The Broken Man Page 8

“It’s fine,” a man said as if Josen had apologized instead of insulting him. He patted himself up and down as if checking to make sure his various parts were in working order. Dust came off his plain brown coat in puffs. “Yes, fine. Sorry myself. It’s fine.”

  Josen pushed his way past the man, brushing the dust from his own coat as he went. There was a distinct absence of thin bulge in the breast pocket—where Saul’s wallet should have been. He stopped and double checked: it was gone. The bank note. The Passage. The address to the safe house.

  “Oh no—”

  “What?” Akelle asked, but Josen didn’t have time to explain. He burst out of the alley, head swiveling to try to get a glimpse of the man in the brown coat, but he was gone, disappeared into the crowd like a handful of sand tossed into the sea.

  Chapter 8

  “You let him pick your pocket?” Akelle yelled. “Your pocket?”

  Josen ignored him, lunging toward the crowd in front of the Right Corner, but Akelle pulled him up short, hauling on the back of his shirt.

  “Let me go!”

  “Wait, Josen!” Akelle said, wrestling him back. “Shut up!”

  “He took it! That starving pickpocket took all of it! The wallet, the papers, everything!” Josen struggled, some part of him registering that he probably looked like a toddler throwing a tantrum, unable to turn the information into something useful before his legs tangled, and he went down in a hollering heap.

  Akelle landed on top of him and slapped him hard, then again. “Josen! Knock it off,” Akelle said in a fierce whisper. A few people gave them strange looks over their shoulders, but most were too fixated on the drama at the Right Corner. “Calm the hells down. Stand up. Let’s go.”

  “But we have to—”

  “We have to leave. The Protectors are here.”

  Josen climbed to his feet to see two sets of Protectors, silver vests flashing in the noon sun, disappearing through the inn’s front door.

  Saul. Tori.

  “No,” Josen said, his mind working wildly. Saul and Tori were inside with no idea the stakes had been drastically raised. “They need our help.”

  “Josen, you’re not thinking. Saul told us very clearly to not help. I’m sure he has everything under control—”

  But Josen wasn’t listening. He dashed out of the alley and down a side street before Akelle could grab him again. He worked his way around the back side of the Right Corner, unsure what he was planning. But standing, staring, wondering what needed to be done wouldn’t help anyone, and both Saul and Tori needed his help.

  He ducked into an alley and circled closer to the Right Corner, Akelle following close behind judging by the string of curses following Josen. The Right Corner wasn’t large—a dozen rooms with outside windows, though Josen couldn’t remember where Tori’s room was situated. Small stables and hayloft. Common room downstairs, too quiet even for this time of day. Two sides faced the street. Useless. All useless.

  Josen skidded to a stop behind the building, by the stables and stared up at the shadowed wall.

  “We can’t do anything for them now, Josen,” Akelle said. “We’ll only get caught ourselves.”

  Josen shook his head. There had to be something. Josen had to do something.

  “What would Dania have done?” Josen asked. “Or Lukas?” Dania, Lukas, Shade—Josen’s heroes would know what to do.

  “Josen, not now. We don’t have time for this—”

  “No good,” Josen said, answering his own question out loud. There too much noise in his head to do his thinking there. “Stealing won’t do anyone any good right now, and Dania would already be three steps ahead. The Protectors, the Ladies, it would already be part of her plan—”

  “Josen, I can’t leave without you,” Akelle said as he scanned the area nervously. “Not without the Passage. Please, let’s go”

  Josen shook his head, trying to force clear thoughts. The sounds of a fight erupted from inside the inn, men were yelling, furniture crashing. He needed to hurry, but he couldn’t think. His thoughts were hazy. It was distracting. Distracting.

  “Josen, please—”

  “A distraction. That’s all they need—a distraction. They can do the rest themselves.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “What would the Shade do?” Josen asked. Distractions were his hallmark—big, gaudy, sensational distractions. “How?”

  “Josen, you know how I feel about Grey Shade, but he was half crazy. He’d burn the whole starving neighborhood down around his ears—”

  That could work.

