Clarity's Edge: Technopaladin, #1

by Elizabeth Corrigan

  “Oh, I didn’t invite a guest for you.” Mercy rose out of her reverie and headed toward the kitchen. “You’re not the only one who doesn’t want a repeat of that evening. I invited your brother’s girlfriend.”

  Cass had been following his mother, but he stopped dead in his tracks. “I cannot escape that girl.”

  His mother threw a frustrated glance over her shoulder. “I know you don’t like her, but poor Clarity is all alone in the Citadel. I thought she could use some company and a home-cooked meal.”

  Cass resumed walking. “She’s not alone, Mom. She has friends. She has an entire paladin order.” He entered the kitchen, where the aroma of delicious food was even stronger. The roast had come out of the oven and sat on the counter looking, Cass always thought, less attractive than it tasted. Something in one of the pots and pans on the stove had another five minutes on it, judging by the timer. The table lay bare, which Cass took to mean his mother planned for them to eat in the dining room. He never warranted such treatment, but apparently Clarity did.

  “She doesn’t have a family.” Mercy took the auto-whisk out of the gravy and flicked it off. “Sometimes I don’t think we do the right thing, taking children away from their parents, no matter how noble the cause.”

  “Well, she’s sure to get the whole Hughes family experience.” Cass lifted the lid off one of the steaming pots to investigate its contents. Broccoli. And I thought this day couldn’t get any worse. “No one except you can stand anyone else at the table, and Dad’s sure to spend the whole meal singing Valor’s praises.”

  Mercy took the lid from Cass and put it back on the sprouts. “Don’t be silly. I know you and your father don’t always see eye to eye, but you love each other deep down.”

  Great, so we’re back to delusions.

  Oblivious to her son’s arched eyebrows, Mercy continued. “And I know your father thinks your brother can somehow ‘do better’ than Clarity, but I don’t believe it’s possible to ‘do better’ than the person you love.”

  Cass didn’t know what to say to that. He wasn’t of the opinion that Valor was capable of love, but neither of his parents could ever see the bad in Valor. Even if he did see it, Dad would have told me to toughen up and fight back, Cass thought. I really don’t know how such a bunch of macho meatheads ended up in charge of an order allegedly made up of the most virtuous people in Corinthium.

  “---you will, won’t you?” Mercy was saying.

  The door chimed, saving Cass from having to admit he hadn’t been paying attention to his mother’s words. Since he suspected she had been asking him to be nice to Clarity, the doorbell also spared him having to promise good behavior. “I’ll get it,” he said.

  He took a deep breath when he reached the door, then jabbed the button that would enable the steel sheet to slide open and admit the guest. Clarity stood on the other side, looking surprisingly put together for someone on crutches with a pink and white bag handle between her teeth. If Cass hadn’t known the order supplied clothes to all its members, he would have wondered if Clarity couldn’t afford any. Why else would she attend everything, even a family dinner, in the purple bodysuit that contained her retractable armor.

  “Hi,” she said, or at least, that’s what Cass thought she said. Her voice was a little muffled, so he reached out to grab the bag in her mouth. “I know your mother said not to bring anything, but I couldn’t come empty-handed. I was in the city earlier, so I picked up some palmiers from the bakery on Eryden Street.”

  Cass lifted the bag closer to his face, and the sugary scent wafted to his nose as he felt the grease-soaked bottom of the bakery box through the paper bag. They were fresh, then, and they were his favorites. Had she known that? Was this some kind of strange bribe to get him to like her?

  “Come on in,” he said, stepping aside to allow her entrance. “Mom’s just finishing up dinner, and Dad’s… Well, I have no idea. He’s probably up in his study ruining someone’s day.”

  Clarity laughed aloud at that, her voice a ringing peal without a trace of bitterness. “I know he’s ruined my day once or twice.”

  Cass found himself giving her a small smile. “It’s been more than that for me. I count myself lucky when he decides to make it someone else’s day.”

