City of Lies Read Free Page A

hastily scribbled message.
    “You’re joking!” The words burst out of her before she could stop them.
    “It’s no joke, Your Grace,” said the corporal of militia who had brought the note. “The prisoner walked up to theEastern Gate an hour ago. Looked as if he’d been living rough for a while.”
    The Protector gulped a mouthful of hot chocolate and reread the note, her pulse beating an angry tattoo. “He gave himself up? He wasn’t captured?”
    The corporal shook his head.
    “Well,” said the Protector. “I suppose I must see him. Tell the vice-marshal to send him to me.”
    As soon as the corporal had gone, she took her gold chain and stiff crimson robe from the corner closet and put them on. Then she sat down to await the arrival of the worst traitor the city had ever known. The man who had plotted to enslave its citizens and set himself up as dictator. The man whom everyone had assumed to be dead, lost in the Great Storm.
    Her younger brother. The Fugleman of Jewel.

    The Protector almost laughed when they brought the prisoner in. He wore so many chains that he clanked like an iron foundry. She leaned back in her chair and studied him.
    He was thinner than the last time she’d seen him, and everything about him was ragged and filthy. His hair was still black, of course, and he had a certain handsomenessbeneath the grime. But his shoulders were slumped and his eyes were fixed on the floor. The fine proud Fugleman of six months ago had disappeared completely.
    At the memory of that terrible time, when the city had come so close to disaster, the temptation to laugh vanished. “Wait outside,” the Protector said to the militiamen.
    The guards backed out the door. There was silence in the office. The Protector steepled her fingers, trying to control her anger. “Well, Herro?” she said. (She would
not
call him brother. The word would stick in her throat.) “What do you have to say for yourself?”
    “May I—may I sit down?” The Fugleman’s voice—his glorious voice, which had once swayed crowds—was so weak and hoarse that he sounded like an old man.
    “
Last
time you were here,” said the Protector grimly, “you did not bother to ask. You put your feet up on my desk as if this office were a common beerhouse.” She bared her teeth in a humorless smile. “Perhaps you recall the occasion? It was just before you had me imprisoned in the House of Repentance.”
    The Fugleman swallowed. “You are right to remind me, sist—”
    “
Don’t
call me that!”
    “I beg your pardon.” He bowed his head. “The truth is, I am a broken man—Your Grace. Broken on the rocks of myown foolish ambition. I am—I am deeply sorry for the crimes I committed.”
    “Is that
it
? You’re
sorry
? You try to sell the city into slavery, and all you can say is—” The Protector broke off, biting down on her fury and wishing wholeheartedly that the Fugleman had not chosen this particular moment to return from the dead.
    The last six months had not been easy for the people of Jewel. So much had changed in such a short time. The Blessed Guardians had been put on trial and cast out of the city. The House of Repentance had been boarded up. The silver guardchains that children wore to keep them safe were banned, and the heavy brass punishment chains vanished as if they had never existed.
    At first, unable to get used to the new freedoms, many parents simply tied their sons and daughters up with lengths of rope, or followed them whenever they left the house, ducking around corners so as not to be discovered.
    Gradually, however, they grew bolder. The ropes disappeared. Some families bought cats or dogs. Birds returned to the city. For the first time in her life, the Protector heard the sound of children laughing as they played in the street.
    But then, just three weeks ago, a boy had broken his leg. Six days later, a girl fell into Dead Horse Canal and nearly drowned. The accidents shocked everyone. The Protectorhad