Emily listened in numb horror as the speaker read out a long series of rules. The price-fixing alone would lead to disaster, but it was hardly the worst. Young women were not to be on the streets unaccompanied…and not at all after dark; young men were to present themselves for additional religious instruction before being absorbed into the Fists – not Hands – of Justice. The priests of every other religion were to surrender themselves at once; anyone who’d been part of the government was to report for duty by the end of the day…
And anyone who disobeyed, they were told over and over again, would be whipped – or executed.
They’re building a theocracy, she thought. This is not going to end well.
“No one is to leave the city,” the speaker finished. Emily’s heart sank. The presence was strong enough to make teleporting dangerous. It reminded her of the haze she’d sensed at Farrakhan. “All will serve Justice.”
The Fists of Justice stamped their feet, brandishing their swords. “Justice, Justice!”
The crowd muttered angrily. Emily glanced at Caleb, then at Sienna. If the crowd rioted, with so many armed men watching them, there would be a bloodbath. She didn’t know what to do, if all hell broke loose. Fight to help the crowd or run, knowing the riot would quickly turn into a slaughter ?
She sensed the presence grow stronger and looked back at the speaker. The tip of his staff glowed with an eerie white light, a flare that was – somehow – wrong. She couldn’t look directly at it, even as he cast a spell. A portly man was yanked into the air and suspended upside down, hanging over the crowd. The speaker’s face tightened with disdain as the man screamed and begged for help, denying everything. And yet, it sounded as though he didn’t know why he’d been targeted.
“This is a banker,” the speaker said. He couldn’t have put more disdain into his voice if he tried. “He invited credulous fools to put money in his bank, then used their gold to purchase more and more imaginary loans. He forgot the simplest principle of all – you can’t spend more than you earn. And then his loans caught up with him and his bank evaporated.
“We promise you justice.” There was nothing less than absolute conviction in his voice. “And we swear to you that you will have justice.”
He waved his staff. Emily sensed a sudden flow of magic, guided by something that felt oddly familiar, an instant before the banker’s body glowed with blinding light. She looked away, instinctively, as the banker screamed in pain. There was nothing she could do. When she looked back, the body was nothing more than stone. She didn’t have to look at his face to know he’d died in screaming agony.
And he might not even have been a real banker, her thoughts reminded her. The only banker she actually knew was Markus. Was he in danger? The Bank of Silence was heavily warded, but it was also an obvious target. They might just have scooped someone off the street to serve as an example.
She forced herself to think as the crowd recoiled, panic starting to spread. The magic felt familiar, yet…she couldn’t quite place it. A spell she hadn’t used, but one she’d seen…seen where? The memory seemed lost within the shadows of her mind. What was it?
The speaker made a gesture. The petrified man dropped from the air…
…And shattered into a thousand pieces when he hit the ground.
Chapter Twenty-Six
FOR A LONG MOMENT, THERE WAS absolute silence.
“Go home,” the speaker said. “And spread the word of Justice!”
Emily glanced sharply at Sienna, who nodded. The Fists of Justice were already advancing, waving their swords and cracking their whips at anyone who didn’t look as though they were moving fast enough to suit them. She took one last look at the speaker, who was lowering himself back to the ground, then hurried after Sienna as the Fists moved closer. The crowd seemed too stunned to fight.
They just saw someone killed in front of them, Emily thought. Her own thoughts seemed to have trouble catching up with what had happened. And they thought they sensed a real god.
She glanced at the ruined temples as they walked past Temple Row. The Fists of Justice were everywhere, sifting through the rubble and ruthlessly extracting anything of religious value. Others were readying the next set of temples for destruction, carting out books and parchments and piling them up in the center of the street, ready for burning. She felt shock and dismay run through the crowd as the pile of irreplaceable parchments caught fire.
A priest in a red robe stood at the corner of the street, handing out pamphlets to everyone as they passed. His gaze flickered over Emily, then landed on Caleb; Emily tensed, expecting trouble, but he merely passed Caleb two copies of the pamphlets instead. Emily was torn between relief and annoyance at being so casually dismissed, simply for being female. The priests didn’t seem to be handing anything to women, even women who were clearly alone. She knew she should be relieved – she didn’t want to attract attention until she figured out how to beat the entity – but it was still annoying. It was the first step in dehumanizing women. She couldn’t help noticing that all the priests were male.
The streets seemed colder, somehow. She kept hold of Caleb’s hand, glancing from side to side as they hurried home. The shops were closed, streets were barricaded; Emily wondered, grimly, how long it would be until the Fists of Justice knocked their way through the makeshift barriers and started to patrol the streets. They wouldn’t want to allow anyone to defy their rule, not in the early days. A hint of weakness might prove disastrous. She suspected it wouldn’t be long before the Fists came for Sorcerers Row, even though most sane city councils ignored magic-users as much as possible. The street might prove a haven for the disbelievers and discontented.