Cry of Metal & Bone
Page 32
Ella took some satisfaction in Vera’s dazed expression. Until the woman pulled herself together enough to regard the room with blatant disapproval.
“I don’t know what in Sovereign’s name inspired you to adopt two … refugee children when there are plenty of motherless Elsirans about. But you can’t possibly think you’re going to raise them here?”
Ella took a deep breath. “No, of course not. We’re renting a house on Port Hill Road.”
Vera’s eyes widened, impressed. While no section of Portside could be considered posh, Anneli had bought her property in the nicest part of the neighborhood. Vera sniffed and sat in one of the two armchairs. Ella pursed her lips and motioned the girls back onto their cushions.
Vera’s visible alarm at the approximation of traditional Lagrimari seating made Ella restless. “Can I offer you some tea?”
The woman wearily accepted with an incline of the head. But if Ella thought she would get a reprieve in the small kitchenette, she was wrong.
“Do you think it’s wise to bring these sort of children into your home?” her mother-in-law called out. “The witchcraft they’re capable of. Why, they could murder you in your sleep.”
Ella counted to ten before turning around, a fractured smile plastered to her face. “These are my children, mine and Benn’s. And they are learning Elsiran, so I would kindly thank you not to accuse them of murder on their first day here.”
Vera waved her hand, dismissively. “Oh, I’m sure you lead that boy around by the nose enough to get him to agree to anything. He hasn’t been right since he met you.” She tsked and sat back farther in her chair.
The girls looked on with wide eyes, and Ella prayed they weren’t understanding much. She, however, was used to Benn’s family, having dealt with them for the past six years.
Initially, she’d hoped to foster a close relationship with them considering she hadn’t seen her own parents since she was a young teen, but that was not to be. She could only hope that with her own daughters, she would be able to create the sort of family she’d always dreamed of.
Brushing away the sting of the old disappointment, she opened the icebox, pulled out the two colas she’d splurged on at the market, and set them before the girls. They looked at the glass bottles curiously, and Ella realized they didn’t know what they were.
She opened the top of one and handed it to Tana. The girl took a measured sip and then rewarded Ella with the biggest smile she’d ever given. Tana handed the bottle to Ulani who sipped the beverage and then began giggling infectiously.
She said a word that Ella didn’t understand. “Bubbles,” Tana said, translating. Ella laughed along with the girls.
“Good, isn’t it?” she said.
Ulani offered Ella the bottle; she took a small sip before returning it. “Very good,” Ulani replied, grinning.
Ella turned to find Vera gazing at the girls, an unreadable expression on her face. She was prepared to kick the woman out on her arse, mother-in-law or not, if her hostility toward the children continued, but Vera looked more flummoxed than anything else, so Ella held her tongue.
The door burst open revealing Benn, who skidded to a comic halt as he took in the scene.
Tana abandoned her soda to jump up and give him a hug, with Ulani right behind her. Benn produced two candies from his pocket and then leveled a gaze at his mother, eyes guarded.
“Mama, I see you’ve met the family.” Each girl clung to him with one hand while trying to unwrap their treats with the other.
“Yes, I have,” Vera replied. “I wish you’d spoken with me and your father before making such a big decision.”
Benn shrugged. “The decision was Ella’s and mine. I didn’t see the need for more opinions.”
“You keep bringing foreigners into our family,” she said, shaking her head.
Benn stood straight, dashing and severe, for all that the girls still hung from his legs. “I keep bringing family into our family.” His seriousness broke as he looked down. “All right, girls. I need my legs back.” He gently plucked them off and approached Ella for a hug.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know she would show up immediately,” he whispered into her hair as they embraced. The teakettle’s whistle cut off her response.
As she prepared the tea, Benn settled at the kitchen table, tossing down the evening newspaper he’d brought in with him. Vera rose from her chair to settle herself at the table, then gasped, reading the headline.
“‘High Priestess Arrested’?”
She dragged the paper closer and straightened the folded page. Ella stood next to her, teacup in hand, reading over her shoulder. A sickening feeling spread over her as Vera read.
“It says that they found palmsalt residue in a storeroom at the Eastern temple. There is overwhelming evidence pointing to Syllenne as the orchestrator of the bombing.”
Papers rustled as Vera turned the page. Frozen, Ella found the cups removed from her hands and herself drawn down onto Benn’s lap. She stared unseeing as Vera read aloud.
“‘Officials suspect that with the Great Awakening, High Priestess Syllenne found her power in the organization diminished. Though she still ran the day-to-day operations of the Sisterhood, the spiritual needs of the people are now being ministered to by the Goddess Herself. This reduction in her influence and esteem caused a break in her mental status, says one source close to the investigation.’”
The paper fell from Vera’s shaking hands. “The stress of the Awakening must have caused her to lose her mind. Imagine that…” She stared out the window into the distance.
Ella gave a sidelong glance to Benn. Vera was lost in her thoughts and the girls were chattering quietly to themselves as they shared their colas.
She motioned for Benn to follow her into the bedroom, where she left the door open a crack. “As much as I’d like to see Syllenne Nidos behind bars, something isn’t quite right about this.”
