House of Falling Rain (Eyes of Odyssium Book 1)

by C. A. Bryers

  Rainne’s eyes pinched shut, head bowing. “That is awful. It is awful and it is my fault. I am the one who brought you to those who placed you here.”

  “No.” Salla set a hand on her shoulder. “No, as much as I hate to say it, I’m alive and have—well, had—a chance at a future because you brought me to these people. Sure, that one in there with Lochmore I’d like to relocate a few of his teeth and probably do the same for a couple of his cronies, but out of how many that are actually here? I’ve had worse odds on a scrapping vessel.”

  “So what will you do?”

  He shrugged, staring in the direction of Adjutu’s Path. “Don’t know what I can do. Plead my case. Tell them what I can about why I’m here maybe, and hope it doesn’t get Delflore into trouble. If it does, she might not be able to help me anymore. Then the only place I’m headed is prison, and that’d probably be the last anyone saw of me. If this girl Ciracelle dies and they stick it on me, I mean—they don’t execute anybody these days, do they?”

  The smile Rainne gave was paper thin. “The Order? No, Salla. That is something you do not have to worry about. Majdi prisons, however, that is another matter. Tonlesch’ar cu Memiora is something you do not want.”

  Salla’s face reflexively screwed up upon hearing the name. “I don’t even want to know what that is, do I?”

  “Another phrase from one of the old sects adopted by the Order at large. It roughly translates to ‘Sentenced to be Forgotten.’” She shrugged. “It is given only to those for whom there is no doubt of guilt, or who are too dangerous ever to be set free.”

  “Sounds like something that fits my description a little too nicely.” It felt as if his heart had turned to a ball of ice. “I just wish there was something I could do, some way I could figure out who did this before anyone can pin the blame on me. You know, before it comes to Tonle…nope, not even gonna try to say it.”

  “Well, let us see where we can start. Where were you when this happened?” asked Rainne.

  “They haven’t given any kind of time frame on when she was attacked.” He paused, thinking. “It had to be after we were all sent upstairs last night, and before morning, since she never made it to the barracks. But we didn’t all go up together. I went off on my own for a while to simmer down, you know?” He looked into her eyes, hoping to find some faith in him residing there. “Thing you’ve got to know is that yeah, she read me. I was mad at her, sure. But this? No.” He paused for a second. “‘No’ isn’t strong enough. Let’s call it impossible for me to have done this. I’d sooner go swimming with my old mate Dao hanging on my back with his kickers lopped off than do that to someone. I just avoided everyone I could until it was time to rack up in the barracks.”

  “So no one saw you during this time?” she asked.

  Salla’s eyes went dark. “No. What are you saying?”

  “I am saying nothing, Salla. I believe you. But if they can establish when this occurred and if that period of time matches with the time you took to cool down, that is not good. It means you possessed the motive and opportunity, and no one to back you up.” Her brows knitted with concern. “I worry for you, Salla.”

  He let a slow sigh pass between his lips as he stared down Adjutu’s Path. “It’s not the prettiest situation I’ve looked at. You’re right about that. What’s taking them so long?”

  Rainne adjusted her scarf and looked at her chron. “Lochmore is simply being thorough, Salla. Relax.”

  The name brought his memory flashing back to the cozy scene the two shared as they waited for him. “Lochmore. He didn’t…?” He let the thought dangle there, incomplete.

  “Did not what?” Rainne’s eyes narrowed in scrutiny. The look on his face must have given him away. “Salla, you have no need to worry about me.”

  His shoulders gave a feeble bounce. “Just don’t trust him is all. Known too many like him, I suppose.” He gave an empty laugh before amending the sentiment. “I was like him every so often. I wouldn’t have trusted me back then, either.”

  “So you are not worried. You are jealous,” she amended with a smirk. Before he could object, she placed a hand on his chest. “Salla, I think you have bigger things to worry about than nonsense such as that. Your Adjutu here is certainly charming, but I can care for myself.”

