The Remnant

by Paul B Spence

  "Were you, now? Why is that?" She focused her intense green eyes, like jewels, upon him. She was surprised to see that he had an escort, and what looked like a healing wound on his head.

  "I hoping that you could teach me to read." he said.

  "Me?" Ana said, incredulous. "I was never taught letters, sir. I was just a simple maid-servant before my lady freed me."

  "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you," Tebrey said hastily.

  "You haven't offended me. I take it as a compliment that you think me capable of such. Many folk tend to treat my people as little better than animals."

  "I don't think of you as an animal."

  "So you've been thinking of me?" she asked intensely, moving closer. She was curious as to what he wanted from her.

  Tebrey suddenly found it difficult to find the right words. "Maybe you could help me with something else," he said cautiously. "I'd like to learn more about your people."

  "I'd be happy to tell you what I can, but I don't think this is the best place for it."

  The noise from the crowd made it difficult to hear.

  "We are staying as guests at a house owned by Marquess Nanak. You could come there and talk," he suggested. "If you'll trust me."

  "The m-mar-marquess," she stammered. "My lord, I hope I haven't offended. What can this humble servant do for you?" She bowed her head.

  "Stop that!" Tebrey found himself irrationally irritated. "No reason for you to act like that," he said. "I'm no lord for you to bow to. I'm working with a small group of scholars who are staying in the city. The marquess has been generous in allowing us to stay under his protection. We just wish to learn more about your people."

  "Scholars?" she said suspiciously. "You don't look like a scholar, and if you are, why would you need me to teach you to read?"

  "Because we don't read the local languages," he said. "We are from far away. I can read and write in many languages, just not Lyonan." He shrugged.

  "I'm not sure," she said. She looked a little scared.

  Tebrey couldn't blame her. Her people had been persecuted for years. Now here was a large, dangerous looking man and his associates trying to get her alone. He had to admit that it didn't look good.

  "Ana," he said gently. "You have no reason to trust me, but I give you my word that no one will hurt you. We just want to ask you questions. You don't have to answer any questions you don't want to. It would be better if we went back to where the others are staying, but we are willing to meet at any place of your choosing. Here is the badge the marquess gave me for passage." He showed her the small metal plaque with the marquess' heraldic symbol on it. "I'd show you our papers, but..."

  Ana chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip. She knew that she shouldn't trust the man or his dangerous looking associates, but something about him made her want to trust him. It might have been that one of the people guarding him was obviously a woman trying to look like a man. It might have been the way he had dealt with the old woman when she had first met him.

  It might just be that I'm lonely and attracted to him, she thought candidly.

  Tebrey caught the thought, and blushed. "You need not answer now," he said. "We could meet you here another time, if you wish."

  She took a deep breath. "I'll help you," she said.

  "Thank you, Ana." He smiled winningly at her. "We are staying in the Merchants' Quarter, at 1781 Water Street. Would you like to meet there sometime, or...?" He trailed off.

  "If it is all the same to you, sir, I'd like to go now. I'm not sure I'd be able to get my confidence up to go there alone."

  "I promise you, you will be safe," he said.

  "I believe you," she replied, sighing. "We'd best be going; I don't fancy walking home in the dark tonight."

  They made their way through the crowds, each lost in private thought.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Ana found the courtesy she was shown uncomfortably appealing.

  Politeness was not something that she was used to. She was used to being ignored or shoved aside by people. Few had ever treated her as a person, much less a lady. She found the kindness with which Hrothgar treated her to be very alluring, and just a little bit confusing.

  He was so unusual.

  She was absolutely certain that the shorter of his two bodyguards was a woman, and there was no doubt they were bodyguards. She had never seen a woman dressing as a man and wearing weapons. The woman moved like she knew how to take care of herself, too. When they spoke to each other, it was in a foreign language unlike any Ana had ever heard.

