Broken Quill [2] (20 page)

He grunted.

“Declan!” Annie shouted.

I leaped to my feet, waistcoat
ruffled and disarrayed, drawing deep breaths, and managed to unsheathe about twelve
inches of my sword before someone pressed twin revolver barrels into my
face—and giggled.

“Don’t even think about it, buddy,”
said a voice from the past, as familiar as the sun, the moon, or a childhood
stream and the pleasant memory of a dream. “Unless you want the last thing that
goes through your mind to be a bullet.”

Oh... wow.
Given that I knew the face behind
the voice, those were the sweetest words I’d heard in years.

“Still as sweet as lilies in May,
Tia,” I said, certain I recognized the voice and the woman attached to it.

The petite woman, wearing blue
overalls above a white blouse and pointing twin, iron-barreled revolvers at my
face, laughed. “Declan?
Declan Hale?
Broken quill, with the amount of
people that want you dead, and all those bounties on your big head, I’d have
bet good gems on never seeing you again! Ha!”

I gently pushed the barrel of one of
her revolvers aside and got a good look at her. “Tia Moreau. Now, I know you’re
dead and buried. I went to your memorial service, yours and the rest.” At five
feet and a dime, Tia only just came up to my shoulder. Her face held a few
lines I didn’t remember above a lightly freckled button nose and under
emerald-green eyes, and her long, raven-black hair was tied back in a ponytail.
An old scar, something else I didn’t remember, crossed the space between her
eyes, down the bridge of her nose, and into her cheek.

“Did you now? Was there cake?” Tia
holstered one of her weapons and cupped my cheek, while keeping the other
revolver aimed squarely between my eyes. “Reports of my death, handsome, have
been greatly exaggerated.”

Tia laughed again and planted a
quick kiss on my lips. I felt a rush of something that felt like the first sip
of scotch on a cold night. Not at all unpleasant, yet it made me shiver.

“Declan, you know this person? And
her... friend?” Annie had her gun drawn and pointed at the large, muscle-bound
goon, who had managed to crawl to one knee after I’d thrown him aside. The goon
held a curved rapier that looked like a butter knife in his giant hands.

I released the hilt of my sword and
let it fall back into the scabbard. “Annie, this is Tia Moreau. Once upon a
time, Commander Moreau, of the Cascade Fleet, charged with protecting the skies
above Ascension City, and Arbiter of the Knights Infernal. I inherited her job
when she was killed in action. Your command ship was
lost,
Tia. Along
with King Morrow’s and half the Fifth Fleet when the Renegades attacked Avalon
and unleashed a Voidflood! How’d you survive?”

Tia’s face darkened, and she shook
her head. “I can’t tell you. Not here, at any rate. It may attract... unwanted
attention. The Abstract is listening, Declan.”

I understood at once and kept my
peace for now. Tia had survived by crossing the Void—somehow—which left
lingering marks on one’s soul. Marks that could be felt by some pretty nasty
creatures. To speak of that cold space between universes would be to court
disaster and perhaps to attract the ire of the Voidlings. Few escaped the
darkness at all. I could count on one hand the number of people I knew who had
walked the Void and lived to tell the tale. Two hands, now, if Tia was to be
believed.

“You never came back?” I said,
making it a question. “The war lasted another eighteen months after Morrow
fell—”

“I was done with the war, Declan.
Origin save me, but I’d have been no good to the Knights anyway. My mind was
shattered at Avalon. Busted as if it were a cruiser fueled with dirty ion rods.
I’ve spent many years doing my best to
forget
it ever happened—what they
made us do.”

“You don’t look broken to me,” I
said and meant it.

“Ever the charmer, Declan Hale.
You’ve not changed one bit.”

“Can you point that gun somewhere
else?”

Tia’s grin grew three sizes. “Oh,
sorry, no. No, I can’t. Didn’t I mention? You’re under arrest.”

Twice in one day.

Women.

“What for?” Annie asked.

“Sensors picked up a strong burst of
Will,” Tia said. “We were sent to investigate. I take it that was you.”