  “—just for the fun of it. I don’t think…”

  Josen swung under the small corral fence and walked to the trough.

  “Wait. That was not a suggestion!”

  Josen thrust his hands into the dirty water of the trough, ignoring Akelle’s protests as he concentrated, reached for the power inside him, and broke the water into something new.

  Slick, sweet smelling oil dripped from Josen’s hands as he stood up from the trough, energy thrilling through him. Josen kicked the trough over easily, spilling the oil out over the courtyard. Oil soaked into the stray horse feed and wooden fencing separating the corral from the stable. The oil on Josen’s hands slid off as he broke it back into water and took a cold lantern off the wall of the stable.

  “Josen, this is insane,” Akelle whispered. He backed away, pressing himself up against the wall of a neighboring building, as far from the spilled oil as he could manage.

  Josen flicked the ignition on the lamp, and a tiny part of his mind screaming in agreement with Akelle as the flame flickered and swelled.

  But insanity was the point, right? Nothing so mundane as sanity would do the job at this point. Saul and Tori didn’t have time.

  Josen tossed the lantern, end over end, into the spreading pool of oil.

  Chapter 9

  Josen knew he had made a terrible mistake the moment the lantern left his fingers. He lunged after it, but too late. The burning lantern shattered on oil slick stones and burst into a terrible raging conflagration. The oil itself only burned for a few seconds before reverting back to water with a hiss, but the damage was done. The wood and hay were already ablaze, and the flame climbed toward the stable itself. The nearest buildings were moments from catching fire themselves. The horses in the stable went from nervous fidgeting to full panic in seconds. Josen threw open their stalls, following the crazed horses out into the hazy sunlight at a sprint.

  “Fire!” he yelled. “Fire in the stable!” He ran toward the front of the inn and the crowd still gathered there. “The stable is on—”

  A hand clamped over his mouth and the yell was cut short. Someone dragged him off his feet and into a shadowed side alley. He twisted and struggled and tried to yell until Tori slapped him hard across the face.

  “Josen!” she whispered fiercely. “Get a hold of yourself. They’re looking for you too, you howling infant. Shut up.” She let go and he dropped hard to the dirt with a grunt.

  “Saul,” Josen said as he made the arduous climb back to his feet. It had been a long day. “Where’s Saul?”

  “How am I supposed to know? Where’s Akelle?” Tori shifted the strap on her shoulder and stared expectantly at Josen.

  “I’m here,” Akelle said, appearing behind them. “We heard the Protectors had been called in, thought you might be in trouble. Saul went inside to sort things out, or something. The Protectors showed up earlier than must have Saul expected, and Josen decided to rescue you instead of leaving for Sefti like Saul said.”

  “Rescue me?” Tori asked, turning on Josen. “Do I look like some drooling farm hand who needs saving from a few Archon girls?”

  “Whoa. Fine, no more rescuing,” Josen said, putting his hands up. “You have the robe?”

  “Here,” she said, patting the bag. “Saul’s a big boy. He can take care of himself. Let’s get out of here.”

  “We can’t.” Josen explained the contents of the wal
let Saul gave him, and how it was stolen moments later. “We don’t even know where in Sefti to go.”

  “We can figure it out when we get there—if we can get there—but we can’t stay… Wait,” Tori said, holding a finger up. “You didn’t actually start a fire, did you? You were just yelling that as a distraction—” Tori sniffed the air and her face paled.

  “Yes. He did,” said Akelle. “I’m never letting him hold a lantern again.”

  Josen could smell it too—wood smoke, strong and close. Between the smell and the sound of panicked horses, everyone else noticed the fire at about the same time. A steady stream of men ran past the mouth of the alley, calling for a bucket line.

  “You starving idiot,” Tori said as she pushed past him to look for herself. Josen and Akelle followed close behind.

  The greedy fire had already devoured the little stable and spread to nearby buildings. The inn, with the courtyard between itself and the stables, was safe from the blaze, but buildings and shops on the other three sides were less fortunate. No one was even bothering to try to put out the stable fire, focusing instead on fighting to prevent the spread.

