The Ghost Tiger's Lament

Chapter Seven

Once the twins were gone, Ashne took a deep breath. She would have to send word to the magistrate, of course. Let him deal with the dead bandit. It was his job, after all. Perhaps he would know, or suspect where their hideout was. Thieves in the streets of Tham were his responsibility, not hers.

The princess was her responsibility. Not bandits, not some foolish, meddling, infuriating apothecary.

But then she remembered again that the magistrate had not mentioned bandit problems. Perhaps he had thought such issues too minor, too pedestrian to bring up to someone sent from the capital to investigate rumors of a sorcerer. He had been much the same, a year ago. Too proud or too obstinate to give her and Zsaran the information they had needed.

If they had, perhaps everything would have turned out differently.

But no, she would not blame him for her own failures. They too had been proud, in their own way. Indeed, pride alone had carried them forward on their quest, until the mercenary of Pra charmed himself into their confidences and they accepted his aid.

She was making her way back to the stalls where she had gathered her information earlier when she stumbled into a passing man. She looked up to apologize, but already he was cursing, moving away.

Only then did she notice the crowd that had gathered in the street.

She slipped to the edges, straining for a better view, to no avail. At last, she turned to a nearby child.

“What’s going on?”

“Soldiers!” exclaimed the little girl, who wrinkled her face at Ashne before immediately running off, sucking on her dirty thumb.

“The greedy dogs,” muttered another bystander. “If it weren’t for the good Magistrate...”

“Nonsense! Like as not it’s that shitfaced worm himself who’s been relaying all those strange orders these past few months!”

“Those orders are from the barbarian king himself, they say!”

“The magistrate’s never answered to lord or king, barbarian or no! What makes you think he’ll start now?”

“Hadn’t you heard? Magistrate Tham has fallen on hard times,” confided one elderly matron upon seeing Ashne’s growing confusion. “Gambled away all his assets, he did!”

“That’s right,” declared the man next to her. “They say he’s even begun dipping into the city treasuries!”

“Making deals with Krengsra in order to secure his place!”

“Bullshit. Just who do you think has been protecting us from those wolves of Awat these past two years, you ungrateful dogs?”

“Better Sra than Wat!”

“Exactly!” cried another woman. “Those soldiers know no bounds! They’ve no sense of righteousness! They do as they please, take as they please —”

Where did this fury come from? This rumbling discontent?

Ashne did not understand it. Could not understand it. It had not existed, when she last walked these streets. Or perhaps she had merely been unaware.

She took a step backwards. The crowd jostled against her in response, shifted, closed in again behind her.

“Seizing innocent citizens from the streets or out of their own homes on the slightest suspicion! Confining all travelers from the Court without warning, while letting those wild men run loose! Why, just this morning I saw a poor old man getting dragged to the magistrate’s place —”