Corizen Rising

by Heidi J. Leavitt

  “Shall we get you to your first stop then?” he suggested hopefully.

  “No,” interrupted Burke as he hailed a transport for hire. “I need her help first. It’ll be just a short detour, I promise.”

  “What?” exclaimed Tiran apprehensively.

  “You never said anything about Tiran helping us,” protested Zaq uncertainly as they climbed into the transport. Burke gave an address to the driver and settled back.

  “Well, first I need to persuade someone to join our cause. I think Tiran might be able to do that,” he admitted. Tiran exchange worried glances with Zaq. Just the fact that Burke had chosen not to tell them about this until the very last moment sent adrenaline racing through her veins. Suppose he was going to turn her in!

  “Listen Burke, you can’t just spring something like this on Tiran. If you want our help you need to tell us what it’s about,” Zaq argued, “before we arrive.”

  Burke hesitated. “We’re just going to visit that friend I mentioned that we need to convince to work with us,” he evaded.

  “Not good enough. What are you not telling us?” Zaq demanded.

  “Okay look, she’s probably not going to be happy to see us. She’s kind of fanatically devoted to the Oman. With your help I can forcefully deactivate her implant, but it doesn’t work very well if the person mentally resists. It could really hurt her.”

  “But if she’s ‘fanatically devoted’ as you say, won’t she just jump at the chance to turn me in?” Tiran doubted.

  “I think seeing you in person will change her mind,” Burke acknowledged hopefully. He spread his hands open. “Look, I know you think I’m leading you into some kind of trap. Just trust me on this. We need her if we are going to get anywhere near the Oman’s tracking receiver.”

  The transport halted in front of a shabby bookstore far sooner than Tiran was prepared. Burke issued some quiet instructions to the driver and opened the door. Zaq looked at Tiran expectantly, obviously leaving the decision up to her. Finally, Tiran climbed out after Burke into the bright morning sunshine. Turning slowly around, she saw that they were on a busy street lined with soot-streaked brick buildings. At street level they were mostly occupied by drab little shops. Above them were family apartments, judging by the brightly hued fabrics hanging in the windows. Zaq stepped to her side and together they looked to Burke.

  “Just follow me,” Burke instructed and headed into the bookshop. Tiran warily started after him. Was it her imagination, or did Burke sound less confident . . . maybe even fearful? A small bell tinkled as she entered into the musty shop. Bookshelves lined the walls, crammed with books that seemed to be haphazardly shoved into place. She ran her fingers down a spine labeled Astral Frequencies Out of Tune and noticed the title Reviving Urokian Agriculture shelved next to it, followed by The Mystery of the Forbidden Lake. Apparently the bookstore had a random system of stocking. They moved further into the store and she could see that the place was empty except for a large, older Denicorizen woman who was sitting on a stool by the back counter. She was reading a thick, yellowing book that she had propped up on the counter, seemingly oblivious to the appearance of customers in her shop. Tiran hung back warily with Zaq protectively at her side, but Burke walked straight toward the woman at the counter. When he reached the back she finally looked up, a welcoming smile on her face. Then her gaze processed Burke and the smile died.

  “You!” she exclaimed angrily, heaving herself off the stool with a grunt. “I told you never to come back, didn’t I? Didn’t I?” She snatched the heavy book from the counter and advanced on him, brandishing it above her head like a weapon. Zaq started forward a few steps and then stopped. Tiran edged back toward the door. This wasn’t exactly a promising welcome.

  “Hang on, Shelle, hang on!” protested Burke, trying to shield himself with his hands. “Just hear me out, will you?”

  “You’re a lying, filthy traitor, and I told you if you ever came back I’d turn you in myself. Well, I’ll do it! I don’t care if you’re my only brother!”

  Tiran turned to Zaq, her eyes wide. “Brother?” she mouthed to him. He raised his eyebrows and they turned back to watch Burke backing into a shelf.

  “Listen to yourself, Shelle! You know you don’t really want to do that,” Burke objected. “You don’t want me dead, do you?” She stopped, shuddering with pain for a moment.

