Page 145 of Turncloak

“What do you think?” Nissa asked Auria.

Auria lay back on the snow-flecked roof tiles, letting the miraculous sun wash over her face. A dawndove cooed in the nearby chimney pot, and the velvine from earlier had joined her. She thought, and she thought, and she thought some more, but Nissa didn’t push her for an answer until she was ready to give it.

Perhaps the most patience the dragonborn moron has ever shown. Auria chuckled, surprised to find that her inner voice was accompanied by a subtle undertow of affection.

Finally, she spoke into her willow wand tip. “I think the bracelet now carries evidence of Ferrow murdering two Bloodmoons—but if I contact Karvas right now, he’s going to send someone else down here to make the arrest. The scarlets aren’t my patch. And what if the Silvercloaks he sends fumble? Aren’t subtle enough? Apoth Zamorin is essentially a hostage. Ferrow would take her life before we took him in.”

“So what are you saying?”

“That this is a lot bigger than a lone Whitewing murdering two Bloodmoons.”

A long, strange pause. “Hells, Marriosan. You want to go to Lunes, don’t you?”

“I want to go to Lunes,” Auria confirmed, a small swell of prideful purpose inflating her lungs. “The leader might be there, as well as Saints know how many other Whitewing foot soldiers. We could take so many more down.”

Nissa let out a low, admiring whistle. “Karvas won’t like it. He could block the whole thing.”

“Do you think Jebat could send backup without Karvas’s knowledge?”

Months ago, she had told her new mentor that all she wanted was to do good. And he’d replied: I consider it my duty not to let the likes of Vel Karvas stand in your way.

Despite the peril of the situation, Nissa laughed. “The high and mighty Auria Marriosan, plotting behind her captain’s back?”

Auria huffed. “Now isn’t the time to—”

“The Apoth’s life is secure, for now, which means it’s the perfect time to mock you.”

“Nissa, I’m serious. Is this the right call?”

Another pause, Nissa weighing her words like an apothecary measuring ingredients on a scale. “Killoran once told me that you should only gamble if you can accept the worst possible outcome. Could you accept the outcome of being disciplined again? Another inquest, another opportunity for the captain to have you disgraced and thrown off the force for insubordination?”

What was more important to Auria?

Doing good, or subordinating?

Doing good, or following the rules?

Doing good, or achieving her lifelong dream?

Surely, surely, it was doing good.

It had to be, otherwise what was the rest of it for?

Before she could talk herself out of it, she let the line to Nissa drop, and then spoke clearly into her wand, “Et vocos, Tenébo Jebat.”

“Marriosan?” came the accented male voice. “It’s early.”

Auria dimly registered that most day shift detectives would not yet be at their desks. She’d lived a thousand lives, become a whole new person since her own shift started the previous night.

“I know.” She stripped the apology from her tone. “I need to request backup. The Whitewings are planning an assault on the Bloodmoons in Lunes, and I want to bring them all down at once.”

60

• • • •

Into the Cave

The sky over the Cinereal Sea was a blotchy winter gray, snow falling softly and silently as ash. Wind thrashed against the crags, whipping the slate-colored water into foamy meringue peaks, buffeting the four cloaked figures standing on the cliff’s edge. Today it smelled not of the floral nightpoppy of the east, but the briny salt and tundral cold of the north.