“I know,” Benn said. “I finally cracked the code in Hak Floodhammer’s account ledger today.” He pulled a piece of paper from the inside of his jacket pocket. “It was a complicated cipher, but here are the entries from five weeks ago.”
“‘Zero point five kilos palmsalt sold to a C. T. Herd.’” Ella frowned. “C. T. Herd? As in ‘cull the herd’?”
Benn’s lips firmed to an angry line. “The constables investigating the bombing had already taken Syllenne into custody. I brought this to them, but they weren’t interested. I sent it along to Director Dillot at the Intelligence Service. I hope they can inject some sense into this.”
“What did they find at the temple? What sort of evidence could there have been against Syllenne?” Ella asked.
“Palmsalt leaves a residue when stored for a long period of time. They tested the storerooms and found small traces. That coupled with the ledger convinced them.”
Ella dismissed that with a wave of her hand. “That sounds circumstantial at best.”
“Well, they also have a witness,” Benn said. “A young Lagrimari acolyte to the Sisterhood said she witnessed the High Priestess overseeing the transfer of several large bags that were stored in the location they found the palmsalt residue. Her testimony was damning.”
“That’s not in the papers.”
“No, they’re trying to preserve the girl’s identity from any backlash. And Syllenne isn’t speaking to anyone—not the investigators, not her attorneys, not even her Sisters.”
Ella’s foot vibrated. “Something’s wrong here, Benn. I know that Syllenne is monstrous, and I wouldn’t put anything past her—but if they have the wrong person here…”
Benn placed a hand on her shoulder. “I know. This could all be a distraction to turn our attention from what the Reapers are planning next.”
Ella peered through the bedroom door to find everyone still in the same positions as before. But she shouldn’t leave Vera alone with the girls for any length of time. She shook her head at Benn and went back out to the sitting room.
“It just doesn’t make any sense. I wish we could see inside the High Priestess’s mind to know what she was thinking. How could she have done something so awful? My next-door neighbor had gone to temple just the day before it exploded. I could have been there that day. Any one of us could have been harmed in the bombing.” Vera’s expression was so desolate, Ella almost felt sorry for her.
“We may never know,” Benn said, rubbing his mother’s arm. “She’s refusing to answer any questions, so it’s possible we won’t ever know her side of the story.”
As Vera shook her head and blew her nose on one of Ella’s good napkins, the spark of an idea formed in Ella’s mind. If the High Priestess was being railroaded or framed and wouldn’t speak to her advocates or friends, perhaps she would speak to an enemy.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
The desert people welcomed her, having even there heard of her exploits. “We are shortly to visit Ysari the Artist and will tell your tale and receive Her grace.” Their painted pottery, jewelry, and decorated fabrics proclaimed the Artist’s influence. Ayal thrust her head in the sand, wanting to burrow away again.
—THE AYALYA
Ella pressed her nose to the window of the borrowed town car as Benn navigated Rosira’s steep streets, taking detour after detour. Whole sections of the city had been blocked off by two competing protest marches: one led by those supporting a separate Lagrimari state, and the other by those in favor of unification. Each was headed to the palace for a face-off in front of the seat of government.
“Do you think we’ll be able to get there?” Ella asked as they turned down a narrow side street.
“Eventually,” Benn replied, grimacing as the car ascended a sheer incline.
The vehicle—property of the Royal Guard—handled the near perpendicular slopes with ease. Ella’s nerves fired rapidly as they drove closer to the palace.
That morning, they’d completed the move to the town house. It had been a fairly simple affair since they’d had so little to take with them. The home was already furnished, and far too fine for their old, secondhand furniture anyway, so that had all been given away. Moving their clothes and personal items had barely taken any time at all.
And then the girls were off to school, a language immersion course for Lagrimari children housed temporarily in a leased storefront. Eventually, the Sisterhood hoped to integrate the adoptees into the Elsiran school system. Ella shuddered to think of what that would be like for the girls given the current climate.
If she could fix the country with a snap of her fingers, she would. For an assurance that Tana and Ulani would be safe and accepted in their new land, she would do anything, face down any monster—even one in a blue robe and topknot.
The route Benn took led them to a back entrance to the palace. They pulled into a vehicle depot and parked amidst rows of shining automobiles used by the army and Royal Guard, which both had stations here.
The High Priestess was being kept in the palace’s dungeon, a place reserved for high-value criminals too important or dangerous to be housed in a normal jail. Syllenne Nidos had still refused to speak to anyone, so it was likely that today’s excursion was an exercise in futility, but Ella was determined to at least try.
She’d never seen the palace before, never seen so much of Rosira before, and though she hadn’t gotten a glimpse of the front facade and majestic gates, even the side entrance was awe-inspiring, embellished with carved figures of animals greeting the Lord and Lady who had first settled Elsira.
Benn led her through hallways filled with finery, each distinctly decorated with mirrors, or tapestries, or paintings, or carvings. His pace was such that she did not get time to linger at the beauty and wealth on display, but she hoped one day to persuade him to give her a proper tour.
