“What happened to him?”
“He fought,” Herse says. “He was no soldier. But a sword’s a tool, and he knew tools. He could make anything. Build anything. He showed me the sword he made. It was nearly as impressive as his saws. Or his uniform.” Herse listens at the chamber doors for a moment. “He looked taller in it, more solid. Nicest clothes he ever had. Same’s true for most of our men. You should have seen them on parade.”
“What’s parade?” Rowan asks.
Herse looks sad. “I don’t imagine you’d know. Parades were like parties the city threw itself, some people marching, some watching them march, and everyone in fancy or fantastic clothes. Sugar cakes and salted knots sold on every corner. A hundred songs blooming across the city. My mother nearly swooned when Papa marched by. I thought she was scared of what would happen to him. I was scared myself, but when I got older and put on my first military uniform, I realized she’d swooned because he’d looked so good.”
Rowan can’t imagine his parents looking at each other like that. They don’t hold hands. They don’t hug. That’s why his father sent him away. That’s why he happily went.
“A war will bring that back,” Herse says. “We’ll have parades again.”
“Did your father die?”
“Yes.” At Rowan’s expression he adds, “Many years later with a beer in his hand and a pipe between his lips.”
They smile. The chamber door opens. The tower guard says, “They’ll have the boy now.” Herse pats Rowan on the shoulder and gives him a gentle shove toward the arc of cold faces.
At this point Ject can’t recall if he really believed the dragon story. “We have to check the cupola,” he says.
Ravis looks dubious, but that’s as far as he’ll go.
They stride off the porch with as much dignity as possible with the crowd jeering Ject. At the edge of the plaza he stops a half squad of guards just arriving. They’re from Quiet, not the best men, certainly not as capable as those from their opposite tower, Riot, and more used to soothing silk than wading into a seething mob of drunks in the Rookery. He relieves them of their crossbows and hip quivers and sends them to South to help with processing.
One, Isco, looks too relieved. He will profit from a post in the dungeon, Ject thinks.
The general gives the weapons to his own men. “We’re going up top.”
Oftly, the newest member of the detail, looks dismayed. “Will we still get a share of the arrested?”
“If we bag what’s up there,” Ject says, “the boys down here will want to share with us.”
Ravis holds up a hand. He presses his middle three fingers together and flaps his pinky and thumb. The men stand a bit taller. They’ll get new boots from this.
Ject quickly directs several sergeants to form up two ranks like plows along the west side of the plaza, then he leads his own men to the tower’s rear entrance. A huntsman with a bag of turkeys nearly leaps off the stoop, having seen how Chelson treated the cabbage dealer.
Inside Ject pushes past the cook and says, “We’re going up top.” He spies a scullery looking out the door to the kitchen stairs. “Keep your people down here.”
“What’s the—”
“Guard business.” Ject and his men march into the entry hall, where several tower guards stand behind the brass doors. Several more stand before the outer doors to the council chamber’s waiting area. They look through the windows, hands on their pommels. Their sergeant, Chevron, brings them to attention.
Ject says, “Put two men on the back door. Keep the main ones closed.”
“Yes,” Chevron says. “Can we assist—”
“If you hear our horns, come running. That’ll make up for your men locking me out.”
Herse listens at the chamber doors, but can’t make anything out. He paces the waiting area. He never realized how tight it is, the long room locked between two sets of doors with two lines of iron benches, the dim light letting the walls teeter over him. He could use some air. His job’s done anyway.
He knocks on the outer doors. A tower guard opens one just in time for Herse to see Ject and his men disappear up the public stairs. He notes crossbows, and he wonders where they are going in such a hurry, especially with a confrontation heating up outside and Ject the one who threw the soup together and put it on the fire. Certainly he can’t be thinking of shooting down into the crowd. Herse has to see what the city general is up to. Besides, he can’t go back into the waiting area.