Snow on Cinders (The Tallas Series Book 2)

by Cathrina Constantine

  “Too bad Doctor Riggley’s not in any shape to mend that broken finger.” He turned and started out of the room carrying Paniess’s cell with him. Pomfrey threw over his shoulder without looking back. “Clive, take her to the Infirmary. Maybe that dimwitted Babbit can be of assistance.”

  “It’s your fault for trying to kill the only competent doctor in Tallas,” Paniess spat at his departing back. “You sick bastard!”

  Pomfrey stopped in his tracks, spine unyielding, and then moved on.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Clive was a soldier, a Mediator; his life was ground in executing harsh orders, no matter what the cost. Though, today when Mr. Addler commanded him to break Paniess’s finger he’d felt like a barbarian. And he knew why. He had feelings for the girl, and it made him weak, and he didn’t condone weakness.

  “If you pull anything,” Clive said to Paniess sitting next to him in the car. “I’ll shoot you on the spot, understand?”

  “Clive, you’d never shoot me.”

  He wanted to kiss the beguiling smirk off her face. “I wouldn’t kill you, just a bullet in your shoulder or leg. So don’t tempt me.”

  “Yeah, right,” she said with sarcasm. She pushed her vertebrae into the cushioned seat for the ride.

  Clive stalled the car at the gate while Mediator Stark released the bolted lock and swung it open. Accustomed to a shady drive along the path of oaks, dappling light invaded gangling branches, now practically leafless.

  On the eastern side of the roadway was Executive’s Row; small houses had been erected for families of distinction that supervised Management. Though, it was the three Elites that lived in the mansion that governed or, lorded over Tallas.

  On the western section of the village beheld bountiful fruit orchards and across the avenue, now it the dregs of autumn were the vegetable and berry fields. Presiding on either side of the main dirt road were mismatched complexes that housed citizens and further down were the livestock barn, food rationing station, the main square and the gallows.

  “Remember, you fell and broke your finger,” Clive said breaking the uptight silence, and parking near the Infirmary.

  ***

  “You think anyone’s going to believe that?” She peered at the Mediator, who on occasion shared her bed, for one purpose.

  “Why are you so difficult?” Clive pulled the keys from the ignition. “You never used to be.” He shouldered the door and walked around the sedan.

  Holding her hand with the broken finger, Paniess slid from the car and Clive shored-up her elbow. “Do you really think I’m going to run away?”

  “What do you mean?” She made it obvious by an exaggerated glance at his clinching hand on her forearm. “Just trying to be a gentleman. It’s called helping you.”

  “I don’t need your kind of help.” She yanked her arm from his fingers.

  Paniess, chin held high, strode into the front entrance to the Infirmary. What surprised her was the emptiness of the foyer. Click-clack, click-clack, her heels resounded along the tiled floor as she held her hand to her chest. Voices listed from one of the rooms, and she headed in that direction with Clive following. She stopped at a door that had been slightly ajar and leaned on the wall to wait.

  “What are you doing?” Clive’s brow creased. “Just knock and go in. You’re Pomfrey Addler’s daughter; you have the right.”

  “Don’t you ever, ever compare me to him.” She scathed and accidently squeezed her fingers sending a zing up her arm. “Did you take pleasure in breaking my finger? Do you think I won’t get even?” Clive had the audacity to look apologetic, his eyelids and mouth sealed tight.

  “Thanks for the warning,” he said through taut lips.

  “And when I stand in front of the firing squad,” she said, observing the way his hand rested on his holster, “will you be the first Mediator to pull the trigger?” His eyes darkened, and she thought he trembled.

  “Mr. Addler wasn’t serious about that.” He fingered the holster but kept his gaze on her face. “He—he was goading Fulvio, you know that.”

  “Do I?”

  “I thought I heard voices out here.” Babbit stood in the now opened doorway. “Are you here to see me?” He said while in the process of snapping off a pair of rubber gloves.

  “Ahh...yes.” She showed Babbit her hand and her finger that was turning black and blue and swelling.

  “Ouch. That looks painful.”

  “Kind of. Just needs a splint, right?”

