by Davis Ashura
All her life, Bree had been so proud to be a Shektan, part of a rising power, a House of morality, led by a man of goodness and decency. And now this…it was a heartache she wasn’t sure she could ever come to terms with.
And she had no one with whom to confide. Who could she tell? No one else could be allowed to learn the dark secret at the heart of House Shektan’s founding, and the only other person who did know was Jaresh. But he followed unthinkingly wherever Nanna led. Their father had decided House Shektan had developed honor, and Nanna’s words were as much the holy truth as The Word and the Deed, so far as Jaresh was concerned. Nothing more needed to be said or discussed. It was done.
Rukh might have understood what Bree was going through, but he was far, far away and wouldn’t be back for several years.
She held in a sigh of bitter disappointment and grief.
She would have to struggle with this problem on her own. She would have to find her own peace with the past and come to accept the unforgivable. In some ways, she wished Nanna had never taken her into his confidence and told her what was going on. She wished he had left House Shektan’s history and all of the foul details of its founding to himself. Blissful ignorance would have been so much easier.
Nanna slowed. They must be nearing the place of the murder, and Bree tried to rein in her troubled thoughts. Her father needed her help. He needed her eyes to help see what the Watch might have missed. She had to be at her best even if she felt at her worst.
She glanced around at their surroundings.
This was Fragrance Wall, the area of Ashoka that was home to most Cherids. The nearby houses were large and extravagant, with tree-lined private drives leading to immaculate manses and estates. Duriah and Rahail guards warded the gates while Murans tended the extensive gardens within. Caste Cherid was exceedingly affluent in material wealth, but their prosperity did not extend to their ability to procreate. They were the smallest of all the Castes in terms of numbers, usually marrying late and often only able to produce one or two children per couple. While everyone else knew a Caste’s true wealth was measured in its people, the Cherids must have believed differently or were simply too selfish to have larger families; too caught up in their own lives to share it with someone as needy as a child. How else to explain their vulgar displays of wealth? It was so tasteless. As far as Bree was concerned, it was a minor miracle the Caste had not somehow bred itself out of existence. And, of course, the precious little princes and princesses never lifted a finger to obtain their riches. For a Cherid, labor was thought to be nearly sinful. Instead the parasites suckled like leeches off the work of others.
“We’re close,” Nanna said, breaking into her thoughts as he pointed out the Watch.
They had cordoned off the area in front of one of the mansions, using temporary wooden barricades to keep the press of onlookers at a distance. Members of the Watch, almost all of them Kumma, stood grim-faced behind the barriers, facing outward and denying entrance to anyone from the already large crowd gathered beyond the cordons. Bree couldn’t see the body, but according to those standing about, it was somewhere close to the gates, apparently having been found behind a tall hedgerow.
Nanna directed her to the barricades.
“Only Watch allowed through,” a warrior said as Bree’s nanna was about to bypass the barriers. “You’ll have to wait…” His words died off as he recognized Dar’El. “Sorry, sir. Didn’t realize it was you.”
“I understand. I’m sure you have a lot on your mind,” Nanna said, stepping past the man.
They headed to a gap through a tall, tapestry hedge where the Watch was clustered.
“Dar’El, what brings you here?” a voice called out. It was Rector Bryce. Apparently, he was the senior officer present.
“Simply a concerned citizen wanting to help in whatever way I can.”
“Concerned citizen?” Rector gave them a penetrating look. After a moment he shrugged and gestured for them to follow as he led them through the opening in the hedge.
Beyond was an enclosed garden where hummingbirds darted amongst floral gems of many hues. The heart was a blue sapphire pond of still water cupped by a carpet of soft, green grass. Lily pads floated on a slow current. A stencil of fine, white gravel marked the perimeter of the garden. It must have been a lovely haven before it became the site of an inhuman murder.
“You know it’s a Kumma, don’t you?” Rector whispered.
“The victim?” Nanna asked, sounding surprised.
“The killer.”
