by Ian Gregoire
“As for why any of this is relevant to what is happening today,” continued Kayden, addressing the first point, “until ten years ago present-day Karazhnaya had remained a land bitterly divided between dozens of small, insignificant fiefdoms ruled by whomever was the most powerful Saharbashi, all constantly seeking to impose themselves on the others. While this state of affairs remained the case, Karazhnaya had effectively isolated itself from neighbouring lands, and the world at large. The various holders of power were all far too busy fighting among themselves to ever be a problem to their neighbours, let alone the Nine Kingdoms. But that status quo has been changing rapidly. The Order has learned that one Saharbashi has managed to unite most of Karazhnaya into a single political entity, for the first time in over a thousand years. Without knowing the motives of this person, the Order cannot be blamed for assuming the worst and making contingency plans for addressing those concerns.”
Glancing at Sister Melora, Kayden gave the Jaymidari a non-verbal cue, making clear that her answer was complete.
“All right, class,” Sister Melora said. “I hope Kayden has answered the question as to why you are required to learn Karazhni. Maybe now we can continue with the lesson.” She promptly rose to her feet. “Now then, Kayden, I believe it’s just you left to conduct an improvised conversation.”
It’s about time, thought Kayden as she watched the Sister amble to the centre of the circle. She stood up, happy to once again be the beneficiary of the odd number of level ten apprentices in the class. Invariably, none of her classmates wished to partner with her during one-on-one exercises which meant Sister Melora had to take on partnering duties. This situation was highly advantageous since having a partner fluent in Karazhni had helped to ensure her grasp of the language was well in advance of the other apprentices—who would only have held her back.
“Right!” exclaimed Sister Melora with a smile. “The scenario for our conversation is as follows. I will be an officer of the City Guard, or whatever institution polices the inhabitants of Karazhnaya, and you will be the main suspect in a brutal murder. I will begin questioning you, and it’s your task to convince me of your alibi.”
Kayden glared across the circle at Renzo upon hearing him mutter to the apprentice beside him, “With that big mouth of hers, she’s far more likely to be the victim of a brutal murder.”
“Quiet please, everyone,” said Sister Melora. “Are you ready to begin, Kayden?”
“Yes, Sister,” she replied eagerly, before quickly appending, “Oh, wait a moment! Am I guilty or innocent, by the way? Of the murder, I mean.”
“Does it matter?”
“Well, it will influence what I say and how I say it, so yes.”
“Very well then, you are…” Sister Melora seemed to give the matter more thought than was necessary. “You are an innocent woman. So, shall we begin?”
Once the verbal back and forth between teacher and pupil was under way Kayden quickly forgot how badly her morning had begun. Who knew that being falsely accused of murder could be so enjoyable? Regrettably, the dialogue was brought to a premature end by the intrusion of the campus clock announcing the arrival of midday. The resonant chimes prompted the sixteen apprentices seated in a circle around her and Sister Melora to spring to their feet, eager to vacate the classroom, and head out for lunch.
“Just one moment please, class,” said the Sister in an unusually terse fashion, halting the exodus. “Between now and our next lesson could you all ensure that you brush up on your grammar. Kayden was right to point out that I have been more lenient with some of you than I should, so I will be preparing both a written and oral examination for when we see each other next.”
There was an instantaneous chorus of groaning, indicating the universal displeasure of the apprentices. “Thank you very much, Kayden!” someone said in a huff.
“You are now dismissed,” announced Sister Melora. As her students moved towards the exit once more, she called out, “Kayden, could you stay a moment please.”
Halting at once, Kayden was still within the circle of chairs when she glanced back at her teacher. She frowned, feeling pensive. While Sister Melora waited for all the other apprentices to finish leaving the classroom, she wondered what she had done wrong this time.
“Sister Melora, if this is about my earlier criticism,” she said when the last apprentice had left the room, “I meant no disrespect—”
With a movement of the hand, Sister Melora gestured for silence. “You needn’t worry about that, Kayden,” she interjected. “You were correct in what you said. I just wanted to let you know how impressed I am with the progress you’ve been making. I don’t sing your praises nearly enough, even though it’s very much warranted. In less than nine months you’ve attained a level of proficiency whereby you are almost fully conversant in Karazhni.
“Ideally, you should have been given two years to master the language, but being a level ten apprentice has put you at a disadvantage as this is your final year. Yet you haven’t let that hamper your progress at all. Not only do you have a firm grasp of the language, your accent is very good, too. It won’t be long before you are conversing like a native speaker.”
“Thank you, Sister Melora,” said Kayden, with a smile. She genuinely loved learning to speak other tongues so was gratified by the praise. “But you deserve most of the credit. Partnering with you during one-on-one exercises forces me to push myself. It makes a tremendous difference to be learning with someone who can string coherent sentences together.”
A subtle half-smile curled the Sister’s lips. “I’m just doing my job, Kayden. It’s you putting in all the hard work, and it’s paying off,” she said. “If the Council’s concerns about developments in the Far West should prove valid in the years to come, the Order will have at least one Sanatsai to call upon who has the necessary language skills to conduct missions in the region.”