  "Here we are," Tebrey said as they reached the house. He held open the gate and gestured for them all to pass through. Another woman dressed like a man was guarding the gate. She was carrying a long weapon that wasn't a bow or a staff but still looked dangerous. The paving stones of the yard were cracked, and a few stems of grass poked through, but the house was in good repair.

  The one called Christopher trotted forward and held open the heavy wooden door to the house.

  The house was a large, impressive stone structure. Its deep windows held actual glass, and the bronze shutters were open. Ana could see fine furniture and rugs. She hesitated, suddenly conflicted about stepping inside.

  "Are you all right?" Tebrey asked.

  She took a deep breath. "I'll admit to being a bit scared," she said.

  Tebrey smiled down at her. "I promise we don't bite."

  She laughed, her nervousness forgotten. "You are a very strange man, do you know that?"

  He raised an eyebrow. "I suppose I have been made aware of that before. Shall we?"

  She preceded him into the house. It was much cooler inside, indicating deep cellars.

  Tebrey showed her through the house. An older woman walked into the room. "Tebrey, I wanted to ask you about..." She trailed off, noticing their guest.

  "Mason, I'd like you to meet Ana. She has agreed to come and answer a few of our questions."

  "Dear lord, Tebrey." She shook her head, looking at the small, pale girl. "Sorry. How do you do, miss?"

  "Very well, milady." Ana felt frozen to the spot. She wasn't sure if she should curtsey.

  "I thought maybe we could talk in the parlor," Tebrey said. "Also, I don't think everyone should be here; might be a little too much." He tilted his head, indicating Ana's obvious nervousness.

  "Sergeant, would you ask Dr. Bauval to join us in the parlor?" Mason asked. "And tell him of our guest?"

  "Certainly, ma'am," McGee replied. "Just let me drop these off in the kitchen first."

  Mason ushered them into the adjoining parlor. Tebrey made sure Ana was comfortably seated with a cup of tea and turned to go.

  "Please stay," Ana pleaded, catching his hand.

  Tebrey glanced at her. She looked terrified, her eyes wide. Her hand seemed so small and hot against his skin. He had to fight down his sexual response. He smiled reassuringly. "Okay." He pulled up a small chair and sat next to her, giving her hand a light squeeze before letting go.

  She's pretty, Hunter thought to him.

  Yes, she is.

  Bauval came in, poured a cup of tea, and sat next to Mason.

  There was silence except for the chinking of teacups.

  Mason laughed suddenly. "Sorry, I didn't expect this. I've had a million questions to ask one of your people if I had the chance, and now I can't think of a one."

  "Well, maybe introductions," Bauval said. "I'm Dr. Bauval, this is Dr. Mason, and you seem to be familiar with Lt. Commander Tebrey."

  "Tebrey?" Ana asked, looking to him. "I thought you said Hrothgar?

  "Hrothgar is my first name. I go by either. Bauval, this is Ana."

  "Pleased to meet you, Ana. If you don't mind, I'll jump right into the questions. I suppose the first would have to be, what do you call others like you?"

  "I'm sorry?" she said. The man's speech patterns seemed all wrong. It was difficult to understand exactly what he meant.

  "Your race, your people," he clarified.
>
  "Oh, my people are called Taelantae," she said. "May I ask, what are you? You seem so different." She glanced at Tebrey.

  Mason laughed again. "Good question, dear. We're just like anyone else, just not from around here. We're from the north."

  Ana looked doubtful.

  "How old are you?" Bauval asked.

  "I've seen nineteen summers, sir."

  Bauval looked at Mason.

  "Three hundred forty-six days in the local calendar," Mason said. "That's roughly three hundred seventy-five Federation-standard days. So she is just over twenty years old by our reckoning."

  Tebrey was glad that she was older than she looked. Her small frame had had him worrying that she might only be in her early teens. He definitely found her attractive, and she seemed to like him. He wanted to get to know her much better.

  He stopped those thoughts before they got him in trouble.