Bree hid her surprise. Despite his membership in House Shektan, Bree didn’t know Rector very well. On the few occasions in which they had spoken, he had never struck her as particularly bright. Rather, she had considered him a stiff and cordial bore, which to her was the pose of the amiable dullard.
Perhaps she had misjudged him.
“And you say this, why?” Dar’El asked.
“The first man who was killed – Felt Barnel – he was a friend of mine. I knew him from a Trial we shared. He was as tough a Muran as you’re ever going to meet, still in the Guard, in fact. But even with all his training, he was barely able to put up a fight. I’m thinking the only person fast enough, strong enough, and skilled enough to take him down so easily would have to be a Kumma.
“Your friend could have been taken by surprise,” Dar’El suggested.
“Not Felt. Surprise or no, he would have given more than he showed. He wouldn’t have been put down so easily.” Rector shook his head. “I don’t like saying it, but it’s the truth. It’s got to be one of us.”
Nanna studied Rector long enough for the Watcher to squirm a bit. “I’ve considered the same possibility,” Dar’El finally admitted.
“And I also think you know even more. It’s why you’ve had Jaresh and Mira going to the Library for the past two months.”
“What do you mean?” Nanna asked, feigning ignorance. But it was too late. Rector had guessed the truth, and Nanna’s fleeting look of surprised acknowledgement had confirmed it.
“Others might ignore Jaresh’s worth, but I don’t. They only see a Sentya, but I see your son, trained to think critically, just like Rukh and Bree. You trust him, and you trust Mira. You wouldn’t have them spending so much time in the Library unless it was important, like a Kumma murderer. I can help.”
Again, Bree found herself impressed by the man’s insight. She had definitely misjudged Rector Bryce …and so had Nanna judging by the expression on his face.
Dar’El considered Rector’s offer – a moment stretching into uncomfortable silence – before nodding agreement. “No one else is to know of this. Can you do that?”
“So long as it doesn’t interfere with my work in the Watch.”
“It will complement it,” Nanna said. “We’re having a meeting at the House Seat in my study in an hour. Will you be there?”
Rector bowed, a brief bob of his head. “Of course, my ‘El,” he replied.
While Nanna and Bryce had been talking, Bree had ventured deeper into the garden, to a jarring area of bright red blood marring the pristine white gravel. She studied the ground closely. The body had already been removed, but there was something in the blood splatter. A set of footprints from a pair of boots. She frowned in concentration. There was more. She bent closer and after a few minutes of study, she smiled imperceptibly in understanding. She recognized it now.
“You see something?” Nanna asked.
“The killer has a limp,” Bree answered. “See how the left boot heel drags.”
Rector swore. “I knew there was something wrong with those prints,” he said. “I just couldn’t put my finger on it.”
Nanna smiled. “Well done.”
They spent a few more minutes looking around the garden but none of them discovered anything else of importance.
“Come to the House Seat in an hour,” Dar’El said to Rector.
“I have a few more things to attend to, but I should be there without delay.”
“Check her nails,” Bree suggested. “She might have fought back and scratched whoever attacked her.”
“Her?” Rector asked. “How did you know?”
“The shape of the body etched in the blood,” Bree said.
Rector smiled. “Very clever.”
Later in the evening, almost everyone invited had gathered in Nanna’s study. Amma and Mira’s mother, Sophy, sat in a corner, speaking softly with one another, occasionally flicking glances at Rector Bryce.
Bree watched the object of their attention as well. Rector stood before the bookshelves, scanning them. He seemed aware of the older women’s interest, and based on the stiffness of his carriage, she could tell it made him uncomfortable. She took pity on him and walked over. “They seem to have picked up your scent,” she murmured.
Rector smiled. “If they were only hunting me, I could run and hope to escape,” he said. “But with the plans I think they have in mind, running would merely postpone the inevitable.”
Bree laughed. “You make it sound as if they have a horrid fate in store for you. Isn’t your family and Sophy’s considering a marriage contract between you and Mira?”
