I updated! Finally. And it's a pretty long chapter, if I do say so myself. By my standards, anyway. 'cos I suck at writing long chapters. Thanks a million to Light of Polaris for looking through the chapter and giving awesome feedback :)

I don't own, unfortunately. Tamora Pierce does. *sigh*

Chapter 12: Promises

When I woke up the next morning, I was alone. I stretched out my arms wide, forced open my tired eyes, to find that I was back in my own lodgings, too. A strange feeling of relief almost overwhelmed me. It was nice to be back here, the sun shining through the window and the pigeons pecking impatiently at the windows.

I clambered up out of bed and threw open the blinds. The pigeons flocked in, unleashing the voices of the dead upon me. I heard gruesome tales about children's murders, Lower City rivalry, even magical tampering. And yet, I'd never really felt quite so content in my life.

I could sure get used to that feeling. I had a notion, though–and that notion turned out to be correct–that it wouldn't last long.

That was just about the time Tunstall started hammering on my door.

"Beka, wake up!" he yelled, not sparing me nor my neighbours a sudden awakening. I had still been half-asleep, but now I was completely and thoroughly awake. Damn that sarden barbarian.

I sighed and undid the locks on my door. There Tunstall stood, clad in his uniform, looking way too fresh and awake for this time in the morning. I couldn't help but gawk at his appearance. Achoo bounded past me shamelesslyand dived at our visitor, knocking him back a few steps. Pounce jumped up onto my shoulder and watched this exchange with a disinterested purr.

"Tunstall," I said, staring at him as though he was crazy. Which, I'm pretty sure, he was. It was hardly past dawn, pox rot it! "We have evening watch. Remember? Not for another–" As if on cue, a loud bell rung through the city, announcing that it was six of the clock. "–at the very least, eight hours!"

I reached over to slam the door in his face, but he stopped me, smirking a little. "Beka, it's Magistrate's day, remember?" he reminded me, eyebrows raised, a slightly mocking tone in his voice. "Come on. You've got a case to close. Did you really think that the work ended when your patron god saved you from the baddies?"

I stared at him, again. "How did you know about that?" I demanded, completely giving myself away. But I was beyond caring.

"Beka, it was the Black God. I'm pretty sure he doesn't just go aroundkicking Ysandir in to the ground whenever he feels like it." He looked at me, his eyes daring me to argue. "And the pigeons? The dustspinners? It all fits into place. I'm not an idiot, and neither are you, so don't try to deny it. Now, get ready. We have approximately an hour to get to the Magistrate."

I obliged, telling Tunstall I'd meet him outside my lodgings. Achoo barked her agreement. I bit my lip.

"Sorry, girl, but I can't bring you," I murmured guiltily, patting her matted fur affectionately. I felt terrible that I'd been basically ignoring her ever since we'd gotten back from the Black City.

And me, Pounce grumbled. The cat always gets left out.

"Oh hush, you silly constellation," I said, grinning. I petted him absentmindedly for a few minutes before I decided that Tunstall would be getting impatient. Seizing my uniform from the side dresser, I quickly slipped it on and retrieved my baton from my bedside table.

It was cold outside, and I shivered slightly. Tunstall met me at the gutters outside the lodgings. My hands shook slightly from the nerves. I've been a Dog for quite a while now, but still, I will never quite get used to talking in front of other people.

"Let's go," Tunstall said. He wrapped a reassuring arm around my shoulders. "You can do this, Beka. You've done it before."

"What do I tell them?" I asked anxiously.

"Just what you saw, Beka," he assured me. But I knew I could never tell them what I saw. I saw way too much. I heard way too much. I heard things that people weren't supposed to hear. I heard and saw fear, revenge, love, and betrayal.

But that wasn't what Tunstall meant, I knew. He just wanted me to recount what had happened. He just wanted me to give the evidence. Even if the Magistrate couldn't prosecute anybody – since they were, well, dead – they still wanted the story.

And I was perfectly fine with that.

