“Good, good,” Harriman said. She thought she heard…fear…in his voice as he held up a set of papers. “I have to speak to the crowd, once the Grand Guildmaster has made his speech.”
Emily winced in sympathy. She disliked the idea of speaking in front of a crowd too, even when the crowd wasn’t angry. Harriman might put the mob to sleep, if he recited facts and figures at them, but they’d wake up angry. She silently prepared a number of spells as a single trumpet blew, bringing silence in its wake. The meeting was about to begin. She reached for Caleb’s hand and held it, tightly, as Grand Guildmaster Jalil took the stand.
“Citizens,” he said, calmly. His voice was boosted by a spell, ensuring everyone could hear. “Our city stands tall against the waves, our city…”
“Get to the money,” someone shouted. Others took up the cry. “Get to the money!”
“He owes me,” someone else shouted. “Where’s the money?”
“Hecklers,” Sienna muttered. She sounded troubled. “Paid hecklers.”
Jalil cleared his throat. “We have faced many crises in our time,” he added, grimly continuing with his speech. Emily wasn’t sure if he was being brave or stupid. “And yet, we have overcome them all…”
“Where’s my money?” a heckler shouted. “He stole it all!”
The crowd roared with anger. Emily glanced from side to side, realizing there were too many people crammed into the square for the guards to restore order. The hecklers continued to shout, their taunts boosted by their own magic. Jalil, not used to such blatant disrespect, paled rapidly. Pieces of rotten fruit began to fly through the air…
“Give us back our money,” a voice shouted. Or was it many voices? “Give us back our money!”
Jalil steadied himself. “Clerk Harriman has inspected the accounts,” he said, holding onto the podium as though it were a life preserver. Surprisingly, the roar quietened. And yet…odd flickers of magic were running through the air. “He will now present his findings.”
Caleb squeezed Emily’s hand as Harriman walked forward and took the podium. He shook like a leaf. Emily silently prayed for him as she peered around the square. General Pollack muttered orders to a messenger; beside him, Janus watched Harriman, a faint smile flittering over his face. Their eyes met, just for a second. Emily thought she sensed…something…looking back at her through Janus’s eyes.
“Ah…my team has gone through the first set of accounts.” Harriman looked down at his set of notes. Emily wondered if he’d planned a long speech before seeing the angry crowd. “We have determined that the Vesperian Track – and Vesperian Industries – has debts of roughly seventy-five thousand crowns…”
The crowd seemed too stunned to respond. It was a figure so immense as to be beyond easy comprehension. On Earth, it would have been billions – perhaps trillions – of dollars, enough money to buy or run a country. And it existed – it had existed – as nothing more than pieces of paper. Vesperian hadn’t had a hope of paying off his debts.
And the total keeps going up, Emily thought. When will it stop?
Harriman paused. “The estate’s total assets are worth no more than twelve thousand crowns,” he added, after a moment. Clearly, Emily noted, he’d gone back to the account books in the morning. She wasn’t sure if she should salute his dedication or reprimand him for making matters worse. “This is, in many ways, a best-case estimate. The sellable value of his goods may be much lower…”
“I want my money back,” someone shouted. Again, others took up the cry. Harriman stood at the podium and waited, holding himself upright through sheer bloody-minded determination. Emily felt a flicker of admiration as the noise grew louder. “I want my money!”
“We are currently assessing the precise debts owed by the estate to his creditors,” Harriman continued. “Once we have a clear picture…”
“Theft,” a heckler shouted. “I paid a hundred crowns to that bastard!”
“A thousand,” someone else shouted. “I want my money!”
Emily glanced at Caleb. He looked pale. The crowd moved, a handful of members hurrying off while others started towards the podium. Harriman still stood there, one hand crumpling his papers. He knew, as well as she did, that there was no hope of recouping enough money to pay all the investors. The rich men – the industrialists – would be paid first. There wouldn’t be enough left for the others…
…And, judging by the growing anger running through the crowd, the realization was finally sinking in.
“I want my money back,” a woman yelled. “I have debts!”
“Give me my money,” a man added. Emily ducked as pieces of rotting fruit started to shower down on the podium. She felt panic howling at the back of her mind. A man could fall in the crowd and be trampled to death before anyone realized he was in trouble. “Give me the money!”
Jalil hurried forward. “Be calm,” he pleaded. “We’ll give you the money.”
The crowd roared. Emily winced as she pulled back, grabbing hold of Frieda’s arm and pulling her back too. It had been precisely the wrong thing to say. The crowd was a wild animal now, scared of the future and whipped up by hecklers…someone had put the hecklers there, she thought. She looked around, desperately. Janus walked calmly towards the podium, a faint smirk clearly visible on his face. There was no sign of General Pollack…
…Or Harman.
“Vesperian’s goods will be sold to buy back the notes,” Jalil insisted. It had no effect. Of course it didn’t – Harriman had told the crowd that Vesperian’s total assets couldn’t be sold for more than a fraction of the debt. “I…”
“You have led this city astray for far too long,” a new voice said. Janus stood by the podium, looking as calm and composed as a man ordering dinner. There was a sense of righteousness around him that transcended the chaos. “You have led your people into sin and depravity. No more.”
Silence fell like a hammer blow. The crowd milled uneasily, angry yet unwilling to challenge the priest. It was a long, chilling moment before Janus spoke again.
“This is the time of Justice.”
And then Emily sensed the presence.
Chapter Twenty-Two