Emily scowled. She wasn’t really surprised that the soldiers had taken their anger out on a handful of prisoners. Someone had to pay for their crimes, even if it wasn’t the right person. She’d known it happened, intellectually. But there was a difference between knowing it happened and seeing it in person. The dead bodies were guilty of nothing more than being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
She turned her gaze towards the palace as the wind shifted, blowing the unmistakable stench of burnt flesh and rotting bodies towards her. What was Randor doing, up there? Did he think that his people had done the right thing? Or was he already plotting to use them as scapegoats if the angry mood on the streets turned into a riot? The cynic in her insisted that Randor was safe, whatever happened. His castle was heavily warded…at worst, he could get into the catacombs and flee the city.
Perhaps we could get into the catacombs too, she thought. The Tower of Alexis would be connected to the network, she was sure. And then we could try to break down their wards…
She shook her head. Randor’s people wouldn’t have failed to secure the catacombs as extensively as possible. Even if they could find an entrance to the tunnels, it would be hard to navigate their way to the Tower and start attacking the wards. Worse, there would almost certainly be a living guard down there…
Jade steered them northwards, heading away from the brothel. The ugly mood on the streets seemed to get worse, the further they moved. Emily half-expected to be attacked at any moment, although there was no visible threat. The bars seemed full, heaving with men even though it was the middle of the day. She doubted that was a good sign. Too many drunken men might decide there was safety in numbers and attack the soldiers.
“Hey,” a voice called. “Stop right there!”
Emily froze, then turned slowly. Two men were ambling towards them, wearing leathers and makeshift armor. A band around their wrists proclaimed them to be members of the city militia…she frowned, puzzled. The king hadn’t called out the militia for years, from what Jade and Imaiqah had said. It had been folded into the City Guard long ago.
Her eyes narrowed as the men approached. One of them was tall and thin, the other short and uncomfortably fat. Their eyes, however, were identical. They were drunk on their power, she thought; they were enjoying the chance to push people around. She wondered, absently, if they were insane or merely stupid. The mood on the streets was nasty. It wouldn’t be long before the two militiamen were caught alone and murdered.
“Your chits,” the fat man ordered. “Now!”
Jade produced his chit and held it out, one hand moving just a little too close to his sword belt. Cat did the same, making it clear he was ready to fight. The militiamen eyed them nervously, suddenly aware that they might have stepped into something they couldn’t handle, but took the chits anyway. Emily prayed, silently, that they would stand up to scrutiny. A fight now would bring the soldiers down on their heads.
The king probably considers these idiots expendable, she thought. If he knows they’re on the streets at all…
The fat man jabbed a finger at her. “You’re this oaf’s sister?”
“Yes, My Lord,” Emily said, gritting her teeth at his tone. He sounded as though he believed her guilty of all manner of crimes. “I have that fortune.”
“Hah,” the fat man said. He made a show of reading Jade’s chit, then nodded to Cat. “And your parents are fine with you walking out with him?”
“Our parents trust me to handle her courtship,” Jade said, before Emily could answer. “Any further questions may be directed to me.”
“I’m sure your father will approve,” the fat man said. “What’s her price?”
Jade stiffened. “Would you care to repeat that?”
Emily moved her hands behind her back, ready to draw the dagger in her sleeve. Cat moved up beside Jade, one hand resting on the pommel of his sword. There was a long moment where it could have gone in either direction, then the militiamen returned their chits and walked off. Emily let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Jade and Cat could have taken the two men–she thought she could have taken the two men–but it would have risked everything.
“Well,” Jade said. “I’ve heard that some families are supposed to sell their daughters, but really…”
“They probably thought we were haggling over the terms,” Cat said. He kept his hand on his sword. “And we’d better get off the streets before those assholes summon help.”
Emily said nothing as they hurried down the street and ducked into a diner for breakfast. It was crammed with people, but the waitress had no trouble finding them seats at a communal table. The prices seemed to have doubled overnight. A fish and potato dinner now cost more than she thought most people could pay.
“That’s not a good sign,” Jade said, when she pointed it out. “We don’t want to seem too flush.”
“That’s not the only problem,” Emily said. “What does it mean if food prices keep going up?”
She studied the wooden table for a long moment, thinking hard. Basic economics were…well, basic, resting on the twin factors of supply and demand. If supply went down and demand went up, prices went up too; if supply went up and demand went down, prices went down too. None of the city’s merchantmen needed to study economics to grasp that simple truth. A rise in food prices meant a fall in food supply…and that meant trouble.
Maybe it’s just a blip, she thought. There shouldn’t be any reason for the food supply to fail–it wasn’t as though someone was burning the farms or sinking fishing boats–unless someone was buying up all the food in the hopes of making a fat profit. It was possible, she supposed, but risky. A starving mob would attack the soldiers on sight if it was the only way to get food. Someone saw the riot and panicked.
She sat back in her chair as the food arrived and ate quietly, listening to the ebb and flow of the conversation around her. The other diners ignored her, allowing her to listen without being noticed. They seemed to be convinced that the soldiers were on the verge of burning the docklands to the ground, along with a number of other rumors of varying degrees of credibility. Emily suspected that none of them had any real credibility. Other rumors–concerning food prices–were closer to home. Merchants and speculators seemed to be getting most of the blame.
We might have picked a bad cover story, she thought. Their chits insisted they came from merchant families, after all. We might wind up getting lynched.
Jade seemed to have the same thought. As soon as they were finished, he paid the waitress and led them out of the diner. Emily kept glancing behind her, warily, as they hurried into the alleyways, half-convinced that they were being followed. She felt as though unseen eyes were watching her, even though her senses picked up nothing. If they were being watched, it wasn’t with magic.
“Master Abrams said he’d be in,” Jade said, as they stopped outside his house. “I don’t think he’d risk leaving.”
“We really need to come up with a plan,” Cat said, bluntly. His voice was utterly emotionless. “Perhaps we could round up enough old friends to have a serious crack at the Tower.”
“We’d be in trouble for breaking the Compact,” Jade reminded him. “I don’t want to take the risk of getting everyone else in trouble.”
The door opened before Cat could think of a rejoinder. Mouse stood there, looking tired and worn. Emily guessed she’d been up all night, ready to flee for her life if the riot came in their direction. Master Abrams had wards, but Emily had no idea if they’d keep out a bunch of rioters. Or if the mere existence of his wards would be enough to attract attention from the king’s sorcerers.
“Come in,” she said. “We have someone here who wants to meet you.”
Emily tensed, readying her magic as Mouse led them into the next room. Someone wanted to meet them? A spy? A traitor? She let out a sigh of relief as she saw Tam, sitting on the chair, sipping a mug of Kava. He rose as they entered, lifting a hand in salute. He wouldn’t have bothered to meet with them in person, she thought, if he hadn’t been interested in making a deal. It might have proved life-threatening.