'Whose orders?' I asked, twisting the grip of my bullistic in cold, sweaty hands.
'From the top office. From the god himself.'
'Alexander?'
He nodded. 'There have been threats. Warnings. Someone's saying they're going to kill off the Cult of Morgan.'
'Someone,' I said. 'Someone said that. And you're keeping me here, keeping me safe.'
Again, the nod. 'Got word just after we reported in. The Strength of Morgan is on lockdown. Most of our men are focused on that, and finding out who made the threat.'
'And keeping Alexander safe, no doubt. People start bumping off his brother's Cult, can't be long before they come for him.'
Owen looked down and shrugged. 'Security measures have been taken. Tightened. Sure, we're stepping up protection.'
'Between guarding Alexander's precious white ass and keeping the Strength on lockdown… Owen, do you have anyone looking for the Fratriarch?'
'We're prioritizing resources, Eva. We have to. There are people looking, sure, but-'
I laughed, an angry laugh that cut the room to silence. He stood there looking at me, gaping, face white as his sloppy white desk. 'I like the part where you were going to keep me here, Justicar,' I said, shaking my head. 'That's good.'
I turned and kicked the door open, splintering the lock some idiot had installed. The street beyond was mostly empty. People were home by now, getting ready for dinner. The first shades of dusk were starting to dust the city in gray.
'That's real good,' I said, and walked out into the city to find the old man.
* * *
Owen took some liberties with his orders, modifying 'keep her in the station' to 'try to keep up with her,' and came along. Members of his patrol, too, though not the whole group. I had the feeling that frantic calls were being made back at the station. Not my problem.
'Where are we going?' he asked after we had walked the first five blocks at a brisk pace. These guys were used to rolling around in that stubby battle wagon of theirs. 'I mean, are you following some kind of plan, or are we just going to kick in doors until we find your guy?'
'You guys could do with some door-kicking practice,' I said. Honestly, I didn't have a plan. I just didn't like the idea of sitting on my hands. Didn't want to admit that to these whiteshirts, though. I ambled to a halt and pretended to fuss with the hang of my holster while I thought about where we were and where we might be going. The patrol stood around me, looking nervously at the dark windows and shadowy alleys.
'You don't have a plan, do you?' Owen asked.
'I have a sense of direction,' I answered, folding my arms across my chest. 'A sense of purpose. And, as you've noted, I have some experience kicking in doors.'
'But no plan,' he said.
I grimaced. 'Not yet. I prefer to develop these things organically. That way I don't have to fight my own presumptions when the situation changes.'
'Yeah,' he said. 'Don't think, just jump.'
'Look, if you'd rather be back at your desk, I'm not keeping you here.'
'Yeah.'
We smoldered at each other, then he shook his head and sighed.
'We have to start somewhere. What was the first strange thing you noticed about that fight?'
'That we were going to the Library Desolate. That we were talking to Amonites. That it was the Fratriarch doing all this, rather than some attendant or man-at-arms.'
'Or woman-at-arms,' Owen said. His patrol was getting antsy. I was getting antsy.
'Don't be smart. It was a weird bit of business.'
'I agree,' he said, 'but I don't think that'll help us find your man. Unless what he was doing might have something to do with why he was taken.'
And of course I hadn't considered that. To me, the business was bad but it was just business. In my mind, the enemies of the Fratriarch (and of the Cult of Morgan in general) didn't need a reason to do the things they did. They were crazy. They hated us. They looked for opportunities, not reasons. Consequently, I looked for ways to prevent those opportunities rather than debating the reasons behind them. I shrugged.
'Maybe. You want me to list the dozens of factions and principalities who might have a grudge against the Cult of Morgan? We've killed a lot of people in our generations.'
'Might be easier to list your allies,' he said.
'I don't keep that list.'
'You're a real bright spot in my day, Eva Forge. So.' He looked around at the dingy square where we were having our little head-tohead. 'You want to pick a door to kick in, or shall I?'
'We're not kicking in doors,' I said. The idiot patrollers actually looked relieved. 'Maybe you're right. Maybe it was related to what we were doing.'
'With the Amonite? Probably. I mean, you have to admit, it's kind of strange.'
'Yeah. And there was that tail, the two guys with the tattoos around their eyes.'
'The who?'
'The two guys. I told your bureaucrat all about it, during the interview.'
'That wasn't in the report,' he said, then started digging in one of his pouches, eventually producing a wrinkled square of paper. '`Subject picked up a tail shortly after leaving L-D,'' he read. 'That's the Library Desolate.'
'Yeah. I remember being there.'
'Right. Anyway, picked up a tail, took flight, opted for the train out of consideration for the Fratriarch's health.'
I grabbed the paper and scanned it. It was a summary of our interview, leaving out a lot of the details. I gave it back to Owen.
'Close enough. The tail was two guys, bulky, wearing cloaks. They had some kind of… armored cowl over the lower half of their faces, and they had tattoos around their eyes.'
'You didn't think to mention that kind of detail in the interview?'
'I did. It's just not in your report. I mean, how much detail does a patrol Justicar need, really?'
'I guess. And those were the guys who attacked you later?'
I shook my head. The report hadn't described my attackers, either. I didn't feel up to it, right now.
'Different guys. I guess I never really thought about the disconnect. You think that's important?'
He shrugged. 'I think it's interesting.'
'You want to base your investigation of the disappearance of the Fratriarch on `interesting'?' I asked.
'Well, interesting is all we've got. Where was this?'
I told him, as best as I could remember. It wasn't close. At first the whiteshirts looked nervous, as they considered that kind of hike, but Owen spun up his rig and called in for a wagon. They were all very happy about that, and sat around talking about how happy they were until the wagon clattered into the square and we all piled in and made our way south, toward the Library Desolate and the place the Fratriarch and I had first run into those weird guys with their eye tattoos.
* * *
The square where Barnabas and I had stopped with the girl looked less sinister when I wasn't being pursued. The fountain was still dry, and the dark windows of the surrounding buildings looked empty rather than menacing. The monotrain rails that ran along the perimeter were quiet. All service had been stopped on this circle while the attack was being investigated and the tracks repaired. I sat on the edge of the fountain and looked around.
'Only a few hours,' I said. 'You wouldn't think the place would look so different.'