  “Josen,” Tori whispered, horrified.

  “I know,” he said. “I didn’t think—”

  “No. Look.” She pointed toward the front of the inn. The Archon officers and most of their regulars were rushing to help, but a pair of them were trotting off in the other direction. Between them was Saul, hands bound and attached to a metal collar around his neck, being escorted away. His head turned this way and that, looking for something.

  Josen stepped out of the alley and Saul saw him. The older man gave a sad smile and mouthed something inaudible before being pulled out of sight.

  “What did he say?” Tori asked.

  “He said ‘I’m sorry.’” Josen looked back toward the buildings, many now obscured by smoke. How could he have been so stupid? He heard cries of help: men for help with the fire, women for help with children or furniture, children who screamed for help.

  “Hey! That’s them!”

  Josen turned to see two Protectors running towards him and Tori, the other two circling around to cut off any retreat. Josen swore and turned to Tori. No time. “Can you outrun two of them?” he asked, and she nodded. “Good. We’ll meet you in thirty minutes. Over by the Pass.” Tori turned and ran, graceful and fast. “Keep the robe,” he yelled after her. “We might need it.”

  * * *

  Josen dashed to the right, toward the raging conflagration. “Get the woman!” he heard one of the Protectors yell. “She has the robe!”

  “Right, we’ll get the other two.”

  Josen grinned as he pulled Akelle into the billowing smoke, pulling his jacket up to cover his mouth and nose. Come get us then, he thought, glad for the distraction of the chase. He was good at this game, and he liked it.

  However, his good mood lasted about three more steps. The coat over his mouth did little to keep the smoke out of his lungs, and nothing for his eyes.

  “If I’m ever in trouble,” Akelle said, running, coughing alongside Josen, “please don’t rescue me.”

  “I’m open to ideas,” Josen coughed. The smoke burned his eyes, making it even harder to see the people now filling the street. Some darted back and forth carrying buckets of water, furniture, pets or children. Some rushed to shops, trying to save anything that could be salvaged. Others simply wept.

  Josen swore at himself as he ran. Half the buildings in the city were built of wood. How many people had he ruined? Killed? He tripped over something lying haphazard in the street, barely catching himself. In the haze he couldn’t even tell what it was. He could hear the Protectors stumbling after him, having as difficult a time as Josen and Akelle in the smoke.

  “Come on,” Akelle said, changing direction as the smoke began to thin, angling back toward the heart of the burning buildings. “We’ll lose them in the smoke.” Josen nodded and followed close behind.

  The affected area was still small, and Akelle turned them again soon. Josen could hear the bells ringing on the water wagons; they were close. Hopefully they would be able to contain the fire before it spread too far.

  A woman darted in front of them and Josen bowled into her, knocking both of them to the ground. “Sharry!” she screamed, barely seeming even to notice Josen. “My Sharry!” She scrambled back to her feet and stumbled a few steps toward a blazing building before a pair of women pulled her to a halt.

  “Stop it,” one of the women holding her back said, shaking her. “You’ll get yourself killed.”

  “Josen, come on!” Akelle said, but Josen was transfixed by the scene.

  “You have other babies who need you,” said another woman. Sharry’s mother paid them no heed. She continued to bawl wordlessly, straining toward the burning building. Josen glanced around. The protector was nowhere to be seen. They seemed to have lost him.

  “Don’t even think about it!” Akelle yelled. They could leave right now, put this whole mess behind him.

  The mess Josen made.

  “I’ll meet you there.” Without waiting to see what Akelle did, Josen rushed past the wailing woman and into the burning house.

  “Sharry!” Josen yelled but heard nothing over the roaring flames. He squinted burning eyes, trying to see through the smoke. It didn’t help.

  The kitchen to the left was engulfed in flames, and the stairs leading to the second floor were filled with black smoke to the right. Something collapsed to his left, sending the flames even higher.