  “Ah, but who says he limits himself like that? After all, it only takes a few minutes to ruin an entire twenty-four hours. I’m sure we could do the math to determine the maximum number of days ruined. What do you think, twenty-four hours times, let’s say, fifteen four-minute increments?”

  “Well, even my dad has to sleep sometimes.” Cass could have kicked himself. What am I doing? Joking with the warrior who, must I remind myself, is dating my brother. Sure, she hasn’t been a total monster during tech support, but that doesn’t mean we’re going to be friends. Cass took one step back, then another, schooling his expression as he did. “Come on. Mom’s probably wondering what’s keeping us.”

  Clarity gave him a puzzled look. “We’ve been here for like two minutes. You could have been taking my coat or something. It’s getting to be that time of year.”

  “Yeah, but you’re not wearing a coat.” Cass found himself keeping pace with Clarity on her crutches as they moved down the hall toward the kitchen, not that he needed to slow down much. The girl was strong enough to be pretty fast on those things. “I guess that ridiculous getup is pretty warm.”

  “My bodysuit is not ridiculous. It’s---” She shook her head. “Never mind.”

  “It’s what?”

  “No, don’t worry about it.” She didn’t look at him. “You wouldn’t understand.”

  Cass bristled. His first instinct was to say, “Try me,” but he bit back the words. He didn’t want to know more about her, after all. He also had a sneaking suspicion that maybe she was right and he wouldn’t understand. At least, she had no reason to think he would, because on some level, he’d never thought of her as a person. She was a warrior. She was his brother’s girlfriend. She was things he despised, and he’d managed to lump her into a bunch of stereotypes of who he thought she was without ascribing any agency to her. And that’s wrong. The thought so shook him that the only sound that accompanied them the rest of the way to the kitchen was the squeak of Clarity’s crutches against the pristine floor.

  “Clarity!” Mercy looked up from the dish she’d been spooning broccoli into. “I’m so glad you could make it. I know Cass and Ted are glad, too.” His mother was the only person Cass knew who still called his father by the nickname he must have used more prevalently in his youth.

  Clarity made some obligatory noises of thanks as Cass placed the pink and white bag on the counter. “She brought some palmier’s from Lucinda’s, too,” he said.

  “Well, I know whose dessert will be in favor tonight,” Mercy said, but she didn’t seem upset about the relegation of whatever confection she had devised to second place. “I tell you, Clarity. I used to take the boys into the city, and we’d stop at the confectioner’s for sweets. Valor would always want the most gooey, marshmallow-and-caramel monstrosity he could get his hands on, but Cass always wanted the simple palmiers. He was the strangest boy.”

  Even in my bakery preference, I was a failure. “Looks like dinner’s about ready,” Cass said. “Want me to get Dad?”

  “No thanks, honey. I just buzzed him. He wanted to be down in time to carve the roast.”

  Cass rolled his eyes. “Of course he did.”

  “Everything smells delicious, Mercy,” Clarity said. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Not at all! You’re a guest!” Mercy picked up the broccoli and the gravy boat. “Just give me a moment to run these out to the table.”

  Cass and Clarity found themselves alone in the kitchen. “I love that your mother cooks,” Clarity said. “The cafeteria food is great, but there’s something nice about food cooked just for you.” Her face had a wistful
look, as if she were missing something precious.

  “I wouldn’t want to go through the effort of cooking,” Cass said. “The cafeteria is much easier, especially for one person, but I’ll admit, I don’t mind having a mother who cooks either.”

  Cass felt mixed emotions as he heard footsteps from both the dining room and the back stairs. Trust his father to use the staircase to come down three flights when the house had a perfectly serviceable elevator. “Always have to keep in shape,” he told Cass. “It wouldn’t hurt you to use the stairs on more occasions.”

  When Steadfastness entered the kitchen, everyone turned to look at him. People always noticed the Grand Conductor when he walked into a room. He was a tall, broad man with graying brown hair and lines on his face that only served to make him look experienced and distinguished. Cass felt roiling in his stomach as his father’s gaze skirted over him, clearly finding him wanting. “Perspicacity.” Steadfastness nodded at his son.

