Chương 26: A Warning at Dawn

It was early dawn the next day and the sun was just breaking through the shutters when I woke up on the floor in Corso's room above Isabetta's bakehouse. Outside I could hear the city waking to life; somewhere a dog was barking, and somewhere even more distant a boy had taken up position and was shouting the day's news. My back was sore and stiff from the hard wooden surface, but I was rested and filled with an eagerness to face the day that feelt utterly refreshing.

When we had finished the registration — we are adventurers now! — the newly formed Black Band had left the collegium after the clerk had given us a short tour of the adventuring guild. The tour had mostly consisted of Sonya, which we learned was her name, telling us about all the places we could not enter until we had a higher rank. She had also shared some stories about past experiences with high-born new adventurers that had shed more light on her initial series of wrong assumptions about us.

At the end of the tour she had apologised, and as we smiled it away, it felt as though we had gained at least one friendly face within the collegium halls. I found myself thinking about Sara Torvaldi as I stared up at the rafters in the small room. I had never been overly impressed by florins and status, but had learned to accommodate the expectations of the city, even as I found most members of the so-called enlightened families to be anything but enlightened.

But there was something different about Miss Torvaldi, and I now remembered that I had briefly thought the same when we met last year. Most people in her position—moneyed and absorbed in social and political games—would have left the Misericordia as soon as propriety allowed. Sara had stayed with him until we were done and Corso carried him to the coemeterium. I now also remembered the sensation of her hand on mine, for that short moment.

The nerve endings on my hand had signalled that touch far more than the gentle contact had warranted, connecting straight to something in my gut. My thoughts next went to Madam Cecchi, who lived three doors down from my old apartment. She was widowed not many years past, and at some point during that time we had stumbled into an arrangement which was both convenient and satisfactory.

I was confident she would already know everything about my dismissal from my job and my eviction from my apartment — Sylvia would spend every evening on a small wooden chair in the streets, consuming gossip and rumours from the neighbourhood with an unending appetite. I should take the time to visit again; not for her bed, but to give her some first-hand gossip about Varenza's newest adventuring company.

I heard Corso stirring and looked over, realising that, if I did not take care, he might become the only part of my old life I carried into the new. He sat up and looked at me, and the first thing he said was, "The Black Band, Vale." His grin grew, and I could only smile back. Somewhere deep inside, my excitement was stoked further, and the blue was far away. We both rose and got dressed, and as we made our way over to the trapdoor we heard voices coming from below that grew louder when we opened the wooden slat.

That is one more person from my old life I need to keep, I thought with a smile, and as we made our way down the rickety half-stair, the conversation below stilled and I could practically feel two pairs of eyes inspecting us when we descended. Two faces were facing us. Isabetta was leaning back in her favourite chair, her arm on a cushion and her hand holding a cup of tea. Her clothes were covered in white flour, and I felt the heat of the ovens radiating in from the kitchen.

On the other chair, Sister Amalia watched me carefully, her hand holding a still steaming pastry.

"Good morning, Marek. Corso." My former colleague from the Misericordia greeted us with a genuine smile. We stood there, and I did not know why I felt like a schoolboy caught in the middle of something we were not supposed to be doing. It did not help that Isabetta looked at us with narrowed eyes, quite obviously wanting to skip any morning niceties and move straight to an interrogation. I chose to postpone that conversation a moment, and gave Isabetta a small bow, then I turned to Sister Amalia and smiled.

"Sister," I said.

"It is very good to see you." And it was.

"What—" Corso began, and I nudged him. I could hear him swallow, before he spoke.

"Good morning, Sister Amalia," he said then.

"Mornin', Betta. What is going on?" Isabetta paused a moment before answering, and her lips pursed.

"Amalia has something to tell you, Marek. And I guess you should also hear it, Cor. But first, what on earth happened yesterday? You left early, then I heard rumours you have been apprehended… Arrested, and put in front of a magistrate?" Oh, that was all yesterday, I thought to myself as Corso answered.

"Yep, all that happened, and more. We found some relics below the goldsmith's bridge, and they got… They were displeased. The Bellandi, that is, since we broke their wall to get to the stuff. That was the other night, and so yesterday we went back there and asked for an appraisal." He turned to look towards the kitchen, then back to the women.

"That's when they arrested us. Apparently they thought the relics belonged to them. But it's all ok now, we have an advocate. He sorted it out. At least, he got us out of the gaol. And another trial, in some weeks." Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. As Corso spoke, Isabetta's eyebrows kept raising, and the Sister was hiding a strange expression. Some amusement, but also… Is that fear?

"And then," Corso continued.

"We went to the collegium." He fished his token out of his pocket and tossed it to his sister.

"Look! We are now an adventuring company! The Black Band. Only ash-rank, but that's just… a phase. It's temporary!" As he spoke, Corso dipped into the kitchen and came back out with two pastries. He threw one to me, and started eating, then he continued, mouth still full.

"Give us a week or two, and we'll get to wood. We'll be metal ranked before the new year, I reckon. We are already planning our first expedition!" Then his grin turned mischievous.

