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Pier 37 sat at the farthest edge of Durleigh, as far from the Church grounds as a soul could walk and not fall into the river.
Perched along the wide banks of the Mighty, it was a waystation for goods crawling upriver from Morgan’s Landing or drifting down from the sleek ports of Port Malvere in Cavendyr and Thaylon in Kaybec.
Mac threaded his way through the fog, keeping his hands in his coat pocket as his boots struck the wet cobbles. He passed a hunched figure pissing against a crate. The air smelled of oil and urine-soaked wood.
It was after ten, and the piers were half-asleep. But they weren’t quiet. Durleigh never truly slept. Not down here. Two women leaned against a lamppost on the corner as he passed by, their faces hidden by shawls and red silk veils. One of them eyed him with mild interest.
“Evenin’, sweetheart,” she purred. “Need a bit of company?”
Mac kept walking. “Not tonight, ma’am.”
“Shame,” she called after him. “You look like the kind of man who could use a warm drink and warmer company. I can give you both.” The two laughed.
He didn’t laugh, didn’t stop. He just pressed deeper into the alleys between the warehouses and drydocks, guided by the distant wheeze of pipes. Ahead he saw the glow of a tilted gas lamp lighting a sign: Tessler’s Hall. That was his destination.
The saloon was slanted against the pier like it had grown there by mistake. Paint peeled from the shutters, and a trail of dark fluid pooled at the corner of the building. He hoped it was water but suspected it was not. Condensation dripped from the upper eaves. The windows were fogged from within.
Mac took two steps toward the door when shadows moved to block him.
Two men, longshoremen by their looks, stood shoulder to shoulder in the fog. One held a bottle. The other cracked his knuckles. Both were as big as Mac.
“Don’t get many tourists down here,” the first one said. “Perhaps you need to be shown the way out?”
Mac sighed. “I’m looking for someone. I don’t want trouble.”
The second one sneered. “Wrong part of town for wanting. That coat looks like it buys a lot of trouble.”
“For the right price,” the first one said, “we can show you where to go. If not, trouble is always looking for a home.”
The bottle tilted slightly.
Mac was considering whether to backpedal or swing first when a voice sliced through the fog.
“Boys,” a deep contralto called out.
Both longshoremen turned.
Kitamar Dawnstrider stood five paces behind them, all shadow and silhouette. Her cloak hung heavy with rain, one gloved hand resting on the carved staff she always carried. Thin lines of light ran up and down the staff. The men could see just how stout it was.
“I suggest,” she said, “you go piss in the harbor and pretend you never saw this one.”
The bottle lowered. The men hesitated.
“Now,” Kitamar added, as she swung the staff in a circle.
They left.
Mac let out a breath. “Thanks.”
Kitamar didn’t smile. “Why are you here?”
“Something’s happened. Can I talk to the two of you?”
Kitamar nodded, “Come on.”
She led him through a side door and up a narrow set of wooden stairs that creaked underfoot. The hall at the top was little more than a corridor choked with file boxes and rolled charts. The far door glowed from beneath.
Kitamar paused and turned to face Mac. “When we go in, don’t interrupt and don’t speak to my sister until she tells you. She’s conducting…well, let’s call them performance evaluations.” She turned back and opened the door.
Inside, Uscoshi Stormpetal stood behind a desk, arms folded, eyes sharp. A man knelt before her—middle-aged and sweat-slicked. His lips were bleeding. Two big, well-muscled men, enforcers probably, stood behind him.
“You sold us to the Authority,” she said softly. “And you smuggled Valkyries to the Thorns. That makes you a traitor twice over.”
“I—I had no choice,” the man stammered. “You—you don’t say no to Maher or to Rice…please don’t kill me.”
“I’m not going to kill you, Franklin.” Uscoshi said.
The man sagged.
“I’m going to give you a third choice. That’s much worse.”
She looked up as Mac entered and held up a hand for him to stop where he was. “My next appointment has arrived, so I’ll make this brief. You will go next door and then tell Randell everything you know about the Trade Authority’s little human smuggling caper. If I discover you are contradicted in the smallest detail by any of the other informants, you will be killed. Are we clear?”
Franklin nodded, swallowing noisily.
“Good. When that’s done, we’ll tell you what we expect you to do. That will include going back to Rice as if nothing has happened. But now you will be mine again, not his. When I tell you to jump…”
He nodded rapidly. “Yes, ma’am. How high? I understand. Thank you. Thank you. Thank…”
She nodded to the men behind Franklin, who picked him up and escorted him out of the room. Once the door closed, she ran over to Mac, threw her arms around him, and held him tight.