"Our Kennels received word from trusted Birdies that the Rats were hiding in the Black City. We knew it was very dangerous, but it's part of what we do, the danger. We travelled to the Black City, but were faced with an abandoned city. It was to be expected, but still a little surprising. There were no signs of life." I paused for a breath. "My partner, Mattes Tunstall, wanted to explore a little more. There was an old chapel. It seemed to, well, radiate evil. We went inside, and the door shut itself behind us." I took another breath, aware of the many gazes that rested upon me. "That was where we found the Ysandir."

A collective gasp emitted from the crowd, but I barrelled full speed ahead, recounting our efforts and such. I explained to the disbelieving crowd that an inhuman force had defended us. I didn't tell them that it was the Black God. It wasn't the sort of thing I wanted to broadcast to the whole of Corus.

When it was over, when Lord Gershom thanked me and told me to sit, I very nearly collapsed. I felt like I'd just run the length to Port Caynn and back a few times.

"S'it okay if I grab a breath of fresh air?" I gasped out to Tunstall. He smiled reassuringly and nodded. I snuck outside, but nobody was watching. The crowd's attention was already somebody else.

I welcomed the blast of fresh, cool air that hit me when I burst out the doors.

"You did good, Cooper," said a voice from behind me.

I spun around to find Goodwin watching me, her arm propped on her hip. She was wearing her city clothes, her baton hanging at her waist – a silent threat not to cross her. It was like my mother used to say about wasps. 'They won't hurt you if you don't hurt them.'

Not entirely true, though, as I found out one bright summers day whilst playing outside. Wasp stings overpower broken ribs any day. Well, not really, but they really do hurt.

Wait. Why was I thinking about wasps at a time like this?

"Thanks," I said, because, well, that wassome pretty high praise coming from Goodwin. She didn't throw around compliments like some mots and coves did, just for the sake of it.

"Beka. I've actually come here to tell you something," she said, grimacing, after a few moments of silence. "Gods, I didn't want to be the one to deliver this news to you, let me tell you. But I couldn't let you find out just by chance, and I figured you would want to know. And so–"

I realised, with a shock, that Goodwin – the fearless Commander – was babbling.

"What is it, Goodwin?" I asked warily. What made her anxious would most definitely make me anxious, or perhaps even worse…

"Beka, your Granny Fern passed away last night."

I choked on thin air. "What?" I cried.

No…No way, this could not be happening …

"I'm sorry, Beka," Goodwin whispered. Before either of us knew what was happening, she hugged me tightly to her. Tears ran down my cheeks, soaking her shirt. "She died in her sleep. Peacefully. It's how she would have wanted, isn't it?"

"I–I suppose," I hiccupped. "I j–just can't believe." I pulled slowly out of her embrace and pulled myself together. "Thank you–for telling me. You're right. I would rather find out now than later, just by chance."

Goodwin nodded, stepping back, a pained expression on her face. "Remember though, Beka, your Granny wasn't all you had left. You have a new family now. And you still have your brothers and sisters."

I muttered something along the lines of 'yer, what a great family, aye' before rushing off down the street, my baton swinging at my waist. I wasn't looking where I was going, so I didn't see that there was somebody in front of me when I went ploughing forward into something hard.

"Beka?" Rosto said in surprise. His arms quickly wrapped around me and soon we were tightly embracing, me sobbing into his chest. He pulled me down onto one of the street benches. "What's wrong?"

I told him. Of course, I had to, even if it hurt like you wouldn't believe to repeat those dreaded words.

Rosto didn't say something like 'I'm so sorry' or 'She was old. It was her time.' He just nodded and held me, told me he was there, told me that it would be okay.

And I thought that perhaps, just perhaps, he was telling the truth. Perhaps everything would be okay. We would get through this.

Pounce, unseen until that moment, jumped up onto my shoulder and kneaded it with his claws. Someone's here to see you.

I frowned at him. "What?"

A tiny grey and white pigeon fluttered down to land in front of us. It watched us with beady, knowing eyes, and I knew immediately who it was. Yes, who.

This was the bird that harboured the ghost of Granny Fern.

Rosto's eyes widened. He muttered something about giving me some privacy and walked off to talk to a group of mots who were watching us with wary expressions. I have to admit, even in such a situation, a twinge of jealousy still found itself way into my heart.

I know! How cracknobbed can a mot be?

