Shrouded Loyalties

by Reese Hogan

  Andrew shrugged. “Wasn’t a big deal.”

  “If you say so,” said Cu Zanthus with a slight laugh. “So? Who called?”

  “My sister.”

  “What did she want?”

  “Please don’t leave again.” Andrew hated the words even as they left his mouth.

  “What did she say, Andy?”

  “She’s coming home.”

  Something uneasy flitted across Cu Zanthus’s eyes. “Another accident? On her ship?”

  “Submarine. Yeah.”

  “Bad as the last one?”

  “Don’t know. She’s OK, though.”

  “But they’re sending her home?”

  “It won’t be an issue,” said Andrew, his eyes flying up to meet Cu Zanthus’s. “She says she’ll be working on the base. She’ll probably call in a few days and say she’s too busy to come by. She doesn’t want to see me. She just feels like she has to.” It hurt more than he expected to say the simple truth out loud. He set his jaw, changing the subject before the anger threatened again. “If she stops by, we’ll just explain. You’re hiding from the draft. She’s known you since you were fifteen, when your whole family lived here. She’ll understand.”

  “I’m not so sure,” Cu Zanthus said.

  “But she won’t stop by.”

  “Let’s hunt up some breakfast. And find some trousers for you, huh?”

  Andrew’s face heated again. He managed a tight smile and limped back to put the headset on the base, then headed to his room. Cu Zanthus called after him.

  “Why’s all this blood on the floor?”

  “Coinavini!” Andrew called back.

  “You need help?”

  “No! I’m fine.”

  Andrew found a pair of gray striped trousers and a clean shirt. His fine brown hair was hanging in his eyes again, though he could have sworn he’d just trimmed it; it had been right after Mila made such a big deal out of how ragged it was. Three months ago. Right. He headed to the washroom and relieved himself. Out of habit, he tried flushing, but there was no running water again. He’d gotten a few jugs the week before, with his ration card, but he was pretty sure those were dwindling, too. The money Mila sent home wasn’t stretching nearly as far as it used to.

  He didn’t find any bandages, so he went back to his room to rip off a strip of sheet. The cut was on the outside bottom of his right foot, about as long as his thumb. Sitting on the edge of his mattress, he ran a finger along one side of it, noting the perfect slice the glass shard had made under the bright blood – as neat as the line of a razor. His eyes flitted over the room, picking out dozens of sharp points and broken edges strewn like shattered bone.

  The door creaked behind him, and he flinched.

  “You OK in here?”

  “Fine.”

  “Let me help you with that.” Cu Zanthus came and sat on the bed by Andrew, taking the torn sheet from his hands. “You really sliced this up.”

  Andrew shrugged. The soft linen sheet wrapped tight around his foot. Andrew kept his eyes on the broken glass. But the stiffness in his shoulders eased.

  “Can’t thank you enough for letting me stay here,” Cu Zanthus said.

  “We were friends,” said Andrew quietly.

  “You’re not worried about being arrested for harboring an enemy?” said Cu Zanthus.

  “There are other Dhavnaks in Belzen,” Andrew answered.

  “Naturalized citizens, though.”

  “The only Dhavnak that was ever killed here was that Onosylvani woman,” said Andrew. “The one who requested amnesty. And one of your guys did that. An assassin. It set off the war!”

  “Plenty of Dhavnaks are still killed here, believe me.” Cu Zanthus tied the knot off, then brushed his straight hair from his eyes. It was much darker than Andrew remembered from when he was thirteen and Cu Zanthus fifteen. He must have dyed it to keep a low profile. Despite that, his skin was so pale, it almost shone like arphanium. He glanced around Andrew’s bedroom in interest. Andrew tucked his wounded foot beneath his other leg, suddenly self-conscious.

  “Living gods, you have a lot of books,” Cu Zanthus finally said.

  Andrew nervously followed his gaze to the various stacks around the room and on the broken dresser in the corner. Now he probably thinks I have no life. By the moons, he’s right. His hands clenched in his lap.

  Cu Zanthus stood and walked to the closest pile, running a thumb down the spines. “Synivism? You’re studying Dhavnak religion?”

