I stared, struggling to make the mental adjustment from arousal to arrest. Then Droit stepped out of the coach and straightened his coat in the studied way that meant he was checking the placement of his concealed knives.
“Don’t even think about driving away,” he snapped to the coachman, who had turned around to watch and didn’t look inclined to leave at all. Droit scowled at the woman arresting me. “I’m Tegeus Droit, attached to the Cislunar Watch, Dockside. What’s the military’s interest in Axton?”
The soldier smirked as she eyed Droit up and down.
“I’m Lieutenant Tasya Shrike, of the king’s guard,” she replied. “Mister Axton’s being taken in for owning books prohibited by city law.”
“Then it’s Watch business.”
She shook her head, lamplight flashing around the rims of her spectacles.
“Not tonight. I have orders to see to his arrest myself.”
“From whom?”
“From the very highest levels of government.”
“It’s Domenico,” I said, my head still swimming. “He probably ordered my arrest.”
“Well, Lieutenant, unless Sovereign Lament gave you a warrant, Axton’s not going anywhere.” Droit folded his arms. “He’s part of an active Watch investigation.”
“Heh.” Shrike pulled a folded piece of paper from her coat pocket and shook it out. My name — the publically known half of it, anyway — was clearly visible. “I’ve got a warrant. Now step aside like a nice little citizen and let me do my duty.”
“And if I don’t?”
She nudged her greatcoat aside, revealing the pistol holstered at her side. I was surprised. Did Domenico really think his soldiers would need a gun to arrest me?
“I’ll go with you, Lieutenant,” I said with haste. Droit scowled.
“No, you won’t,” he objected.
“She’s right. I do have illegal books in my possession.” I leaned heavily on my crutch, feeling the wound in my leg pound with my pulse. I hadn’t noticed it in the coach — Droit had distracted me — but now it felt raw and new. The laudanum must be wearing off. “But I don’t own them, Lieutenant. I was studying them to assist the Watch’s investigation. General, if you’ll contact Magister Carel, I think she’ll vouch for me.”
“I appreciate your cooperation, Mister Axton.” Shrike laid a hand on my shoulder. “Let’s go ahead and comandeer your friend’s coach, since it’s so cozy and convenient.”
Droit ground his teeth.
“Where are you taking him?”
“Ravenyard.”
“You’ll see me again, Shrike,” he said.
“Have a nice walk home, constable.” Shrike chuckled as the four of us got into the coach and left him standing in the snowy street, glaring.
Ravenyard was tucked in a distant corner of the palace grounds, not quite out of sight over the side of Stonepaen mountain. Shrike was polite but didn’t make any small talk as she logged me in and had her soldiers pat me down. They looked at each other meaningfully as they found the three Banishat rings in my waistcoat pocket. The pages I’d pulled from the coroner’s report that evening, describing the link between the corpse and the Banishat ritual described in The Veil of Flesh, were also met with raised eyebrows. Nevertheless, the lieutenant made sure I was escorted to my cell with reasonable civility.
Being a prisoner in Ravenyard was better than being a prisoner in Hellsgate. Ravenyard was where nobility were incarcerated, and even as prisoners, the aristocracy enjoyed more privileges than the commonfolk. The cell was large, windowed, clean, and — best of all — solitary. It had a small table and chair, a low cot that came furnished with blanket and pillow, and a chamberpot. Except for its lack of books, it was a nicer place than my old Flasherry cellar had been.
I sat on the cot and started to tremble.
The door swung open just as the cell was becoming visible again, painted in shades of black and grey by the dim light of dawn. A guard I didn’t recognize looked in, saw that I was awake, and nodded in greeting.
“Mister Axton?”
“Yes, sir.” I slid off the cot and staggered, my injured leg stiff and painful. The wound felt hot; Lorencz had confiscated my bottle of laudanum along with everything else. All things considered, it was probably for the best. I grabbed my crutch.
“This way.” He stepped to one side. I limped out, pulling my coat closer. The morning air was cold, our breath visible. He led me back the way I’d come last night, to the jailer’s office. Two men sat there, waiting.
“Axton! Are you all right?” Noble Aronson scrutinized me as if expecting to see bruises from a jailhouse beating. I dropped my eyes, ashamed to the very core of my being to stand as a prisoner before him.
“Yes, my liege.”
“You’re being released on my recognizance. We have to report to a special board of inquiry in three hours, but we have time to get you cleaned up and fed before your appearance.”
I released the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding and took his hand, my knees collapsing as I pressed my lips to it. The crutch clattered to the floor and pain shot up my leg, but I didn’t care.
“Thank you, my liege,” I said, tears burning my eyes. “Thank you.”
“Don’t — Ax, stop that! Stand up. What are you doing?” Flustered, he awkwardly helped me back to my feet and turned to the man behind the desk. “Do you require anything else?”
