Clandestine Circle

Chapter Seventeen

The next morning, the twelfth dawning since the merchantman had sailed blindly into Sanction Harbor, the sun rose hot and brazen, and the wind died before midday. The heat grew steadily until the streets became like furnaces and even the shade offered by buildings or trees gave little relief. To the west, a pall of smoke and haze draped the shoulders of Mount Thunderhorn where the lava dome slowly grew like a deadly boil on the volcano’s slope. The city’s harbor remained eerily quiet.

Linsha expected to return to the training hall as before, but Commander Durne found her in the court and told her to report to the governor’s audience hall to stand guard through another council meeting. The commander spoke to her formally and turned away as soon as his orders were issued, and yet she saw the pleasure in his eyes and recognized the way his lips tried to turn up in a smile.

Something fluttered in her stomach as she watched him stride away.

Resigning herself to a tedious morning of standing still in a hot uniform, she pulled on her tunic, strapped on her sword, and went to the lofty audience hall where the table and chairs had been set up once more for a meeting of the Privy Council. When she walked in, she was surprised to see the room was empty except for a man sitting in the great seat of the lord governor.

She bowed. “Your Excellency.”

Lord Bight inclined his head. “Squire. I hoped to see you before the others arrive. Are you well? You have no fever or symptoms of the disease?”

“I’m fine. So far,” she replied, both surprised and flattered that he would ask.

“You, Commander Durne, and the others were exposed to the plague during your efforts to fight the fire two nights ago. I have commended them for their courage, but I have not had a chance to tell you. I appreciate your efforts to help this city.” His lips quirked up in a half-grin. “Thank you, too, for your company under the mountain. It was very informative.”

Linsha hesitated. She wasn’t sure how to interpret that last statement. “I hope you were satisfied with my ‘true mettle,’ ” she said finally.

“More than satisfied. I have no doubt that you will do well.”

A blush crept up her cheeks, and she bowed again to hide her embarrassment. There it was again, that stab of guilt. Lately her feelings of inadequacy and disillusionment had become a painful canker in her mind, but the knowledge that she was deliberately misleading Lord Bight, and Ian Durne, burned in her belly like acid.

“I have something to give you,” Lord Bight continued. “Before our visit to Sable, I watched you and wondered if you would become ill after your work with the guards and on the ships. When you did not, I was pleased. Still, I do not want to trust to luck or fate much longer. I want you to have this.” He reached into his robes and drew out something fastened to a slim gold chain. The chain slid through his fingers like a golden stream as he held it up just high enough for Linsha to see.

She drew in a sharp breath. A bronze dragon scale hung from the chain. The scale was about the size of her fist and gleamed with translucent shades of deep bronze. Its sharp edges had been filed off and rimmed with polished gold.

“I found this years ago and have kept it, waiting for a good use for its beauty and potency. It has been enchanted with protective spells that I believe—after hearing Sable’s tale—will protect you from this contagion. Will you trust me and try it? If its magic works for you, we might be able to find a way to adapt its power for all of us.”

Linsha quirked a brow at him and said, “Is this because you do not want to lose a useful pawn?”

His gold eyes flickered with a strange light, but his face showed no expression and he didn’t seem angry at her temerity. “Of course.”

Slowly she held out her hand. She hadn’t been able to say no to him yet. “If it doesn’t work for me, I’ll come back from the dead and lodge a complaint.”

He chuckled and slid the gold chain into her hand. “Fair enough.”

Hanging the chain about her neck, Linsha tucked the scale under her tunic, saluted the governor, and took her place by the window just as Commander Durne, the dwarf Mica, Chan Dar, the master of the Farmers’ Guild, and the new harbormaster entered the great hall. The four quietly took their seats as servants arrived with refreshments.

A second dwarf—Chert, the engineer, dressed in dusty leggings and leather vest—arrived and plumped down on the chair beside Mica.

The group was subdued. They paid more attention to the wine and fruitcakes than to each other. A few more minutes passed before Priestess Asharia came into the hall and took a seat beside Lord Bight.

Linsha was stunned by the change in the vivacious woman. Asharia’s boundless energy had reached an end, leaving behind a woman pale and haggard and mantled in exhaustion. She sipped a glass of wine given to her by Lord Bight, but she made no effort to eat or speak.