  “I, um…”

  “No, not just Synivism. Back in Xeil’s Arms: What Happens When the Goddess Can’t Find a Living Loved One.” He glanced back at Andrew, brow creased, before turning to the stack again. “The Exodus of the Cardinian Deities. Survivors in the Stars. Infinite Spirit… Gods, you even have atheist texts! What, did you get these straight from Qosmya?”

  “No. The university,” Andrew said faintly.

  “Don’t you believe in Xeil? Don’t all Belzenes?”

  “Do all Dhavnaks follow the brotherhood?” answered Andrew, his voice barely above a whisper.

  “Most. Well, not the Vo Hina worshippers, obviously, or the women. But even they say the Synivistic Oaths every morning during the Bright Cycle…” He paused. “You know, between the rising of the two suns? Bitu Lan and Shon Aha?”

  “Half-light.”

  “Yes. Even if they’re not part of the brotherhood, they’re still contributing to the commonwealth and well-being of the community. It’s all part of…” He trailed to a stop, eyes narrowed. “You’ve distracted me. Why? What’s going on with these books?”

  “Nothing. Just… just a project.”

  “Is it about your parents?”

  “It’s stupid. Forget it.”

  “Andy. You can tell me.”

  Andrew lowered his gaze to the red alcohol-stained floorboards. “Vo Hina betrayed the other gods, right? Shon Aha, Bitu Lan, Luma Nala? With her hoarding?”

  “Yes…”

  “And after Shon Aha punished her by shattering her eye, there was an eternal darkness over the land. For something like two thousand years, right? Before the gods came back as the suns and moons, and made it light again?”

  “The Age of Fallen Light,” said Cu Zanthus, nodding. “One thousand, seven hundred, and sixteen cycles of darkness.”

  “Right. A darkness caused by Vo Hina’s betrayal. But here’s where it gets interesting. That ‘fallen light’? It shows up in other religions, too. Even some atheist texts, as the trigger of a mass extinction. It’s not just a Synivistic legend.”

  “Not just a Synivistic legend?” Cu Zanthus cut in.

  Andrew held up his hands hurriedly. “That’s not what I mean. I actually… I mean, through all my studying, that version does seem possible. But in our religion – in Xeil’s, that is – it isn’t mentioned. And I’m trying to figure out whether this darkness was a real actual phenomenon, or whether it was a metaphor that was expounded upon and adopted to fit each religion’s demands.”

  He looked up. Cu Zanthus was staring at him, eyebrows drawn. Stop, a voice inside Andrew said. Stop right now before he leaves, you idiot. But his mouth kept moving, unheeding.

  “So I’m trying to delve more into… you know… the why and how. If your gods – if any gods; if anything, period – killed off most of our world in one blow like that, what’s to stop it happening again? What caused it the first time? Would we have any control over it in the future?”

  “Wait,” Cu Zanthus said. “Are you telling me you’ve been sitting alone in your house studying history and religious texts to try to prevent an ancient darkness from happening again someday? That’s what you’ve been doing?”

  “Well, if I can find the root cause…”

  “But why, Andrew? It happened a hundred thousand cycles ago. Doesn’t it seem a little crazy to think it’ll suddenly–”

  Andrew jerked back. “No! It’s not crazy!”

  “But it doesn’t seem–”

  �
�I know, OK? I told you it was stupid, I told you!” He pressed both hands over his eyes. What is wrong with me? Why don’t I ever keep my mouth shut?

  “I’m sorry. I can tell this is important to you.” The mattress shifted as Cu Zanthus sat beside him. “Is it about your parents?” he asked again.

  Andrew swallowed hard, struggling to get himself under control. “Why?” he forced out. “Why would you assume that?”

  “Because I know how hard it was for you,” said Cu Zanthus gently. “What happened to them. So… if you can prove the darkness didn’t happen – because there’s nothing in Xeil’s legends – then maybe you think it proves Xeil is real after all. And that She really did deliver your parents’ souls back to you, rather than…”

  Andrew made a small noise in the back of his throat and Cu Zanthus trailed off.

  “It’s just… it’s something I read,” Andrew finally mumbled. He slowly lowered his hands, but couldn’t bring himself to look Cu Zanthus in the eye. Instead, his gaze flicked over the stacks of books against the wall. Cu Zanthus would assume he meant in one of those books. He wouldn’t think of his parents’ notes… their research…

  “Have you told your sister?” said Cu Zanthus.

