And there were two members of Parliament: Ret Issendel and Golman Haberneck. Haberneck had come with his extended family and friends, all with their children. Children that had been rescued from the Brotherhood.
“So, hold up your wine, or whatever you prefer,” Issendel said. “I know that Maresh preferred wine. And ask for a blessing for his spirit, to his memory, that he resides with the saints.”
Glasses went up, and most everyone drank. Dayne noticed Lin refraining. Most people were wearing a violet sash or shawl, but Lin was in a long violet dress, shawl, and scarf, looking more like a cloistress than her usual revealing fashion. As Issendel stepped down, and the gathered people started talking amongst themselves, Dayne worked his way over to her.
“How are you managing?” he asked.
“Badly,” she said. “He . . . it’s funny, a week ago, if you had asked me a defining characteristic of Maresh, ‘brave’ wouldn’t have been a word that came to mind. But when we were captive down there, he stood up to them on my behalf. He . . . died because he made them take him instead of me.”
“I have to ask you something,” Dayne said. “It might be uncomfortable.”
“I’m fine with uncomfortable,” she said. “I’ll be living with this for a while.”
“The Thorn was with Maresh when he died, and apparently the last thing he said was a message to me.”
“To you? Whatever was that?”
“Tell Dayne don’t trust.”
“Don’t trust what?”
“I have no idea,” Dayne said. “But you were with him until the end. Was there something you heard or saw?”
She frowned. “Nothing I can think of. I’m so sorry. I wish—I wish I had been stronger, better. If I had taken my magical studies seriously, maybe I—”
“Hey, no,” Dayne said. “I have been down the path of ‘maybe I’ so many times. I live with that. I live with it now. Maybe I could have gotten across the bridge faster. Maybe I could have insisted you all went back once we reached the highway. Maybe I could have found a different way. I know how maddening it can be. But the truth is, this is only the fault of the evil people who did this.”
“Evil is too easy,” Lin said. “I’m not saying they’re not, but . . . the world is too complicated to make it that simple.” She glanced around the party. “We’re surrounded by a thousand little compromises that made this possible. Just look at . . .” She chuckled ruefully. “Look at this event. Even we’re compromised.”
“But we keep doing our best,” Dayne said.
“Thank you,” she said, taking his hand. “Thank you for remaining so . . . pure.” She took out a violet handkerchief and dabbed at the fresh tears. “I’m going to retreat inside for a while. Discourage people from following me.”
She went into The Nimble Rabbit, and Dayne noticed Hemmit watch her go, and then gave a glance to Dayne. They exchanged a silent agreement and continued to move about the event. Hemmit was talking with a group of people Dayne assumed were mutual friends of Maresh from RCM.
Dayne went over to Mirianne—resplendent in a violet suit that managed to be both highly fashionable and somber at the same time—who was talking with Golman Haberneck.
“Dayne,” Haberneck said as he approached. “I . . . I feel like I cannot say thank you enough. You did something beyond extraordinary.”
“Not alone,” Dayne said. “I was fortunate to have help.”
“And thanks to you,” Mirianne said to Haberneck. “I have to say, most members of Parliament would not have noticed or cared about something happening to the working people of Dentonhill. But you’re a real man of the people.”
“I’m just a dock steve from Kyst who people listened to,” Haberneck said.
“Exactly,” Mirianne said. “And that’s what this country needs.”
“I will do what I can.” He looked to Dayne. “Issendel and I are already working on making sure Saint Bridget’s Square will be quickly repaired and restored.”
“I would love to help with that,” Mirianne said. “Baron Vollingale and I can spearhead a movement among the city’s nobility to raise funds to that end. Literally the least we can do.”
“Thank you, my lady,” Haberneck said. “Of course, Dayne is the real hero here.”
“I am not comfortable being called that.”
“Then ‘champion’?” Haberneck produced the thick pamphlet Hemmit had published that morning. Already it was circulating around the city like a fire. Of course, with its flashy title and the seven saintly silhouettes on the cover, it was very hard not to take notice of.
“It’s ‘Champions of Maradaine,’” Jerinne said, coming over to them. “You’ll notice this one is not just about him.” She was beaming, in the company of a young Waishen-haired woman who looked surprisingly like Satrine Rainey.
Then he noticed, across the courtyard: Satrine Rainey was there, wineglass in hand. Sitting a short distance away from her: Minox Welling. Neither of them were in uniform, and in this crowd looked rather inconspicuous. They both subtly raised their glasses to him, which he returned. Then Satrine gave him a small nod in the other direction.
Leaning against one of the trees in the courtyard: Asti and Verci Rynax. They were both in suits, slightly ill-fitting and years out of fashion, but not looking out of place among the people around them. They also raised their glasses to Dayne.
Then, finally by the entrance to the courtyard, Veranix Calbert was in his University of Maradaine uniform. He had no wineglass, but instead had one of The Nimble Rabbit’s famous crispers in hand. He winked and took a bite.
Dayne laughed briefly, in spite of himself.
“No, it’s not,” he said finally. “And quite fittingly as well. Maradaine is full of people ready to stand up and defend it. Ready