  “Father.” Cass returned the gesture. His father was the only one to use his full name, as if he needed to constantly remind Cass of his inferiority in the virtue department. Still, Cass got better treatment than Clarity. Steadfastness looked right past her as if she wasn’t even there. Oh, this is going to be a great evening.

  Steadfastness’s gaze softened as he glanced at the returning Mercy, and sometimes Cass felt better knowing his father loved his wife and at least one of his sons. He was a hard, proud man, but he wasn’t a monster. Yeah, sometimes that makes it better, but sometimes it makes it worse. I wouldn’t mind being such a failure to a truly horrible man.

  “The roast is over there,” Mercy said, gesturing toward the counter where the beef was clearly in evidence. “Everything else should be ready.” She handed a couple of dishes to Cass for him to carry out to the dining room and grabbed one herself. After they had placed the bowls on the table, Mercy took one last look over her offerings. “I think that’s everything except the roast. Oh, no, wait, I forgot butter!”

  “I’ll get it.” Cass headed back toward the kitchen before his mother could leave him in yet another room alone with Clarity. The butter sat on the kitchen island, where Mercy had no doubt used it to cook.

  Steadfastness had already sliced several thick slabs off the roast. “What is your mother thinking, inviting that girl here?” he said to Cass without turning around.

  Cass thought there was a good chance his father’s question was rhetorical, but he answered it anyway. “She’s thinking Clarity is Valor’s girlfriend and wants to include her in the family, even though Valor’s not here.”

  Steadfastness didn’t say anything for a moment, and Cass thought he was free to leave. As he moved toward the door, though, his father spoke again. “That girl robbed your brother of his rightful place. I cannot believe he would continue to have an interest in her, or that you would defend her.”

  “I’m not defending her.” Though she did beat Valor, fair and square. “You asked what Mom was thinking, and I’m telling you. Either way, I don’t see why you’re talking to me about it. Talk to Valor if you don’t approve of his choice of girlfriend, or Mom if you don’t approve of her choice of house guest.” Or maybe just acknowledge the fact that other people have minds independent of yours.

  Steadfastness finally turned away from his task to look at Cass. “I don’t know why I expected you to understand. You lock yourself in a room with toys all day while other men do the real work.”

  Cass set his jaw. “I develop state-of-the-art, life-saving AIs, Dad.” Which you know. “The paladin order couldn’t function without them. Valor is doing, what? Threatening people on the borders of Corinthium?”

  Picking up the serving plate with the sliced roast on it, Steadfastness headed out of the kitchen. “I don’t see how you can make tech for warriors. You have never even tried to understand our mission.”

  Why should I? Cass thought, following his father out. You’ve never bothered to understand mine.

  The first few minutes of dinner were painfully awkward. Steadfastness complimented Mercy on her cooking, and everyone else rushed to agree. And it’s true, Cass thought. The roast was perfectly pink, the mashed potatoes were creamy and smooth, and the broccoli was crisp. Mercy blushed as she received the compliments and thanked everyone for coming. For the next two minutes, which Cass thought might be the longest of his life, the only sounds at the table were forks and knives scraping plates and the swish of saliva accompanied by chewing.

  Then Clarity spoke. “Grand Conductor, I wanted to ask you about the Azure District.”

  The silence that followed her proclamation was absolute. Not even the girl who said such an insane thing continued to eat. Though it doesn’t look like she’s been doing more than picking at her food. If Cass had thought about it, he would have assumed she was nervous about eating dinner with the family, but after such a statement, he wondered if she had an ulterior motive in coming here, like asking his father crazy questions.

  When Steadfastness finally spoke, his words were calm and precise, brooking no opposition. “I have nothing to say about the Azure District.”

