Clandestine circle

“Are you fools that you listen to such drivel?” she shouted furiously at the mob around her. She stamped up to the dark-haired man and shoved her face close to his. “Who do you think formed the quake and the sinkhole and put out the fire? Have you forgotten the man who tamed your volcanoes? Who preserved your peace? Who dedicated his life to saving this pathetic city? Lord Bight isn’t going to burn something he has worked so hard to build.”

The speaker’s eyes glittered feverishly. “Why should he worry about us when he has the fat, wealthy merchants and the elders in the city to protect?” he yelled back at her.

“You axe the city, all of you. He is doing his utmost to save everyone he can. Merchant, sailor, baker, or laundress.”

“And who are you?” the man snarled, pointing to Linsha’s uniform. “His guardian whore? Of course you’re going to speak to save him.”

Linsha turned livid. “Save him from what? The likes of you? He doesn’t need me to speak for him. His actions should be all you need to remember his devotion to Sanction.”

“What devotion? He’s probably hiding in his palace behind the city walls.”

“No! He’s-” But her words were cut off by a barrage of questions.

“Then why has he ordered the gates locked against us?” a woman shouted.

Another sailor cried, “Why has the harbor been closed down?”

Linsha threw up her hands as if to ward off the verbal blows. “To slow the spread of the plague until we can find a cure.”

The suggestion of such a possibility brought a storm of response. Questions, statements, angry curses, and hopeful shouts erupted from the crowd as everyone voiced his or her opinion.

The dark-haired man’s strident voice rose above all others. “Lord Bight’s only idea of a cure is to burn down the harbor district. He burned the ships and the inn, didn’t he? That’s his answer to a cure. Burn us to the ground and use the merchants’ money to rebuild! That’s why the gates are locked!”

“I’ve had enough out of you,” Linsha muttered to herself. She raised her voice over the clamor and bellowed, “Have any of you stopped to think that gathering close together like this could be what helps spread the disease? Look at the crew of the Whydah and the people they touched. How many of you are already infected?”

That silenced them. The terror of the plague was more effective than dragonawe to break up the shouting mob. Everyone looked askance at those around to look for the telltale blotches, the flush of fever, or the blank-eyed look of delirious terror. The crowd abruptly fractured as most people thrust their way out and hurried away. A few moved farther away from each other and waited to see what would happen next.

In the jostling and shoving press, the dark-haired man tried to sidle away from Linsha. Someone banged into her back, and she snatched the opportunity to fake a fall forward. Her hand shot out and grasped the man’s arm as if to save herself. Her other hand flashed into her coat and pulled a slim knife from her waistband. When she straightened, she had the blade pressed firmly into his back and his arm bent at an uncomfortable angle.

“We need to talk. In private,” she hissed in his ear.

His eyes rolled back at her, and she felt his muscles tense. “Don’t try to fight me. I can break you in half.”

She saw Commander Durne and several guards deliberately move her way through the dispersing crowd. Her eyes narrowed and she looked for a path to slip out of sight. She didn’t want to interrogate this fellow in front of the man she suspected he almost killed.

But there was nowhere to go. The sinkhole was to her right, and a mass of people behind her might spot her dagger and try to relieve her of her prisoner. The guards and the commander were closing in on her.

Instead she tried a desperate ploy. Hauling the man closer, she shoved her dagger through his clothes and into the skin of his back. He gasped and stiffened in fear. “I saw you at the south pier,” she said fiercely, close to his ear. “You are the one who told the youths to throw the bottles at the Governor’s Guards.”

The man sneered. “So what of it? Seemed a good joke at the time.”

Linsha smiled inwardly. So she was right. Now to take it a step further. “No. You meant more. You wanted to cause trouble for Lord Bight. You’ve been all over the waterfront stirring up trouble and spreading rumors. Who do you work for?”

“No one!”

“Do you see that man walking toward us? That’s the man who fell in the harbor after the bottle hit his head. I’m going to tell him it was your fault.”

The crowd was rapidly thinning, and Durne was clearly headed in their direction, his brow lowered and his hand on his sword. Her prisoner saw the commander and visibly blanched. A strange curse burst from his lips, and he tried to squirm out of her grasp. Linsha twisted his arm tighter and pushed the blade deeper into his muscle until he clenched his teeth and stilled his struggles. They both were breathing heavily from their quiet, intense struggle.

“Who paid you?” Linsha tried again.