  “That’s not in my hands. You left the Brotherhood and so you have to face the consequences. I just wish you’d leave me out of it,” she finished, slowly lowering the book.

  “I have something that will help you, Shelle. Those pains you have when you think of me, they’re not normal. I can make them go away.”

  “Sure, sure. Go ahead and spout your blasphemy, why don’t you? I gladly suffer this pain as a show of my devotion to the Oman,” she sniffed, setting her book down on the counter. Then she seemed to notice Zaq and Tiran for the first time. “Who’re they?” she asked suspiciously. Tiran edged slightly behind Zaq, sincerely wishing she were invisible.

  Shelle strode toward them, though thankfully this time she left the book behind. Peering closely at Zaq, she frowned. “Are you another traitor like my faithless brother?” she demanded.

  Zaq shrugged. “I don’t consider myself a traitor.” She glared at him. Obviously she didn’t find that an adequate response.

  “Well, I guess I’ll be reporting two of you then. What about you?” she continued, moving to Tiran. Then she sucked in her breath.

  “Oh, by Veshti, Burke, what have you done?” she cried in horror. Then she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. Blinking, she turned to her brother. “I know!” she exclaimed, breathing more freely. “This is your way of making restitution! You brought her to me because you wish to reenter the fold.”

  Tiran flinched. It was her worst fear about Burke put into words. What if this all was some kind of elaborate ruse so Burke could get back into favor with the Oman? Zaq tensed next to her, and she knew he was preparing to grab her and run for the door.

  “Nope,” answered Burke easily. “I’ve actually been helping this young lady out. Now we both need your help.” His eyes brightened and he closed in on his sister.

  “I won’t help you,” she insisted. “The Oman has issued strict orders. He has everyone looking for that girl.”

  Burke advanced on his sister until they were practically standing nose to nose. Tiran noticed that they were exactly the same height. Shelle was not intimidated. She stood her ground, her eyes daring Burke to challenge her.

  “If you turn her in, he’ll kill her, just like he’ll kill me,” Burke stated baldly. His eyes never wavered but continued to bore into his sister’s.

  “That’s none of my business. My job is to obey,” Shelle countered, though a little less forcefully.

  “Look at her, Shelle,” Burke continued softly. Her eyes flicked to Tiran unwillingly. “She’s seventeen, the same age as your Val was when she died. Did Val deserve to die?”

  “Val was never a traitor,” Shelle whispered.

  “Neither is Tiran,” responded Burke firmly. “She’s just a young girl who happened to be born to the wrong parents. She never harmed anyone, Shelle. She doesn’t deserve to be hunted.”

  Shelle squeezed her eyes shut and staggered backward. Zaq sprang to her side and caught her before she fell.

  “Let me help you,” Burke pleaded. “I promise I can.”

  Shelle raised her eyes to her brother, tears streaking down her cheeks. The silence was tense. Tiran held her breath, wondering what this nearly hysterical woman would decide. For a long moment everyone waited. Finally, Shelle’s head dropped and she nodded. Tiran exhaled in relief.

  “Tiran, lock the door and pull down the window shades,” ordered Burke. Tiran tore her eyes from the weeping Shelle and ran to do as Burke asked. She paused for a moment to check the street. It was still busy, but no one seemed to
be showing any interest in the bookstore. Then swiftly she turned the old-fashioned lock in the door and pulled down the shades, sending the store into a gloom barely pierced by the one overhead lamp.

  “Shelle, this will only take a few minutes, but it is going to hurt. I’m going to have Zaq hold you down so you don’t injure yourself, okay?” Burke explained. He nodded at Zaq, who knelt, putting his full weight on Shelle while Burke rummaged through his bag before pulling out his shiny deactivator. “We’ll also need to cover your mouth or your neighbors might report a disturbance,” he added. Shelle’s eyes were wide with fear but she nodded again.

  Burke stripped off his coat and handed it to Tiran. “Take this and hold it against her mouth. Make sure she can still breathe, but we need to muffle her screams as much as possible.”