"You better not go all sulky again, lass," Granny Fern said to me. "I was old. You can't run from death forever, right? Just remember what I taught you. I have a feeling you'll need all that training with your pigeons and birdies and the like. Be good. Oh yes, and could you put in a word for me with the Black God? I've been a pretty good citizen, but, you know, nobody's perfect."

It was all too much to take in.

"I…okay. Granny, why are you still here? Why didn't you go straight to the Black God's realm?" I was still staring. I could imagine that other people were, too. The girl who was talking to a pigeon.

"Because I needed to speak to you, of course." Granny Fern's pigeon tottered around in a circle impatiently. "To tell you not to mourn me for too long. And that it's not your fault."

"I…" I didn't know what to say, so instead I blurted out, "Say hello to Mother for me? Please?"

I needed to prolong this. I couldn't let her say goodbye to me now. I just couldn't.

If it were possible, the pigeon's eyes softened. "Of course, deary. Remember, I love you. Lots of people do. And I'll be watching over you."

Before I could say anything else, she was gone.

Just like that. Gone.

I got up slowly and walked over to where Rosto was waiting for me, with his arms open wide and a smile softening his face.

"Let's go home," he whispered in my ear.

I nodded gravely, and we left, Pounce in tow.

Evening Watch seemed finally back to normal. We were bagging Rats left, right, and center and you could almost hear the Lower City's collective groan when we began our Watch. Mayhap, Granny Fern's death had reminded me that I still had a whole life to live.

The new baker, Madame Smith, grinned and waved as we walked passed. She shoved two napkin full's worth of pasties into our glove-clad hands, assuring us that it was 'on the house', before rushing off to attend to her customers.

"Beka, to your left," Tunstall said suddenly. I swallowed my last bite of pasty and carefully looked out of the corner of my eye as a Rat sneaked up behind an old woman, grabbing her purse. The old woman jumped in surprise and began hitting the Rat with her handbag. But the scumbag had no sense of respect, and briskly hit the woman, sending her ploughing into the pavement. He ran off, but I was in hot pursuit.

Only he didn't realise it. The Rat was blissfully unaware of my presence as he stopped for breath at the mouth of an alley.

My voice echoed all around us as I said quietly, "What? Do you kids nowadays have no respect for your elders?"

Achoo growled in agreement, ready to pounce.

The Rat, a thin, blonde teenage boy with scruffy hair and a nose ring, just slunk further back into the alley. He knew he was cornered, but, I knew from experience, nobody just gave up.

This was what I was thinking when he lunged.

"Tinggal," I said to Achoo, who was about to attack, telling her to stay. She whined in protest, but did as she was told.

I tightened my grip on my baton and brought it up to ward off the blow. The Rat's dagger buried itself into my baton. The boy leaped backwards, turning to face me again, as I tapped his knees firmly with my baton. They gave way underneath him, and he collapsed onto the ground.

Quickly, I hobbled him with leather thongs from my belt and I walked back to Tunstall, captive in tow. "You would have gotten away with it if you hadn't hit the old lady, lad," I told him with a shake of my head. "That was a foolish move."

The boy refused to speak, so I let him be. Tunstall was consoling the old woman, who didn't seem to be harmed, just a little shaken up. I gave her back her purse and asked Tunstall to take the Rat to the Cages, so I could assist the woman home. He assured me that was fine, and dragged the teenager away. I knew he would be out of the cages soon, probably by tomorrow, but it didn't matter. One night in the Cages was enough for anybody.

I walked the old lady––Maura, she told me her name was––back to her house, which was a small cottage-like place on the outskirts of the Lower City. When we got to her door, she smiled at me brightly and, much to my surprise, grasped one of my hands in one of hers.

"You are destined for greatness, young Guardswoman," Maura assured me. "Never forget that." Just as I was about to turn away, she called out, "Why don't you call in for tea sometime? My daughter moved out long ago, and, I must admit, I miss the company."

I couldn't help but smile. "I will, ma'am. I promise."

The old woman's dazzling smile blew me away. It was a nice feeling to make someone so happy with just a few words. "Well then," she said brightly. "Until next time, dearie."

And then she closed the door, and I began the long walk back to the Kennels to meet Tunstall.