  “About my research? Are you kidding? She’d tell me what a waste of time it was! There’s a war on, you know.”

  “But if it’s important to you–”

  “No,” broke in Andrew desperately. “I don’t even… I’m not… look, can we just forget it? Please?”

  “Are you sure?” said Cu Zanthus. “You know I don’t mind.”

  “Yeah. I’m sure.”

  Andrew closed his eyes again, trying to claw his way back to that headiness he’d felt upon waking. Fear still lurked, left over from several mornings ago when he’d awoken to find Cu Zanthus gone. It had been because of Mila’s call, he was sure of it. Though why someone dying on Mila’s crew should make him disappear for five days, he couldn’t fathom. Cu Zanthus must have been afraid Mila would come back to the house. It was the only thing that made sense. But all that really mattered was the sense of self-hatred and betrayal he’d been left with.

  “How long?” he made himself ask. It was a dangerous question, but the sooner he knew, the better he could brace himself for next time. “How long will you be here?”

  Cu Zanthus blew his breath out. “Depends how long the war lasts. Dhavnakir will probably take Belzen in, what, the next half-cycle? Easily the next full one. Then Belzen will just become another Dhavnak territory.”

  Andrew opened his eyes, glancing uneasily at Cu Zanthus. “That wasn’t what I…”

  A Dhavnak territory? He knew the basics of Dhavnak government, and tried to think what that would mean for Belzen. Women staying home, obviously. The money problems would be better, right? He recalled there being more of an equality between the classes. The government took better care of their people, which couldn’t be a bad thing; his own government had cut off the monthly pension Andrew and Mila received from their parents’ death pretty abruptly two years before, when the war took a turn for the worst. Had Dhavnakir left its own war orphans in the lurch like that?

  No, he realized. Because the kids wouldn’t have been left alone in the first place under a Dhavnak government. His mother would have been home that day. She would never have died.

  He sucked in his breath, a small sharp sound. Cu Zanthus ran a hand over the back of his neck, watching him. Probably still waiting for him to finish his thought.

  “What about you?” Andrew asked. “Will you be imprisoned for dodging your draft? If we are taken, I mean?”

  “I should be fine,” said Cu Zanthus, with a reassuring smile. “There’ll be more than enough jobs with the rebuilding afterward, and they won’t want to lose the labor.”

  “And what about…”

  “Yes?”

  Andrew froze, suddenly terrified of the look on Cu Zanthus’s face if he finished that question. Us? What us? But as friends. It was an innocent enough question. Would Cu Zanthus take it that way, though? Or would his conservative Dhavnak beliefs drive him from the house as fast as his feet could take him?

  Cu Zanthus was still waiting, his brow furrowing slightly now.

  “What about my sister?” Andrew managed. Wimp.

  “Oh.” Cu Zanthus grimaced. “It depends on her level of cooperation.”

  “You won’t get it.”

  “I don’t know, then. Most Belzene women will probably be married to Dhavnak men, to tie the future generations together. Foreigners will be sent back where they came from. The soldiers… I don’t know. The women soldiers are even more complicated. If they don’t cooperate…” He breathed out slowly. “Prison, maybe.”

  “Execution?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Right.”

  Cu Zanthus looked at him closely. “How would you feel about that?”

  “Well, of course I don’t want Mila to die.” Andrew shrugged uncomfortably. “But sometimes, I feel like she might as well be dead, for all the times she bothers calling.”

  “If you could go back, would you tell her to hide from her draft, too?”

  “Mila wasn’t drafted.”

  “She wasn’t? Then why’d she…”

  “Lots of reasons. The loss of our pension. Her anger at Dhavnakir for what happened to our parents. The fact that she… she didn’t want to be a mother. She was gone the second she thought I was old enough to take care of myself. If I died, it’d be a load off her shoulders, and that’s the truth.”

  As if her name had been a summons, the WiCorr jangled from the kitchen again. Andrew pushed himself to his feet. “If she says she has decided to stay here after all, I swear I’ll snap that headset in half,” he bit out as he headed for the door. Cu Zanthus followed him, leaning against the wall with folded arms and watching. Andrew slipped the headset on, hands holding it tight to his head.

  “What?”

  Several seconds of silence greeted him. Then, “Cu Zanthus?”