  The two continued their talk, passing the time until the inevitable moment when Lochmore would return from Adjutu’s Path with some sort of judgment on Joht’s side of the story. On one hand, Joht was a man who refused to be ignored and would not be content until the Adjutu saw things his way. On the other, Lochmore and Joht had clashed time and time again during Salla’s brief stay here at the House. It couldn’t be plainer that Lochmore held little regard for Orrock’s pupil, and perhaps that would be enough for him to take every word out of Joht’s mouth with a healthy dose of skepticism. Unfortunately, Lochmore was also the pragmatic sort. In a matter of grave importance such as the attack on Ciracelle, it was doubtful he would let his own prejudices cloud the truth.

  As the time wore on, students began to slip away from the foyer, likely in order to resume some semblance of normalcy to their lives. They were under no strict orders to remain cloistered here, and even for Salla, who could almost guarantee he was next in line to speak with Lochmore, the wait was becoming tiresome. His eyes refused to stay away from the mouth of Adjutu’s Path for long. He simply wanted someone to emerge, to summon him to his interview with Lochmore if only to tear him from this state of mental anguish.

  Then, as if coming to answer his silent request, Joht Tavross emerged. The big man sauntered over to his small band of friends without so much as a glance in Salla’s direction. A few words were exchanged, but they were too far away for him to hear.

  “Tallas,” a man’s voice called out.

  Salla’s eyes darted to Lochmore. He had been so preoccupied with Joht’s return that he hadn’t noticed the Adjutu of the House slowing as he neared the opening of the corridor. Lochmore resumed his stride, moving past the door to Cereporis Hall and heading toward the nearest passage—the one that led to the commissary.

  “Come with me, will you?” he asked with a smile that did not reach his eyes.

  Salla nodded, feeling something take hold of his hands. It was Rainne.

  “Luck to you.”

  Salla’s smile was just as empty as Lochmore’s as he backed away, letting his fingers slip from her grasp. Walking swiftly to catch up, he finally did by the time the Adjutu was several paces inside the confines of the corridor. Without slowing, the man ahead of him turned sharply to the right, descending the metal stairs leading to the prison levels.

  As Salla followed him down, the familiar roiling trepidation and building tension spread throughout his chest. The two passed the first level on the switchback, the stairs clattering noisily beneath every footfall. Now walking through the sputtering glow of lights in the second level corridor, Salla had no doubts as to where he was being led. His mind scrambled in an attempt to construct some story that could explain the modified cell, and before long, there it was.

  Lochmore stopped outside the twin barred doors that offered a shadowy view of the clean floor, the plush coverings of his barely used bed, and the other small amenities he’d briefly enjoyed. His expression was devoid of its usual charm, or anything that resembled the easygoing man to whom Salla had grown accustomed.

  Though he knew he was about to be confronted about the nature of this customized cell, Salla could only stare down at the dried pools and spatters of blood on the floor a dozen feet away.

  Lochmore scratched at the corner of his eye. “So Joht tells an interesting story. I think you have an idea what that story is. Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to tell me what happened. Everything you know, I want it.”

  Salla’s eyes refused to leave the bloodied floor. “I didn’t do this.”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I didn’t say you did.” Lochmore shrugged, some of the hardness fading. “Joht did, of
course, but I want to hear what you have to say. I think there’s a lot between you and me that, for one reason or another, hasn’t been out in the open.”

  “Everything you needed to know about me shou—”

  “It wasn’t in the file.” The rebuke was thrown at Salla with enough force to leave a bruise. A moment later, however, the Adjutu gave him a dismissive wave. “Sorry. Been a rough day. But look, people come in with incomplete records, it happens. Usually, that means there’s a good reason. They carry sensitive information, that sort of thing, and simply want to be rehabilitated and sent on their way. I get it. When Delflore brings someone, I don’t question it, and that’s why I didn’t turn you right around and push you out the door. That goodwill, that trust I have in Delflore’s judgment…right now, that’s out the door. Nothing like what happened last night has ever occurred under my watch. Not until you came to the House. I want to know why it happened.”

  Salla started to speak but had no idea what to say, where to begin.

  “Fine. We’ll go through this one step at a time. Step into the cell, please.”

  The command sent a stab of caution through Salla’s chest. “What?”

  “This cell right here.” Lochmore put his hand on the nearest barred door of Salla’s old cell, swinging it open. “Go on inside.”

