by C. A. Bryers
He smiled, claiming his victory. “We need to get past those tephic blocks. Can you do it?”
“About a year ago that would’ve been the easiest thing in the world,” she admitted with a lifeless chuckle. “Now? Not a chance.”
“What would it take?”
She drew in a deep breath, pondering the question. “A sleeping mind isn’t enough. It lowers his guard some, but tephic blocks fortify themselves during sleeping hours because one’s guard is naturally lowered. And while he’s awake, tephic blocks are strongest in those like Tallas, sorry to say. If you watch him, his guard is always up. Tallas doesn’t trust many people here. At all.”
Joht grinned. “All the more proof that he’s not one of us. How do we get through?”
She gave a tired shrug. “Trust might be the way in. That would be my guess. Tephic blocks are typically put there if someone wants to keep other people out of their heads, and the blocks react to their host’s level of mistrust. I don’t know for sure, but they might work the other way, too. Since blocks strengthen around people he doesn’t trust, it stands to reason that they might weaken or relax around someone he does trust.”
“You’ve already won some of his trust by the look of things. A little more, and—”
Ciracelle nodded impatiently. “But like I said, that was a year ago I was capable of this sort of thing. I feel…” She bobbed her head back and forth as an indication of her uncertainty. “I feel okay at the moment—not strong like I used to be, but not a worthless, useless sack like I did a day or two ago. How long that will last, I don’t know. I never know anymore.”
“Then that’s first in line of what we need to do. Or you need to do,” Joht said decisively.
“Oh?”
“That’s right. You need rest until we can put this into motion. As much as you can get. No more sneaking out after everyone’s asleep, got it?” He held a silencing hand forward before she could object. “I know you don’t like it, but I mean it. Your late nights are probably why you’ve been so exhausted. So here’s what’s going to happen. Kanoh, Ystolt and the others are going to take shifts tonight and every night for as long as it takes to make sure you’re right where you’re supposed to be until we move on Tallas. I’ll see to that.”
“But Joht, I—”
“You shouldn’t be doing what you’re doing anyway, Ciracelle.” He touched her face in hopes of appealing to her memories of their time together. “You know I care about you. Just stop this. You don’t have to do it anymore. Come back to where you belong. To where you’re loved.”
The conflict was thick in her pale, fragile features. After a few moments of agonized silence, her eyes closed in apparent acquiescence. She looked on the verge of collapse, but a second later, Ciracelle gave a minuscule nod.
“Now, what else do you need?”
She sighed, looking to the open sky above them as if for a means of escape from the conversation.
“Ciracelle,” he said, more forcefully this time. “What else do you need?”
Her shoulders slumped, head bowing low. “A bracer. It kills me to say it, but if I’m going to be anywhere near strong enough to get through his tephic blocks, I need a bracer.” She sniffled. “The problem is that if he’s awake, he’s going to wonder why I have one of those bulky things on me outside of our sessions. His guard could go up, and that would be that.” Her hand tapped against Joht’s bracer. “And these ones, with the limitation settings, they might not be strong enough for what I need.”
Joht pondered the problem. “Okay. I know there are smaller, sleeker models of tephic bracers out there in development. Plenty of them even being tested in Empyrion Prime.” Obtaining one was a considerable obstacle to overcome, not to mention smuggling one inside. But that solution might as well always be standing there, right over his shoulder. The man’s presence never fully left him alone. “Orrock. He can get us one.”
“Why would your rho of all people smuggle contraband to you so you could do something that could get you thrown out of the Order if you’re found out?” Her expression was incredulous. “Rhos are supposed to make sure we’re staying out of trouble.”
“For this—for revenge against Tallas—he’ll do it.” He placed both hands on her cheeks. “Now, can you do it? All of this?”
Her nod was slow to arrive, but it did. “I think so.”
“Trust me. It’s the right thing to do—for the Order and for us.” He took her hand and gave it a squeeze, realizing for the first time in days how much healthier she looked. “You’re so beautiful, Ciracelle. What man would deny you getting close to him?”
