Halfblood Journey

by Rheaume, Laura

  Noting the waitress’s growing concern with the atmosphere in her place, Ian said calmly, “Please, don’t worry about us. We’re just here for a quick meal and then we’ll be on our way.” He smiled companionably and added, “You’ve got yourself a real fine place here. I haven’t had fresh bread that tasty in a while. My wife doesn’t bake, you see.”

  “Yeah, well,” the man said, both surprised by Ian’s lack of offense and mollified by the compliment, “Kate’s is the best kitchen hereabouts.”

  “That’s what Irv told us,” Ian nodded. “Sure glad he did.”

  “Ah, you know Irving, then?” He asked, his tone taking a quick turn.

  “He’s a real nice guy,” Ian said, dodging the question. “He said this was his sister’s place.”

  “That’s right, Irv’s my brother,” the woman joined in cheerfully. “Now, see, General, you didn’t need to get all huffy.” She put her arm around the man and patted his shoulder. “He’s very protective of me and my place because I have the very best peach cobbler.”

  “Really? Well, then, let me have a piece,” Ian said enthusiastically. “Best peach cobbler around...that’s something to try out.”

  “All right, I’ll be right back.” She gave the large man a 'Behave!' look before she left.

  The man wavered indecisively at the edge of the table until Ian stood up and offered his hand. “My name is Ian. Ian Young. Have a seat and join me. It looks like I’ll be here for a bit longer and I’d rather not eat alone.” When the man sat, he said, “So, you’re a general?”

  “Oh, no, they just call me that because I’m a tad bit bossy and I look a little like that General Yuri from the Revolutionary War.”

  “You know what? I think you’re right! Except, the hair isn’t right…”

  “No, I used to wear it shorter.”

  “Ah, I see.”

  The General gave Ian an evaluative look and then said, “You don’t seem like the type to be spending time with halfbreed trash.”

  Ian said, spreading his hands apologetically, “I hate to be rude, but please don’t talk about my little brother like that.”

  “Your brother?” the man frowned, his eyes roaming over Ian’s face.

  Ian nodded, “Yes, well, not by blood. We’ve adopted him, but I feel like he’s my flesh and blood. I know he’s a bit rough. He’s had a hard time of it. I’m sure you can imagine why, with people the way they are…”

  “Well, he didn’t look like no one’s little brother. He looks like he could be trouble.”

  “You know, you are very perceptive, General. My brother can be a handful, and he’s a bit of a hothead. I won’t give details, but let’s just say he can handle himself…”

  “That’s obvious.”

  Ian nodded and made a warding off gestured with his hands, “But, we aren’t going to make any trouble. I like this place and I don’t want to cause any problems for Kate.”

  “Good, that’s all I wanted to be sure of.” He leaned back when two big portions of the famous peach cobbler were laid out in front of them.

  “I also packed one up for your friend,” Kate said, dropping a small bag next to the larger one and smiling at the two of them sitting at the table together. “Here’s your water.” She left to attend to another table.

  Ian picked up his fork and took a big bite of the delicious smelling dessert. It was as good as it looked. He savored the way the sweet peaches were enriched by an unexpectedly tangy flavor in the sauce, “Mmmm. Amazing.”

  The General nodded, taking a second bite before asking, “So, what is your business in Juniper?”

  “We’re investigating the border patrol incident from last week,” Ian said, his friendly, casual tone matching the other man’s. “There isn’t much, though. The freedom fighters are the prime suspects, of course. No one else had the motivation. Problem is though, those guys are like ghosts.”

  “Well, good luck with that.”

  “What do folks here think about them?” When the man took another bite without answering, Ian added, “In the city, they’re considered extremists, mostly. That’s the way the media portrays them: radical, violent, almost like beasts.”

  “Well, we get the same media out here, but folks here don’t swallow it up as easily, especially since the same media often shows bordertown folk as ignorant and lazy.”

  “Yeah, it’s a real problem.”

  “Anyway, to answer your question, feelings are a little mixed. People out here know things aren’t going well for us. For us Humans, I mean. On top of that, we’re kinda rascally.” He smiled at Ian’s chuckle. “So, there are some who are sympathetic to the cause. For the most part, though, people are looking out for themselves out here and that means keeping your head down where the Kin are involved.”

  Ian nodded, “Thanks, for that insight.”

  “So, you’re with intelligence, then?”

  “No, border patrol. Twelve years this fall.”

  “Ah, good man,” The General raised his fork in a half salute. “Did some time with them in my younger days, just a few years mind you. Not bad work.”

  “It’s okay. We’re collaborating with the Kin on this one, the terrorists being as tricky as they are. We’ll get them, I’m sure of it.”

  The General nodded, finishing up his cobbler. “Well, I don’t think you’ll find much here in Juniper. Folks here are solid, hardworking people. Besides, I don’t think they’d hang around after a big operation like that.”

  Ian said, “Well, we’ll see what we find.”

  “So your ‘little brother’ is in the patrol, too? I didn’t think they accepted them.”

