David Dalglish - The Prison of Angels

“Trader just came in from the borderlands,” Gervis began, accepting an offered cup from one of his friends. “About a week back they had a hanging at Norstrom.”

“Had hangings before,” a particularly drunk man shouted, and he laughed as if it were the funniest thing.

“We have,” Gervis said, guzzling down his own drink. “But this one was done to a sick fuck who liked to diddle with little boys and girls. But that ain’t the thing that got the traders talking. No, this one was done without the angels’ permission. By the Abyss, I dare say it was even done against their permission.”

He had their attention now, Qurrah’s included.

“What happened?” someone asked once it was clear Gervis would wait for some prodding.

“Well, an angel finally took note of it. They’d strung the guy from a pole, used his dick as a rope supposedly. No one would claim responsibility, either. Drove the angel mad is what they’re saying. Started hollering, waving his sword around.”

The men were laughing now.

“Wish I could have seen that.”

“Nothing like watching them holier than shit angels squirm a little.”

“Red-faced, I bet he was, red like a tomato!”

Gervis gestured for a refill.

“This is where it stops being funny,” he said. “Listen close, now. You know I tell no lies. This angel, Ezekai was his name I believe, he demanded they cut down the pervert and bury him. Well, the people of Norstrom wanted no part of that. And when they refused, the angel drew his sword and attacked them.”

The laughing dwindled to chuckles, then to silence. All around at other tables, conversation slowed. It was as if a hot wind had blown through the place, and Gervis grinned, knowing all ears were now his.

“No one died,” he continued. “But that don’t change matters none. He drew his sword and started swinging, knocking people out of his way just so he could cut down and bury the fucker. These were just regular people, people like you or me, and he was ready to kill every last one of them to get his way. And what were these people doing? Standing up for their rights, that’s what! The law’s supposed to be in our hands, in man’s hands. But they don’t like that none, do they?”

Qurrah waved Ginger over and requested more to drink. The moment it arrived, Qurrah guzzled it down, his mind racing. The topic at every table was now the same, grumblings and complaints about the angels. Two men directly beside Qurrah were obnoxiously loud, and he had little choice in overhearing.

“One told my wife I was cheating on her when he found out,” one of the men said. “Can you believe that? What place is that for him, huh? Like it matters I had a quick roll around with Jessie. None of their damn business.”

“What’d she do?” the man’s friend asked.

“Left me, took our kid with her, too. Dumb bitch. I’m better without her.”

Qurrah struggled to bite his tongue. Was this what the people really wanted? The right to cheat on spouses and dole out brutal justice? He thought of Azariah’s frustration and shook his head. Other than turning a blind eye to it all, what else was there to do? But the simmering anger he felt confirmed what Tessanna had suggested. The people were nearing rebellion against their winged enforcers. Not there yet, not quite. So far there was too much acceptance mixed with the anger. They were upset by things they felt beyond their control. But once they felt they had a choice, once they believed they had the numbers and the power to make things different…

Tessanna sat in front of him at the table, startling him.

“I thought you were unwell,” he said.

Tessanna glanced about the common room, hunched down closer.

“I didn’t want to be alone anymore,” she said, her voice so soft he could barely hear her. “I did, but then I didn’t. Is the food worthwhile?”

Qurrah pushed her portion of the bread her way.

“The butter’s fresh at least,” he said.

She ate it, nibbling like she was a squirrel. Qurrah leaned closer and kept his voice down.

“The people are resentful of the angels,” he told her. “Simply put, they’re human, and they want to be human, with all that entails. So long as Azariah enforces his higher standard through law, they’re going to resent him.”

“Perhaps your brother can do something,” Tessanna suggested. “He’s steward now. Surely the angels will listen to him.”

“That’s if I can make him agree. He might not. Perhaps he’ll only view these complaints as nothing more than growing pains.”

“Or labor pains,” Tessanna said, glancing about. “Though whether child or monster will be born, I’m not sure even the gods know.”

Gervis’s overwhelming voice roared again.

“Aye, I heard! Crossed the bridge not too long ago. No one knows why.”

“His brother’s the steward. Maybe he’s hoping to get a cushy job.”

“A job wiping his brother’s ass, maybe,” Gervis laughed, and everyone laughed with him.

Qurrah’s fist curled tight as his whip writhed around his right arm.

“Behave,” Tessanna said, meeting his eye. “They know nothing of you, nothing of me.”

“Any of you ever seen that demon girl of his?” Gervis asked. “Firm tits, an ass you could bounce coins off of? Well, a man was talking to me just this other day, told me something I could hardly believe. He lived in Veldaren, was there when them people were attacked. Now everyone knows she was sleeping with that prophet, but this friend of mine was saying it went way further than that.”

He waited until people began pressuring for greater detail.

“How much further?” Gervis continued. “Well, he said she spent the whole damn day and night fucking those demons. Kept shouting it was her calling, like it was some sort of worship. Thousands of demons, I tell you, every single one of them, each hung like horses. If you ever meet Tessanna Delone, you’re meeting the absolute biggest whore in the history of Dezrel, and that’s something you should tip your hat in respect to.”

Qurrah’s fists slammed into the table. He lurched from his seat, his weight braced against the wood as if his fury overwhelmed his ability to stand. The commotion earned him several glances his way, and when they saw the fire curling off his hands, blackening the table, many hurried up from their seats toward the door.

“No fighting!” the barkeep shouted. “No magic, no swords!”

Qurrah felt his arms shaking as he stared down Gervis. The big oaf had turned his way, and he looked dumbfounded as to the reason for Qurrah’s glare.

“Something the matter, friend?” Gervis asked. His hand had fallen to the handle of his ax, which lay by his feet.

“You’re telling tales,” Qurrah said, feeling an icy calm come over him. “Telling lies.”

“Hey now, I’m only saying what I heard. If you have a problem with-”

He stopped, for Tessanna had stood as well, her face catching the light of the fire. If there was anything more recognizable than Qurrah’s orcish features, it was those solid black eyes and that long raven hair.

“But I do have a problem,” she said, sliding around the table and walking their way. Qurrah watched, his fingers tensed. The second something went wrong, he’d be ready with fire and shadows.

“This…this is a joke, right?” Gervis said, staring at her. “A trick?”

“No tricks,” Tessanna said, her voice almost seductive. “It’s me, Tessanna Delone, lover of the great traitor, Qurrah. Shouldn’t you tip your hat?”

Gervis paused, but he had no hat to tip, and he looked like a cornered, frightened animal. At the mention of Qurrah’s name his grip on the handle of his ax tightened, and around him several of the men backed away, their hands also reaching for weaponry. They were all keenly aware of him now, and the tension in the room increased tenfold.