Rector shrugged. “So I’ve heard,” he said. “But I don’t know how serious these discussions actually are.”
“Even if they directly affect you?” Bree asked, perplexed.
“So it seems,” Rector said. “Besides, I don’t think Mira likes me much.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I’m not sure,” Rector said. “Perhaps I’m not quite as clever as she would wish her husband to be.”
Bree mulled his words, feeling vaguely guilty. After all, until tonight, she had felt the same way about Rector Bryce. “There’s more to you than she realizes,” she said.
Just then, Mira and Jaresh walked in with Nanna close on their heels. He closed the door and quickly explained to Rector what he suspected might be happening. Amma and Sophy must have already known because they evinced no surprise at Nanna’s words.
After Nanna was finished, Rector, who had listened in stoic silence, exhaled hard. “The Sil Lor Kum,” he murmured. “Suwraith’s’ spit. I knew we were facing a degenerate, but I had no idea how degenerate.”
Thankfully, he missed the meaningful look Bree exchanged with Jaresh.
“What do we know about the victim from today?” Nanna asked.
“Her name was Aqua Oilhue, a Cherid.” Rector turned to Bree. “You were right. She fought back and was not taken unawares. A small piece of gold-threaded cloth was found beneath one of her nails – whoever killed her was wealthy.” Rector turned back to Nanna. “From what I could piece together of the blood trail, she was attacked on the far side of the entrance to the garden, in the shadows where no one would see or hear. Somehow, she must have broken free and tried to escape. The killer gave chase. He came up from behind her and stabbed her in the back. It was through the heart. She died instantly. And like Felt Barnel, the first victim, her corpse was desiccated by the time it was found.”
“I think I’m going to throw up,” Mira said, looking appalled and angry rather than sick.
Her mother frowned. “I understand what you’re feeling, but we can’t afford such weakness right now.”
Mira flushed at her amma’s rebuke.
Privately, Bree felt Sophy was overly critical of her daughter. Mira was a smart, intelligent, and tough young woman with a bone deep integrity. After all, she had earned Nanna’s trust, which should have proven to Sophy that Mira was no longer a child in need of scolding.
“I think you’re plenty strong,” Bree heard Jaresh whisper.
Mira flashed him a grateful smile.
Amma cleared her throat, gathering everyone’s attention. “So, we have a wealthy Kumma who limps.” She grimaced. “Which means we have a list of potential suspects measuring into the hundreds.”
“True,” Sophy said. “Most of the Trial veterans limp to some extent.”
“I think we can narrow our search somewhat,” Mira said. “I would bet the person we are looking for is someone older and more mature.”
“Why so?” Sophy asked, a demanding and doubting tone in her voice. “I don’t see it.”
But Mira was right. Bree understood immediately once Mira had pointed it out. She was about to answer, but Nanna spoke first.
“Because the Withering Knife is said to be an ancient and powerful relic. Only someone with years as Sil Lor Kum would be trusted with such a weapon.”
Bree nodded. It was how she saw it, too, and based on her nod of agreement, so did Amma.
“I agree,” Jaresh said. “Those who choose the path of the Sil Lor Kum may be unalterably evil…”
“What do you mean ‘may be’?” Rector interrupted. “By their works, we know they actively seek the destruction of Humanity. They hide in the shadows working to kill us all. How can they be anything other than unalterably evil?”
“A poor choice of words,” Jaresh replied.
Her brother looked irritated at Rector’s reprimand, but Bree agreed with the Watcher. They needed to clearly understand and acknowledge what they faced. Half measures of ‘might be’ or ‘could be’ wouldn’t do in describing their enemy. It needed to be said, and repeated over and over again if necessary: any who claimed membership in the Sil Lor Kum were irredeemably evil.
“The point I wanted to make is this: just like us, seniority in the ranks of the Sil Lor Kum likely depends on length of service. Whoever has been entrusted with this weapon has to be someone who has risen to a position of power, which means he’s been with them for years. He’s going to be older.”