  Babbit rotated and spoke to someone in the room. “You’re done, Berkley. Go back to your assignment and keep the stitches dry.” A young boy dashed from the room, a gauze bandage taped to his chin. He noticed Paniess staring after the youngster leaving through the glass doors. “Got into a fight. Some kid has a mean uppercut.”

  “Come in. Come in.” Babbit herded her into the examination room.

  She noticed the Mediator moving forward. “Clive, wait outside.” He shook his head, fixing her with flinty eyes.

  “Orders. I stick with you.” He rested his back against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest.

  It wasn’t long before a convenient splint dressed Paniess’s finger. The foyer sounded hollow as she swerved to Babbit, the man’s eyes level with her own. “Where’s Malkus and Rayder today?”

  “Umm...” Babbit appeared uneasy and looking around it appeared he didn’t want to be overheard. “Down below.” Not elaborating.

  Perfect timing, she thought. “Can I see Doctor Riggley?”

  “We don’t have time for visiting,” Clive said.

  “My father asked me to check in on him.” She offered Babbit one of her winning smiles. “Pomfrey’s been so fraught since the accident.”

  “It’s a shame, isn’t it,” Babbit said tugging on his cuffed shirt. “That Mrs. Addler thought Doctor Riggley was trying to kill her. I heard she had a severe case of Alzheimer’s.” His eyes flit to her face. “Sorry, Paniess, and then having a coronary.” His lips tightened over his teeth and added a somber shake of his head.

  Babbit’s look of empathy was more than Paniess could handle. That farcical story her father and Clive engineered was enough to make her puke. Blaming her sweet mother who wouldn’t hurt a fly. What an abysmal legacy to be branded with. Given time she’d set the scales straight.

  “Follow me. Doctor Riggley’s on the second floor.” Babbit headed for the stairway. The Infirmary and Headquarters were the only buildings that supported a second story level and maintained dimmed electricity throughout the night.

  “How’s he doing?” Paniess probed keeping in step with him.

  “The bullet’s lodged near his heart.”

  The three of them emerged onto the second-floor landing. Babbit walked into a room on the right while Paniess faltered on the doorsill. Rooney was on a ventilator; the metrical machine sounded cringingly loud. To see his sunken eyes and sallow face shattered her heart.

  Rooney was a good man and a scholarly doctor. Pomfrey had meant to kill him, aiming straight for his heart. If it weren’t for the entire staff at the mansion charging into the room, she was positive her father would’ve let him bleed to death.

  “He hasn’t regained consciousness,” Babbit said checking Rooney’s vitals.

  “Why don’t you operate and get the dam bullet?”

  “It’s tricky. The surgery will more than likely kill him.” Babbit held Rooney’s wrist timing his pulse.

  “So you’re just waiting for him to die?” She fumed. “What about Dr. Merkle or Malkus? Can’t they perform the surgery? At least give him a fighting chance.”

  “Er...” Babbit’s gaze sliced to Clive and then scuffed his shoe on the floor appearing tongue-tied. “Um...well. Mr. Addler said it was best to let Rooney...um...”

  “What?” Paniess knew what he was trying to spit out. “Die in peace? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

  Babbit nodded, crimson painting his cheeks.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

&nb
sp; “There’s the tower.” Knox pointed an excited arm while clinging to Tibbles yoke with the other. “Looks like a giant made out of steel.” On the western incline of the mountain and rising beyond the tips of conifers, a steel beam tower.

  “A crippled giant,” Fabal said. His fingers twined Tibbles bridled harness, his head not quite reaching the height of the bear’s shoulders as they walked. “The towers crooked, looks like it’s got a bellyache.”

  Keeyla interrupted, “Once we pass this ridge we’ll hit the flats and then it’s time to veer north. Might only take the day or so until we reach the valley.”

  “I don’t like the look of that sky.” Clayton hefted his arm in the air with the rifle attached. “Storm’s brewing.”

  Like a synchronized unit, heads cranked upward. The breaching shine of sterling cobalt had all but faded amidst developing clouds of purplish-gray steaming over mountaintops. The distinctive forest hubbub had stilled.

  “Calm before the storm,” Tanya mumbled.

  “What should we do?” Keeyla glimpsed around seeking advice.

  “In my opinion,” Garth said, “either way, we’re getting wet. May as well keep going.”

