The Dawn of a Desperate War (The Godlanders War) (17 page)

And in the process, he’d led Jessamine straight to Kellen. But how? How had she found him so quickly on the Isle of Mists? In that strange place, she’d come directly to him almost immediately after Kellen appeared.

An inspiration struck cold and crushing around Corin’s heart. She’d found him once before, when he’d come to Aerome to kill the princes. He’d thought at the time that Ephitel’s response to the deed had come too quickly, but perhaps the murders hadn’t been the cause. To bring so many soldiers ready for a fight, she must have started gathering them before he’d even set foot inside the cathedral.

No. She’d detected his arrival in the city. Corin couldn’t guess how, but Jeff had warned him of the possibility. She could sense anomalies, he’d said, and though Corin wasn’t enough of one on his own, when he was near the sword, she could feel it.

And he’d said the sword was not the only catalyst. He’d warned Corin to avoid anyone or anything that might have had an echo in old Gesoelig.

So she had found him once he reunited with the elf. She must have been already on the island, or perhaps she’d used some justicar magic to transport herself, but clearly she had needed that extra reference point to find him.

“Gods’ blood,” Corin groaned, as a new fear washed over him. “Avery!” She’d sense them together. Corin had to postpone that meeting, perhaps conduct it at a distance, with Jane as an intermediary. He’d lose some advantage there, but he could not afford to lure Jessamine to him here. Not in this condition.

He sprang from his bed, hoping he might still catch Jane on the stairs outside, but a dizziness spun his vision, and a weakness in his legs made him stagger. He grasped at the dressing table to steady himself, but it was too far away.

Still, he didn’t fall. Strong hands caught him by the shoulders and steadied him on his feet. Corin spun his head and groaned at the way the world washed around him, but finally his eyes fixed on the helpful stranger.

Avery was there. The room had been empty moments earlier, and Corin knew no one had entered by the door. The sole, sad window looked painted shut, and it sat an inch above the bed Corin had just left. He could not imagine how the elf had appeared there in the room.

But this was Avery, the founder of the Nimble Fingers, who’d pilfered palaces and robbed the very gods. This was not the bumbling nobleman Corin had met in Oberon’s dream, but the legend, the hero Corin had worshipped as a child.

The years had darkened him much as they had Kellen, though in slightly different ways. He had no scars, no missing limbs, but his eyes were cold and guarded. He held himself like a cornered beast, ready to fight or flee on a moment’s notice. There was no laughter left to him. He was a killing grief, right down to the bone.

“Avery,” Corin whispered, trying to pull himself together. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“You invited me.”

“It was a mistake,” Corin said. “Go. Now. I’ll explain later. Send Jane.”

Before Avery could comply or question, the door slammed open. Corin leaped away, grabbing for the bundled clothes that hid his knives, but Avery held fast to his shoulders, and Corin couldn’t budge.

The moment’s panic passed, and Corin’s vision cleared enough to show him Jane—not Jessamine—entering at the door. He felt a flush touch his cheeks and gulped a calming breath. Perhaps it did a bit of good.

Then Jane slammed the door behind her. She snatched up the same bundle Corin had been reaching for and shoved it into his arms. Her eyes danced with the same panic Corin had felt a moment before.

“It’s Jessamine,” she said. “She’s coming now. She’s here.”

T
he room fell very still following Jane’s announcement. Then Avery nodded in sudden certainty. “It’s true. She is quite near.”

A cold fist closed around Corin’s heart at those words. He glanced out the smoky window, but Avery could not have seen the street from where he stood.

As if in answer to the thought, the elf shook his head. “I feel her like an itch beneath my skin. She must be close indeed. Perhaps within the building.”

Corin unfolded the bundle Jane had given him. He buckled on his blades then shrugged into his shirt. As he was reaching for his cloak, Jane stepped toward the door, but Avery stoppe
d her.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “You’re positive it’s Jessamine?”

Corin frowned. “But you just said—”

“It is a justicar,” Avery said. “I can feel the way they warp the world. And I can’t imagine why another would have come here at this time.”

“Why would Jessamine?” Jane asked. “How could she have found us?”

Corin ground his teeth. “It’s me. Me and Avery together. One of the druids warned me, but it slipped my mind.”

Avery rounded him, and his voice came out a roar. “It slipped your mind? Blasted knave, you’ve doomed us all!”

“Oh, hush!” Jane snapped. “The both of you. It doesn’t matter how she found us. It only matters that we deal with her and somehow escape alive. We’ll sort out the blame sometime later.”

Avery composed himself, then turned to Jane. “You are, of course, correct. Can you scale the wall beneath the window? If not, I’ll try to draw her down the hall, so you can slip past.”

“No,” Corin said, making a rapid inventory of his cloak’s many pockets. He would have given much for even a pinch of dwarven powder, but he had used it all to kill the princes. He’d have to trust his skill with knives.