  “Why?”

  The Adjutu tilted his head, his expression turning serious. “Come on. This is for illustrative purposes only.”

  Warily, Salla did as asked. Half-expecting the door to be slammed shut behind him, he was mildly surprised to see it open when he turned back about.

  In Lochmore’s steady gaze, there was only unyielding iron. “Is this your cell?”

  Salla’s brows furrowed. “Is that what Joht told you?”

  “Is this your cell?” the Adjutu shouted this time.

  Cornered, literally now as well as figuratively, Salla nodded.

  “Is your name not Tallas Corso, but actually Salla Saar?”

  Again, Salla nodded.

  Anger burned just under Lochmore’s skin. “When you first came here, I told you that whatever problems you may have coming through those doors, so long as you’re honest with me, I will do my utmost to help you. Fixing broken men and women of the Order is a love, a passion of mine. It’s what I’ve given my life to, and you lied to me?”

  Salla almost winced at the stricken look Lochmore gave him. It made him want to crawl to the back of this cell and never come out again. But he faced it headlong, despite the pangs of guilt clawing at his insides. Lochmore paced back and forth before the open door now, clearly trying to shake loose his feelings of betrayal and rage. Salla saw himself there, the Adjutu’s feelings no different from those he’d felt when he’d discovered Rainne had violated his mind.

  Composed now, Lochmore had his fingertips steepled before his lips. “I apologize. Burning up like that isn’t really in my nature. Now, let’s move on. Why did Delflore bring you here? This will require some words on your part, so don’t be shy.”

  He sighed, unable to think of anything else to tell him but the truth. “I was dying. I came into contact with some energies a few months ago. The first came from a relic, and a few days later, more got into me, this time from…well, a spirit.”

  “A spirit?”

  Salla almost laughed. “Don’t you believe in spirits? Figured all Majdi kind of had to.”

  For the first time since his outburst, Lochmore smiled broadly. “No, no, I do. It’s interesting is all.”

  “Rainne upstairs was the one who brought me to the Majdi. She thought they might help me. I suppose she had some friend in the Order who agreed to help, and that person contacted Delflore.” He cast his eyes about the cell. “And…Delflore brought me here. The cocoon upstairs was where they found out that tephic training might be able to help me.”

  “And you were brought up to train with the others.” Lochmore’s nod was languid as a look of understanding dawned on his face. “I think you’ve been honest with me. A little vague, but honest enough.” He stepped closer, hand tightening about one of the bars on his cell door. “These energies in you. One came from a relic, you said?” An inquisitive smile curled his lips as his voice dropped nearly to a whisper. “So…what can it do?”

  Salla felt his willingness to divulge more draw tight almost as if by reflex. “I thought you said I was being honest enough.”

  “I just find this sort of thing a little fascinating. I’ve heard of people who’ve gained certain attributes from a relic that’s been instilled with energy from one source or another, but I’ve never actually met one, I think.” The harsh, interrogative expression on his face was all but gone. In its place was one of eager curiosity. “What was the relic? Did you…did you seek it out, or did you just happen upon it?”

  Any inclination Salla had to answer further questions about the Eyes of the One or the Magsem retracted further. “Lochmore, this is about Ciracelle.” He pointed to the bloody floor. “Remember her?”

  The Adjutu blinked, mouth broadening into a grateful smile. “You’re right, Salla.” The chuckle that followed was short-lived. “Salla? Feels strange calling you that. But no, I think I’ve asked all the questions I have for you right now.”

  “So I’m free to go?”

  The barred door hammered shut so fast and hard that Salla flinched. Lochmore’s hand fastened to the locking mechanism. As soon as he withdrew it, Salla knew he was sealed inside by tephic once more.

  “No, Salla, I’m afraid not.” He scratched at the day’s growth of hair underneath his chin. “You see, as much as I don’t like Joht Tavross all that much, I couldn’t dispute that, out of everyone in the House of Falling Rain, you had a reason to harm Ciracelle. Nobody else does. Maybe you even tried to kill her.”

  Salla threw his weight against the cell door. “I told you I had nothing to do with what happened to her!”