Lutran Debone came next, followed by a second man wearing the colors of the Merchants’ Guild. Lutran, too, was subdued and didn’t even bother to irritate his nemesis, Chan Dar. He sat at the far end of the table and looked everywhere but at Lord Bight.

The final man, in the merchant’s robes, bowed to the lord governor. “Your Excellency, I am Wistar Bejan. My master, Vanduran Lor, sends his regrets. He is unwell and cannot attend. He has asked me to come in his place and give you what aid I can.”

Lord Bight looked troubled. “I hope he is not ill with the scourge.”

A younger man than Vanduran, Wistar appeared uncomfortable in the presence of these august people. His head drooped. “I am afraid he is. He would not leave the harbor district where his ships lie moored and his warehouses sit full of goods he cannot move. He is at home now, but his family holds little hope.”

The governor turned to look at the priestess with a silent question.

She shook her head. “Most of my healers are dead or dying, Your Excellency. This disease is too powerful, too devastating. I will try to find someone to go to him, but unless we can find stronger tools to fight this plague, it will defeat us.”

Lord Bight leaned forward, his hands clenched to the arms of his chair. A light like hot fire was behind his golden eyes. “I will not accept defeat,” he said in a fierce voice. “Not from the plague, nor the volcanoes, nor fires, nor any of you.”

His last words caught the council by surprise, and they swiveled in their chairs to look at him.

“As you know now,” he went on, “I was gone for two days conferring with a source I know well. The information I gained has been passed on to Mica, and we are making every effort to find those stronger tools. Since my return, I have discovered that too many things have gone wrong. For example, the supplies I ordered from the farms were not delivered to the city. Why not?” He pinned his raking gaze on Chan Dar.

The farmer nervously shifted in his seat and replied, “We are still taking an inventory, Your Excellency. Many of the crops have failed this year because of the hot, dry summer and the lack of water for the new irrigation project.” He paused for a moment to glare at Commander Durne. “We were also raided by the Knights of Takhisis two nights ago. They swept out of the northern pass, burned some barns, stole our food, and disappeared before anyone could stop them. I mentioned this to the commander, but he has been busy.”

“We have all been busy,” growled Durne. “Your problems are only two among many. I don’t have the manpower to spare to chase stray Knights back into the mountains.”

“The guards have been trying to help us,” Chert spoke up for the first time. He put his fists on the table and frowned. “One of the reasons you don’t have water yet is that the construction sites for the aqueduct have been sabotaged. The destruction is childish. Tools and plans stolen; measuring lines misaligned; mortar ruined. Simple things. But they have all added up, and we cannot find the culprit. Or culprits. Someone is trying to hinder us, to delay the completion of the aqueduct. It is stupid! Why would anyone do such a thing when our wells are going dry and there is such a need for water?”

Why indeed? wondered Linsha.

“Lord,” Wistar spoke up. “We think the fires in the warehouse district were deliberately set.”

“Explain.”

“Vanduran wondered about it earlier. There were two or three smaller fires set in other places, but those were quickly put out by nearby residents. Only the warehouse fire went out of control. He found a witness who saw someone in the warehouse only a short time before the fire started. The warehouse was supposed to be locked and empty.”

“Did this witness have a description of the intruder?” asked Commander Durne.

“Unfortunately, no. It was too dark.”

“So,” Lord Bight’s voice grated. “We have raids, arson, sabotage. What else?”

“Your Excellency, if I may speak.” Linsha stepped forward. At Lord Bight’s nod, she moved closer to the table. “I think you could add inciting to riot to your list. The man I tried to capture the night of the fire was spreading rumors that you had ordered the fires to be set.”

“Why?” Asharia said, horrified.

“He claimed the lord governor wanted to burn out the contagion by burning the hospital and the harbor district. He said the gates were locked to save the rest of the city. Many of the people there believed him. I think he could have started a full-blown riot if we had not been there to stop him.”

“What happened to this man?” asked Chan Dar. “Did he also start the fires?”

Linsha’s mouth tightened in disgust. “I don’t know. He tried to escape and fell down the sinkhole. Apparently he fell on his own knife.”

“How convenient,” the farmer said snidely. He turned to looked at Lutran. “It was your council that ordered the gates shut. Did you also send this rumormonger to cause trouble?”