  "Do you have stories about the origins of your people? We are trying to figure out where they came from."

  "Where we came from?" she asked.

  "Yes, do you know when your people arrived here?"

  "We have always been here," Ana said.

  "So you don't have legends about coming from the sky?" Mason asked.

  "We have legends about when the brown people came from the sky. But we had been here a long time before that. There are a few old tales that say we came here a long, long time ago," Ana said. She shrugged. "I don't know the truth of such things. I've heard it said that the ruined cities were once our homes."

  "If your people lived in the cities, why don't you still?" Tebrey asked.

  "The dark things came," Ana said quietly.

  "Your Grace," Jeroen said. "You wanted to see me?"

  François turned and gestured to the guards, who left the room, leaving the marquess alone with his nephew.

  "No formalities with us alone, Jeroen. How have you been?"

  "Well, uncle." Jeroen itched to ask why he had been summoned, but knew his uncle had his own pace. He wouldn't rush through the basics of courtesy; they were too ingrained. He suspected he wanted to talk about Jeroen's new guests, but he was surprised by where the conversation turned first.

  "And your mother?" François asked. "She is also well?" He walked over to the low table and poured two glasses of wine.

  "She has yet to find the time to see me, sir." Jeroen couldn't quite keep the pain from his voice. He had traveled to the capitol thinking she would be glad to see him. So far, she had treated him with less respect than a lowly courtier.

  The marquess handed him one of the glasses and walked over to the window. "She is a strange woman, my sister. She has changed in these many years since our childhood. She wasn't always so interested in politics. I still remember her as a young girl."

  Jeroen was honored to have been served by his uncle's hand. "I think we were all surprised when she maneuvered to have my father exiled, although that seems to have been fortuitous." He took a sip of the excellent wine. "If you asked me here to discuss my mother's politics, I'm afraid I don't know much."

  François studied his nephew. It had been many years since he had spent any time with the boy. Jeroen had grown much wiser than the young, arrogant peacock he had been. The years on the frontier had toughened him.

  "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about your new friends."

  There was no doubt in Jeroen's mind as to whom his uncle meant. "Yes?" he asked politely. "What about them?"

  "Two days ago, the city guard found the bodies of three men in an alley near the Merchants' Gate."

  "It wasn't..." He trailed off. Jeroen hadn't been to see his friends since they moved into the house his uncle had provided. If something has happened to them..., he thought.

  "No, it wasn't your friends. There is nothing to connect the three men to your friends at all, actually. The bodies had been robbed, but that could have happened at any time after their deaths."

  "If you don't mind me asking, what have they to do with me?" Jeroen asked.

  "We identified them as being in the employ of your mother. I've kept the deaths quiet for now, but it was the manner of death that was peculiar. It made me think of something you told me when you arrived."

  "What was that?"

  "Let me first ask you a question," François said.

  "Sir?"

  "You mentioned to me before that this Hrothgar, the man with the giant cat, was a master of unarmed combat. I believe you said he took down an ex-gladiator in a fair bout without even appearing to try."

  "Yes, sir. He was amazing. I'd never seen anyone move that fast."

  "The three men we found had been armed. They were killed without any sign of a weapon being used. One of the men looked as if he had been 'put to the question,' as they say."

  "I see," Jeroen said slowly. "There was no evidence as to who or what actually killed them?"

  "No. Nor will there be. I ordered the bodies burned," François said. "I suspect that your friends are in danger, Jeroen. If your mother sent those men to capture or kill one of them, she will not be put off because the three she sent never came back. She may even try harder now. I also don't how she found out about them, but I suspect she has a spy in your household."

  "You truly think that she is behind this?"

  "I do. I'm sorry. Varakana has been my political enemy these many years. Things have been getting worse recently. I'm fairly certain she was behind an attempt on my life last month. The assassin was hired by a member of her household."

