by Reese Hogan
The woman’s eyes flicked among all the men present, ending on Klara Yana. Dark bruises highlighted her face in the low light. “You keep it tamped down, sir, and thank the gods for that,” she said softly.
“Speaking of thanking the gods,” Lyanirus said abruptly, “Synivistic Oaths. Now. Hollanelea needs to get back.” He stood, holding out both hands.
For a moment, Klara Yana just stared. A chill had infiltrated her entire body, seeping deep into her bones. If we hadn’t stopped her, Telchimaris had said. We. We. If we hadn’t stopped her.
“Keiller Yano,” someone said.
She looked up. Cu Zanthus was holding his hand out to pull her into the circle. She joined him, feeling unsteady. Lyanirus took her other hand and they bowed their heads. She should have been relaxing now into the comfort of the brotherhood. The meeting was over, the tense atmosphere dissipated, the bonds of kinship being strengthened again as they were every Bright Cycle.
But unlike Cu Zanthus, Lyanirus and Telchimaris were no brothers of hers. That chill crept deeper, until it seemed to be squeezing her lungs shut.
If we hadn’t stopped her.
They finally released their grips, then passed a hand over eyes and mouth, ending with both over their hearts. They kept their heads bowed for several heartbeats, eyes closed.
“Go, Hollanelea,” said Lyanirus afterward. “Stay on top of that lead. Ayaterossi will reconnect with you soon. And by the gods’ mercy… don’t stray from your orders again, or there will be consequences. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir,” she managed.
Cu Zanthus walked her out of the building. The noise of the battle, which had begun to sound softer, flared up again as they reached the ground floor. Klara Yana rubbed her right hand compulsively over her tingling left palm.
“I thought he was gonna kill you,” Cu Zanthus muttered as they reached the large double doors at the front.
Klara Yana barely kept her hand from going to her throat. I think he almost did.
“And what was that about your eyes? I’ve told you your natural shade is too conspicuous, haven’t I?”
Her cheek twitched. She kept her eyes on the distant flashes outside. “Yes, sir. It happened during the attack. I’m sorry.”
He sighed. “For what it’s worth, I think you did the right thing, sabotaging that submarine. Making your own decisions in the field can make the difference between a successful mission and a failed one. Any other commander would’ve at least given you…” He shook his head, closing his eyes for a second. “It doesn’t matter now. Just be careful, huh? And rub some dirt on your neck on the way back, to hide that…”
“Yes. I will, sir.”
Cu Zanthus nodded. “By the way, did you hear we’ve taken Fort Grenard Base?”
She looked away from the window. “Really? Does that mean Ellemko’s fallen?”
“Not yet. We’re hammering away at Lemain Airfield, and we haven’t broken through to northern Ellemko yet, where their combat base is. But if they can’t pry our forces out by Shon Aha’s setting tomorrow, it’ll be a promising sign.”
“That’s good news.” She hesitated. Here was the moment she should mention what had happened with Andrew. Andrew had practically begged her to. But she’d have to confess that her cover had been compromised. With Lyanirus just downstairs, she didn’t dare admit to it now. “Will you still be at the same place?” she asked instead. “If I need to get in touch?”
“Yes. I’m heading back there now.” Cu Zanthus licked his lips. “My, uh, contact is missing.”
“Is that a problem?”
“I don’t know yet. I’ve checked all the nearby bomb shelters and no sign. It’s a little strange. He’s not in a position to…” He waved a hand. “I won’t bore you. Thanks for reporting tonight. It was on my ass if you didn’t.”
“Understood, sir.” She paused. But she couldn’t leave without asking, “Do you know what the mayora meant about the ambassador? Bleeding out the system?”
Cu Zanthus’s brow furrowed at the question. “I’m not sure,” he said. “But I’ve run across at least one account that has Talgeron speaking out on women’s rights. It must be connected. Why do you ask?”
“No reason. His comment on her eyes piqued my curiosity, that’s all.”
