past a stall toward an inn. Damned racks—no rules, no concept of “stay on the ship.” Whichever of the crew had let her and Tallia off was going to get an earful. Van Gast might be a rack, but Holden expected his orders to be obeyed—none of the new crew to go ashore, in case they turned Van in. Time enough for that, and Ilsa, later. Van was in trouble, Holden was sure of it. Everything, no everyone was acting too oddly for it to be otherwise.
He made for the steps to Oku’s temple, a perfect place for spying out the square. The steps were crowded with people coming for the sunset ritual, and between them and the dim dusk, Holden didn’t see the hanging figures until he was almost on them.
Racks to one side, Remorians to the other, nailed to the wall. Holden couldn’t look—and couldn’t look away. They were all dead, their blood black on their arms as they hung from hands and wrists, flies buzzing around them in a sickening dance. He stepped closer, unable to believe what his eyes were telling him. Before he’d always been safe in the knowledge that no one would touch him, no one would dare. The body hanging in front of him, flecks of blood-tinted foam on its lips, was a stark reminder that this was no longer the case. They were free now, free to be rolled for money, to be scammed, stabbed in the back and left for dead. Free to be nailed to a wall for no more reason than they were Remorian.
Holden rubbed at the scar on his remaining wrist with the stump of what was left of the other, at the remembered burn of the bond. He had freed them all for this, for persecution, madness and death. A shout from the other side of the square, by Herjan’s temple, brought him out of his trance.
“Van Gast!”
Holden whipped round, remembering now why he was here—to find Ilsa and bring her home, to discover what it was about Tallia that made Van Gast’s little-magics itch. Most of all, to make sure Van Gast wasn’t in trouble. The sun dipped over the city walls, tipping day into sudden night. The square was darkness punctuated by little globes of light. A disturbance, a wayward ripple against the tide of people, as guards ran and a figure scrambled up the wall of Herjan’s temple. Holden could make out the flash of Van Gast’s grin.
He looked out across the square, thinking there was nothing he could do to help Van Gast, not from here, and wondering if Van Gast ever needed help escaping. Tallia stood a few stalls away from where Van Gast climbed, watched intently as he disappeared over the rooftops, guards close behind. Tallia’s ever-present enthusiasm seemed dimmed, replaced with something Holden couldn’t pinpoint, some sort of intensity that shivered him.
He hurried toward her, hoping to see what she did, where she went, but she turned then, her eyes wide as she saw him hurrying down the steps toward her. Her smile looked fake, too quick, too wide. When he reached her, she was trembling and wouldn’t meet his eye.
“Hello, Tallia. I don’t recall giving you permission to leave the ship.”
She darted a glance over her shoulder, toward Herjan’s temple and the ruckus on its roof, winced as a pistol went off. “You didn’t, but I wanted to tell my family where I was going. I should have told them earlier, but I was so excited to be racking with Van Gast, I got carried away.”
Holden watched her carefully and knew it straightaway for the lie it was. “I see. And Van Gast being chased by guards while you watch—coincidence?”
“Yes!” Her fingers twined around themselves.
Holden took her by the elbow and steered her through the crowds. He couldn’t help Van, not right now—the shots and guards were away over the roofs and he could imagine how much Van was enjoying it—but Holden had every confidence that he’d escape. Instead, he needed to find out what was going on with Tallia, what she thought she was up to. Quickly, and then try to find Ilsa, persuade her back.
Tallia’s protests were faint as he pushed her toward a tavern down a crowded alley that led from the Godsquare. A respectable enough sort of place that the barkeep gave him a sharp look as they entered. No racks in here, but sober merchantmen and a few crew. Holden plonked Tallia at a