  "I'm not sure what to say, sir." Jeroen felt like his world was spinning out of control around him. He didn't know what to say or do. It seemed that nothing would ever be the same again: his mother on one side, his uncle and father on the other, and the Empire in between.

  "Against my better judgment, and the word of my close advisors, I trust you."

  "Sir?" He was oddly flattered.

  "Jeroen, let us be honest with one another. The Empire is rotted from within by political intrigue and the ever-growing hedonistic impulses of the emperor. We live in a system that gives voice to such things as free speech and equality, but condones rampant slavery. We have a senate that serves no purpose but to give praise to the emperor. Something has to done."

  "That's treason!" Jeroen said, backing away.

  "It's life, boy!" François caught his arm and pulled him close. "Listen to me! What do you think your mother's plans are? Do you think you fit in? It's time for you to stand up for what you believe in, or go back to your mud village and stay there."

  Jeroen pulled away from his uncle. "How am I to choose? What would become of my mother in your world?"

  François's gaze softened. "Jeroen, the emperor is dying. He is old and too weak to rule. He has no heirs. If no one steps up and takes power, there will be civil war. Do you think the other nations, our enemies, will sit idly and wait? They will swoop in and feed upon the carrion. We must be strong!"

  "I'll not betray my mother to you, uncle, nor be your assassin. I don't care how good your intentions are."

  "I'd not ask you to, Jeroen. She is my sister, after all. I hold considerable power within the city. Most of the military backs me as well. I would like this to be as bloodless as possible. If everything goes well, it will all be over by Wintersol."

  "And my mother?"

  "Exile," François replied without hesitation. "Someplace comfortable." He searched Jeroen's face, but the young man had calmed down. "Surely you see the need for that."

  "So what do you want of me?"

  "I don't want you to get in the way and get hurt."

  "What am I to you, uncle?"

  François smiled sadly. "You are my sister's son. My sons are all dead, you know. If my sister is in exile, you will be my only heir."

  "Sir?" Jeroen couldn't quite believe the implications.

  "What's the matter, Jeroen? Don't you want to be the heir to the emperor?"

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Tebrey walked Ana home.

&n
bsp; Lieutenant Christopher and Sergeant McGee kept a careful watch around them, and Hunter prowled along the rooftops, keeping out of sight. Ana had told them that she lived alone only a few streets from the house they were staying in, something that Tebrey felt could be very convenient.

  "Forgive me for sounding rude, but how did you come to live here?" Tebrey asked. "You said you have your own house?"

  Ana smiled sadly. "The lady who bought me when I young was very kind to me. She treated me more like a daughter than a slave. I served her faithfully for six summers. When she passed away, her last will was for me to be free and the heir to her small fortune. That was last winter."

  "I'm surprised they honored the bequest."

  "Our marquess is a kind and fair man. He has done much to right injustices here in the capitol."

  "Apparently. He seemed rather stern and cold when I met him," Tebrey said.

  "And yet he supports your endeavors," she said.

  "Good point."

  "Did you know that he is against slavery? He has no slaves, and only buys them to free them."

  "I didn't know that. I actually don't know much about him. I met him through his nephew. Jeroen is a good man."

  "I have sometimes talked to girls who work as servants for the marquess. I've a… good friend there. I've thought of asking him for work."

  Tebrey wondered just how good a friend this person was, and if he needed to feel jealous.

  You need an excuse for that? Hunter asked.

  He ignored him. "What changed your mind?" he asked.

  "Nothing. I haven't decided yet." Tebrey could sense that although Ana liked her friend Myra, she liked him more. If she had to choose, it would be him. He very much wanted that. Ethical or not.

  They walked through the darkening streets for a bit in silence.

  "May I ask you a question?" Ana said tentatively.

  "Of course," Tebrey said. "What do you want to know?"

  "The one called Christopher – a woman?" she asked.

  Tebrey laughed, glancing back at the lieutenant, but she and McGee were walking far enough back not to overhear the conversation, not that they would have understood much anyway. "Yes, indeed. Why?"