She let her forehead rest against his chest. “I hope you’re right about this, Joht.”
He threaded his fingers through her blond hair, massaging her scalp with his fingertips. “Orrock will be here in three days with all the other rhos. As soon as we have the prototype bracer, you’ll ask Tallas to meet you that night.”
He felt her nod against him.
“In the meantime, you know what to do.”
Another subtle nod followed. “I do.”
23
The days leading up to the arrival of the rhos were sluggish, each one chugging along like a hydroskiff’s engine wheezing out the last dying revolutions of its lifecycle. For the other House students, the coming of their benefactors was either anticipated or inconsequential. For Salla, the prospect of seeing Rainne Zehava face-to-face was a daunting one. As soon as he had issued the request to Iriscent, he had regretted doing so. He still felt a singular void where those smoldering, livid feelings that had festered inside him for so long lurked. However, that did not mean he had forgiven her entirely.
Perhaps in response to her impending arrival, he had spent the majority of his free time in the company of Ciracelle Belfair. Her presence alone was an elixir for whatever seemed to be bothering him, whether it was the notion of his meeting with Rainne or larger issues, such as his perpetual incarceration in one form or another by the Majdi Order. As it had been with Rainne while recuperating at her Afa’s cabin, Salla kept most things to himself. Regardless, Ciracelle was at the very least a welcome distraction.
Across Cereporis Hall, Salla caught sight of her. She sat with Trigg, the two of them paired off to discuss mental blocks that stood in the way of achieving their full potential as Majdi. Trigg must have said something funny as he often did, because Ciracelle was suddenly rocking back on her pad in uproarious laughter.
He smiled, noticing anew a small flourishing of emotions at the mere sight of her. She was beautiful, carrying an inner light that he was only now beginning to see. She took his reluctance to say much about himself in stride, knew how to soothe any worries troubling him, and he in turn relished seeing just how vibrant she could be now that she was starting to feel better.
And perhaps it was because of that recovery that Ciracelle was warming to him. When she had told him she was not the one for him, she had viewed her life as a smoking wreckage simply waiting to be swept away and forgotten. Though she still showed signs of weariness, her life was anything but over. She intended to capture every moment now, she had told him, and after an apparent falling out with Joht, he was the one with whom she intended to share those moments.
Amid her discussions with Trigg, her eyes would occasionally flick away from him to find Salla. They lingered upon him every time she did so, and she slipped him a quick, surreptitious smile. Each time they had these wordless exchanges, Salla felt a little less alone here in the House of Falling Rain.
Wham.
Salla was thrown back, tumbling across the soft meditation pads until he rolled to a stop. He shook his head, cursing himself for letting his mind go on a stroll with Ciracelle while he was in the middle of bracer training.
“Aw, someone forgot to pay attention,” Joht called out, flicking his fingers and hopping up and down to keep his energy up for the sparring session. He stopped suddenly and, with a sigh, closed the distance between them to extend a hand to Salla.
Salla knew better than to trust him and started climbing back to his feet on his own.
“Come on, take it. Oh, fine,” Joht said impatiently, grabbing Salla by the shoulder and heaving him upward. He went silent then, his perpetually cocky demeanor faltering at last. He sighed. “Look, I’m just gonna say it. I know we’ve had some trouble…well, since you got here, pretty much. I know I’m probably too competitive for my own good, so I’ll take the blame for it. I’m kind of an ass, you know.”
“I know,” Salla replied perhaps a little too quickly.
Joht shrugged. “I push everybody. It’s just my way. I don’t expect you to just forget it all happened, but…I hope you’ll at least think about it.”
The tone announcing the session’s end sounded and Joht pulled off his bracer, even offering to take Salla’s. Dumbfounded, Salla slipped his off and handed it to him. Ciracelle dashed over to him then, eyes eager and alive with excitement. The light in her eyes was momentarily doused as she watched Joht cross Cereporis Hall to rehang the bracers in the wall cabinet. Salla was trying to piece the mystery of Joht’s startling change in attitude toward him when he suddenly realized that Ciracelle was talking.