  A clap of thunder sent a shudder under their skins. Tibbles complained as the overloaded cart slipped on pebbles and shifted on the grade. The left front wheel striking a rutted depression and threatened to tip on its axis, balancing precariously.

  Groaning men and women hurried forward. Bracketing their toes in the hard soil for leverage they pushed, jimmying the cart from the depression. Once righted, Tibbles jaunted downhill toward the flatland with a waggling Knox aboard.

  Dogging nomads leaped over rocks and decaying tree trunks in hopes of finding their meager supplies intact at the bottom. They hit the flatlands running only to witness Knox and Tibbles had trekked further along, cart unharmed. The grueling race tackled at least ten people to their knees, guzzling air. Although, an exuberant Fabal and Swan, hopped, skipped, and sped after Tibbles.

  Ungluing hair from her sticky neck, Keeyla fanned herself lacking success in cooling off. “We made it to the flats quicker than I thought we would,” she quipped, undertaking a couple of knee bends to work out the kinks. Mellow snickers rounded the group as they helped each other to standing positions.

  Keeyla flattened her palms on her lower back and stretched, easing muscles. She turned to analyze from whence they came and sighted countless gully’s cleaving the mountainside, leading to a meandering waterway. Suddenly, a spear of lightning crossed the sky and seconds later a thunderous boom.

  “It’s coming,” Clayton said.

  Dilly-dallying wasn’t an option; they had to cross the water before the storm. “Garth, round-up Tibbles and the kids.” Keeyla had lost sight of them. “Everyone come with me.” They traipsed to the bubbling stream to see the channel widening in the distance. “Looks more like a river then a stream, doesn’t it?” she said.

  “We need to find shelter,” Tanya shouted over the wind, spindly hair whipped about her head. The flatlands endowed them with a less perilous passage, though finding outcrops or caves for protection was far and few between.

  Keeyla kept two eyes peeled for serpents with three heads or any such fluke of nature. Shafts of scraggy grass churned like a raging ocean, making it difficult to detect anything extraordinary. Her gaze split from the vast plain, across the riverbed, to the ridge of majestic mountains, searching for something they could huddle under.

  “Mom—!” Fabal called, his voice tossing in the wind. “We found the last symbol. We’re close.”

  ***

  “He’s lying.” In exasperation, Doogan pressed the bridge of his nose. “You heard Paniess. She said don’t listen to him. She’s trying to tell us something. But...Rooney, she wasn’t lying about him.”

  “Pomfrey’s playing you for a fool,” Ennis griped. “He’s expecting Fulvio to come waltzing into Tallas and try to save her.”

  “No, my friends.” Fulvio stowed the cell into his pocket. “He’s expecting Doogan to come waltzing in.” He trapped his son with his eyes. “Doesn’t he, Doogan? Pomfrey still thinks Keeyla is dead and Paniess...” He twiddled with the collar of his shirt, acting irritable. Their eyes cut to Doogan’s set face. “My son, I can read you like a looking glass. He mentioned your name for a reason. I saw you stiffen when Paniess said Rooney was shot, and your fists furled when he said she’d face a firing squad.”

  “Will he kill his own daughter?” Smelt asked, itching the top of his scalp.

  “I don’t believe he would, but…” Doogan’s eyes narrowed thinking of the probability. “He’s obscene enough. Especially if he’s trying to squash citizens from rebelling.”

  “Pomfrey really thinks himself a purveyor of freedom,” Fulvio elucidated. “Remember Management’s motto: Stabilization in harmony with humanity? —and he’ll stop at nothing to maintain structure. He’s giving leeway for Mediators to exhibit brute force.” He crossed his arms looking like a formidable warrior. “By condemning his own daughter, citizens would be subdued in their beliefs of usurping Management and ousting Elites. With Rooney incapacitate or worse—” He paused taking a breath. “He’ll need Doogan as a physician—badly.”

  “Some purveyor of freedom,” Ennis harrumphed, “more like purveyor of hardship.”

  The air thickened and gloomy skies touched down, enveloping them. Jagged lightning pierced dark-bellied clouds and thunder rolled. A dire foreshadowing. A pervading tremor soaked Fulvio to the core of his bones.

  “Doogan,” Gus said, “you still hot for this chick?”

  Doogan’s eyes sought his father.