He was surprised. She’d never hugged him before. He wasn’t sure what was appropriate, with Kitamar right there, but it was obvious she needed comfort. So, gingerly, he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her back.
They stood there for a moment, until Kitamar coughed. “Moon-eyed calves, the both of you,” she said with a sigh that was a bit too loud to be sincere.
Uscoshi released Mac from her hug but didn’t move her arms from where they rested on his body. “I’m glad you’re here, Mac. I really, truly, needed a hug after that. Dealing with scum like Franklin takes all my strength.”
“Then why deal with them? What good does it do?” he asked.
She sighed and stepped back, turning to a large desk in the middle of the room. It was stacked with folios and reports. “See that. Most of those reports are related to local smuggling operations in the last two months. Salt, drugs, alcohol, or people. The last one is the reason I do this.” She waved a hand around to indicate the office.
“I get that. But, again, why? Why do you have to do this?”
She looked at Kitamar, and then back at Mac. “Because a long, long time ago, the man I loved was taken. We thought he was sold to slavers, because we couldn’t find any trace of him in a place where it should have been very easy to find him.”
“We searched for him for years,” Kitamar said. “And never found him or any trace of him. But we found lots of misery and torture along the way instead. After what he did for us, we couldn’t let that stand.”
Uscoshi shook her head. “Elven history, Mac. I’m sure you don’t want to be bored with it right now.”
“No, I want to know, Stormy.” Mac said. “If this was about someone you loved, then that’s something you consider precious. That makes it something I want to know about you as well. If you want to share it. But we’ve got some problems of our own right now. Mama, Pa and Miz Rowan are missing.”
Uscoshi’s mouth opened. She looked at Kitamar, who also looked shocked. The Dawnstrider opened the door and called out. “Randell! Get in here!”
A small gnome walked into the room, adjusted his brass-rimmed glasses, and nodded. “Yes, ma’am?”
Uscoshi looked at him and said, “Randell, first, this is MacKenzie Tharnen. He and his family are grivnash.”
Randell nodded. “Grivnash. I understand. I will make sure word is passed.”
Kitamar looked at Mac. “She’s declared you under her protection. Anyone who does anything out of line will answer to her…and to me.”
“Mac, Randell Vexley here is one of my senior information specialists,” Uscoshi continued. “He handles all of the intelligence reports that come into Durleigh and determines what’s important enough to need my attention. I couldn’t make this work without him.”
Randell bowed. “Thank you for your kind words, ma’am. And it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Tharnen.”
She went on, “However, it sounds like you’ve not updated me on some things that I need to know, Randell?”
Randell sighed though his nose and adjusted his glasses. “No, ma’am.” He looked at Uscoshi and flicked his eyes at Mac.
She smiled. “It’s alright, Randell. I should also mention that MacKenzie is my tiranel.”
Kitamar inhaled suddenly. “Uscoshi…”
The Stormpetal looked fiercely at her sister. “Tiranel, sister. And you know it’s true. Even if you won’t admit it.”
Kitamar shook her head and moved to a chair to sit down.
Randell looked unperturbed. “Understood, ma’am.” He took a breath and began. “The Trade Authority situation has taken up all of your time tonight, so I haven’t had the chance to fully brief you.
“Top three headlines?” the platinum-blond elf asked.
Headlines? Mac thought. What is this, a newspaper office?
“Yes, ma’am,” Randell answered. “First, the Greybacks have been informed that the Reaper is back, along with the Bloody Rose. Second, the Reaper, Bloody Rose, and her friend the Golden Thorn, are indeed currently in Durleigh under Church protection.”
Kitamar snorted. “Give us something we don’t know, Randell.”
Randell raised his eyebrows as if to say, Hold your horses. He looked back at the Stormpetal and went on. “Three, the Granblue court has formally requested the Cardinal turn them over to the GSS and the Veiled Garden. And four, though you didn’t request it, I believe the Cardinal is going to agree.”
Uscoshi put her head in her left hand. “And Mac just told us that his parents, who are the Reaper and the Bloody Rose, are missing, along with Marigold Rowan, the Golden Thorn.”
Randell stood straighter and faced Mac. “Mr. Tharnen,” he said candidly. “I am very sorry about what’s happened. Rest assured we will find your parents, and we will get them back from wherever they have been taken.” Turning to Uscoshi, he nodded. “Ma’am, I’ve got work to do. Franklin will have to wait for a bit, unfortunately.”