He caught himself, looking back down upon Ciracelle. “I’m sorry. Joht just kind of spun my head by not…well…not making me want to punch him. Know what I mean?” He gave a dismissive wave. “Never mind. What did you say?”
“I said that the rhos should be in the entryway by now. Are you ready?”
The shock was wearing off, and Salla felt the nerves in his chest start to sizzle. “I think so. It should be fine, but the last thing I want to do is go out there and feel all that anger all over again. I want it gone for good, and I’m just afraid that seeing her—”
“Will bring it back, I know.” She offered him a mischievous grin. “But if that does happen? Guess who’s going to be there to dust you off and make you forget it was even there in the first place?”
Warmth spread throughout Salla at the thought. “In that case, yeah, I think I’m ready.”
She made a timid step forward, sliding her arms about his waist and pressing her body to his. “Because of you, I don’t think I miss Joht anymore.”
“Really?”
She nodded into him. “When I came to the House, I was hurt, afraid, and beginning to slip. I knew Joht already. I knew he’d have followers here, and I felt like he might stand in the way of anyone trying to get me out of the Order. Strength in numbers, you know? But now…I don’t need it. I’m stronger. And I have you.” She stepped back, arms slipping from about him. “Come on. The sooner you see her, the sooner I get to find out what happened. Whether your meeting with her is good or bad, I want to see you tonight. Downstairs, first floor of the cell levels after Lochmore sends all the rhos away?”
“The restricted levels, huh?” A new kind of tension tightened in his chest, and he found himself nodding almost immediately. “Okay.”
She smiled. “Let’s go.”
They were the last ones through the door, and sure enough, a host of new faces met Salla on the other side. Each student in the foyer was paired with what Salla assumed to be his or her rho, and he was amazed at how quickly the loose discipline he had seen time and again in the students transform in the presence of their benefactors. Their postures had become immaculate as they presented themselves as men and women worthy of their rho’s continued support.
The massive Orrock moved to the side of the hall when Joht came to greet him, clearing a path to reveal a solitary woman standing alone, looking entirely out of place. Rainne Zehava looked back and forth, her gaze remaining nowhere for very long as if she was uncertain Salla would meet with her at all.
He drew a deep breath. So far, I don’t hate her. Good start.
Then, he strode forth, weaving through the collected bodies until he saw her eyes find him in the crowd. A tenuous smile rose to her lips, and she offered a faint, apprehensive wave. He joined her, but before he could say a word, Lochmore’s voice called out over the proceedings.
“Thank you all for coming to bear witness to the work we’ve done here. It’s your good faith in these men and women that has given them a second chance to become the Majdi they deserve to be. We’ve had some struggles, but I think you’ll find that your belief in those you stand beside will be rewarded.” He rubbed his hands together, smiling broadly. “Now, I’ll meet with each of you based on your student’s seniority in the Order. I know a rho’s time is precious, so I’ll try not to keep you for very long. Joht and Orrock, I believe you get to draw first blood.”
As Joht and Orrock broke from their private discussion to meet with Lochmore, Salla made a half-turn toward Rainne. He started to speak, but nothing felt right. Rainne seemed locked in a similarly awkward state of vocal paralysis, but finally she broke the silence separating the two of them.
“I am grateful you decided to see me. It brings hope to my heart.”
Salla felt like insects crawled about inside of his clothes, forcing upon him a perpetual state of discomfort. He looked about the foyer, seeing the discipline of the students begin to relax as the formality of it all slipped away as time passed. This was not how he had envisioned his reunion with Rainne.
“Based on seniority, I think we’ll be last to talk to Lochmore. Want to find somewhere so we can talk?”
Rainne gave a fragile smile. “Please.”
Walking from the foyer, Salla led Rainne through the crowd toward Temperance Pass, the corridor he knew would take them to the Iron Grounds. As he moved, he caught sight of Ciracelle, standing with her rho, her gaze downcast as she was surely in the process of explaining her many failings here in the House of Falling Rain. Her eyes darted to his from behind the thin veil of blond hair as he and Rainne passed by. She looked somehow smaller in stature than usual, her face a window to the shame she was so clearly feeling. Her eyes flicked meaningfully to Rainne and then back to him, her head sinking a few degrees lower.
