by Ryan Muree
Chapter 2
Court — Great Library — Stadhold
Grier adjusted his polished chest armor and bracer and faced the courtroom’s doors.
He had not missed his full gear and undergarments. In the few weeks he’d been away from Stadhold, his body had gotten used to the lighter threads of the Zephyr mechanic suit and the mining outfit Mykel had made them. Two months of jumping through hoops and red tape, and it was probably the armor that had made it a hundred times worse.
Or it was his mother who’d made it so.
He balled his right hand and clenched the four rolled-up reports in his left.
“Sir, court is in session,” the Keeper standing guard said with a slight tremble. He was younger, fresher, and had clearly been made aware of Grier’s recent awards and promotions.
Too bad they were all hol-shit, as Adalai would put it.
They were mere decorations and false pats on the back to encourage him to stay and do the right thing. Ploys by his mother, his father, and his commanders to make it look like his Scribe hadn’t just run away and he with her. Manipulations to make him and the rest of the Keepers their ignorant puppets.
He thumbed the sigil scarring at the tip of his finger—a habit he’d recently developed. If court was in session, it was the perfect time to interrupt. “Good,” he told him.
Fight for what you want, Emeryss had said.
He took a long, deep breath and pushed through the courtroom doors.
Commander Simon’s spiel trailed off at his entrance. His bald head gleamed in the filtering light through the unglazed windows. His jaw, framed by a full silver beard, dropped. “What in the world…”
Grier’s boots clunked against the white sunstone tile as he made the long walk to the center.
All eyes fell to him. Murmured whispers moved through the chamber.
The main courtroom of the Great Library usually sat over a hundred, but less than fifty Scribes and their Keepers sat within the grand high ceilings today. A painful reminder of the too few Scribes left in the world.
His eyes fell to his mother, Lerissa, sitting on the commander’s left with other Keeper officers. Lead Scribes and Avrist’s meek secretary sat on the right of Librarian Jgenult.
Jgenult looked every bit regal with her braided gray hair tied back by gold jewelry, her gold-rimmed glasses perched at the end of her nose, and her bright-red robes and gold bands at her arms and waist. She was polished and professional, while Commander Simon was every bit the typical Keeper commander with scars on his face and calloused hands. Together, they sat at the center of the grand table on an elevated dais.
“Grier? What is the meaning of this?” Commander Simon dropped his hand to the table.
His mother rose as if to argue or scold him, but Jgenult urged her down. “Grier, welcome. It is a pleasure to—”
“My apologies, Librarian Jgenult, Commander Simon, Scribes, and Keepers, but I am not here to swap pleasantries.”
Hushed words passed between the audience on either side of him.
He took his place in the center, where the mosaic tile spun into a multi-colored swirl—a harmony of ethers. Behind the Librarian and the Commander, a statue at least forty-feet high of the Goddess of Mercy had her palms out and up as if encouraging onlookers to take her hands or accept Her.
Another glance to his mother, and she wiggled impatiently in her chair. Her fingers smoothed a few strands of hair in its tight bun.
“I’m ready to give my reports on my findings,” he announced.
“Yes, well,” Jgenult smiled, “we are all keen to hear about them, but there is a proper procedure to share them—”
“I’ve been ready for weeks,” he countered, a little too loudly.
Jgenult blinked.
“I mean to say,” he tried again, “that I’m not interested in waiting another month for scheduled meetings and proper procedures while innocent people are slaughtered in the streets and traitors continue to work among us, Librarian.”
Jgenult maintained her composure, but Commander Simon leaned forward. “And what about rules, boy? Do you no longer care for those? A few weeks out of Stadhold, and you seem to forget that we gave you promotions instead of consequences—”
“You gave me those promotions to keep me here.” To keep me ignorant. “They were an attempt to fool other Stadholdens into thinking I had done the job you’d trained me for—”
Several gasps echoed around the room, while his mother scolded him and Commander Simon stuttered through his exasperation.
He ignored his mother, however. She’d won the battle, keeping him there for two months, wasting his time with required ceremonies, meetings, forms… Maybe it was because of the rules. Maybe it was to delay the release of his eventual findings. Maybe it was his mother making sure he hadn’t forgotten his duties and his responsibility to choose a match. Whatever it was, it had only just occurred to him that none of those rules mattered if they were all dead in the war soon. And none of those rules mattered if Stadhold was part of the lie.
“I’m not waiting any longer,” he said. “I will not follow one more procedure while the fate of three countries is being decided. I’m here to tell you what I know and to find answers.”
“What do you think we’ve been doing?” Simon asked. “You’re young, you’ve little experience—”
“Have you discussed the Battle of Marana?” Grier asked.
“Yes,” Simon scoffed. “At length—”
“And that Avrist, the world’s only locator Caster, went into the middle of the battle?”
“He died honorably—”
“—to use his Keepers to entangle and stab my Scribe?”
Whispers moved through the room like a breeze.
Avrist’s secretary wiggled in her seat. “I was not made aware of anything like that occurring.”
Simon turned to Jgenult, mouth gaped again.