Lutran Debone leaped to his feet, his expression livid. “Of course not! The entire City Council debated the closure of the gates and voted to lock them. We did not intend to start any trouble.”

“But you did not carefully think this through, did you?” Lord Bight said coldly.

The elder finally met the gaze of the lord governor. “No, Your Excellency. We did not. We did not consult with Commander Durne either. I admit we were frightened and overwhelmed by the disaster. You were not here to accept the responsibility, so we took it upon ourselves.”

Lord Bight ignored the insinuation about his absence and gestured to Lutran to sit down. “I understand why you would want such a plan to work. I wish it would, too. I would lock those gates in an instant if I thought it would save our people.” He leaned back in his great chair, resting his head on the silken pad behind him. His face lost all expression, and only his burning eyes moved to study each member of the council in turn. “Unfortunately, our enemy is within, and it is not something we can lock out.”

“Lord Bight,” said Asharia, speaking for them all. “Do you suspect one of us is responsible for these crimes?”

If he didn’t, Linsha thought, he ought to. According to the Clandestine Circle, one these people close to Lord Bight was an infiltrator from the Knights of Takhisis, and after hearing the list of things that went wrong in the governor’s absence, Linsha was inclined to agree. The problem was finding the traitor. All of these people had been in Sanction for years and had been advisors to Lord Bight for as long as she had been there. Where had the Circle gotten its information?

“I do not suspect anyone yet. But I will not let this continue. I am declaring martial law for the city to go into effect immediately. The older residents will remember the laws from the early days, but for the newer inhabitants, my scribes will make copies and post them on the news boards. Alert your own people. The guards have resumed patrols in the harbor district to control the looting. Second, the City Council is to go into recess until this crisis passes. If you have a problem, bring it directly to me. Third, we will double the guard on the construction sites, and I will send riders to guard the shipment of food into the city. Is there anything else?”

“We could use laborers to dig more graves in the outer city,” Asharia suggested.

“Unless the families object, take the bodies to the lava dikes. The lava will be quicker and cleaner.”

They talked for a while longer of rationing food supplies and water, of setting watches for more fires, and of sending patrols to search houses for dead bodies. Their mood was grim and their optimism languished in the face of such difficulties. Lord Bight soon called an end to the meeting and told them to return the next day.

Commander Durne hurried out to organize guards for the construction sites and to strengthen the watch on the walls. The others left more slowly in ones and twos until only Mica and the harbormaster were left.

Lord Bight beckoned to the harbormaster to stay and walked slowly with him close to the window where Linsha stood. Without mentioning his source, he told the harbormaster about the rumor of pirates and dark ships near the mouth of the bay.

The harbormaster glanced out the window toward the harbor. “I haven’t heard that, but I will send scout ships to investigate.”

“As soon as possible. And when they return, tell no one but me,” Lord Bight ordered.

When the harbormaster had bowed and left, the lord governor turned to Linsha. “Now, squire, I have a task for you.”

Linsha tried to hold on to her bland expression. The last time Lord Bight said something like that, she’d found herself facing a lava river and a black dragon.

“Are you able to read? Enough to identify labels and titles?” he added.

Her eyebrows lifted. This sounded a little safer. “Yes, Your Excellency.”

“Excellent. Mica is going into the harbor district to retrieve some records from an old priest. I would like you to go with him, help him find the place, and bring the records back to the Mystics’ temple. He has a great deal to sort and catalog, so help him with that, too.”

“My lord,” Mica said, the annoyance plain in his voice. “I can do this myself. I doubt an alley cat is going to be much help.”

Lord Bight swiped his hand to one side. “I think you’ll find this one is different. Take her with you. She knows that area better than you do.”

“But she’s human. If she’s exposed to—”

The lord governor cut him off. “She’s been exposed indirectly several times. She may be immune to it by now.”

“Immune? I doubt it!” grumbled the dwarf. “If she isn’t, then it’s on your head.”

The lady Knight jerked her chin up in a knowing nod. So that’s why Lord Bight gave her the dragon scale—to send her out into the plague-ridden city. How kind. Still, the scale beneath her tunic lay warm against her skin and took away the worst of her inner dread.

With a salute to the governor, she joined Mica by the table. She smiled sweetly at him and said, “Meow.”

The dwarf had no sense of humor. He stood and glowered at her. “Come on. Let’s get this done,” he said with poor grace.