The assertion effectively meant that Sister Melora considered her induction into the ranks of the Order a mere formality, Kayden realised.
“Anyway, apologies for holding you up; please don’t let me keep you any longer. You may go to lunch.”
Acknowledging the Sister with a silent nod of the head, Kayden promptly departed the classroom with a contented smile upon her face. She was in a much better mood than she had been when the lesson had commenced. Perhaps the rest of the day wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Fay already knew who was knocking at her door before she strolled across the office to open it. She had been anticipating the arrival of Ari and Idelle from Temis Rulan all morning, and with the campus clock having chimed out for Twelfth Hour only moments earlier, it was unlikely to be anyone other than her two colleagues coming to see her. Opening the door, she was unsurprised to find her assumption was correct—or half correct, at least. Ari stood at the threshold, shadowed by two of the Sanatsai sentries she had assigned to provide security in and around the administration building for the duration of the unofficial visit. Idelle, however, was conspicuous by her absence. It was also apparent that while her dear friend was pleased to see her, the expression upon his brown face indicated that Ari was in a sombre mood. Whatever it was that had brought him to Antaris, it had to be even more serious than she already suspected.
Smiling, Fay stood to one side to permit her counterpart to enter. “Please come in, dear friend,” she said. When Ari accepted the invitation, crossing the threshold into her office, she inquired, “Is Idelle not with you?”
“She will join us shortly,” he replied. “She wanted to check in with Sister Elsa first; they’re in the staff common room.”
Before closing the door, Fay addressed the two sentries outside, issuing instructions for the pair to return to the lobby, and informing them that while entertaining her VIP guests she did not wish to be interrupted for any reason—except in the event of an emergency.
With the door shut once more, Fay silently held out an arm, gesturing for Ari to advance further into her office towards the
upholstered armchairs arranged around a tea table laden with food and drink. As they ambled side-by-side Fay noted that Ari’s tightly curled, kinky hair—inherited from a Yantashan father—was shorter than it had been during their long distance communication the previous night.
“You’ve cut your hair,” she commented, almost to herself.
Ari glanced sideways at her. “Had it done this morning,” he said, a smile curling his lips. “Apparently it takes a couple of decades off my appearance. What do you think?” He chuckled at his own quip.
“I think you should get your money back.” The droll response, with its deadpan delivery, was good-natured, and Fay knew it would be received that way.
The pair shuffled to a stop at the tea table. A quartet of armchairs were placed around it—two on other side, facing across from each other.
“Please, make yourself comfortable,” Fay offered, signalling for Ari to take a seat. He duly did so, sitting with his back to the nearby east-facing wall, while she sat down opposite him. “I assume you had lunch a couple of hours or so before coming here,” she continued, “but I’ve taken the liberty of having a few snacks and a hot drink prepared. Please help yourself.”
Upon the table was a steaming teapot of Fay’s favourite herbal infusion. The sweet aroma of the camomile and spiced apple tisane was mouth-watering. Circling the pot were three ceramic plates: one laden with sandwiches cut into little triangles; another laden with oatmeal biscuits; the last laden with cupcakes.
“Don’t mind if I do,” declared Ari with a smile, leaning forward to grab a porcelain cup.
Fay silently watched the founder of the Order go through the motions of pouring himself some tea, stirring in a teaspoon of honey, and helping himself to a sandwich. After a couple of nibbles, followed by a few sips from his cup, Ari appeared ready to begin a conversation.
“Things seem to be getting back to normal after the attack,” he said casually.
So, they were going to beat around the bush about the reason for the visit to Antaris. It really must be bad, thought Fay. “I wanted the disruption kept to a minimum,” she replied. “All classes and activities are continuing as normal. Other than the visible increase in the level of security in and around campus, you’d never know we had an incident last night.” She watched Ari finish his sandwich, and wash it down with some more herbal tea. “Ari, I don’t mean to force the issue, but you’re not here because of the attack. When we spoke yesterday you made it clear you were concerned about something else. Something I’m not privy to. You said you would be here even if there had been no attack.”
Holding her gaze, Ari set his cup down. “Yes, old friend,” he said. “As I alluded to last night, I made a discovery yesterday that not only has implications for the mission against the Anzarmenian cult next month, it may also have ramifications for you, personally.”
The admission piqued Fay’s curiosity further.
“But let us wait for Idelle to join us before we get into it,” Ari continued. “In the meantime, tell me how you’re feeling. I know you well enough to know you’ve been taking the raid on the campus as a personal slight.”
“Of course I’m angry about it, Ari,” she admitted. “My carelessness, my… underestimation of the threat, cost several people their lives.”
“There’s no way you could have anticipated what happened. You shouldn’t blame yourself. Try to remember, you prevented the attackers from completing their objective, and apprehended the man who led the assault. Now we know the true motive behind the incident.” Ari’s gaze upon her grew more intent. “So, how much more did you learn from the prisoner?”
