Chapter 352: Upper Walk

Magistrate Oren closed the ledger, regarding the two house envoys who stood across his desk. "Let me hear it once more."

Veyrn’s envoy Crael (a thin, irritated-looking man) cleared his throat. "Delegates are coming. Higher than district, higher than provincial, requesting a full local account of recent fluctuations and any associated Free movement with those fluctuations."

Veyrn’s envoy did not attempt to soften the tone in his voice. "Preparations include a quieting of the lower streets, and restrictions on arming. No panic. No open recruitment."

Oren leaned back in his chair. "Preparations for what?"

Crael exchanged a glance with Mera before turning his attention back to Oren. "For inspection, for conscription if inspection proves unsatisfactory, and for evacuation of valued blood should conditions improve."

"You’re talking about a war footing."

Mera inclined her head. "Amongst the delegates, it is."

The magistrate’s chambers kept an elevated position in the Upper Walk, rising above the carefully maintained streets to overlook the river’s edge. Within the building, polished law-office roofs drew in the late afternoon sunlight, reflecting its brilliance inside. Through the window, the tidy buildings of Keth-Arel continued their daily work unbroken.

Oren knocked his knuckles against the wood of the table once. "Begin with the news. No house dressing."

Crael exhaled slowly. "A Lord-level signature has moved. Not rumor this time. Sufficient confirmation that the higher courts have adjusted schedules. Some say it was a missing Lord who stirred; others, an oncoming successor vessel. The label is secondary to the reaction."

"Which is?"

Mera’s answer was blunt. "Fear. Ambition. Claims of old blood. If a Lord has come up in any form, all the major houses must determine whether to kneel, bind, or cut before another house makes the decision for them."

Oren pinched the bridge of his nose. "And what prompted our delegation to choose the lower plane for inspection?"

Crael glanced toward the woman before returning his gaze to the magistrate. "It was not your lower plane. It was our first stop along a line. That still puts their people inside your territory."

"Timeline?"

Mera shook her head. "Not soon enough that we should expect specific dates outside of ’now’."

Oren rose from his seat, pressing his palm against the glass of the window. "What are they seeking from me personally?"

Crael sorted through a stack of folders, retrieving a slender packet. "Full watch reports on off-plan individuals, yard intake manifests, Free registration logs if they’ve been keeping any, power incident reports for the last cycle, and a list of anyone who has entered without house assignment or originated location within the last month."

"That could comprise numbers in the hundreds."

"Narrow it down from there," Mera instructed. "The delegates are not looking for every dockworker, but the unusual entries amidst them."

Oren turned back to regard the envoys. "Define a deviation in terms the magistrate of Lower Keth-Arel can understand."

"Anyone who stands out," Crael said, "Anyone who has drawn attention by being either too accommodating or too hard to deal with, anyone who turned up near a fluctuation or its aftermath, anyone who already has rumors attached them where the lower street hears."

"Rumors are cheap currency."

"Delegate ears are not."

A tense silence stretched between the three men.

Oren resumed his seat. "If I provide them with lists of causes for concern and go home to riots in my districts, or if I provide empty lists and go home to accusations of obstruction, which of these outcomes would better serve me and why?"

Mera’s lips quirked. "By providing acceptable endpoints and visible cooperation, the delegates will believe your districts to be well-organized and, in turn, leave the enforcement of such organization to trusted hands."

"And under that."

"We secure east quarter assets," said Crael, "Sallis readies dock access routes and prioritizes blood kin for immediate extraction should the situation require it."

Oren considered the man with an unpleasant expression. "You would have begun preparations ahead of time."

Crael met his eyes. "We are telling you this now."

"If I understand correctly, this is not for your city’s balance."

A woman’s hand withdrew from the folds of material at her sleeve and paused on the table’s surface. "This has nothing to do with the city’s equilibrium, Magistrate, only with the likelihood of house promotions in the case of a Lord’s return. Houses that hold valuable assets will remain intact while those that hesitate will suffer reductions. The same principles apply to magistrates who enforce order instead of demanding independence from their superiors."

Oren almost laughed at the woman’s words, but the sound did not reach his eyes. "What war risk do they believe we are facing?"

Crael answered almost absently. "A war of succession between primary bloodlines, not one of avenues. If one faction believes itself to have found a returned Lord, opposing factions will contest the discovery. Cities of the lower ranks will serve as resources, battlegrounds, or wreckage."

"And we are a convenient spoil of war."

Mera’s mouth twitched at the edges. "A rich prize, certainly. High density of worker class, transportation access – there will be sufficient bodies to keep supplies flowing if the front lines require it."

Oren retrieved a blank sheet of parchment as he spoke. "I’ll contact Captain Ryn. I will ask for increased rotations at the yard, gates, and Free boarding access. I will ask for no mass arrests, no speeches to the public."

Crael shook his head. "The increase will not be enough to satisfy the delegates."

"It is all that can be done for today," said Oren. "If they desire further precautions, they are welcome to provide detailed reasons for them."

Mera’s expression softened into something close to amusement. "You are becoming quite the capable leader, Magistrate"

"I had more than enough experience the day that I took this position," he replied, finishing the note. "How are the temple side preparations faring?"

"They have received the warning," said Crael, "and have decided to prepare their own ledgers in the name of spiritual auditing"

Oren raised an eyebrow. "Of course they have."

Mera replaced her half-glove with a sigh. "There is one final matter. If the delegates find a suitable candidate for ascension in our district, jurisdictional disputes will arise with a matter of hours. Veyrn will claim rights of civic protection, Sallis of primary transport, and you will be asked to give them your allegiance."

"I will choose the option that allows Keth-Arel to remain whole."

"That option may not be available."

Oren studied his visitors for a long moment. "So long as the streets remain free of disturbance otherwise, no visible banners or recruiting among the Free with official seals, and no mention of returned Lords in taverns or alleyways, talk as much as you like." He paused as Crael scoffed. "Amongst the unwashed masses, conversation rates will remain low."

Mera stood. "We will prepare our people. You prepare yours. Upon the delegates’ arrival, we present a city of order to them."

"And when order begins to crack?"

Crael’s shoulders were set square with a soldier’s brace. "Then we safeguard what we can and document what we couldn’t."

Oren watched as the men departed, murmuring between themselves about schedules and secure routes. He turned back to his desk and called his aide in. "Send for Captain Ryn. I need yard manifests from the last cycle as well as reports of any off-book Free boarding access. No raids, no markings on the wall – just paper reports."

The young man hesitated. "Sir, is something coming up?"

Oren nodded. "Find me one."

"Would you care to specify what we tell the floor staff?"

"I say nothing to them," the magistrate replied, turning back to the window. "It is the word inspection that keeps the fools from screaming panic and looting."

Oren opened the window just enough to hear the clatter of carts on the street outside, the distant murmur of courteous conversation, the melody of wandering street musicians and the smell of the river. A little farther down the road, past the line of sight, the river yards would still be sorting cargo, Frees calculating new tax advantages, and lodging districts would collect payments for the night.

None of them would be expecting delegates to arrive soon. None of them would realize that returning Lords had been the cause of those sudden revisions to the higher courts’ schedules.

Oren closed the window. He was going to have to get used to hearing that.

"Get ready," he told the empty room, and began to write orders sharp enough to split the page.