Sensors? The knife must have tripped
whatever sensors Tia was talking about. “It was me, yeah. I didn’t see any
sensors.”

“No, you wouldn’t. They’re buried.
Just some old lodestones with Infernal Will-detection runes on them,” she said.
“They match up to a grid map back in the sheriff’s office. This whole sector
lit up like a Christmas tree about fifteen minutes ago. Ace and I were sent to
investigate, and here you are.”

I laughed. “Here I am, and here
you
are.” Seeing her again felt good—really good. We had been fast friends, back in
the day. “Where is here, Tia?”

Tia looked at me sideways. “You mean
you don’t know?”

I shrugged. “Annie and I took a sort
of roundabout way of getting here. We almost didn’t reach Forget at all.”

Tia gave me a curious grin. “Declan,
welcome to Meadow Gate.”

“Meadow...? Oh.
Oh.”
Her
smile was infectious. “Of all the places in all Forget...”

“Where did you think you were
going?” Tia asked.

“I was trying to get to Ascension
City, have a word with Jon, but...” Did I mention the rune branded into my arm?
I hadn’t seen Tia in almost eight years. A person could change a lot in eight
seconds, never mind the best part of a decade. Could I trust her? What about
whoever else lived here? No, it wasn’t about trust. Best to keep the rune a
secret and my power suspect for now. “But I’m a little out of practice, I
guess. We used the Atlas Lexicon, and the damn train derailed.” Also best not
to mention the detour to Charlie’s world, either.

Tia grimaced. “Oh, nasty. You’re
lucky to be alive.”

“Don’t I know it...” I looked at
Annie and, after an uncertain moment, given the revolver Tia still held on me,
she holstered her service weapon and let Ace the Giant get to his feet. “So,
under arrest?”

“Sorry,” Tia said, and tapped the
star pinned to her overalls. “Given that I used to be a Knight, the sheriff
roped me into a few deputized shifts a week on the Daywatch. Using as much Will
as you did, while not technically illegal, is frowned upon, and we’ll need to
file a report with the Lord Mayor’s office. I think, given the circumstances, I
won’t be issuing an infringement notice today.”

Annie chuckled. “Oh, she’s
definitely a cop, Declan.”

“An infringement notice for using
Will?” I balked at the idea. “What next, fined for blinking?”

My old friend shrugged. “Meadow Gate
has some strange customs, you know. While using Will isn’t illegal, you do not
have a license to practice the art and a membership with the guild.”

“A magician’s license?” Annie
muttered. “How strangely... normal you make all this seem.”

I grimaced. “Ugh, we’re not
magicians. It’s not... You know what? I give up. Get me a pointy hat and a
silvery beard.”

“Don’t forget the half-moon
spectacles.” Annie grinned. “Oh, and a magic wand!”

“I take it you’re a bit new to all
this?” Tia asked as Ace stumbled to her side rubbing his neck and glaring
frost-coated daggers at me.

“Annie’s a police officer, too,” I
said.

“Detective,” she corrected. “It’s
nice to meet you both. Am I under arrest?”

Tia mulled this over for a moment.
“No, just this idiot, I guess. Come on, let’s head back to town and get this
mess sorted out—I could use a drink.”

“There’s the Tia I know and love.
Lead the way, Deputy Moreau.”

“No,” Ace grunted, and pointed a
thick finger at me. “You up front where I can keep an eye on you, Shadowless.”

I rolled my eyes. Preceded by my
reputation once again, I set off along the eastern edge of the honeyberry crop,
back the way Tia and Ace had come from. I couldn’t see the town of Meadow Gate
yet, but given that only twenty minutes or so had trickled past since our
arrival, I guessed it was close—on the other side of the hills ahead.

“Huh,” Tia said, staring at the old
hay crunching under my black shoes. One day I’d learn and wear a proper pair of
boots out into the field. Walking through that tropical forest a world back had
scuffed the leather and left me with a few blisters. “You really don’t have a
shadow. I thought that part was made up. What happened?”

“He sold it to the devil,” Ace
grumbled, casting me another glare. Not making any friends there. “’Swhat I heard.”