  Five minutes later it was all over. Tiran had pressed the coat over Shelle’s mouth trying to drown out the piercing screams, desperately wishing it would end quickly. It had seemed to be much worse for Shelle than it was for Zaq. She had thrashed so hard that Tiran’s arms were sore from trying to keep her gagged. Hopefully the neighbors hadn’t heard anything, but it was hard to know.

  Burke seemed to have the same idea. He bent to his sister’s side.

  “Shelle, we need to go now. Can you sit up?”

  She pulled herself off the ground, steadying herself on Zaq’s arm. She took a deep gulp of air and then turned to her brother with a gasp.

  “Oh, Burke, I’m so sorry,” she said shakily. “I don’t know what came over me. I was actually going to turn you in. It seemed the only right thing to do.”

  “You’ll feel better now, just like I promised,” Burke soothed. Then he took one arm and motioned to Zaq, who took the other. Together, they guided her into the back stockroom, while Tiran followed behind. The stockroom was dark and musty, sending Tiran into a sneezing fit. Suddenly, bright light flooded the room, and she looked up to see the outline of an open door. She hurried after the others into a narrow alleyway. Their hired transport was waiting right outside the door, and the others helped Shelle climb in. Tiran shut the back door and threw one last look around before climbing into the transport. Sitting on the seat next to Zaq, she closed her eyes in relief.

  “One miracle down,” chuckled Burke. “Only a couple more to go.”

  28. Surrender

  After a short detour to Shelle’s flat, where Burke had run in and retrieved a few things for his sister, Tiran found herself giving the address to the major cross streets only a couple of blocks from Jerrapo’s house. It was a longer ride, and she had plenty of time for the minor butterflies that flitted in her stomach to grow into huge, lurching bats. Part of her was afraid she might actually throw up in fear, and she clamped her jaw tight. Everything was going to be fine. She was going to see someone she had known most of her life after all.

  Shelle was already starting to feel much better. In fact, it was easy to tell that she was used to ordering her brother around. If Tiran hadn’t been feeling so nervous, she would have found it hilariously funny.

  “I don’t understand why we’re sending the girl off by herself,” Shelle interrogated her brother with a frown. “It’s like sending her off to her death in this city. Can’t you at least send that boy with her?”

  “Now, Shelle, trust us, we’ve thought all this through already,” Burke soothed.

  “I doubt that. You never think things through. I used to think you would grow out of it but you never did,” she retorted. Tiran’s eyes flicked to Zaq, who was smothering a smile.

  “We can’t send Zaq with Tiran. Madam Coraelle is on the Red List now, Shelle. She’ll never let a stranger through her door. And she’s right not to!” defended Burke, a shade grumpily. “Besides, we need Zaq’s help. It’s going to take all three of us to get that receiver destroyed.”

  “I’ve told you and told you. You act like we can just waltz in there any time and tap into the terminal. We have to wait until night, Burke. That’s plenty of time to make sure this girl doesn’t walk right into some kind of trap,” Shelle continued bossily.

  “Look,” Zaq interrupted. “Why don’t we just wait down the street, and if it doesn’t work out for Tiran she can just come back to the transport?”

  “Have you no brains, boy?” returned Shelle exasperated. She heaved her bulk to the side, twisting to scan outside the window. “A sitting transport in the neighborhood we’re going to will bring the CPF in two shakes. They may be the most incompetent soldiers ever, but it’s one of the few areas they still control. They’ll think it’s a bomb waiting to go off or some other threat.”

  “Well, that could be a good thing, right? Don’t we want the CPF’s help?” mentioned Tiran tentatively.

  Shelle merely said, “Humpf!” and turned back to the window. Burke glanced sidelong at his sister and bit his lip. It was Zaq who leaned forward and explained seriously, “That’s why we need Madam Coraelle’s help, Tiran. You have to convince her to help us so the CPF will trust us. If they caught me or Shelle with the Oman’s transmitters planted in our necks, they’d simply cart us off to prison.”

  “The implants are still there,” admitted Burke. “My tool deactivates them, but I don’t know how to remove them without causing major damage. They have attached their way into the nervous system, and they have to stay.”