She saluted and let herself out into the heavily smoke-scented air. That cold feeling had worked its way into her heart. Women’s rights. She would have bled out the entire system if we hadn’t stopped her. There was only one thing Telchimaris could have meant by that.
Her ama hadn’t been taken by a foreign government. She’d been arrested by her own.
Chapter 12
BLACKWOOD’S QUANDARY
Blackwood jerked awake into darkness heavy with smoke, the blast of a particularly close bomb ringing in her ears. The whole cellar seemed to vibrate from the force of it. The rough fabric of the duffel creased the side of her face. She hurt everywhere; pounding head, aching bicep, numb forearm, sore muscles. She fought through a wave of disorientation. She’d told Andrew they’d take a little time to cool off before talking again, then she’d headed back to the bag to look through those notes; and she’d been looking through that first page again – dekatite mines in north central Ellemko – when the words had blurred as several nearly sleepless nights in a row caught up and pulled her down hard. The last thing she remembered was running that line through her head over and over… the laboratory, the possibility of shrouding… but whatever she’d been grasping at had drifted away as fully as her consciousness.
How long had she been out? Long enough for the grease lamps to spend their fuel. She couldn’t believe the attack was still raging outside. She hadn’t expected to spend the whole afternoon and night down here, much less longer. This whole hiding business filled her with shame. If not for her brother…
Blackwood rubbed the underside of her arm, where the dekatite mark was. Could she be out there making a difference? If she actually tried to use the mark as a weapon, would she be able to control that lightning?
She sent the barest surge of awareness toward the mark, exploring the possibility of forcing something from it herself. The tingling was gentle rather than painful, at the moment, like the teasing touch of someone’s fingertips. But as she focused on it, the soft tingle became a low vibration up and down her arm. The continuous bombing faded to background noise. She felt fuzzy, as if with excessive fatigue or low blood sugar – or maybe it was more like the buzz of too much alcohol. Disconnected, but still aware of the world around her. A feeling of cold crept over her in increments, inching outward from the mark toward the crook of her elbow and the palm of her hand.
Her right hand sparked, and a small bolt of lightning arced through the air, lighting up the whole shelter for a split second. It was there and gone so fast, she didn’t even have time to see where it had come from and where it had gone. She was left with the pain in her retinas, the shortness of her breath, and a sudden wash of fatigue that left her momentarily too weak to move. She lay still, breathing as deeply as possible. What am I doing? she thought. I could have killed Andrew, or Holland. I can’t just… But how else was she supposed to learn? Learn? It’s a freak accident! Don’t even think that way!
With effort, she pulled herself from the thoughts and forced them toward the things she could control. By now, the break she’d promised Andrew was long over. And where was Holland? She sat up, although her body screamed at her to rest longer. Andrew. Why hadn’t he made a single noise at that bright flash of light?
“Andrew?” she said.
She heard a small exhalation from her left. She crawled in that direction. She found him slumped against the back wall, hands still tied. She shook him. He grunted. She felt the strips of medical tape on his cheek that covered the laceration from the sill – still secure – then let her hand linger on his brow. No fever, thank the goddess. He’d probably been sleeping like her.
“How long was I out?” she asked him.
&n
bsp; He mumbled something, too soft to make out.
“Are you OK?”
“Fine.”
“Of course. You’re always ‘fine’,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Hey, has Holland been back?”
He waited several moments before saying, “Tried to. Told him to get out.”
“I should go grab him,” said Blackwood. “It sounds like it’s getting worse out there.”
She stood and groped around in the dark until she found the lamps. She lowered herself to her knees and unscrewed the glass tops, then combined the dregs of kaullix grease remaining in the bottom of each into one base. She finally got it lit again. Probably won’t even last till the Main Sun comes up. Andrew ghosted into view, his eyes squinting against the dim light. She was struck once again by how fragile he looked, and felt a pang of guilt so strong it robbed her of breath for a second. She reached into a pocket and pulled out one of the disgusting vict bars she’d gotten from the FCB. She approached him, unwrapping it and holding it in front of his face. He pulled his head back, his lip curling.
