on the back and claimed that he’d just been choking.
But, again, I’d been caught short and hadn’t been able to think that quickly.
“You’d think that imagers can do anything.” I laughed. “We can’t.”
That brought dubious looks from both patrollers.
“Come on,” I said. “You have a round to cover, and I need you two to tell me what you’ve seen recently in each block.” I pointed to the second house ahead on the right. “What can you tell me about that one?” That was probably unfair, because I knew that the eldest boy was a quartermaster third in the Navy, because I’d gotten him to enlist before a conscription team drafted him, and that he sent a pay allotment home to his widowed mother. The younger brother was a bigger problem.
“She’s got one boy still at home,” said Zandyr, “and an aunt living with her. The boy’s a loose cannon. Horazt won’t even touch him…”
We continued on the round.
When I finally returned to the station, it was close to a quarter past second glass, and four patrollers were walking toward the duty desk from the holding cells.
“What happened?” I asked.
“A dray horse spooked and pulled a brick wagon into a spirit wagon,” offered Alsoran, who was following the four, “on South Middle just west of the Plaza.”
“Don’t tell me. In the mess, some of the taudis-kids tried to steal the spirits, and the two teamsters got into a fight, and then the avenue got clogged up, and the cutpurses showed up…”
I glanced from Alsoran to Smultyn, whose tunic was smeared in grime.
“Close enough, sir. One of the taudis-toughs caused the brick wagon’s dray horse to spook. We had to chase him, but we got him.”
“How old does he look?”
“Old enough that he can’t plead for the Army or Navy.”
“And the others?”
“Petty theft, except for one assault. The brick teamster’s in there, too. He tried to take a knife to the spirit wagon guard. Guard cold-cocked him.”
I couldn’t help frowning at that.
“It was a set-up,” suggested Smultyn. “He paid the tough to spook the horse, and he guided it so the brick wagon sideswiped the spirit wagon. That’s why all the kids were waiting. The guard accused him of that, and the knife came out.”
“Do we know if he’s the regular teamster? I’d wager he’s not.” I took a deep breath, because from the Patrol’s viewpoint, it didn’t matter.
“Oh…and there was one other thing,” Alsoran added, with a wry smile.
“Both wagons were overloaded for their axle types?”
He nodded. “We had to cite them both. The Patrol teamsters came out and drove them to the holding yards.”
That meant another complaint to the Council, because none of the traders and factors liked having to comply with the weight limits. The wagon owners would pay to get the wagons and teams back, but they knew Commander Artois wouldn’t ever relent. His niece had been killed by a runaway overloaded wagon. So they petitioned the Council, but the Council had refused to change the law.
The rest of the afternoon, what was left of it, was far less eventful.
Desalyt was the duty driver who picked me up outside the station. As I was about to enter the coach, he handed me an envelope. I didn’t open it until I was inside and headed toward NordEste Design.
The single line on the sheet read, “My study before dinner, please.” It was signed with a single “D.”
I didn’t even want to speculate. But…was it about the inevitable resumption of war between Ferrum and Jariola? Or some follow-up about the explosion? Or something else entirely? What ever it happened to be, it would complicate life.
I barely managed to get to the covered portico at NordEste Design before Seliora hurried out with Diestrya, closing the door behind her with a firmness just short of slamming it.
I decided against saying anything for a moment and took Diestrya’s hand so that we both walked her to the coach, unseen imager shields protecting
But, again, I’d been caught short and hadn’t been able to think that quickly.
“You’d think that imagers can do anything.” I laughed. “We can’t.”
That brought dubious looks from both patrollers.
“Come on,” I said. “You have a round to cover, and I need you two to tell me what you’ve seen recently in each block.” I pointed to the second house ahead on the right. “What can you tell me about that one?” That was probably unfair, because I knew that the eldest boy was a quartermaster third in the Navy, because I’d gotten him to enlist before a conscription team drafted him, and that he sent a pay allotment home to his widowed mother. The younger brother was a bigger problem.
“She’s got one boy still at home,” said Zandyr, “and an aunt living with her. The boy’s a loose cannon. Horazt won’t even touch him…”
We continued on the round.
When I finally returned to the station, it was close to a quarter past second glass, and four patrollers were walking toward the duty desk from the holding cells.
“What happened?” I asked.
“A dray horse spooked and pulled a brick wagon into a spirit wagon,” offered Alsoran, who was following the four, “on South Middle just west of the Plaza.”
“Don’t tell me. In the mess, some of the taudis-kids tried to steal the spirits, and the two teamsters got into a fight, and then the avenue got clogged up, and the cutpurses showed up…”
I glanced from Alsoran to Smultyn, whose tunic was smeared in grime.
“Close enough, sir. One of the taudis-toughs caused the brick wagon’s dray horse to spook. We had to chase him, but we got him.”
“How old does he look?”
“Old enough that he can’t plead for the Army or Navy.”
“And the others?”
“Petty theft, except for one assault. The brick teamster’s in there, too. He tried to take a knife to the spirit wagon guard. Guard cold-cocked him.”
I couldn’t help frowning at that.
“It was a set-up,” suggested Smultyn. “He paid the tough to spook the horse, and he guided it so the brick wagon sideswiped the spirit wagon. That’s why all the kids were waiting. The guard accused him of that, and the knife came out.”
“Do we know if he’s the regular teamster? I’d wager he’s not.” I took a deep breath, because from the Patrol’s viewpoint, it didn’t matter.
“Oh…and there was one other thing,” Alsoran added, with a wry smile.
“Both wagons were overloaded for their axle types?”
He nodded. “We had to cite them both. The Patrol teamsters came out and drove them to the holding yards.”
That meant another complaint to the Council, because none of the traders and factors liked having to comply with the weight limits. The wagon owners would pay to get the wagons and teams back, but they knew Commander Artois wouldn’t ever relent. His niece had been killed by a runaway overloaded wagon. So they petitioned the Council, but the Council had refused to change the law.
The rest of the afternoon, what was left of it, was far less eventful.
Desalyt was the duty driver who picked me up outside the station. As I was about to enter the coach, he handed me an envelope. I didn’t open it until I was inside and headed toward NordEste Design.
The single line on the sheet read, “My study before dinner, please.” It was signed with a single “D.”
I didn’t even want to speculate. But…was it about the inevitable resumption of war between Ferrum and Jariola? Or some follow-up about the explosion? Or something else entirely? What ever it happened to be, it would complicate life.
I barely managed to get to the covered portico at NordEste Design before Seliora hurried out with Diestrya, closing the door behind her with a firmness just short of slamming it.
I decided against saying anything for a moment and took Diestrya’s hand so that we both walked her to the coach, unseen imager shields protecting
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