Uscoshi nodded, and the gnome left the room.
MacKenzie was confused. “I don’t understand. I thought Prelate Ybarra said the Greybacks couldn’t enter church grounds.”
“That’s the law,” Uscoshi nodded. “Church grounds are sacrosanct. If the GSS entered without permission, the Pope up in Kaebec would excommunicate the king faster than you can say ‘holy salt’ and then put the nation under interdiction. No one would trade with Granblue, and they’d all probably declare war to boot.”
Kitamar frowned, “But if they got the Cardinal’s permission, they could come in and take your family. That’s almost as unlikely as a tax-free sale at harvest time.”
“But not impossible, sister,” Uscoshi said. “Remember we were reading about how Caedmon was having troubles with their Traditionalists? When you add that to what Cardinal Strahn is dealing with from that Purity faction, as well as the Technologists, it makes sense.”
Kitamar shook her head and waved a hand. “He wouldn’t dare. They killed Pthomas for less. The Church doesn’t negotiate, and they never give up their Light-given rights to what they think is theirs.”
It was Uscoshi’s turn to shake her head. “No, Kitamar, it makes sense. Caedmon gets the Reaper and buys the Garden’s loyalty by returning the Rose. I’m sure he’s had to promise to support Strahn in the cardinal’s dealing with both Father and the Confederation.”
“So where would they take Mac’s parents, old cow?”
Uscoshi bit her lip. “GSS headquarters for the Old Ghost, I’m sure. They might take the women there as well, but the odds are better they would remand them to the Garden. Let’s have Randell confirm that.”
Mac stood up. “Ladies, this is…a lot, but I promised Mercy I’d get back to the compound as soon as I found you. We need to let her, and Joe, know what you’ve found, and where we need to start looking for Mama and Pa.”
“We’ll go with you,” Uscoshi said. “Give me a minute to freshen up and give Randell instructions.” She left the room.
Mac looked around at the walls of file cabinets and stacks of folios. He huffed a quiet breath through his nose. This was a part of Stormy he hadn’t known about. To be honest, he wasn’t sure what to make of it. He turned to see Kitamar looking at him with an expression he couldn’t decipher. Then she stood up and began gathering files.
“Dawnstrider, what is it?” he asked.
She looked down at the files she was gathering. “We’re going to need some of this data to show your paladin friends before we decide how many of the Greybacks we’ll need to eliminate. You do still have your hammer?”
“No, Dawnstrider. That’s back at the church grounds. But I think I can manage to knock someone out with a fist if that’s what’s needed. What has got you stirred up? Was it that word she used? Tir-el something?”
She shook her head. “I’m not sure how to…,” She sat down. “Mac, I…Mac, she called you her tiranel. Publicly.”
“Sure. I know. What does that mean?”
“It’s elven. Literally, it means the song I was born hearing. Mac, there is no stronger term of endearment among my people. To name you that in front of others…” Her face grew stern. “I know what you said on the road to Triangle Garden. You promised me you’d treat her with respect…but, Mac, don’t you dare break her heart. Or I will kill you.”
Mac said nothing at first.
The song I was born hearing.
He wasn’t sure what he’d expected. Maybe that it meant friend. Or shield-brother. Or something poetic and harmless.
But this?
For nearly a thousand years, he knew Uscoshi had been rescuing people, saving them from torment and misery. Pa told him that she had fought dozens of wars and seen nations born. To Mac, though, she was simply the most amazing person he’d ever known. She was good and funny and so beautiful. Light, he almost cried when he remembered that one kiss in Morgan’s Landing. Now she was standing in that storm-washed office telling her sister that he was the song her soul had waited for. He felt something shift in his chest—like a bowstring pulled too tight.
You damn idiot. The thought struck harder than any blow. You thought you had time to figure this out. But she already has. How can I ever be worthy of someone like her? She’s so far above me. There’s nothing I can give her that she’d want. The first time a better man comes along, she’d leave me. Why wouldn’t she?
He looked at Kitamar, and then toward the closed door where Uscoshi had disappeared.
And for the first time since Laskur’s Stand, MacKenzie’s hands weren’t steady.
Next week on Blood & Iron:
Chapter 9—Burning In The Right Direction
The Forty had not forgotten who made them.
Now Joseph had to decide who still deserved to stand beside him.
Fire is useful when it learns where to burn.
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