Janco easily countered his opponents. He had almost cleared an escape path for us. Hope of a quick exit died when the town’s guards burst through the door.
4
CONFUSION REIGNED. BETWEEN THE TOWN’S GUARDS AND THE factory workers, we were overwhelmed. Janco and I admitted defeat and surrendered our weapons. Explanations about why we had forced our way into Gressa’s glass factory fell on deaf ears. It was obvious we didn’t belong there. As we were led to the guards’ headquarters, I hoped we would get a chance to tell our side of the story.
However, once we arrived at the station, we were stripped of our possessions, dumped into adjoining cells and left. The metallic clang of the lock echoed in my ears with a sickening familiarity. I counted the number of times I had been imprisoned and had to laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Janco asked.
Three of the cell’s walls were stone, but iron bars lined the door and front wall, allowing me to talk with Janco. “Just thinking about how this time is a legitimate arrest versus some of my other incarcerations.”
“Ah, yes. I’m sure we’ll be charged with trespassing, breaking and entering and attempted armed robbery. They’ll probably add in resisting arrest and disorderly conduct for good measure.”
“Sounds like you’ve had experience.”
“Knowledge learned from my misspent youth. You gotta love the disorderly-conduct charge. It covers a wide range of behaviors, and, to my mother’s horror, I was determined to test the boundaries.” Humor laced his voice. “Speaking of bad behavior, I think I’ll wait until dark to pick the locks.”
“But they searched you and confiscated your picks.”
He laughed. “Let me tell you a story about a beautiful seamstress in Ixia. Dilana has a fine hand with needle and thread and a fine smile, too—all warm and caring. Although she found my request to be a bit…odd, she acquiesced. With her clever stitchery, she has sewn lock picks into all my clothing. They’re just a ripped seam away.”
“I’m glad you’re using your knowledge for good.”
“My mother’s ecstatic, and my new position earns enough money to pay for her hair dye.” He tsked. “Poor woman went gray at a very young age.”
Poor woman indeed.
“We should be here overnight,” Janco said. “The guards know who you are and are probably contacting the magicians at the Citadel as we speak. If they decide not to press charges, we’ll probably be escorted there. I don’t think the Council will trust me again to bring you home.”
“Who would press charges?” I asked.
“Gressa owns the factory, so it would be up to her.” He paused. “I thought you said she was a fugitive.”
“She was. Something must have happened.” I considered. Gressa had been helping Councilor Moon’s sister by crafting realistic yet fake diamonds from glass. The sister had been selling these fakes to finance her efforts to overthrow the Councilor.
The Sitian Council would honor a new Moon Councilor if she had gained her position through legitimate channels. The Moon Clan had a matriarchal government. The Councilor’s oldest daughter inherited the position, but there had been times in the past when the Moon Clan’s citizens had believed another sister was a better candidate for the job. They would stage a coup, and install their chosen with little to no bloodshed. The Council viewed this as the will of the people and accepted the new Councilor.
However, if the efforts to usurp the present Councilor originated from the dissatisfied sister, and if she used illegal means to purchase weapons and bribe the townspeople, then the Council wouldn’t accept her and they would help the ousted woman regain her rightful position.
Master Magician Irys Jewelrose and Yelena had been in Fulgor to keep an eye on developments, to learn who led the unrest and to protect the Councilor. She had been convinced she was targeted for assassination, an illegal act according to the Sitian Council.
Irys’s signature on my order to return to the Citadel meant she was no longer here. The crisis must have been averted. Otherwise, if the sister had gained power, the Council would have interfered. However, neither option felt right to me.
“Do you feel the…unease in the townspeople?” I asked Janco. “Or is it just my imagination?”
“It’s not your imagination. The people around here are as tight as bowstrings. I could probably play a tune if I brushed up against enough of them.”
“What about your interaction with the guards?”
“Wary and watchful. But that’s typical behavior. I’m surprised by how civil they’ve been to me, considering I’m Ixian.”
“It’s because we don’t automatically assume you’re a vile magician intent on harm like you Ixians do when meeting a Sitian.”
Janco harrumphed. “I don’t assume that.”
“No?” Doubt colored my voice.
“I assume you’re a vile magician.”
“There’s no difference.”
“Yes, there is. I don’t assume your intentions are harmful. I know no matter what your intentions are, magic causes harm to someone somewhere at some time.”
“Oh, that’s right. You’re the expert on Sitians. You should have been the one appointed liaison between Ixia and Sitia instead of Yelena. Unless it’s because the Commander and the Council have at least a crumb of intelligence between them.”