Fists of Justice (Schooled in Magic #12)

She shivered as General Pollack dismissed the first group of resistance fighters. She’d worked through the equations, using what she’d learned from the Mimic to understand how Justice worked, but she knew there was no guarantee of success. Whoever had designed the Mimic she’d killed had been careful to leave a safeguard, a simple trick that could be used to destroy the creature. But the Fists of Justice hadn’t even known they needed a safeguard, let alone possessed the skill to implant one. No trained sorcerer would have risked casting so many spells without a solid idea of what they did.

Frieda nudged her. “You sure you’re all right?”

“Yes,” Emily said, crossly. She’d eaten enough to keep her going. “I’ll survive.”

She ran her hand through her hair as General Pollack dismissed the second group of fighters, sending them out to wreak havoc. The Fists of Justice would know, of course, that the attacks were diversions, but they’d still have to deal with them. Large parts of the city were already starting to starve, something General Pollack insisted would undermine the new government. Emily hoped he was right. The Fists of Justice had banned fishing boats from leaving the Caldron, but they’d presumably stockpiled food in anticipation of having thousands of hungry mouths to feed.

Unless they planned to feed the starving to their god, she thought, grimly. They might have planned to purge everyone who wasn’t already committed to them.

“Karan and I will be leaving in ten.” General Pollack glanced at his watch, although Emily was sure he could feel time ticking away. “Dear, a word?”

Sienna nodded, tight-lipped. She followed her husband into the next room, leaving the youngsters alone. Emily found herself torn between speaking to Caleb, even though his siblings were also in the room, and keeping her mouth closed. She didn’t know what to say – or even if she should say anything. Frieda hadn’t helped by insisting everything was Caleb’s fault…

She closed her eyes for a long moment, centering herself. There would be problems…of course there would be problems. But she’d survive. If worse came to worst, she could put their plans into action herself, without him. The University didn’t need Caleb, did it? But she didn’t want to shut him out of his dream…she shook her head, silently promising herself that she would talk to Lady Barb as soon as possible. She needed advice from someone she trusted to be helpful, but detached.

Sienna returned, tapping her staff on the ground. “Let’s move. Time is not on our side.”

Croce rose, looking pleased to be finally doing something. Emily looked at Caleb, feeling another pang, then stood and followed them to the door. Frieda slipped up next to her as Sienna checked the wards and opened the wooden door. The stench of poverty flowed into the room.

“Make sure we have everything,” Sienna said. “We won’t be coming back.”

Outside, the streets were even darker than the previous night. Justice’s presence seemed ever more powerful, whispers filling the air whenever Emily allowed her mental defenses to slip. Sienna’s wards had done an effective job at shutting out the entity’s influence, but now…Emily glanced at Caleb, feeling a flicker of genuine concern. Caleb was hurting, just like her. Who knew what Justice’s influence would do to him?

Or to me, Emily thought, as she cast a night-vision spell. Or to any of us.

She resisted the urge to cover her ears as they hurried down the darkened streets. The whispers couldn’t be shut out so easily. She gritted her teeth, raising more defenses as she looked around. Fishing Plaice was a nightmare, stone and wooden buildings piled on buildings until the entire complex had become a maze. She forced herself to breathe through her mouth as the smell of rotting fish – and too many unwashed humans in close proximity – grew stronger. Sienna had banned her young daughters from visiting Fishing Plaice, Emily recalled. Emily didn’t blame her for a second.

“The streets are not normally this quiet.” Caleb slipped up beside her, his face pale in the darkness. He sounded as though he was trying to carry on, despite everything. “This place never sleeps.”

Emily nodded. General Pollack had told her that a bunch of Fists had tried to enter Fishing Plaice, only to be driven out by the locals. Surprisingly, Janus hadn’t launched an all-out attack…or, perhaps, it wasn’t that surprising. Fishing Plaice would be an absolute nightmare for any hostile force, a place where the defenders knew the region intimately and could turn it against the invaders. Better to leave them to starve than to risk an offensive.

Or maybe they’re preparing to send Justice into Fishing Plaice, Emily mused. Or do they think we can push him out?

She glanced at Caleb. Was he trying to pretend their argument had never happened? Or was he trying to put his emotions behind him, during the mission? Or…she shook her head in annoyance. Boys were so hard to understand, sometimes. But then, she’d heard boys saying that girls were hard to understand too. It wasn’t that hard, was it? But then, she’d often found her fellow girls hard to understand too…and she was a girl. The boys didn’t even have that advantage.

“They must be hiding,” Emily said. She doubted the locals were sleeping. “Are they going to get in our way?”

“Probably not,” Caleb said. “We’re not a threat.”

Emily looked at the darkened houses as they slipped down a narrow street. They looked…shabby, as if the owners couldn’t be bothered to maintain them properly. Small piles of garbage were everywhere, adding to the stench. There was no rubbish collection service here. The remainder of the city might be reasonably clean, by local standards, but Fishing Plaice was a mess. She doubted any of the permanent residents gave much of a damn about hygiene.

The ones who have the drive to get out do, she thought, as they halted on the edge of the district. And those who don’t are trapped until they die.

Emily sucked in her breath. A large building lay ahead of them, wrapped in shadow. Beyond it, Emily saw the sea…they were right on the edge of the island. The stench was stronger, somehow, sinking into her very bones. She had no idea how the locals managed to tolerate it, day in and day out. She’d have to burn her clothes and bathe for hours when she finally managed to leave the city.

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