“Just your signatures,” the jailer said, pushing a book toward us. Aronson signed with a flourish; I signed with less confidence, fighting to keep my shaking hand steady.
The nobilis was silent as we walked out into the prison courtyard. His servants swung the coach doors open for us and I followed him inside.
“Don’t say a word,” he directed, arranging his coat around him. His silver Vigilance pin flashed brightly in the morning light. “You can tell all of us at once over breakfast. I assume you have an excellent explanation for this. You had better have an excellent explanation for this.”
“Yes, my liege.” I shoved my hands into my coat pockets, wedged myself into the corner of the seat, and fell into an exhausted sleep.
I awoke when we reached the mansion. Aronson’s servants took command of me for the next forty minutes, getting me bathed, shaved, and dressed in yet another set of my liege’s clothing, dark and very conservatively cut. At least I wouldn’t be able to ruin this suit, not in court. Aronson didn’t have any laudanum in the house, but the bootboy brought me a glass of what he called “Cookie’s special medicine,” which not only dulled the pain in my leg but numbed my fingers, toes, and nose, as well.
At last I was released. I felt shaken but cognizant by the time I finally limped down to breakfast.
“You look like shite,” Lorencz observed, already smoking. The ashtray in front of her and the haze in the air suggested that this wasn’t her first cigar of the morning. Both she and Droit were wearing their Watch uniforms.
“I assume you’re not referring to his wardrobe,” Aronson said, giving me a critical once-over. “That’s one of the mourning suits I had retailored when I thought Tegeus was going to die.”
“I’m glad someone’s getting some use out of it, then,” Droit said, watching me. For a moment our gazes caught, held, and then separated. No warm greetings this morning. Not until I’d exonerated myself.
Droit had been the only thing I’d been able to think about last night that hadn’t depressed me.
“Sit.” Aronson checked his pocketwatch. “We don’t have much time.”
The servants moved in as we took our chairs.
“Let me start,” I said, as napkins were being shaken out and food served. I’d resigned myself, in the bath, to getting this over as quickly as possible.
“I received the books last month from a friend in Candor. I’ve been reading them to learn more about the Banishat. One of the rings came from the sentinel General Droit killed when we rescued you, Captain. The other came from the corpse you found in the warehouse. He was Banishat, and I think he died while trying to channel bale the way the children can, to change his shape. The third ring belonged to my mother. I inherited it when she died. I’ve attended one Banishat meeting, but I only recognized one of the adult members. I was hoping I’d have the opportunity to recognize more, later, to assist in your investigation.”
I stopped. Silence fell as I sipped my cup of coffee.
“Your mother was a sentinel?” Aronson asked, at last. I nodded. “Who?”
“I’d rather not talk about my mother.” I set down the cup. “She wasn’t anybody important. She was twenty-seven when she died.” I hesitated. “She went balemad.”
“Kyrchye,” Lorencz muttered with sympathy. “Suddenly, or over time?”
“Over time.” I stared into my cup, avoiding their gazes. “I was too young to understand what was wrong. She got worse as time passed.”
“And she was Banishat?” Lorencz asked. I nodded. “Did your mother ever talk about them?”
“She made me memorize a few names and code phrases. I knew the ring was a secret.”
“Why didn’t you tell us about her?” Aronson looked at me with reproach. “How can you have been so much with us and never mention something as important as that?”
“I apologize, my liege. I just — I don’t like to talk about my parents.”
“So, who does?” Droit shrugged. He and Aronson shot each other quick glances.
“Still,” Lorencz pressed, “it’s mighty queer for you to come from a Banishat family and not say anything about it. And what’s this about attending a Banishat meeting?”
“I went to a meeting yesterday. That’s — part of the reason I was so distracted last night. I wasn’t sure what to tell you. I don’t know much about the group yet. All of the members were masked except the leader and me.” The children hadn’t worn masks, either, but I mentally excluded them as members.
“Why didn’t you wear a mask?” Droit asked, his green eyes narrowed. I could tell he was annoyed to hear all of this now instead of last night.
“Nobody offered me one. It was deliberate. Now the Banishat know who I am, but I don’t know them.”
“You know one of them,” Lorencz said, her eyes narrowing. “The leader. Spill.”
I folded my hands over the warm ceramic cup. I had implicitly promised Carel that I wouldn’t reveal what I knew. How much did I owe her? Was I willing to go back to jail to defend her secret?
“If you’re asking me to identify the leader in your role as a friend, I don’t think it would be ethical to tell you,” I said at last. “If you’re asking me in your role as a captain of the city watch, I’d prefer you saved the question for court, where I’ll be bound by oath to tell the truth.”
She gave me a hard look. “You’re making trouble for yourself, Ax.”
“I’m trying to do what’s right. That includes keeping other people’s secrets.”