Fay briefly pondered whether Ari deserved a complete answer to his question. He had not been entirely forthcoming about his reasons for the visit to Antaris; he was keeping something from her, something important. She quickly shrugged off the petty thought. Ari had not explained everything yet because he was awaiting the arrival of Idelle. Once their Jaymidari counterpart joined them in the office, all would be revealed. Besides, Fay realised, it wasn’t as though she had never been guilty of keeping secrets from her best friend.
“I didn’t learn too much more than I already conveyed to you last night.” she said. “As I told you then, I was able to confirm that Kayden was the target of the raid. What you don’t know yet is that the prisoner was unaware of her identity. He seemed genuinely surprised to discover he had been tasked with ensuring the elimination of an apprentice.”
The manner in which Ari’s brow furrowed suggested he was trying to make sense of the revelation. “How in the world did she come to his attention?” he muttered to himself, almost as though he had forgotten Fay’s presence. “And why would he want her dead?”
“If the prisoner is to be believed, then this mysterious Master Yosarian who leads the cult has prophetic dreams. Apparently, for the past several weeks he has been plagued by a recurring dream of a black clad figure, here in Mirtana, preparing to journey south into Anzarmenia to scupper his plans and kill him.”
“And Kayden is this black clad figure?”
The answer to that question was still up for debate in Fay’s mind, but there was no doubt the reaper stone brought to Antaris by the raiders had been invoked to kill the exceptional apprentice.
“Maybe,” she replied finally. “We certainly can’t ignore the fact she was the target of last night’s attack. Perhaps the black clad figure in the dream does represent her.” As soon as the possibility was voiced, something else came to her mind. Kayden couldn’t possibly have crossed paths with Master Yosarian—she had never been to Anzarmenia before. “Whatever the case, it’s now clear we are dealing with someone more powerful than previously suspected. I’m talking about a Saharbashi with almost unequalled mastery of Zarantar Najist.”
Sitting up straighter in his chair, Ari asked, “How are you able to make that determination?” The assessment clearly had him intrigued. “Not that I’m doubting what you say.”
“Ordinarily, when a Saharbashi creates a reaper stone, in order for it to successfully target a specific individual, it is necessary to have a… sample from that person.”
“A sample?”
“Any bodily fluid or secretion from the intended target,” she clarified. “Urine or saliva or sweat, but blood works best.” To the best of her knowledge, very few Saharbashi would have the requisite mastery that would allow them to them to target someone without a sample. “I think it highly improbable that anyone from the Anzarmenian cult could have acquired a sample from Kayden. That being the case, this Yosarian’s ability to target her without it means he is someone to be reckoned with. All the more reason for the Order to eliminate him and his cult as soon as possible.”
There was a pause in the conversation, Ari seemed to be ruminating on the knowledge Fay had imparted. She was about to speak, and steer the direction of the discussion to the progress of the impending mission to put an end to the cult, but Ari broke the silence first.
“What have you done with the prisoner?”
“I had intended to turn him over to the Mirtanese authorities this morning,” she said, “but then I thought it prudent to retain custody until after the completion of the mission in Anzarmenia.”
“A sensible precaution,” Ari agreed. “Besides, I suspect the Council will want to forgo handing over the prisoner altogether. I’m sure most of my colleagues will favour a swift execution, as retribution for the attack on Antaris, and the resulting loss of life.”
Leaning forward, Fay poured herself some tea. “I’m afraid I already gave the prisoner my word he would be transferred to the custody of the relevant authorities, and made to stand trial for his crimes.” She sighed, then muttered to herself, “Not that he remembers.”
Across the tea table Ari’s eyes narrowed as he looked at her. Clearly he had heard the latter part of her statement, and she could read his unspoken question. She raised her teacup to her lips, took a sip then set it down. “The prisoner is fanatically devoted to his mas
ter,” she said. “When I interrogated him it was necessary to coerce him into giving me the answers I wanted. Doing so required me to reveal who I am—or rather, who I used to be. Needless to say, I couldn’t allow him to retain this knowledge so I purged his memory of the interrogation.”
Ari offered no response; his expression conveyed that he understood her choices and actions.
Not wishing to dwell on the matter, Fay glanced at the grandfather clock stood against the wall to Ari’s right. The time was approaching ten minutes after Twelfth Hour. Idelle should be arriving soon, and finally the reason for the visit of her two counterparts would be fully revealed to her. In the meantime she would just have to endure some more small-talk and remain patient.
As she approached the mess hall, Kayden could see Neryssa loitering outside, waiting expectantly for her. Glancing up at the clock tower she saw that her friend had been waiting no longer than ten minutes.
“I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long,” she said apologetically, greeting her friend outside the mess hall. “Sister Melora kept me behind at the end of class, then I had to go pee.”
“Don’t worry about it. Sinton is already inside saving our seats for us, but we have to wait a while longer anyway. I told Yanina we would wait for her.”
“Why? Where is she?”
“When she spotted a courier arriving at the administration building to deliver and collect some mail,” said Neryssa, “she remembered she has a letter for her family waiting to be sent. She rushed back to the dorm to grab it before the courier leaves.”