“Take a bite,” she said.
“What is it?”
“Vict bar. Army issue. Protein, carbos, lots of calories.”
“I’ll pass.”
“It wasn’t a request,” she said. “Do you have any idea what you look like?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re not taking care of yourself. I know it’s not a money issue; you had a bottle of Coinavini at your house, for Xeil’s sake!”
Andrew grimaced, as if the very word pained him. Blackwood shook her head in disgust.
“Take a bite,” she repeated.
“I’m not eating from your hand. Untie me.”
“I’ll untie one hand. I’m not letting you free completely until you’ve talked to me about Cu Zanthus. In a rational manner.”
“You have the notes now,” he said. “What are you still afraid of?”
“I’m afraid you won’t believe me, you’ll run back to him and bring it up, and he’ll kill you.” She stood, working out the knots in the linen bandages they’d used to constrain him.
“You’re afraid of me being hurt,” said Andrew flatly, watching her. “That’s funny, ’cause last I heard you were ready to arrest me.”
“It all depends on your involvement, Andrew. If you just talk to me, we can figure this out.”
She finally got his right hand free. Andrew hissed in pain as she lowered it to his side. She noted the stripes it had made across his wrist, along with the redness of his hand, particularly around a fresh-looking gash on his forefinger. She sighed and started working the other hand free too.
“So he told you he was hiding from his draft?” she said.
“He is hiding from his draft.”
“Why come all the way to Belzen? Dhavnakir’s a big country.”
“Yeah, and he wanted to get away from Dhavnakir. That’s how dodging a draft works.”
She got his other hand free, then knelt in front of him again. Another low boom shook their shelter and sent a powder of dust cascading from the ceiling. Andrew pulled his arms slowly into his lap, wincing as if they hurt to move.
Blackwood glanced at the stairs, wondering where Holland was. Probably waiting for her to come get him. But for the first time, Andrew was talking to her – kind of – and she didn’t want to shut him down again. She held out the vict bar. Andrew took it, though his gaze stayed on her face, wary as a cornered dune snake.
“What if I got you back to the base?” she said. “Into some sort of protection? We can look into Cu Zanthus, make sure everything’s safe before releasing you.”
“Protection?” he repeated incredulously. “The only one I need protection from is you!”
Her anger flared. “I’m trying to help you!”
“Help? Is that what you call tying me up like an animal?”
She couldn’t hold back a flinch. “I’m… I’m sorry about that. But you don’t understand, Andrew. This isn’t a game. You could be in a huge amount of danger!”
“No, you don’t understand!” he said, his voice rising. “Cu Zanthus cares about me. He’s the only one who cares about me. But because he’s Dhavnak, you’ve decided that I can’t be with him! What gives you the right? You don’t know what it’s like being alone, you’ve always had someone–”
“Andrew, stop!” He was spinning out of control again, just like that day she’d gone after the notes. She tried to take his hands and calm him down.
He dropped the bar and squeezed farther back against the wall, his teeth bared. “Don’t touch me!”
“Then stop yelling and listen to me!” Her voice shook with anger. She fought to steady it, for Andrew’s sake. Andrew’s eyes flashed, but she forged ahead before he could speak. “You’re not alone, and Cu Zanthus isn’t the only one who cares about you! I know I’m not always there, but I will help you when you need it. And when you can’t reach me, remember our parents. Remember their spirits inside us, helping us to be strong. Remember that Xeil gave their spirits to us for that very reason, for when times are hard and we feel alone and we don’t know right from wrong…” She trailed off as she saw a single tear, glistening in the low lantern light, trail down his cheek. He still glared at her as hatefully as ever, but that tear…
“Andrew?” she said hesitantly.