  To anyone else, that would have signalled the end of the conversation, but Clarity persisted. Cass didn’t know whether to admire her perseverance or dismiss her as an idiot. But then, why not both?

  “I---I met someone from the Azure District down in the city today,” she said. “The people there… They don’t have food, clothing, medication…”

  She’s lying about something, thought Cass. She’s a terrible liar. Steadfastness, for his part, did not seem to pick up on the deception. He maintained his resolution not to say anything about the Azure District, though he did resume eating. Mercy took that as a cue to continue her meal as well, but Cass stared at Clarity, wondering what was so important about the Azure District that she’d lie to his father about it. I suppose she answered that question herself. Lack of food, clothing, and medicine might be worth the lie. If that part is true, at least.

  Mercy gave Clarity a smile. “I’m sure he was just making things up. People in the Azure District don’t hold to paladin ideals, and sometimes they make up stories to upset our sensibilities. They don’t receive medicine directly from us, but they are free to develop their own treatments for things and trade for the materials. They have access to all the same things we do, I assure you.”

  Clarity did not appear mollified. “But what if it is true? Shouldn’t we investigate the claim at least? Without medicines, people could be dying.”

  “Even if it is true, we can’t save them.” Mercy gave Clarity a sympathetic look. “Those who live in the Azure District have rejected our aid, and the law forbids our helping them.”

  “What about the children?” Clarity looked about to bang her hand on the table, but she stopped before making contact with the steel. “They’re not old enough to make choices, and they may not reach an age where they can make that choice if we ignore them!”

  “Sometimes parents must make the choices that seem best for their children, even if others don’t understand them.” Mercy took a sip of her water. Cass thought she might be hiding her facial expression behind the rim of the glass, but by the time she lowered it enough for him to see, her lips had reformed their usual placid smile.

  “But if we could talk to them! Make them see that we want to help---”

  “Enough!” Steadfastness did slam his hand down, hard enough that his flatware and Mercy jumped. “You are making a clear case for why children like you shouldn’t be allowed to make decisions. Read your history, girl, and you’ll understand why the Azure District is off limits. Now, you may either cease this conversation or leave this table.”

  Clarity lifted her napkin to wipe her lips, and for a moment, Cass thought she would actually get up and walk out the door. Which she has to know is career suicide.

  After a deep breath, Clarity lowered her napkin back to her lap. �
�Perhaps you are correct. My apologies for bringing up such unpleasantness at the dinner table.” She bowed her head, and her stature was contrite. As she raised her head and resumed eating, though, Cass caught a glimpse of determination in her eyes.

  Dad didn’t cow her at all, he thought with a hint of admiration he strove to suppress. He gave her an idea. Cass spent the rest of the meal staring at her, wondering what it was.

  Chapter 7

  Clarity lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. She’d tried willing herself to fall asleep, but the events of the day kept running over and over through her mind. She needed to figure out how to help Evelyn and Kimessa, and probably all the other people in the Azure District. She’d thought if she presented her case to paladin leadership, they’d see the error of their ways, but after Steadfastness’s blunt rejection of her pleas, she had to assume he would be no help. Part of her wanted to show the other paladins what was going on right outside their jurisdiction and rally them into action. She had to believe that some of them, at least, would feel a moral obligation to help suffering people, but Steadfastness was right about one thing. She didn’t know the history of the people or why they rejected paladin aid, and going in like some kind of shining savior without listening to the victims would be a mistake.

  She wasn’t giving up, though. First thing in the morning, she had every intention of heading down to the library to find out everything she could about the laws and history of the Azure District. She knew the official story, of course---the Azurites refused to obey the paladin laws and elected to live without paladin technology---but Clarity felt like she needed to dig deeper. Cass Hughes might think she was a dummy who couldn’t think or read for herself, but he was wrong. Her grades in academic subjects had been almost as good as her warrior marks. She’d hit the library, and then she’d go back to the Azure District. The trip would be rough on crutches, but she couldn’t risk another trip on the motorcycle. Those things had GPS trackers loaded into them.