“I’ll fight her,” Corin said. “Avery is right. She’s here because of me, and you two owe me nothing. On the contrary, I’m greatly in your debt. Avery, take Jane and slip away. The justicar is after me anyway. I can’t imagine she’ll try too hard to stop you.”

Jane gave a dramatic sigh. “Oh, Fortune save us all from noble gentlemen. You’re fools, the both of you. Do you think I’d have brought Corin here without an escape plan, Avery? Do you think I’m such a twit as that?”

She didn’t wait for his answer. She dragged the rickety dressing table in front of the door then dashed across the room to the inn’s back wall. She knelt down smoothly, hands tracing the cracked plaster in something almost like a caress, until she found the spot she wanted. Then she slammed her shoulder against the wall with surprising force. It was enough to draw a cry of pain from her, and one of worry from the elf, but it also revealed what she intended.

New knife-edge cracks within the plaster revealed a panel, three-feet square. She planted her palm against one edge and shoved it hard. Muscles corded on her arm and across her shoulders before the panel budged. After that, it scraped back into the darkness beyond with a sluggishness that spoke of some great weight.

That caught Corin by surprise. He moved to help her in her efforts, but there was no room for him, and she didn’t yield her place. Instead, she repositioned, planted her feet, and shoved hard enough with both hands to force the panel all the way back. Then she scampered through. Avery dove forward before Corin could even move, and slithered through the gap like a wisp of smoke. Corin followed close behind.

The room beyond was dark and musty with disuse. Jane and Avery hadn’t moved; they waited just beyond the wall. As soon as Corin was through, Jane put her shoulder to the slab again, shoving it back closed.

“Leave it,” Avery said, his voice touched with concern for the girl. “It won’t fool her long anyway, now that it’s been disturbed. We should already be running.”

“No!” Jane snapped over her shoulder. “I will not spend my life running from Cosimo’s justicar.”

Avery laid a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve trained hard, girl, but you cannot hope to beat her in battle. She’s a justicar.”

“And I’m a Nimble Finger,” Jane said. “I don’t intend to fight her. I intend to punish her for all the good men she’s killed.”

She flicked a quick look up to Avery’s face, then snapped her attention back to the other room. It lasted half a heartbeat, but it was all Corin needed to understand. She was doing all of this for Avery.

Corin blinked in sudden clarity. As much as Jessamine’s rampage had shaken Corin—who had always thought of the Nimble Fingers as his brothers—it must have hurt Avery far, far worse. He’d founded the organization. He’d set down their rules and taught everyone who followed after him
how
to be a noble outlaw. The whole organization was his masterpiece, his work o
f art.

And for months now he’d been forced to watch while that shrew wrought her vendetta against his people.

Corin caught his arm and said softly, “Avery . . . I’m sorry. I apologize for everything I’ve brought upon your people.”

Avery held Corin’s gaze for a long moment; then he raised his chin. “Your apology solves nothing, manling. How many more will die?”

Corin flinched at that. “Have you heard from Kellen?”

The elf’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “What have you done to Kellen?”

“I approached him on the Isle of Mists. I thought perhaps Jane would have told you.”

“We knew you’d gone there. I never guessed you might have found something.”

Corin bowed his head. “I found Kellen. I asked him to join me in this quest, and he told me he would stand beside me if I could but convince you to join us.”

“Now!” The elf snarled. “You would ask this of me now? When you have brought ruin upon us all?”

Corin shook his head. “I will add it to my apology. While I was meeting with Kellen, the justicar found us. He killed a dozen men, fought her to a standstill, and dragged her into Faerie for my sake. I know not what happened next.”

“But she returned from Faerie,” Avery snarled. “Your shadows falls across my miserable life like a killing blight.”

“Hush, the both of you,” Jane whispered fiercely. “I think she’s here!”

Corin frowned toward the tiny gap Jane was still peeking through. Avery crowded closer to the young woman, but only she could see into the other room.

“It’s her!” She breathed, exultant. She heaved with her shoulder, shoving the heavy slab back into place, then turned aside. Following her motion, Corin spotted what looked very much like the butt end of a flintlock pistol sticking out from the wall. It was cocked and primed, and even as Corin recognized it, Jane closed her hand around the grip and pulled the trigger.

From the other room came not the sharp report of a fired gun, but instead the heavy, percussive boom of a thunderclap. It seemed to shake the building, and it jarred the panel Jane had been so careful to restore. The new gap thus created exhaled a thick, choking stream of acrid smoke and showed a hint of angry red and orange.

For a long moment, no one moved. No one spoke. Corin and Avery met eyes, equally astonished and confused, then both men turned to Jane for some explanation.

She was still kneeling by the wall, her right hand locked in a death grip around the pistol’s stock. Her other hand was shaking almost convulsively, and her mouth hung open in shock.

Slowly, like a mighty warship coming around, she turned her eyes to Avery. She looked pale and afraid. She raised her trembling hand to brush her hair back from her face and said almost reverently, “It worked. It really worked.”

Avery went to her like a huntsman approaching a wounded animal. He reached out a hand ahead of him and touched her ever so slightly. “What was it? What have you done?”