“Grier,” Librarian Jgenult tried more evenly, “clearly you know details from being on the fields of Marana that we do not, but perhaps this isn’t the best method of sharing—”
“Have you discussed Fort Wretched? Sufford? The Goliath?” he pushed.
Maybe it wasn’t best to release it all so publicly in front of the other Scribes and Keepers, but it was the only way to get witnesses. Now, they couldn’t say he didn’t try. Now, they couldn’t deflect to another meeting. They had to face the truths if everyone knew about them.
“Grier…” Jgenult started again, but it sounded like placating a child more than listening to an informed ally.
He pushed further. “Have you discussed Revel sending the RCA into Ingini to start battles and annihilate civilians? Or the fact there’s a Revel traitor overworking our Scribes only to ship our grimoires over to help Ingini in the fight against them? All for power?” His voice had lifted in strength, but maybe then they’d see his frustration and anger through the rules he no longer cared for.
Louder words moved around the room, loud enough that the Librarian’s voice rose.
“Please, settle yourselves.” She folded her hands neatly in front of her. “Grier, this sounds like very important matters that—”
“As I’ve been struggling to say for months.”
Jgenult was still trying to push this aside to a more private meeting or a better time. As if there was a better time than now.
But Commander Simon’s thick, white eyebrows told another story. “Why wasn’t this rushed forward sooner?” Simon turned to Grier’s mother.
Her lips were a thin straight line, and her eyes were trained on Grier. “Because he hadn’t conveyed the importance of this information to me. Clearly, he had been withholding some knowledge.”
It was a lie. A total and utterly despicable lie.
He’d told his mother, his father, and his two brothers, of which only his brothers seemed to care to hear. His mother and father, however, fought with him over the information. Told him it was already being discussed, and who was he to
think he had intelligence they didn’t have? They mocked him for being gone for a few weeks and thinking he knew how real war worked.
But the fact she lied so easily, so publicly, told him all he needed to know about her intentions.
Jgenult took a heavy breath. “Grier, if you would, please.”
Finding his strength in her willingness to listen, he relayed it all. Everything from the Battle of Marana to the Ingineers. From the laser on the wall to the Goliath. From the poor little city of Sufford to the mines, Barren Ranch, and how the Ingini people barely scraped by. He described the lands, the air—polluted with ether-smog. He talked about Foreman Hall and the CEO, Kimpert, as well as what had happened to them. The only thing he’d left out was what Emeryss had achieved. For her safety, for her people’s safety, he wouldn’t tell a spirit.
Their tight faces were stricken with a mixture of fear and disbelief.
They’d asked for proof of Revel’s crimes against Ingini, and he’d admitted that he had none. “All I have is that I wasn’t certain what sort of welcome I’d be returning to. And yet, I still came to tell you this.”
It also helped prove the validity of his statements when some details rang true. They knew Fort Wretched had been attacked. They knew of a massive weapon the Ingini were going to use. Anything beyond that had appeared like new information to them.
The crowd hadn’t moved. Someone could have dropped a feather on the floor and every ear in the room would’ve heard it.
“Grier,” Jgenult said after a long pause, “I apologize for making you wait to give us this information. Lerissa was not wrong to instruct you of proper procedures, but I see why you were so determined about telling us sooner than later—”
“And Emeryss…” Dolan had blurted it from the side. Her old teacher’s face was set in earnest. “Is she really gone? She’s really died?”
It wasn’t typical for them to speak out during court, but something he’d said must have struck a nerve. The question was so genuine, so laced with fear and concern and urgency, Jgenult hadn’t stopped him after asking.
Grier swallowed. “Yes. She was… killed.”
Hands went to mouths.
It was better they didn’t know, that no one knew the truth. It would keep her and her family safe.
Unfortunately, however, he didn’t know what had happened since they’d said goodbye. He hadn’t heard from her despite sending a letter a week. He had to do it in secret and address it to her sister, Issolia, but he’d figured she’d at least gotten one. She was expecting them.
But he never got one in return, and his heart tore at the meaning. She’d gone so long without seeing her family and her home, maybe she was busy with them, busy living life again. He’d just hoped she wasn’t busy moving on from him.
He cleared his throat. “I can’t help with grimoire shipments out of Aurelis or who ordered the Goliath from Revel,” he continued, “but I’d like to investigate something else.”
“And that is?” Jgenult peered down her glasses at him.
“Avrist’s motivations.”
Jgenult’s eyebrows narrowed. “It’s a little late, Grier. What would knowing those do for us now?”
His focus trailed to his mother’s face, her fuming rage boiling under the surface, and then back to Jgenult. “When Avrist went after Emeryss in Marana, he’d done so with so much force and anger, he’d been willing to kill us. I wasn’t sure if he’d been ordered to behave that way—”
“Grier!” His mother jumped up from her seat. “I would have never sent him to attack—”
“Captain Lerissa,” Jgenult urged. “We’re all frustrated and in shock over this, but I don’t believe Grier would accuse you of trying to kill him. Isn’t that right, Grier?”
No. He believed his mother had been trying to kill Emeryss.
“I no longer trust everything I’m told, Librarian Jgenult. Therefore, I’m unsure.”