  “So they’d just scan us, see the implants, and assume we were faithful members of the Brotherhood,” Zaq continued.

  “Never listening to a word we said,” added Burke. “It’s one of the hazards of working underground, but it does make life interesting,” he finished more lightly, his usual levity returning to the surface. Shelle stiffened in her seat and refused to look at her brother.

  In the end, Shelle gruffly agreed that she couldn’t think of any better way than to go ahead with their original plan. When the transport stopped and the driver announced the crossroads, Tiran stepped out a little unsteadily. For the first time since that awful morning in Kruundin City, she was going to be on her own. Hopefully it would be short and Jerrapo would take her in.

  Zaq stepped out after her. She turned to face him, wondering if he would miss her.

  “Can you see her house from here?” he asked, shading his eyes and looking down the street.

  “It’s down at the end. Number 21 if I remember right,” she answered, waving down the street. He moved close to her and touched her hand gently. “We’ll make two circuits of the block—if she isn’t there, come back to the corner and we’ll pick you up. But if we miss you, just go ahead and make your way to your other contact. Remember, you can contact us through Erron. If things don’t work out, we’ll be there for you.” He pressed a small bag of coins into her hand. She looked up in surprise.

  “It’s from the wages I earned while working at the mine,” he said, a bit uncomfortably. “I want you to take it. Just in case.” Tiran stared at the bag in her hand. It was generous and thoughtful of Zaq. She stood on her tiptoes and quickly kissed his cheek.

  “Thank you, Zaq. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  “May Veshti smooth your path,” he murmured the common farewell used by the Women of the Tender Heart. She couldn’t answer. Would she ever see Zaq again?

  Suddenly Burke poked his head out of the transport door. “Good luck, my dear! Don’t forget, everything depends on you!”

  “Thanks,” Tiran managed, her throat tight. As if she needed to be reminded of that! She then turned and started down the street without looking back.

  It was only a short walk until she found herself standing in front of a three story townhouse with a white stone façade. She studied the building for a moment to be sure she had the right place, but it had been awhile since she had seen her mother’s friend, and even longer since she had come with her mother to Jerrapo’s house. Finally, shrugging her shoulders, she marched up the steps only to be confronted by the shimmer of a nuclear shield.
For a moment she was at a loss. Growing up inside the International Complex, she had rarely been confronted by a house shield like this one.

  After a moment of thought, she recalled that her mother had always reached down near a small decorative sculpture on Jerrapo’s stoop. Reaching down, she slid her fingers around the sculpture until her fingers touched a small button. Pushing it, she could hear a far off ringing from inside the townhouse.

  A face appeared at the door and spoke through a speaker grounded right near the sculpture. It made her jump backward in surprise.

  “May I help you?”

  “I’m here to see Madam Coraelle,” Tiran said briefly. She didn’t want to give too much information about herself away, especially since she wasn’t even positive that she was at the right building.

  “May I have your name?” he returned. His voice was colder, even though the words were still polite.

  “I’m sorry, but I have private business that I can only discuss with Madam Coraelle,” answered Tiran, smiling hopefully. Maybe she could charm him. However, he only shook his head. “My mistress refuses to see anyone who has not stated her name and business.” His tone was flat and brooked no opposition.

  For a moment Tiran was at a loss. She had always assumed she would be able to get in to see Jerrapo. Her only worry had been that Jerrapo would no longer be living in the same place. Yet Jerrapo was apparently still living here, and now the doorman wouldn’t even pass a message to Jerrapo unless she gave her name. He stood impatiently, staring her down through the violet shimmer of the nuclear shield. Desperately she tried to think of any plausible name beside her own that would bring Jerrapo to the door, but her mind was completely blank. After a short internal debate, she threw caution to the wind.

  “Will you please tell her Tiran Morten is here to see her?” she asked finally, her voice raising to a high-pitched squeak at the end. The man’s eyebrows shot up. Obviously, he recognized the name. She bit her lip, wondering if she had just made a fatal mistake. The doorman stood impassive for a moment before relenting. “Wait here a moment,” he instructed and retreated into the building.