“I destroyed her. Gods and princes, I’m going to have to buy Mary a whole new wardrobe. It worked. I don’t think I believed it would. I never really thought I’d have to use it.” A shiver chased up and down her spine, and then another that set her teeth chattering, and then she was shaking uncontrollably. “Gods on Attos, Avery, it w-w-worked. What . . . what have I done?”

Avery scooped the poor young woman into his arms, crushing her against his chest, but he looked past her at Corin. His expression showed more fear than it had when he’d announced that Jessamine was coming. For all his ancient ages, he had no clue how to handle the emotions that gripped the girl.

Corin recognized them, though. He cleared his throat and stepped closer. “Do you perchance recall a time before the fall of Gesoelig when you and Kellen fell into Ephitel’s power? He imprisoned you within his deepest dungeon. Desperate to escape and warn King Oberon, you sought a plan to overwhelm the guards. You struck first, throwing a knife—”

“I remember well,” Avery shuddered at the memory, and Jane moaned softly against his shoulder.

“It was the first time you killed a man,” Corin said.

Avery’s head jerked around, his gaze fixing on the tiny stream of black smoke. Then he hugged Jane more tightly and whispered something soothing in her ear.

“We need to move,” Corin said. “Even if the justicar is dead, she must have reinforcements nearby. And either way, that blast must have started quite a fire. I won’t be surprised if this whole quarter burns before it’s done.”

Jane shook her head, sniffling. “No. There shouldn’t be much fire damage.”

Corin tried to hide his doubt. “I know the scent of dwarven powder. How much did you detonate within that room?”

“About a barrelful, all told,” Jane said. Corin’s stomach rolled at the thought, but Jane’s voice only grew steadier. “I lined the walls with potter’s clay. The floor and ceiling too. It cost a little fortune and killed my back, but unless I grossly misjudged something, the fire should be small.”

“Gods’ blood,” Corin breathed, admiring. “You made the room into a kiln.”

The girl seemed to perk up at Corin’s tone. She raised her chin and nodded. “I thought someday there might be need. Avery always said there’s no room for mistakes.”

“If you must strike, strike clean,” Corin quoted. “You did well, Jane.”

“Indeed,” Avery said. He stroked her hair for a moment, then very deliberately unwrapped his arms around her and withdrew a pace. “You did admirably. The foresight and the planning that went into this escape do you great honor, and it does not detract from it at all that Jessamine escaped.”

Corin and Jane both turned to him, astonished, and then the girl shook her head. “If you’re just saying this to make me feel better—”

The elf rubbed his upper arms as though soothing an itch. “No, it’s true. I can feel her still twisting the world around her. She yet lives, though I cannot say how. I saw that device you fixed upon the door.”

Jane nodded. “It should have let the door open once, then sealed it so even you could not force it. No, she must have used the window.”

“It is not a short fall, but somehow she survived. Justicars are hard to kill.”

“Then it’s true? She lives?”

Avery nodded, and Jane answered with a dainty curse. “She must have noticed when I closed the panel. I didn’t want to risk hurting someone else.”

“You did the right thing,” Avery said. “You bought us time.”

“How much?” Corin asked. “If she knows where we
escape
d to—”

Avery shook his head. “She’s not stopping off downstairs to confer with her soldiers. That makes me doubt she brought any. Perhaps she only meant to confirm we were here, but now she’s running.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jane said. “This building is connected to the next via a crawlspace in the basement, and the next used to be some sort of church, because
its
basement offers access to the catacombs. From there, we can travel anywhere between the rivers.”

Avery’s eyebrows rose at that. “Oh, well done indeed.”

She beamed at his approval, then hastily she put her plan in motion. From a dilapidated wardrobe in the corner, she produced a bull’s-eye lantern and a shiny copper key. She checked the door, but it revealed an empty corridor where undisturbed dust coated the floor. They made no effort to conceal their passage there, for Jessamine had clearly seen how they escaped the actress’s room.

A servant’s stairwell at the end of that long hall twisted down and down into the distant depths. At the final landing, Jane’s key opened the door’s rusty lock, and once she’d lit the lantern, she led them on a twisting path among the long-
forgotten
relics of an unused lodging house. The passage to the church’s basement was a narrow crawl space, close and cramped. Corin breathed his thanks to Fortune that the girl had thought to bring a lantern.

On the other side, they crossed two empty rooms before they found the wide stone staircase leading further down into the depths. At the bottom of the steps, the twisting catacombs stretched off to right and left. Corin took one step out into the way and spotted the tiny charcoal markings on the pillars to his right. To anyone else they might have looked like smoke-stained smudges, but to a member of the Nimble Fingers, they were clear as a scribe’s tracery. This way led north toward the Piazza Dei; that way south, toward the palace.

Corin turned to Jane in quiet awe. “You’ve planned this perfectly. But now we should split up lest Jessamine find us again the same way she did before. I can find my way from here.”