  “Yeah. Hold on.” He pulled the headset off, holding it out toward the Dhavnak. “It’s for you. It sounds like a girl.”

  Cu Zanthus’s face became guarded. “A girl? I haven’t been giving your contact info to girls.”

  “I don’t mind. Here.” It was a lie. Andrew realized it was a lie as soon as he said it. Why should he care if Cu Zanthus had met some Belzene girl? Was he afraid he’d treat her the way Dhavnak men treated their women?

  Cu Zanthus took the headset and put it cautiously over his ears. “Can I help you?” A couple moments later, a smile spread across his face and he laughed. He pulled the mouthpiece back. “It’s not a girl, it’s my buddy, Holland. You’re quite the highland droll, Andy. Listen, you don’t mind if I step into another room for this, right?”

  “Of course not,” Andrew managed. He waved to his bedroom door, close enough for the long Wired Correspondence cord to reach, barely. Cu Zanthus headed in and closed the door behind him.

  Andrew stood in the hallway, staring at the door. Who was Holland? Belzene or Dhavnak? Was it a real name? Was it a girl, and Cu Zanthus was just hiding it? Why would he do that? It’s my buddy, Holland. It felt like a violation, for some reason. My home. My friend. We were talking, and you called and pulled him away.

  Holding his breath, Andrew pushed himself to the dusty wooden floor, putting his ear next to the too-wide gap at the bottom of the door. The smell of spilled Coinavini mingled with dust almost made him sneeze, but he forced it back. Cu Zanthus was right next to the door, an arm’s length away. The cord wouldn’t be long enough for him to even sit on the bed.

  “This makes things easier,” he was saying softly in Dhavvish. “I’ll find you when you get here. Nothing’s gonna happen. More importantly, did you get anything?” There were only a few seconds of silence before he said, “No, no… wait until I see you. Too much riding on this. But it’s good news. It’s great news.”

  Andrew heard a bump against the door and didn’t dare wait a
moment longer. He pushed himself up and scooted back to the kitchen. By the time Cu Zanthus came in, he was knocking dust from a can of sliced potatoes.

  “Baked knish?” he said. He didn’t have a clue how to make it – didn’t remember the last time he’d cooked – but he remembered it as one of Mila’s failed recipes, back when she bothered trying to cook for him.

  Cu Zanthus eyed the can as he put the headset back on its base. “Wouldn’t you need flour? Doubt your ration cards are covering it anymore.”

  “Flour. Yeah,” Andrew muttered.

  “I’ll see what you’ve got,” Cu Zanthus said, heading toward the pantry.

  Andrew grabbed a knife and sawed a circle around the lid. His heart was pounding. He was positive; Cu Zanthus had a girl coming to town. And he’d had to reassure her nothing would happen. What did it mean? Was she Dhavnak? Was Cu Zanthus trying to get her to defect, the same way the Onosylvani woman had? A war had been sparked over that incident. Andrew wondered whether Cu Zanthus expected to hide Holland out at his house when she showed up.

  But he was bothered more by the thought of sharing Cu Zanthus. Because Andrew had been through this before. When something better came along, he was pushed aside. Every time. His hand slipped and the knife missed the metal, gouging into the side of his finger instead. He threw both can and knife down on the counter and stalked to the washroom, slamming the door behind him.

  “Andy?” Cu Zanthus called. “You OK?”

  “I’m fine!” he yelled. He sat on the toilet and put his head in his hands, feeling blood flowing from his finger to forge a slow track down his face.

  Chapter 5

  KLARA YANA’S RENDEZVOUS

  The northern border of Ellemko – and, Klara Yana suspected, every other border as well – was heavily guarded by Belzene troops outfitted in brown-checkered combat uniforms and bristling with firearms. Massive anti-tank guns were stationed on either side, and a triangular trench dug twice as wide as Klara Yana was tall, barred the road, wide cylinders filled with concrete waiting behind it. As the military truck from Marldox approached, the infantry guards threw down a thick wooden plank for it to drive over. On the Ellemko side, Klara Yana climbed from the truck, blinking weary eyes in the morning sunlight. The heat was coming in from both suns now – smaller Bitu Lan, straight overhead, and bigger Shon Aha, who’d just cleared the eastern horizon.