A few steps later, she was out of sight and the crowd behind grew steadily quieter as the two of them hastened to the Iron Grounds. When they stepped beneath the open sky over the decrepit training yard, Salla’s eyes squinted at first against the late-afternoon sun spilling in from overhead.
An unexpected swell of emotion rose up in his throat. “Seems like it’s been years since I’ve seen daylight. Normally by the time I get out here, the sun’s long gone. I don’t even know how long I’ve been in here. A month? Two?” He closed his eyes, feeling wetness at the corners of his lids. “This window to the sky might be all I ever see of the outside world.”
Rainne placed a tentative hand on his shoulder, concern brimming in her eyes.
“Sorry. I know this isn’t what either of us were expecting to talk about.”
“It is for me to apologize. These people…my people. I could think of no one else that might have been able to help you.” Her voice was small as she spoke, her green eyes afraid. “I was—there was blood, so much blood, Salla. I was sure you were dying. I did not know what else to do.”
He swallowed hard. “I was dying. All the time you knew me, the end was coming closer. If that episode wasn’t the push that did it, the next one might’ve been. It was only a matter of time. Bringing me here saved me. I suppose I can admit that now.” He stared up through that space between the high walls, finding wispy streaks of clouds smeared across a sky turning orange as the sun began its retreat. “But I still don’t know if that was a good thing.”
“Think of all you have experienced in the last several months, Salla. Finding the Eyes of the One, stopping the usurping of power at Tempusalist and ending the threat of the Thirteenth Paragon and his syndicate. You have proven you are something special in this world. Your life was not meant to end here. It will not end here.”
The brief touch upon his past sent that familiar twinge of betrayal arcing through his body. Before he could think on it, the question was out of his mouth. “Why did you do it, Rainne?”
Her voice shrank again in the face of what she had done. “The reading?”
Salla gave a wordless nod, jaw clenched.
“I have no excuse.” Her eyes closed, head lowering. “I was staring at the prospect of being an outcast and a failure—an outcast to my Order, and a failure to my Afa. I came home believing it was simply to watch Ulong-Afa die, all because I had thrown away my chance to save him through my own selfishness and weakness.”
The ensuing silence brought Salla’s eyes to her as if pulled by gravity. Shoulders shuddering, tears beginning to carve their way down her cheeks, Rainne Zehava looked as though she was coming apart just by telling the story.
“I came home and found you there. After you woke and we started speaking, I—I do not know what I thought. I thought maybe I had someone with me who was hurting as well, someone I could share my pain with, and perhaps I could take some of his as well, but you…” She permitted herself but a moment to cry before forcibly pushing the rising hurt back down. “But I could not get you to open your doors to me. I needed that closeness then and there. I needed it so much that I would have done anything to have it, to know that I was not alone in my pain. It was shameful and selfish, and I am so sorry.”
A twinge of sympathy rang throughout him, but it was not enough to snuff out his own feelings of violation. “So you pushed your way in. You looked at everything about me—things I’ve done that I wanted to let die there in hiding.” He stalked away, hands on his hips, wishing he had never changed his mind about seeing her ever again. “And you—did you open up to me? Did I get to see the ugly things about you? No. I don’t even know why you’re on the verge of being tossed out of the Order. Share our pain? Right. Only on your terms, Rainne. What you did—”
Her tear-streaked face lifted, eyes darkening. “If you insist, Salla. Do you wish to know why I am uhreht’sa? I will gladly tell you everything about me if that is what will gain me your forgiveness. I am uhreht’sa because I used the Order. I never wanted to be Majdi. I journeyed to these islands to join the Majdi because I believed they were the only ones who could help Ulong-Afa.” She threw her hands up, a look of helplessness washing over her face. “But nobody I spoke with was familiar with his affliction. His sickness is confined to our lands back home. It does not exist here. So I became an ijau for no other reason than to learn tephic healing, to experiment and do whatever I could to help my Afa live.”