Soon enough, they were moving down a series of stairways, and down farther to what was obviously an early section of the building. Kerosene lamps projected pools of illumination on stone walls and a chilled dampness filled the air. An intricately filigreed brass gate loomed before them, manned by a small group of Guardsmen.
Benn conferred with a guard who soon opened the clanking door and ushered them into the cells. The dungeon itself was hardly the gothic horror novel nightmare she’d expected. It was no worse than the city constabulary she’d briefly been remanded to after being arrested while searching for her nephew. Though it was well kept and clean, the stone walls and iron bars still made her shiver.
The Guardsman led them through a series of corridors. Ella was surprised the dungeon was so large. Many sections were full—mostly men with a few women—though some halls were completely empty. They stopped in one such empty section that only housed a single prisoner. Seated on a cot that looked not dissimilar to the one Ella had been sleeping on the last few nights was Syllenne Nidos.
The woman looked up and regarded the visitors imperiously, her sharp, angular features more pronounced in the harsh lighting. Her hair was loose about her shoulders, the graying bulk thick and long, still red around the temples. Narrowed eyes regarded Ella before looking away.
The Guardsman left her and Benn alone with the prisoner. Benn, wearing his black uniform, took a position near the end of the hall, out of Syllenne’s line of sight. Ella stood straight, burning the vision of this woman into her memory.
“I’ve longed to see you here,” she said. “You deserve to be in prison. You’ve harmed many people and are guilty of more crimes than even I know. But are you guilty of what you’ve been put here for?”
Syllenne’s gaze snapped forward; she peered at Ella with a hint of intrigue.
“I know you’re not speaking to anyone. Not the attorneys brought in to defend you nor any of your Sisters. Not even Gizelle. I wonder … would you have spoken to Kess?”
Syllenne’s expression changed slightly, betraying a hint of suppressed emotion.
“Would you have confided in my sister, the one who knew all of your secrets?”
The High Priestess snorted.
“All right, maybe not all, but enough of them.”
Ella placed a hand on a bar, resting her weight on it. “For all that she regretted following you so blindly, near the end, my sister still cared for you. Loved you like a mother.” She was skating a little too close to secrets she would never share with the woman, no matter what. The manner by which she’d gained access to Kess’s history and remorse was something Syllenne could never know.
The High Priestess’s jaw tensed, and her eyes went soft for a moment. “Where is her baby?” Her voice was rough after days of disuse.
Ella swallowed, startled that she’d actually spoken. “Somewhere neither you nor Zann will ever find him.”
“A shame. We could have used Zann’s bastard child right about now.”
The little sympathy that had seeped into Ella for the woman burned away. She’d hidden her infant nephew precisely so he wouldn’t be used as a pawn. It was the one last thing Kess had asked of her.
Ella kept her voice light; she wasn’t here to antagonize. “We’ll have to use something else, then. So is Zann Biddel responsible for you being in here?”
“Many have had a hand in my current circumstances. Including you.” Syllenne’s voice was ice. “Didn’t you turn in the supposed account registry ‘found’ by that shrinking little shrike, Rienne?”
“It wasn’t yours?”
Syllenne snorted. “I have been the High Priestess for close to twenty years. I’ve never left anything even mildly incriminating written down.”
Her indignation made Ella smile. “It didn’t seem like your style.”
“Certainly not.” Syllenne’s gaze turned hazy. “Never trust a man, Mistress Farmafield. No matter what they say.”
Ella glanced
at her husband who, while out of sight, was still within listening distance. “Were you hurt by a man?”
A brittle trill of laughter drilled the air. “Why are you here? A hairdresser. A nobody. What is it that you think you can do?”
Ella straightened her shoulders. “I’m here to protect my family. I’m here because I stumbled onto something big that I didn’t understand, that affects us all. I want a country I can live in safely with those I love. I—”
“Don’t you think I want that, too?” Syllenne spat, leaning forward. “Everything I’ve ever done is for Elsira.”
Ella’s temper rose. “Every despot says the same lines. ‘It was all for love of country.’ You helped kill Prince Alariq! Was that for Elsira?”
“You think you know so much,” she hissed, rising from the cot. “Prince Alariq was close to signing a deal with foreign mages—Physicks from Yaly—to create a direct transportation channel from their state across the southeastern mountains. Some kind of magicked airtrain.” Her eyes rolled with disgust. “That kind of thing could destroy Elsira.”
“A train? Carrying goods and people between lands? How would that ruin us?”
“We survive because of our unique and insular nature. It’s what makes us great. Alariq had no respect for our ideals and values. It wasn’t my decision for him to die, but those in Yaly who oppose the Physicks and wanted the prince dead were powerful enough that no loyal Elsiran would have reasonably stopped them. Even better to assist and be owed a favor.” Syllenne’s lips snapped shut. Her nose flared with anger and, perhaps, the recognition that she’d said too much.
“Are you a member of the Hand of the Reaper?” Ella asked.
“Do you think I’d tell you if I were?” Syllenne waved off the idea with a flick of her wrist. A peculiar sapphire ring on her index finger flashed in the cell’s low light. “I wouldn’t make it to my own execution if I admitted something like that. There are rules. Checks and balances.”