“Come off it,” Tia said.

“What did happen?” Annie asked. “You
may have told me, but then you’ve told me a lot in the last few days...”

“No, Ace has it right, mostly.” Tia
blinked, her smile fading, so I continued. “I was tricked by one of the Everlasting
in Atlantis. Lord Oblivion, with eyes of blood, as that old rhyme goes... He
promised to end the Tome Wars, and I believed him because I thought I could
outsmart him. It. Him.” Oblivion now used what was left of Tal as a host. “Her.
Doesn’t matter. I had the Roseblade, you know.” The knife, Myth, was still
tucked safely into my belt. “And with the Roseblade I challenged the gods and
won.”

“Oblivion took your shadow?” Tia
asked quietly. “I always thought the Everlasting were fairy tales. You know,
proper fairy tales. The kind that aren’t real.”

“He surely did and cast it screaming
across the Void.” I tapped the side of my nose. “Another reason we should limit
such Abstract conversations. Those creatures are kind of attracted to me now.
Had to destroy one just a few months back...”

“No shadow.” Tia shook her head to
clear it and increased her stride toward the rolling hills. “Come on, let’s
hurry back.”

The walk only took five minutes,
curving around the honeyberry crop and the lower foothills. A well-traveled
dirt path became a well-traveled paved road. A steady stream of folk moved past
us, up and down the hill, dressed in an absurd mix of farm gear, suits, and
sunny weather clothing. A cross section of life on a hundred different worlds,
much like the Atlas Lexicon and Ascension City.

The town of Meadow Gate sprawled
outward in rings from the main road, which cut a straight path up and across
the hills. Cottages and narrow, cobblestoned lanes headed up in uneven levels
around the hills and dipped down into the valleys. As with all populated
Forgetful worlds, old and new mixed with simple and complex. A man pulling a
horse and cart stacked with barrels of the honeyberries was chatting into a
display screen strapped around his wrist and laughing. A woman who could have
stepped out of the French Renaissance fiddled with the control panel on an
information board. Kids on goddamn hover-boards giggled and ran circles around
Ace. First time I saw him grin.

“So what is this place?” Annie
asked, trying hard not to crane her neck every which way. “Meadow Gate?”

“A sanctuary of sorts,” I said,
scratching my chin. “Neutral territory as decreed by the Ragnarok Accords. A
place of asylum and refuge—”

“It’s a quaint little town,” Tia
said. “Well, compared to somewhere like Ascension City. We’ve got about seventy
thousand residents at the moment, most of them refugees from the Tome Wars.
And, yes, it’s one of a handful of places on a handful of worlds declared
neutral by both the Knights and the Renegades. No warring here.”

Tia led us up a set of limestone
steps curving around a hill dotted with white houses and buildings shining in
the sun. Everything was very clean and very green. Meadow Gate flourished with
exotic plant life and impossibly vibrant vegetation. At the top of the steps, a
cobblestone street stretched in a snaking curve through the heart of the town,
following the alternating elevation of the land.

The main strip running through the
town was dotted with everything from silk merchants to armorers, spice dealers,
and exotic trade stalls. Just beyond the markets stretched a road of
townhouses, a warren of little alleyways, and a bunch of municipal-looking
buildings that had to be the heart of the town and the local government
offices.

A small library made of white
columned marble and glass stood on the crown of the hill, surrounded by a lush
park and natural ponds.

It took only about five minutes from
the markets and the library to reach the Sheriff’s Office. Reminiscent of law
enforcement the worlds over, a wooden sign bearing a golden star swung gently
in the breeze on metal hooks above the door. As the sun began to sink below the
hills, sending a burnished orange haze across the sky, Tia and Ace led us
inside. So far we had failed to attract any unwanted attention, but that
couldn’t last. Meadow Gate was home to a great slew of war refugees, who would
have cause to blame me for past sufferings.

“Sheriff Coras,” Tia said to a large
man who wore a gold star on his chest and sat behind a heavy mahogany desk. “This
is Declan Hale.”