  “Upstairs then. I hope.” He plunged into the smoke. It filled his lungs despite the coat covering his mouth. He coughed and stumbled to the top of the stairs. His head felt light, his thoughts fuzzy from the smoke. The wood floor was too hot beneath his hands and he had to close his eyes to stop the burning. He broke the smoke into clean air around himself once, and then again, but smoke rushed in to replace the clean air faster than he could breathe it in. He hated it when he couldn’t cheat. He pulled himself forward, crawling on his hands and knees away from the stairs. He needed to find a window or he would pass out soon.

  “Help!”

  Josen barely heard the voice, high and hoarse. Something crashed below and the floor shifted, tilting noticeably. The child screamed.

  “Sharry!” he yelled, his voice rough and too soft. “Keep yelling. I’m coming.”

  “Help me!” the little voice said again. “Please!” There was a rhythmic thumping, and Josen realized the child was banging on something. The wall. Josen found the wall and thumped back, then followed the wall to a closed door. He pushed it open and fell through, smoke pouring in behind him.

  A breath of suddenly clean air gave him the presence of mind to close the door behind him. Smoke still leaked in through the cracks around the frame, but it helped. Josen coughed out smoke and sucked in the wonderful, clean air. “Worst idea ever,” he said, unsure if he meant setting the city on fire or running into a burning house.

  “Are you here to help me?” a little girl asked, startling Josen. He had been so grateful to be out of the smoke that he had forgotten all about her. She sat on the bed in the corner of the room, knees pulled to her chest and blanket pulled up to her nose despite the heat.

  “Are you okay?” Josen managed to ask before breaking into another coughing fit. She nodded, small and scared.

  “What do we do?” she asked. The floor creaked and shivered again as Josen stood. Sharry yelped, but Josen ignored it. He heaved at the window, but it only opened a few inches. He looked down at the street. They were twelve or fifteen feet off the ground. Too high to jump. He noticed one of the Protectors—the other apparently chasing after Akelle. His silver vest was still somehow spotless. It stood out sharp and ugly in the chaos. He spoke to Sharry’s mother and the two other women, gesturing toward the building.

  “Just ran in,” Josen heard one of them say. “No idea… Appeared out of the smoke just like that.” One of them noticed him standing in the window and pointed
excitedly. “There! There he is!” The Protector looked up, met his eye and smiled. He folded his arms and planted his feet, content to let this play out. Bastard.

  Josen stepped away from the window. Worry about the Protector later. “Can I borrow your blanket?” he asked Sharry as he crouched next to the bed. She eyed him warily. “You can have it back, promise.” He smiled and extended his hand. She gave it up reluctantly. “Thank you.” He focused, trying to remake it in his mind. A leather apron would protect them well enough from the flames to make it down.

  The blanket barely changed colors, reverting back almost instantly. Josen reached into the pool of power again and found it empty. Starving hells! Between breaking the water and the smoke earlier…

  It didn’t matter now. He handed the blanket back to Sharry who looked at it suspiciously but said nothing. Josen ran around the room, which was becoming uncomfortably hot, the low ceiling already obscured by smoke. He searched for anything that could help—rope, or… something. He found toys in a box, a few simple clothes, a wooden rocking horse. Nothing.

  The sound of bells was getting closer. Maybe they could wait for the water wagon to put the fire out…

  The floor heaved and shook. Josen only just managed to pull Sharry off the bed before it tilted as the floorboards gave way, then crashed through the floor. Flames leapt up through the hole in the floor lapping hungrily at the wood. Smoke was billowing into the room now.

  Without thinking, Josen grabbed the rocking horse with one hand and hurled it at the window. Glass exploded outward and air rushed in, feeding the flames.

  Josen moved without hesitation, acting on instinct. He set Sharry down and removed his coat, laying it over the jagged window glass. Sharry clung to his leg, sobbing into his pants. The heat of the flames was intense. Josen ignored it, leaning out to look down. Even lowering her out the window, he couldn’t just drop her. It was too far off the ground, too far for her little body to fall. She whimpered and clutched tighter, moving around him to try to get away from the heat.

  “Faceless God of the People, hear your child in need,” she whispered the prayer as she sobbed.