“Ask him in court,” Droit said impatiently. “We can wait another hour. But why didn’t you tell us about the ring on the corpse? That’s Watch business.”
“I used the secret as leverage to get into the Banishat meeting.”
Lorencz swore.
“Why didn’t you just come clean from the start?” she complained. “I could have authorized an undercover investigation.”
“Maybe you did,” Droit suggested. Lorencz shook her head.
“I know what you’re thinking, but it ain’t that easy. There’s paperwork, channels….”
“Which you didn’t want to go through because there’s no telling who might belong to the group,” he prompted.
“Oh, swell — you want me to tell the top shelf I suspect ‘em of being Banishat? That’ll go over real well.”
“You don’t have to say you suspected them. Say you suspected the file clerks.”
“There’s a procedure for verbal agreements, too. Look, forget it. If I try covering for him, all that happens is we both look bad.”
“I still don’t understand why you didn’t tell us anything,” Aronson said. His eyes were fixed on me, dark and wounded. “You said you had several reasons for attending that meeting. What were the others?”
I’d been hoping my cautious phrasing would slip by unnoticed, but it seemed that my companions were growing more attentive.
“I — I don’t know if I ought to say.”
“This is bullshit.” Lorencz shoved her chair back. “If he don’t wanna be helped, that’s his choice.”
“Axton…” Droit said, dangerously. He’d done his best to defend me, but I could see that his patience was wearing thin. I took a deep breath.
“One of the reasons doesn’t reflect well on me. Curiosity. I wanted to know what the Banishat knew; where they were in their research. When we crossed the Line last month, I realized how many new possibilities it opened up. The way bale reflects our thoughts, our turmoil — it has incredible potential for therapeutic use. Some of my patients in Blackstone are haunted by their old mistakes and catastrophes. Think of how they might respond if they had a chance to go back, to do things over and change the outcomes. It could give their minds the peace they need to live normal lives again.”
“It’s too dangerous,” Lorencz objected, although she moved her chair back to the table again. “Nobody has that kind of control over bale. Even Far’s constructs were flawed.”
“Just because nobody has that level of control now doesn’t mean they won’t in the future. That’s what the Banishat’s trying to do: Break new ground. Do what people say can’t be done. With a sentinel’s help, I might be able to revolutionize the treatment of mental illness.”
“Be careful,” Droit cautioned. “You’re starting to sound enthusiastic.”
“So you read some books and talked to the men in masks,” Lorencz said. “How much can they do?”
“Not as much as I thought. That body in the warehouse — the bone melt on him matched an illustration in one of the books, The Veil of Flesh. It —”
“One of the forbidden books?” Lorencz interrupted. I nodded. She looked at Aronson. “I didn’t even know the Vigilance had forbidden books. What the hell’s a sentinel need a book for, anyway?”
“Just because you don’t know what to do with a book —” Droit began.
“I’ll tell you what to do with a book,” Lorencz countered.
“Be quiet,” Aronson commanded, casting a stern eye on them both. “This isn’t the time for it.”
“As I was saying,” I continued, “the melted bones and flesh matched description of a sentinel trying and failing to transform. I think he watched the children shaping bale around themselves and went off to try it on his own. That’s the second reason I wanted to attend the meeting. To confirm my suspicions.”
“Why would he try it in a warehouse?”
“Perhaps it was the most private spot he could find.” Or perhaps it had something to do with the military and the Banishat and the Vigilance of the Snowy Owl, but that was irrelevant to our current problem.
“Bloody ‘prentice madman,” Lorencz muttered, screwing out the stub of his cigarette. “Didn’t he realize how dangerous it was?”
“Either he never read The Veil, which is likely, given that it’s a forbidden text, or he thought he could succeed where others had failed.” I finished my coffee.
Aronson frowned. As usual, his thoughts were clear on his face, and I realized I’d said too much.
“Axton —how did he know what the children could do?” He looked at me. “You said he was Banishat … are they still monitoring the children?”
I paused, trying to think of an answer. The pause was answer enough.
“Dammit!” He stood, furious.
“I don’t think the children understand what the Banishat is,” I said hastily.
“They’re still watching the children, which means — it’s Carel, isn’t it? She’s the leader you don’t want to name!”
“This is why I wanted to wait until we were in court,” I told Lorencz helplessly.
“Easy, cuz.” Droit stood, reaching across the table to grab Aronson’s arm. “Only Lorencz gets to go off half-cocked. The rest of us have to show some common sense.”
“Those children are my responsibility! Carel has no right —”
“They’re all our responsibilities,” Droit said. “So cool down and let’s all talk about this.”
“I’m right, aren’t I?” Aronson turned to me. “She’s the leader of the Banishat!”
I inclined my head.