“Watch yourself.” Commander Simon’s chair slid back only an inch, but the squeak echoed. “It’s traitorous to even suggest—”
Jgenult held up a hand. “I have known your father and mother for a long time, Grier. I believe she wouldn’t want to risk her own son’s life to return Emeryss to us. Now, I have to ask again what investigating a deceased Caster would bring you.”
“The world’s only locator Caster showed up in the middle of a battle, on a field with bombs and grenades, to get one Scribe?” He looked at the Keepers. “After I had already bested him twice?”
The Keepers’ expressions went inward as if grasping the picture he was painting and the questions it left behind. Scribes were important, but Avrist was more so. Why was Emeryss so important at that moment? Or why wasn’t Avrist?
Jgenult nodded. “Yes, but she was an important Scribe—”
“Why? Because she was Neerian?” He knew they wouldn’t answer that. He suspected Avrist claiming it would look bad on the library if something happened to Emeryss was not solely Avrist’s belief. “Aren’t all Scribes important?” he urged.
“Of course,” Jgenult said.
“That you’d be willing to kill them to recover them?”
“Ah—”
“You would agree, then, that running into battle, putting his own life at risk, and having two Keepers stab her in the arms to drag her back is extreme?”
“What is your point, boy?” Simon asked. “They’re dead. We’re unable to question them, now.”
Jgenult nodded. “It is extreme, and we never would have ordered Avrist to behave that way. Had I known, I would have come to talk Emeryss into returning myself.”
So, she hadn’t been made aware back then?
Jgenult continued. “Avrist had told us she was simply running away, and he was always one step behind. He’d told us that you, Grier, were too good at your job.”
Her ignorance on the topic might have been the only thing keeping his feet in place. If she’d said right then that they knew, he would have every reason to leave his country and never look back.
Grier swallowed. “Considering everything else that seems to be occurring around this war, I believe Avrist was a traitor working for Ingini and the RCA, and I believe he already had a replacement locator Caster in case he died.”
Grier also believed it led to an explanation of what the Keepers were actually employed to do. Trained to kill. Trained to fight off Ingini. Trained to hunt and imprison.
It all started with Avrist. His actions could have been a tiny piece to a larger puzzle.
“You think he already had a replacement because he recklessly went into battle over one Scribe,” Jgenult said quietly, more thinking to herself than questioning him.
“Yes,” Grier replied.
Scribes mumbled to one another.
“He hadn’t claimed to have found a replacement yet,” Jgenult said. “Correct?” She’d turned to the docile woman in glasses at the end of the table—Dova Snuppet, Avrist’s secretary.
“That is correct, Librarian,” Dova said.
“Or so we’ve been told.” Grier held his stare.
Avrist had been willing to kill his Scribe. He’d thrown himself in the midst of the battle. Grier would bet his life that Avrist had something to do with Revel’s actions with Ingini. And it seemed he’d threaded enough doubt that Jgenult couldn’t believe what Avrist had been capable of. Not anymore.
“Perhaps there was more to him than we all knew.” Jgenult appeared to meditate for a second. Eyes shut. Brief breath in and out. “I assume that you, Grier, want to investigate this personally?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
Jgenult looked to Commander Simon, whose arms were crossed, as well as the fellow Scribes beside her. “All right. Because of your family’s record, because of your contributions to your country, I’ll allow it. If you run into any obstacles, come straight to me. Agreed?”
He wanted to get back to Emeryss, to Neeria, but he wanted answers, too. If he could figure out why Avrist was so adamant about g
etting access to Emeryss, if he could solve that, then he might get closer to the Keepers’ true purpose and know where his allegiance should rest.
“Agreed,” he said.
As he spun and headed for the exit, Commander Simon’s voice echoed above the others. “Are we going to discuss the RCA attacking Ingini without provocation?”
“What about the grimoire’s being stolen?” someone else shouted.
The room erupted in questions and chaos.
He’d finally started what he’d come home to do. There was just one more visit to make before his investigation could begin.
Chapter 3
Lower Aurelis — Revel
Adalai stacked the grimoire tokens on her side of the busted crate. “Double or nothing?”
Worn, the enormous butcher of Lower Aurelis, sat across the crate from her with his greasy hair, tiny mustache, and a bloody apron. He grunted and tossed a few more grimoire tokens on top of the pile already sitting there.
The crowd watching from the shadows of the alley around them whispered to each other.
She grinned.
“All right,” Koy said. “One more round. Wrists out. Nothing funny.”
Adalai and Worn raised their hands, exposing their wrists to one another. He with burnt-sienna animal sigils, and she with her magenta illusion sigils. His had the same number as the previous round, meaning he hadn’t used ether to cheat. However, if a butcher was going to cheat at a game of Stash, she’d doubt it would be sneaky.
Her sigils would conveniently read the same number as the previous round, too.
They kept their hands raised until Koy threw the dice at the wooden crate. Six four-sided bone dice rolled across the surface, hit the edge, and stopped.
“Three ones and a four,” Koy announced. He left those sitting there and took the other two.
They tumbled across the crate and landed.
“A four,” Koy said, and the crowd grew excited, cursing under their breaths.
One more and she’d have enough to eat for the week.