"Just wait and see, my dear sister." Isabetta opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again and looked at Sister Amalia. The Sister was still staring at me, and I was getting nervous about whatever that was. Corso had managed to succinctly summarise our story in a way that seemed intentionally crafted to provoke the women into a reaction, but only Isabetta seemed to react as expected. Amalia kept an intentional silence, and eventually, Isabetta found her words.

"Relics? Advocate? Adventuring… company? Expedition!?" Corso nodded, his mouth full of pastry.

"Aye," he answered through the pastry.

"That's an even shorter accounting. Well done, Betta!"

"What is going on, Marek?" Sister Amalia asked softly. I was about to wave her question off, to ask about the Misericordia, to say that it was nothing. But two things gave me pause; first, she was an old friend, and she deserved something else. A kind of truth. But secondly, something beneath her words told me there was more to her question, and that our full truth was important.

I took a bite of the pastry — which, by the way, was excellent — and looked to Corso, tilting my head to the side; the unspoken question was clear. He thought for a moment, replaced his normal happy grin with something more serious, then nodded back at me.

"It started with the beggar," I began.

"The old man who came in from the arcade." And then I sat down, and I told the story.

"And now?" Sister Amalia's question was soft and simple.

"You plan to find this… This ridiculous treasure?" Neither woman had seemed especially shocked by the treasure at the other end of the gold signet ring. Perhaps the rest of our story had already numbed them to surprise. I nodded. Our pastries were long since finished, and we were on our third cup of tea. The women had remained quiet, only asking some questions as we took turns telling the story.

Isabetta had shaken her head at increasingly regular intervals, and obviously wanted to interject along the way, but she had kept herself in check. Sister Amalia had nodded at unexpected places in the story, as if what I was saying confirmed something she suspected.

"Yes," Corso confirmed.

"Heading out as soon as we gather up some equipment." He grinned at me.

"Preparing better this time than last." Isabetta looked like she was about to speak, perhaps to protest, but the Sister placed her hand on Isabetta's arm.

"I think that sounds like a good idea, Marek," she said.

"Getting out of the city now. Something I heard last night makes much more sense now." Here it comes. I looked at her, and she continued.

"I was working late, when somebody knocked on the door…"

This time it was Amalia's turn to tell a story, and the warmth left the room as she spoke. Isabetta's expression grew into something that was probably matching my own with a growing sense of alarm. Corso had found a sheet of paper, and appeared to be drawing some kind of pattern.

"He knew about the mask," she said, her story nearly done.

"He had ordered Sinon to keep it in the Misericordia. Your dismissal was also intended, though Sinon moved it forward." Corso's pen stopped, and he looked up.

"That bastard was told to sack us? And he did it?" Sister Amalia nodded.

"You listened to all this from your work room?" I asked. She nodded again.

"He had left his door open."

"He never leaves it open."

"And he already knew about my report," I muttered, mostly to myself.

"Yes," she said.

"Sinon covered for you. About the timing of your last entry, and the signature." For several heartbeats, the only sound was the faint crackling from the coal ovens. I noticed Isabetta looking at me, and not with kindness. I understood this very well; the last three times we had met, I had been either drunk, homeless or recently arrested. Now I was involved in some kind of hidden conspiracy, and I had brought it to her door. And I had involved her brother in it all.

Amalia reached across the table and placed her hand over mine. There were tiny cuts across her fingers from needle and knife work.

"Marek, he was afraid of you. Not Sinon. The other man. There was something in his voice, and he was deeply upset that you had… That you had borrowed the bronze mask." I thought quickly.

"And this was last night?"

"Yes," Amalia said.

"Then we need to hurry," I said.

"Corso, we cannot be here." I looked at Isabetta.

"He will come here. The stranger. When he does, say that you threw me out. Say that you threw Corso out, after the mess with the magistrate's hearing. Say you don't know where we are." Isabetta hesitated, but only for a moment, before she gave me a firm nod. Something else in her eyes: a measure of gratefulness, perhaps. Or perhaps that was only the interpretation I wished for. I looked to Corso, who had folded up the paper with his drawing. Now he put it in his pocket and rose to his feet.

"Vale's got the right of it, Betta. We need to hurry." Amalia was still holding my hand. Now she squeezed it once.

"I need to get to the Misericordia." She fell silent, then looked at me.

"Marek, Corso. You should know, last night I decided something. I am leaving the Misericordia." Nineteen years at the Misericordia ended in a sentence. I thought I understood something of her motivations, and I squeezed her hand back before withdrawing it.

"Before you do," I said.

"And while we are away. Can you talk to Sinon? Try to learn more about how the mask arrived in the Misericordia? Perhaps see if he is willing to share more of what has happened? There is something going on here, and we are behind. I don't want to ask you, but—""Nonsense, Marek," she said then.

"Of course. We need to figure this out. What is going on. And we can do that together, like before." Then she stepped closer and embraced me, and reached out for Corso next.

"But now, you need to leave, boys."