  “No, you’re right. He’s just helping out. He’s kind of a professional bloodhound.”

  “You mean a bounty hunter?”

  “No. Well, sort of.”

  “Guess that’s the only kind of work one of them could get. Nobody would hire one, at least not around here.”

  Ian said, “I guess you’re right.” The General’s comments made him wonder what choices Scythe had, realistically, in the way of careers.

  He didn’t personally know any other halfbloods, because they were so uncommon. Kin and Humans were separated socially and physically, only interacting in places like Juniper, where Humans produced things for the Kin, and in political circles, where his people fought a losing battle for basic Human rights. Social interaction on a personal level was frowned upon by both societies and anything closer was abhorred, which was why halfbloods were universally marginalized. Ian couldn’t think offhand of any fields that were receptive to a person like Scythe, apart from the military.

  The restaurant quieted, and Ian looked, like everyone else, at the entrance to see Scythe smoothly walking toward their table. He carried his usual air of calm preparedness, along with an indefinable but decidedly lethal quality that people with military experience could spot in a second. He appeared to be ignoring everyone there, but Ian knew that he had already assessed the entire room and would keep tags on anyone he thought might be problematic until they left.

  Ian couldn’t imagine what it had to be like to live like that: on guard, all the time, for years and years. That reality, and the way he had seen both Kin and Humans react to him, explained why Scythe had developed such a harsh, detached way with people.

  In that moment, like a window opening up and letting in the morning breeze, Ian realized that his own friendly, polite manners would not have been enough to break through the prejudice that Scythe faced. Scythe wouldn’t have been able to bring the General around, as he had so easily done, nor would he have been treated with the basic courtesy that Ian expected without a second thought. Any one of the people before him was capable of laughing and joking with Ian and then turning around and cruelly provoking Scythe.

  “Ian, the people I deal with are not nice, old men.”

  Ian felt a heavy weight settle over him. He had misjudged Scythe’s condition and the way he had been forced to adapt to it. Scythe had been
trying to tell him, but Ian had not been ready to understand until that moment.

  Watching him make his way through the room of harsh, unforgiving faces, he realized that the reason he hadn’t understood was because he just didn’t see Scythe the way others did.

  He wasn’t put off by the young man’s manner or his physical differences, because he was familiar with them and because he knew his character. He had seen Scythe give his daughter piggy back rides, and carefully hold a new baby’s head, and laugh with his friends, and rush to take one of Lena’s bags when she was overburdened. He’d watched Scythe drive off alone to bravely and selflessly infiltrate a Kin city to locate over thirty Human children he didn’t know, and defend a hospital ward of injured, sick Kin patients from Human soldiers. Ian had cried when the exhausted boy had asked, dried blood on his face, and the deaths of more than a dozen on his young hands, “Ian, are we safe?”

  “Well, if he’s with you, I guess he’s all right.” The General got up, reaching in his pocket for his wallet. “The cobbler’s on me today.” He put a few bills on the check that Kate had left on the table.

  “Wow, thanks. That is awfully kind, General,” Ian said, genuinely touched.

  “You can call me Yao, or General, whichever.” The two men shook hands as Scythe reached the table.

  The General passed him with a brief nod, which Scythe returned before turning to Ian.

  “Sorry I’m late. You made a friend.” Scythe seemed to be smug, so Ian guessed that he was pleased with what he had uncovered in the last hour or so.

  “That was the General, a friend of Kate’s.”

  “Two friends.”

  Ian smiled, “Well, you know, people are just drawn to me, like bears to honey. It can be a burden, really.” Ian placed enough money on the table to cover the rest of the bill and added a generous tip. “Okay, what is next?”

  “We’re done. Let’s head back, unless you need anything in town?”

  “Um, no.”

  Scythe motioned for Ian to precede him and then followed at his back.

  -----------

  On their way out of Juniper, there was some delay as Scythe’s clearance was double checked, but after ten minutes they were waved through the gate.

  “So, what did you find? Oh, and, did you kill anyone?” Ian asked, only half joking.

  “No, I didn’t kill anyone, but I was efficient. You wouldn’t have liked it.” Scythe turned onto the road that would lead them back to Huran. “I set up a few surveillance cameras, found two dead ends and another activist, a woman, but no name, just a face. I’ve got some more ideas about why we aren’t finding any leads. You find anything?”

  “Well, there didn’t seem to be any kind of major sympathy for the freedom fighters, but that can be hard to determine. I’d think a bordertown would be the first place to recruit from; the economy is poor, they are the least protected and are subject to raids, they have the lowest standard of living, and they are less regimented.”

  Scythe added, “And they have the least to lose. However, they are survivors and you don’t join the freedom fighters if you are looking forward to retirement. Besides, the rebels are, at the highest level anyway, idealistic. They want changes, big changes: Human rights, greater independence, political empowerment. Those types of thoughts don’t usually develop outside of the city universities.”

  “You don’t think they’re here,” Ian guessed.

  “Nope, I wouldn’t be, would you?”

