“Nah, I’ve got the dark watch tonight,” he said. “I’ll head back and see if I can find that Brotherhood thing in my notes.”
He went off with the page.
Satrine should go home, she knew that. But there was an itch she needed to scratch: check in on Minox. In all his unresolved cases, he might have heard something about this Brotherhood. Plus, she was curious what happened in his day investigating as a civilian.
The Welling house was only a few blocks away, after all.
She walked cautiously to the house, not sure how she would be received. It’s not like the other Wellings were particularly fond of her. But even still, she walked up to the door and knocked.
A woman of middle years opened the door, shook her head, and closed it again. Satrine started down the steps when it opened again, and a young man in Constabulary uniform with lieutenant stripes came out.
“Inspector Rainey?” he asked. “Are you here in a professional capacity?”
“Not entirely,” she said. “I had hoped for a word with Minox.”
“He’s not available,” the young lieutenant said.
“You’re Oren, his brother, right?”
“That’s right. I came out here when no one else wanted to, on the off chance that you actually had official cause to come here. Since you do not, I’ll tell you to walk off. You knock on our door again without a writ in hand, you’ll be met with crossbows.”
“Now just a damn—”
His hand snapped in front of her face, his pointing finger just inches from her eye. “My sister left here on her last ride with you, Missus Rainey. You didn’t even have the decency to bring her body home.”
“I . . . I’m sorry.”
“Imagine how little I care,” he said, going back inside and closing the door. Satrine turned around and made her way back to the street.
“Inspector! Here!”
She turned to see a wild-looking fellow, peering around the side of the house. He gestured for her to come closer. Cautiously she approached.
“Yes?”
“Inspector Rainey,” he said, smiling a blackened-tooth smile. His hairy face looked beyond sickly, with his beard matted down with sweat. “Sorry, I . . . I’m not fit for company, I . . . Evoy Serrick. South Maradaine Gazette. Or, you know, I was. They don’t have me in their employ anymore.”
“Evoy?” she asked. Minox had mentioned his cousin Evoy in passing, usually in the context of a person to be pitied. She could see why. But also with a certain fondness. Minox would collect newsprints around the city for him. “Can I help you?”
“Minox didn’t come home yet. He . . . I told him not to go alone, I did. I’m pretty sure he went with someone. But not home yet.”
“I’m sure he’ll be all right.”
“I’m not,” Evoy said, shaking his head. “I mean, a few months ago—the first case with you. You saved him from that Plum fellow. You remember?”
“I do,” she said.
“He wrote me a note. I have plenty of my own notes, I read everything in this city, and I read between the lines, but there is not one newssheet that mentions the Brotherhood of the Nine.”
That got her attention.
“What is that?”
“I don’t know, but Minox knew. Knew they were connected to Plum. To his eight pins. And the pins led to his hand, and he went to the Blue Hand, and the Blue Hand faced the Thorn. And you met the Thorn. But I don’t think the Thorn is there for Minox, so who would he ask for help? I don’t even know.”
“Slow down,” Satrine said. “Who is the Brotherhood?”
“Whispers beneath us,” he said. He knelt down and pressed his ear to the ground. “Maybe right beneath us. But also rotting through the city. Touching everything. The children, the robberies, the election, the scandal, it’s all the Brotherhood. They are here, and Minox cannot stop them alone.”
“He’s not alone,” she said. “I’m with him in all of this.”
“Right, right,” he said. “Be vigilant tonight, Inspector. Something is moving, and I feel it in my bones. I think he’s going to need you before the night is done.”
She nodded. “Jace isn’t home yet, is he?” If anyone in the Welling house still had any kind thoughts for her, it was him.
“Jace?” He looked confused. “No, no, I . . . there’s too many of them in there for me to track their coming and going. I don’t . . . I don’t go in there anymore. Not in the house.”
“If Minox doesn’t come home, let Jace know to tell me.”
“I . . . no, I don’t go in there. Don’t talk to any of them. Just Minox. Maybe Ferah. But, no, just Minox. Only he understands.”
“This is for Minox,” she said.
“No, no,” Evoy said. He started looking up at the night sky. “I should have . . . I should have learned the moons and the stars. They’re probably . . . knowing that would help. I wonder if I have an almanac. I think I do. I think I do.” He wandered to the barn behind the house, closing himself in.
Satrine sighed. At least she knew that Minox was aware of the Brotherhood, and hopefully he would know more. She would have to believe he knew what he was doing. She needed to get home, see her girls, check in on Loren. Tomorrow she would work on this more.
The sound of falling rocks had stopped, and Gurond’s mad howls had faded into the distance. For a momentary eternity, there was nothing but darkness and silence in the hot, close crush of stone.
“So, I didn’t catch your name.”
“What?” Dayne asked. He could barely make sense of anything, save the terror clutching his heart, and the pain in his arms, bracing his body and the shield, keeping the ceiling from crushing their skulls.
A soft red glow formed in front of Dayne, showing the young man—the archer. What had Gurond called him? Thorn? Why was that familiar? Something Hemmit and the rest had written?
Hemmit. He was nearby. Hopefully not also
