty aria, yet
its spill of notes made me shudder down to the bone. Some charged, while others easily
overleaped the fences and bounded to circle in from the side. I had never seen anything
like it. They were so quick that the frontmost simply dodged the thrust of spears.
The movement and scent of the trolls panicked the horses, and the lead mounts bolted,
throwing their riders or slamming into the pens on either side in an effort to get
away. A sword flashed, cutting into a feathered hide.

Was that blood I smelled, hot and dark?

A shriek tore the air. The clamor of men was drowned under a cacophony of whistles
so loud I clapped my hands over my ears. A troll ducked under the belly of a horse
and slashed upward. As the horse screamed, its guts spilled.

Brennan shut the window as the carriage lurched around a corner. “That’s torn it!”

“I can’t leave Bee out in that—!”

“Trust that I know what I’m doing. We have a meeting place already planned.”

Knuckles white, I held my cane, wanting to batter him over the head with it, but instead
I took in one slow breath after another, trying to calm myself.

He shook his head. “It’s a good thing Bee warned me that you leap before you look
or you’d have gotten out there and caused ten kinds of trouble. For one thing, what
if the ghana’s spies recognized you as the magister’s wife living on the hospitality
of White Bow House? What
kind of questions do you think they would start asking? You can’t just jump. You have
to consider the consequences of each action.”

“I thought the more you skate onto thin ice, the better you like it. That’s what Kehinde
says.”

A flash of real irritation tightened his lips and eyes. The force of his anger silenced
me. I had no idea what Brennan Touré Du thought of me, and I feared he wasn’t thinking
very highly of me at all.

We trundled along as an appalling noise chased us with the pitch of an ugly fight.
The carriage jolted to a halt. The door opened, and Bee flung herself into my arms.
My eyes grew damp, but after a struggling pause she sat back with one arm gripping
my waist and the other holding my hand. The carriage dipped as several people swung
up onto the foot-rail in the back.

“I couldn’t see anything, but I heard the screams,” she said to Brennan.

“Does that happen every time you speak?” I demanded, still trembling.

“The ghana’s troops should know better than to draw blood,” said Brennan. “It’s why
we like to have a crowd of trolls at our gatherings. They’re curious about the way
the rats behave, and by being there they are the best protection radicals can have.”

“Bloody Melqart!” I whispered. “It disemboweled a horse!”

I pressed a hand to my mouth, then lowered it. While the thought shocked me, my body
did not respond with revulsion. Instead I thought of how much moist, raw flesh was
thereby exposed.

Bee crushed me against her. “Oh, Cat, I’m so sorry you saw such an awful sight. I
didn’t know we would be separated for so long. It’s been almost a year since you and
I were in Adurnam! I became so afraid I had lost you. Let’s never be parted again.”
To my surprise, she burst into tears.

I fussed over her. Despite my tears and the fading chaos of the battle, I was swept
with an intoxicating happiness. I had rescued Vai and now I was reunited with Bee
and Rory. For this hour, at least, I could luxuriate in knowing I had reclaimed the
ones I loved.

“As long as you’re safe that’s all that matters. Have you been well, Bee? Have you
had quite a bit of trouble?”

“Yes. It’s not the first time a public meeting has been attacked in that aggressive
way. I can’t get used to it.”

“You’re not meant to get used to it! What happened after you and Rory left me in the
spirit world?”

She wiped her eyes with the back of a hand. “Rory and I swam ashore in the city of
Camlun at the festival of Beltane. We traveled to Havery, where we were courteously
received at the law offices. We’ve been with the radicals ever since. It’s been more
dangerous than I imagined. Professora Nayo Kuti was arrested in Lutetia for the crime
of spreading sedition!”

“What happened?” I demanded.

“We believe the mage House in Lutetia pushed the Parisi prince to take the step,”
said Brennan with a crooked smile meant to remind me of why he had to be careful with
mages. “However, her husband is a man of considerable status in Massilia. Through
his efforts she was released and sent back to Massilia.”

“Professora Nayo Kuti is married?” I said. “I thought Kehinde was an independent woman.”

Bee’s gloved hand slipped from mine and she leaned over to rest a hand on Brennan’s
knee in a gesture so intimate and familiar that I looked sharply away lest I blurt
out an inappropriate question that would embarrass us all. My thoughts whirled dizzily.