  “Right now, with the heightened investigation, probably not, unless something really strong motivated me to be here, like my family or something.”

  “That’s why I’m thinking of making a trip to Teren with our team.”

  “Teren? Why?”

  “Well, it’s just a hunch, but the ghost man used an expression, ‘Oh, please forgive my mother.’ Have you heard of it?”

  “No, what does it mean?”

  “It is a throwback to an old religion that is long gone now, the Henkean Order.”

  “Never heard of it.”

  “It’s one of your basic druidic sects; their doctrine emphasized fertility and the worship of women as vessels of life. Unhealthy, or physically imperfect babies were at that time left out to die of exposure all through this area, but in the Henkean Order, a child’s mother could, at the time of birth when her spiritual powers were apparently at their highest, choose to save the child. Disobeying a mother’s wish was unthinkable; of course, if the baby turned out to be chronically sick after all then the family was burdened with it, which brought shame as well as hardship.

  “The expression, ‘Forgive my mother’s poor judgment’ is usually used when someone messes up, and they are saying that their mother should have opted to leave them out instead of saving them. The order is long gone, but the saying became embedded in the local culture of the regions where they flourished. Yawning Valley is the major bordertown in that area, southeast of Teren.”

  “How did you know all that?” asked Ian, impressed.

  “I looked it up in the restaurant.”

  “I thought you were checking your horoscope.” A little disappointed at not having gotten even a tiny chuckle, Ian continued, “So you think our guy might be there?”

  “No. I’ve no idea where he is. I think he’s from there. Who knows, we might be able to locate his family. That might get his attention.”

  “Yawning Valley is three days travel from here.”

  “Yes.”

  “That would mean we’d be gone over a week, right?”

  “At least.”

  “I’m definitely not leaving Mercy behind for that long.”

  “No, we’ll have to bring her. Or, I might just go alone.”

  The sun had hit its zenith when they left Juniper and was just now casting the smallest of shadows before them.

  “Scythe,” Ian said.

  “What?”

  “I’m sorry, for earlier.”

  Scythe's voice signaled a rising impatience, “Ian, I know you are concerned, offended, whatever, because you care about me and want a good life for me. You want me to have what you have, right?”

  “I’m not offended…”

  “Appalled?”

  “Okay, yeah, that is closer.”

  “Anyway, you need to understand that you don’t have a say in what I do with my life. This works for me. I tried your thing, and it didn’t fit right.”

  “I know and I’m sorry that I keep bugging you, but to be honest, I’ve got some doubts about what you do now. This life you’ve chosen, is it a good one?”

  Scythe didn’t answer, so Ian prompted, “You hurt people, and I don’t see any remorse. You talk about the people you’ve killed like you’re discussing what side you had with your hamburger. Are people really that insignificant to you now?”

  “No, and yes.”

  Ian didn’t think he’d say any more, so he was surprised when Scythe continued, “Ian, you want me to reassure you, right? You want me to say, ‘It’s not what it seems.’ But, it is what it seems. I’m a hired tracker. I hunt people down and I rape their minds for information about other people that I then go after for more of the same. I don’t give a damn about them. I’m not sorry at all if I have to kill them. In fact, I enjoy the violence; I’m naturally aggressive and this job gives me an outlet for it.”

  It was Ian’s turn to be silent. Why did it sound like Scythe was trying to...not brush him off, but something similar? Then, he said two words that he had never used before with Scythe.

  “You’re lying.”

  “What?”

  “You’re lying...not about the killing, or the aggression. I’m sure that’s true, but I know you’re lying, I can feel it.” Ian felt relief easing the muscles in his neck and back.

  “I don’t lie, Ian,” Scythe said a bit harder.

  Ian continued as if he hadn’t heard, “Maybe it was something I picked up with my power, something like Lena’s ability, I don’t know. But,” Ian smiled altho
ugh Scythe couldn’t see it, “you are not who you are describing.”

  Lena used her power to connect to people’s hearts, to map their personalities. She could hold up a mirror to a person’s character for herself and the person himself to see. Ian had never done anything like that, but as the pavement sped by beneath them the young man in front of him came into focus. It felt like the last brick settling into place in a wall. He knew Scythe, and no words, not even the proof his eyes had shown him that day, could change it in the smallest way.

  “I know you.” Ian said with finality, as if that one statement decided the argument for him. “Thank you for lying, so I could see the truth.”

  “I don’t know what you are talking about,” Scythe replied, sincerely confused.

  “It’s okay. I’m not going to worry about it, Scythe. I believe in you, I do, and I’m going to trust that you are doing the right thing.”

  “Ian, I’m not lying. All those things are true.”

  “I know.” It’s not just to me that you are lying, Ian said to himself.

  When Ian didn’t press, and because Scythe apparently had no desire to rehash the conversation, they rode in silence.

  Chapter 10

  [encoder enabled]

  [verifying]

  [falcon program initiated]

  [verifying]

  [host id: scy241]

  [negotiating connection]

  [guest id: aor179]