“They’re gone,” he said roughly. “They’re gone, you’re gone, and I’m alone, Mila. Your stupid guilt won’t change that.”
The word guilt was a knife in her gut. She couldn’t believe he’d seen it. “But they’re not gone, Andrew. That’s what I’m trying–”
“They’re gone,” he said again. “Xeil isn’t real, and our parents are gone.”
“Xeil not…?” she stuttered. “Andrew, why would you say that? You’ve never in your life…” She stopped, her breath catching. “Cu Zanthus. This is about him. He’s poisoned your mind.”
“I didn’t get this from Cu Zanthus!” he said sharply. “I got it from Mother.”
“What in Xeil’s name are you talking about?”
Andrew’s eyes burned with resentment, even as more tears ran down his cheeks. “The Synivistic gods are real, and Xeil isn’t. That’s what their research is about! It’s about the Dhavnak gods and the eternal darkness after Vo Hina’s betrayal, and how it might happen again! It’s all there in those notes you stole. I don’t have our parents’ spirits, and I’m sick of being alone! At least the Dhavnaks–”
“Stop! Just stop!” Her fingers curled into fists. “So help me, Andrew, you better watch where you go with that thought!”
He slowly closed his mouth, still glaring murderously at her. She held his gaze, forcing her breath in and out as evenly as she could. Andrew is not my enemy. Andrew is not my enemy. Another explosion crashed through the small space, close enough to rattle the grease lamp and send shadows dancing throughout the storeroom.
As calmly as possible, she said, “Is Cu Zanthus the one who… who interpreted that research for you?”
“No! I saw it with my own eyes!”
“Well, our parents weren’t researching religion. That’s just – it’s crazy. And you can’t disprove the existence of Xeil. You can’t just say our parents’ spirits are gone. That there’s nothing left of them. Even if our parents had wanted to, how could they confirm it? And as for the Dhavvie gods being real…” She cringed, feeling that guilt pulsing worse than ever. “The only reason you’d come to that conclusion is because you’ve made yourself believe it. Because of him. This is so much worse than I thought.”
“No! I’m not crazy, and I’m not lying to myself! Don’t you even–”
“Our parents worked at a lab, Andrew. They were scientists. They didn’t work with mythology, or religion, or – or spiritual anything. They worked with… geology. Mines. With underground…”
Oh, Xeil’s grace. Dekatite mines in north central Ellemko. The page had been right at the top. She’d picked up the papers and they’d been out of ord
er and they’d started in the middle of a sentence and she hadn’t thought anything of it; but now she knew why it had been on top.
“That’s where they’ll come through,” she said, staring at Andrew in horror.
“W- What? Who? The gods?”
“No, not the gods! The Dhavvies! Right into the center of Ellemko. Cu Zanthus… he would have told them by now. How much did he know? Did he know how to get through? Was it in the notes?”
“Get through?” Andrew repeated.
“Did he know about shrouding?” she said impatiently.
“What in damnation is shrouding?”
“Never mind! I have to get out there! I–” She looked back for Holland, hissing through her teeth. She pushed herself to her feet. “You wait here. I have to find Holland. Don’t move!”
He scrambled up and followed her toward the stairs. “Don’t move?” he said hotly. “I’m not your prisoner, Mila!”
Her anger, barely hanging on by a thread as it was, finally snapped. She turned, grabbed Andrew’s jacket, and shoved him backward. Shelves cracked and broke free as he crashed against them. He let out a panicked yell. She pulled him forward so their faces were only a handspan apart.
“If the Dhavnaks come through that vein, Andrew, that is your fault! Me and my sailors are out there every day risking our lives for people like you, and you’re back here letting a Xeil-cursed Dhavvie take away everything I’ve worked so damned hard to protect. And all you can say is–”
She abruptly became aware that the dekatite mark on her arm was tingling furiously. The image of the lightning bolt that had killed Zurlig shot through her mind, and she backed away from Andrew with a gasp.