Sophy gave Mira an approving, if a somewhat condescending nod. “It makes sense. We’re looking for an older and wealthy Kumma then.”
“Before we start investigating possible suspects, I believe a greater priority is confirming the probability that we face the Withering Knife,” Nanna said. He turned to Rector. “I’d like you to work with Jaresh in the Cellar while Mira and Bree search the…”
Amma interrupted. “From the reports Mira and Jaresh have given, it would make more sense to keep them together for now. They’ve developed a system and a rapport. They are the ones best equipped to quickly work their way through the Cellar. Breaking them up might set us back by weeks.”
“They’ve already spent quite a lot of time together,” Nanna warned. “Tongues might wag.”
He looked to Sophy, who didn’t look happy. “In our world, a woman’s reputation is her only armor,” she said.
“And Mira’s reputation will remain untarnished. I’ll make sure of it,” Jaresh said. “We’ll take a chaperone if we have to.”
“As can Rector and I,” Bree says.
“No chaperones. I want this information sealed. The less people involved, the less chance our prey will learn they are stalked.” He glanced at Sophy. “Assuming you’ll allow Mira to continue working with my son?”
When put like that, Sophy had little choice but to agree, although she remained reluctant. “I’ll hold you to your promise,” she said to Jaresh. “Mira’s reputation must not suffer.”
“You have my word,” Jaresh said.
“What about Amma and Sophy?” Bree asked. “What will they be doing?”
“They’ll be busy as well, looking through the records of House Shektan and House Primase…assuming you will be granted access to your birth House’s historical vaults, Sophy.”
She nodded. “I have a good relationship with Tor’El,” Sophy replied. “I’m sure it won’t be a problem.”
“Good. Then we’ll put the word out. I’ve already let others know that Jaresh and Mira are researching a topic integral to House Shektan. I’ll confirm Bree and Rector’s work is in the same vein.”
“How much longer until you finish with the works in the Library?” Amma asked.
“Five or six weeks,” Mira answered. “If we don’t find anything by then, we’ll have to expand the search beyond our initial parameters.”
“In that case, Bree and Rector will work their way through the larger secondary Libraries, such as the ones at Verchow and Alminius Medical Colleges. I want weekly reports.”
“And when will Garnet and Durmer be informed?” Bree asked. The older Kummas would be certain to have advice critical to the search.
Dar’El hesitated. “Not yet. They both fit the profile of the killer.”
Jaresh frowned in disagreement. “I have trouble believing either of them would be involved in any of this.”
“They are our honored elders,” Rector protested.
“If we’re correct, this killer is almost certain to be someone’s honored elder,” Dar’El countered. “The killer is hiding in plain sight, a respected member of our community, and until we know whether this truly is Sil Lor Kum, we keep this information quiet. Until I say otherwise, it’s restricted to the seven of us in this room.”
Bree’s shoulders slumped. She felt tired and beat down. How much worse could this day get? Learning of the foundational lie of her House, another gruesome murder, and now this: two of her most honored teachers, Garnet Bosde or Durmer Vulk, might be the very killer they sought.
Having her childhood teachers named as possible suspects brought home the reality and immediacy of the problem they faced.
“Suwraith’s spit,” Rector murmured.
“My sentiments exactly,” Bree replied.
Mira sighed and rubbed her aching back. For the past three hours, she had been hunched over an extremely long and overly descriptive manuscript written by a nameless historian shortly after the Days of Desolation. The man had blathered on in exhaustive detail about everything related to Suwraith, everything from the sound of Her thunderous voice – a horrifying thought to actually hear the Queen speak – to the reasons for Her hatred of Humanity. All of it had turned out to be base conjecture. A waste of time. The author went so far as to state that Suwraith’s birth arose from Her murder of the First Mother and the First Father, the Queen’s supposed parents. It was a patently absurd and blasphemous claim. Like most Kummas, Mira wasn’t particularly religious, but she also didn’t go out of her way to insult the beliefs of those who were.