“Well, she’s always been pretty high on my list of suspects,” Lorencz said, scowling over her cigar. “I don’t know how the hell we’re gonna arrest her, though.”
“What makes you think I want to arrest her?” Aronson snapped.
Droit laughed, patting his cousin’s arm before releasing it.
“I love it when you get angry, Michael. That civilized veneer of yours just slides right off.”
“Forget it, Aronson.” Lorencz pulled out her cigarette case. “We ain’t laying down the Line on Carel.”
“I can help. I’ll bring —“ Droit stopped himself mid-sentence.
“No, you won’t,” Lorencz pointed out. “Might’s gone, and that makes you a lot less useful against adjuration than you used to be. Look, here’s the way we handle it. Axton tells the inquiry board at the Ministry of Justice everything he knows, and we let them get their arses baleburnt when they try to arrest Carel.”
“I never thought I’d see the day when you backed down from a fight,” Droit said, his expression dark. I was sure he was thinking about Might, secretly returned last year by Yzyrchye. Lorencz blew out a cloud of smoke, giving her partner a scornful look.
“I’m not embarrassed to admit that Carel’s too much sentinel for me. I want to live to see my wedding day.”
“Then you should give up smoking those cigars.”
“My lord,” I said, looking at Aronson. “Watching over the children’s welfare was the third reason I attended the meeting. I talked to Magister Carel about it afterward and pointed out that she shouldn’t have involved them in an illegal group without informing them of the danger.”
“You should have told me at once.” His voice was tight. “I trusted you, Axton. I trusted you and you betrayed me.”
“That’s not true!”
“Lying — keeping secrets — sneaking around behind my back?”
“I never lied.”
He slammed his hand on the breakfast table. Dishes rattled, and I flinched.
“Withholding the truth is the same as lying!”
My voice trembled as I answered. “If — If I’d told you, you would have tried to stop me.”
“Of course I would have tried to stop you! This whole wretched conspiracy needs to be stopped, now. If you’d told me what you were up to, I could have done something before we got to this point!”
“But I had a plan.” Tears were burning my eyes again. Why didn’t he understand? How could he accuse me of betraying him? I would never betray him! “I would have taken care of it for you.”
“Well, you didn’t do a very good job!” he roared. I shrank back.
“Calm down a moment, cuz.” Droit fixed me with a sharp look. “Axton, were you trying to track down the Banishat to impress us?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
I gave him a hurt look. Of course I was sure. I had good reasons for everything I’d done. Good, defensible, rational reasons that had nothing to do with impressing anyone.
“You told me you wanted respect. Is that the problem?” Droit’s tone was dangerous as he spoke, his eyes fixed on mine. “You think we don’t respect you, so you wanted to impress us by cracking the case on your own.”
I swallowed, searching my memory and my conscience. Could he be right? It wasn’t impossible. But I needed to think about it.
“That’s ridiculous.” Aronson sank back down into his chair, looking confused. “What in the world would make you think we don’t respect you?”
“I don’t —“ I stopped again, then shook my head, frustrated.
“Is it me? Have I been condescending?” Aronson sounded stricken. “I didn’t mean to be condescending.”
“No — no.” I wrapped my arms around my chest, wishing they would all be quiet and let me sort through my thoughts for a few minutes. “My liege, you’ve never been anything but kind.”
“Well, if you want respect, getting yourself thrown in jail isn’t the way to get it.” Lorencz tapped ash into the tray. “Autopsying a body without tossing your cookies and sweet-talking Far into saving us across the Line was a hell of a lot more impressive.”
“But maybe it’s not as impressive as being the most infamous sentinel in the City Watch. Or Yzyrchye’s Hound, or a nobilis on the Vigilance’s board of directors.” Droit was still studying me. “Axton wants to be a hero. Nobody writes trashy romances about coroners.”
I turned red. Lorencz gave him a blank look.
“What do trashy romances have to do with anything?” she asked.
“People who read romances have a skewed view of the world.”
“Elliot reads romances.”
“My point exactly. He’s marrying you, isn’t he?”
Aronson turned to me.
“Axton, is that true? I can’t believe that someone as bright as you would believe something as ridiculous as that. You don’t have to solve problems on your own to prove that you’re a valuable member of our team.”
“Thank you, my liege,” I said, my face still burning. I didn’t think Droit was right, but I had to give his suggestion the benefit of doubt until I could think it through. “I’ll … I’ll examine my motives more carefully from now on.”
“I just hope it’s not too late.” He checked his pocketwatch. “Is there anything else you haven’t told us that may be relevant to the inquiry?”
“If there is, you’d better tell us in the coach,” Droit said, standing. “It’s time to leave.”
I described my university thesis on the way to the Ministry of Justice. It wasn’t the only relevant secret I had left, but it was the one least likely to get them killed, and it kept them distracted for the duration of the ride.