Morningside Fall(151)

Cass launched forward and threw two of the guards to the ground. The situation erupted into an all-out brawl. If Wren didn’t do something quickly, there was no telling how many of them would end up injured – or dead. He rushed into the writhing knot of people.

“Stop!” he cried. “Stop!”

Swoop had been knocked to the ground, and Wren threw himself on top of him. “By order of the Governor, stop!”

The guards fell back a step, still poised to attack, but apparently reluctant to risk hitting Wren.

“This man is my guardian and protector!” Wren said. “I demand that no harm should come to him.”

“You no longer hold any authority here,” said a voice behind him. Wren glanced back to see the officer getting to his feet. The poor man’s nose was crooked, and blood ran freely and dripped from his chin. Wren stood, and tried to straighten up, to make himself seem as tall as he could.

“I never surrendered that authority. Who claims it now?” Wren asked.

“The High Council,” he answered.

“It was just a Council when I left.”

“Things have changed.”

“Then take me to them,” Wren said. “And see that no one harms this man or my mother.”

“It’s not like that, sir. We’re going to have to arrest you all. It’s orders.”

“Orders given by an invalid authority based on a false accusation. My mother had nothing to do with Connor’s death, and Swoop has only ever loyally protected and obeyed his governor. The only thing either of them are guilty of is remaining faithful where others faltered.”

The officer glanced around at the other guardsmen, clearly uncertain how to handle the situation. And Wren understood his advantage now. While they were unsure, he was certain of his purpose, and that certainty gave him confidence.

“I can’t…” the officer said.

“You will,” Wren answered. He held out his hands. “I’ll allow you to bind my hands, if it will help you.”

“Wren, no,” Cass said, but Wren ignored her. Now wasn’t the time. The officer’s eyes flicked to Cass and then back to Wren.

“I am still your governor,” Wren said. “Regardless of what you’ve been told.”

After a moment of hesitation, the officer took out a pair of binders and clamped them around Wren’s wrists. Even when he had tightened them fully, they nearly slid down over Wren’s hands. Wren was pretty sure he could have pulled free if he’d wanted to.

“What about these others?” one of the guards asked the officer in a low voice.

“I don’t know, just… just keep an eye on ’em,” the officer said. “Until we get this straightened out.”

The officer and two other guards formed up around him, careful not to get too close to Swoop, who had worked his way up to his hands and knees, but hadn’t made it much further.

Wren looked at his mama.

“Take care of Swoop,” he said.

The officer placed his hand on Wren’s shoulder and guided him forward. It was only as they started away from the gate that Wren realized the crowd had gone nearly silent. They were almost all watching him, some with concern, some with confusion, some with contempt. The guards cleared a path through the people as the officer kept a tight grip on Wren’s shoulder. Murmurs swept through the crowd as they passed through.

Wren risked one last look over his shoulder, and saw Mama helping Swoop to his feet. There was a figure standing behind them in the distance, still outside the city: Chapel.

Wren smiled inwardly, as he quietly let the guardsmen lead him away to his uncertain fate.





TWENTY FIVE


They had stripped Wren of most of his belongings; his pack, his coat, his knife. It was the knife he missed the most. At least they’d taken the binders off too. And it felt good to be warm again. Now he sat in a small, dim room within the governor’s compound, waiting to hear what would become of him. For some reason they’d thought it necessary to blindfold him when they brought him inside, so he wasn’t sure exactly where he was. He didn’t recognize the room. But there were lots of rooms in the compound that he’d never seen. Wren guessed he was somewhere on one of the lower floors, below the main council room. There were two chairs in the room, with a low table between them.



For all the seriousness of the situation, there was a dark humor in it. He had been here before. It wasn’t the same room, nor were circumstances the same. But not all that long ago, a year and a half maybe, he’d been captured, isolated, locked away so someone else could decide his fate. At least this time he’d chosen to be captured. And he hoped this time his fate would be his own to decide.