  “Boy, you would too if you’d seen Paniess,” Ennis said, with a salacious wagging eyebrow. “Hot, sultry bod—Ah...er...she’s okay. Got an attitude problem, though.”

  Gus cackled like a hyena. “Sounds like more than one dog is after this lady.” He fixed his aching arm on his chest and with his other hand smacked Doogan good-naturedly on the shoulder. “You can’t get any more gorgeous than Keeyla.”

  Doogan forked fingers into his hair, reposing his hand on top of his head, rubbing hard. He turned looking at nothing and everything, endeavoring to arrive at a solution. His brain a jumbled contradiction and spotted the heliocraft. “We’ll fly into Tallas and snag Paniess.”

  “Really?” Smelt’s nostrils flared, flinging knuckled fists in the air. “You do think you can waltz in there, don’t you? The high and mighty physician, Doogan McTullan, come to save the day.”

  Doogan turned a withering look on him and swallowed over the lump in his throat.

  “I started this mess, and I will end it,” Fulvio said with asperity and jabbed his hands into his front pockets. “I’ll go with my tail between my legs and beg for her freedom.”

  “What a couple of darn nincompoops,” Smelt razzed. “Like father, like son.”

  “Pomfrey will have you hanging from the gallows before you opened your mouth.” Ennis jerked his head, tossing hair from his face. “Revenge devoured his soul. Citizens never loved him like they love you. Flying to Three Rocks or closer will use the whole tank of fuel. We’ll need to gas up before and after take-off.” Ennis said aloud while pinching his chin. “We can’t get through the tunnel from Three Rocks so we’ll have to find another way in.”

  “We need a game plan,” Gus added, “but my stomach’s eating itself, can we eat and discuss this?” They swiveled to a crackling fire and sizzling fish.

  Five pairs of eyes settled on Jane. She blushed. “I’m starving,” she said, and flipped a large fish on a flat stone.

  “When’d she start talking?” Smelt said, hitching up his pants.

  ***

  Stationed on the ground in a circle, eyes were drawn to various scrawled outlines, they debated more than communicated in regards to a preemptive strike. The atmosphere contributed to the gloom and doom embedding into them like sharp points of a needle, and the eerie calm was soon replaced by rushing winds. Tossing and flapping their paperwo
rk, several fingers held tattered edges.

  Ennis fingered the paper, pressing down, almost boring a hole. “I’ll tell you again, this isn’t going to work. If that twerp Coot Henshaw is Head Mediator, then he’s Pomfrey’s yes-man. He’ll have extra guards posted and patrolling Headquarters like protecting a queen. And we don’t even know where they’re holding Paniess. She could be sequestered in the mansion under house arrest. We can’t slink into the village undetected. It’s impossible.”

  “Boy.” Fulvio sounded perturbed, his eyes flicking to Ennis. “I’ve been stealing in and out of there for years and never once have I been caught. We each go in separately like I said—”

  “I have to get into the Infirmary,” Doogan cut in. “I need to see Riggs.”

  “No!” Fulvio slammed a fist into the paper, this time puncturing a hole. “That’s exactly what Pomfrey’s expecting. He knows your friendship with Rooney will bring you to his bedside, and he’s already set the trap. Rooney is the bait, and you’re the fish. I learned years ago, we can’t bring down a Mediator. Draws too much attention.” He made a circling motion with his fingers. “We need to sneak around them. Get my drift?”

  “What about the citizens?” Doogan uncurled his backbone and braced his hands on his thighs, sitting tall. “Are we going to leave them to live under Addler’s rule like indentured servants? Don’t you think they’ve had their fair share of adversity and castigation? Fulvio, your prodigious endeavor to leave Tallas to help...to help shunned people is exemplary. But now...” Squeezing his eyelids and rubbing his brow, the words stuck in his throat. “My head’s spinning. I...I don’t...”

  Sedated whether by guilt or guile, no one spoke.

  Crisp gusts whisked and pounced, tousling hair, clothing and fanning embers on the fire. Wafts of buoyant sparks swirled and spun like tiny twisters and a brilliant flash brightened the area, heralding a quaking thunder.

  “Welp...” A wry smile crossed Smelt’s face. “There’s one solution.” He paused for effect. “We assassinate the Elites.”