  “Did Ciracelle seduce you? Did she use her wiles and a little tephic to crack that hard nut of a head open to expose your secrets in hopes I might throw you out of here?” Lochmore spread his hands expectantly. “Because that’s what Joht said. He admitted he put her up to it, and in the spirit of fairness, he’ll pay for his part in that.” He took a step closer in challenge. “Tell me he’s wrong, scrapper. Tell me he’s lying.”

  “I just told you everything.” He banged a hand against the bars again for emphasis. “Why would I hurt her to hide wha—”

  “You told me the truth because you had no other choice, Salla. If this hadn’t happened, you’d have gone on lying to me and everyone else for as long as you could.” He bared his teeth, his face an inch from the bars. “Try lying to me again. See what happens.”

  Salla’s hands fell from the bars, feeling the weight of defeat threaten to push him all the way through the floor. “I didn’t do this.”

  Teeth shrinking back beneath softening lips, Lochmore nodded. “My investigation will continue, but if your surroundings haven’t convinced you yet, consider yourself under indefinite detention for the attempt on Ciracelle Belfair’s life, Salla Saar.”

  27

  “If you’re trying to prove Salla’s innocence with this, the answer is no, Rainne.”

  As the two stood alone in Adjutu’s Path, the response Lochmore fired back at her was the one she knew was coming. He turned to leave, but Rainne grabbed him by the arm.

  “That is not why I am offering myself. Look around, will you? I am locked in here with the rest of you. I thought it would be best to make myself useful and aid you in seeking out the truth.”

  The Adjutu’s handsome face turned skeptical. “We’ve got it covered, Rainne. Besides, this will all be over in a day or so. Trust me, all I need is a little while to work it out and you’ll be out that door in no time.”

  “I want to help, Lochmore. I may be uhreht’sa, but I am still a Majdi of the Order. Something terrible happened here to another of my Order, and it pains me to simply stand idle. I must be permitted to help,” she co
untered, looking for some sign he might be giving way. She saw none.

  “You’re not right for this, Rainne. I’m sorry I have to say it. Salla’s the one we have our eyes on, and as his rho, you’re too close to him to have any objectivity.” He feigned a laugh, scratching his head in thought. “Are you even his rho anymore? Who knows, what with the pile of lies he fed us all. It’s something that’ll have to go before the Chamber to be sorted out when this is all over.” He slid his hand down the length of her arm, his eyes becoming earnest. “If I can give you some advice, I’d step away from him as rho. Think about it. If the Chamber decides that he’s qualified to have a rho and you’re still it, that’s not good. You could be dooming yourself, Rainne. Is that really what you want?”

  She recoiled a bit. “Doom myself? I find that a little dramatic.”

  “I’m not overstating anything. If you go out there with my assistants, start asking questions and do what you actually say you’re going to do and find out that—uh-oh—Salla really did hurt that poor girl?” He hesitated, looking down at her. “Well, then, your contract as his rho will be the hand that pushes you out of the Order forever. I’m not going to let you do that to yourself.”

  “That is a risk I will take. You know I am uhret’sa. Does it truly matter at this point what happens to me?” she asked, eyes searching his.

  “It does to me.” His hand slipped over the silk scarf covering her hair. A hint of reluctance shone upon his squarish face, and the smile that followed brought with it a twinkle in his eye. “Okay. Maybe—maybe—if that does happen, I can work something out. My House here is a separate entity from Empyrion Prime, after all. Say everything goes wrong, and you’re out. If that happens and I can sort out a way for it to happen, you come and work for me here. Deal?”

  “So I can help?” Her eyes lit up. “You won’t regret it, Lochmore.”

  “I’d better not,” he said with a wink, gesturing her to follow. “All right, consider yourself on board. We’ve learned a few things since the attack. Iriscent identified the weapon used to stab Ciracelle multiple times as something with a point, but smooth sides and not altogether straight. To boil that all down into three words, not a knife. Something else. So far, my assistants and I have spoken to Salla, obviously, along with Joht and his little cadre of followers. I’ll bring you up to speed on everyone’s stories, and then I want you to start talking to people outside Joht’s circle, find out where they were at the time of the attack. See if they saw something, heard any noises, any talk, that sort of thing. Got it?”