by S.
Leigh stared in bewilderment. A trickle of sweat ran into her eyes, stinging so badly she blinked. The blurry outlines near the town gates moved—Niles, still yelling while one of the Scrappers in the rover stood upright, barking a command for him to shut the hell up.
“What’s going on?” Hubert Undersaw asked, coming up behind her. He grunted as he limped along, a hoe over his shoulder. “The fuck sort of trouble is it now?”
“They’re leaving,” Leigh said, dumbstruck. “Sshh. Quiet.” She tossed the shovel aside and took a hesitant step forward, trying to pick out Karraetu’s voice under Evrik Niles’s frenzied demands.
“You’re deserting. You can’t leave. I’m the governor of the Shy’war-Anquai and I’m ordering you to stay!”
Karraetu’s faint laughter drifted over the land, hollow as the yipping of a coyote. “You stupid shit, who do you think we work for? Avaeliis, not you. And we got orders to—” His voice lowered again. Leigh only caught a few scant words: “Bywater”, “Nyia”, and “Lost”.
“I ain’t lost nothin’! Order them back, Karraetu, I know what she told us to do, and we’re doin’ it! You can’t desert.”
“You lost the town, and it don’t even matter,” Karraetu shot back, laughing again. “Guess you should have kept up on the news, but you were too busy hiding in that office scared of your own dick. Too bad for you.” The glare of sun-struck metal all but swallowed him as he settled in the rover once more. The vehicle began creeping along after the rest of the fleet, already a half-mile off.
A dizzying sense of elation shot through Leigh’s veins, making her fingers tingle.
They’re leaving. He’s got no one! No back up, no Scrappers. We can take Dogton back!
Then, Niles whipped a snub-nosed pistol free from the holster at his belt, waving it in a wide arc. Two shots rang out, hitting nothing. His threats filled the spaces in between the blasts, lifting higher until he sounded as though his very throat might tear from the effort.
Karraetu, too, fired his weapon. Queen roared once, muting the little pistol blasts. Niles fell, thrashing, stirring dust so thick Leigh lost sight of him.
The commander lowered the revolver, gave the Scrapper driving a hard tap on the shoulder, and called to Evrik Niles. “Good luck with Dogton! We might be back, if that Precaius bitch wants to clean it out.”
The rover gained speed, growing smaller on the horizon until it winked out of sight.
Leigh could not move despite her brain’s repeated plea to walk. To go see what had happened to Niles. To see if he were dead or alive. He’d fallen silent. Everything had fallen silent. Even Vore and Garv did not speak as they crept across the water-field. Vore still carried a long metal stake in his hand, and the little rag tied to the end rippled in the breeze like the sorriest flag in existence. And still, Leigh could not move. Her body buzzed with nervous tension, louder than the flies, ready to sprint across that half-mile to the gates.
Move. MOVE! Do something!
Her feet uprooted themselves, one after the other, trudging slowly at first and then gaining speed until she flew over the ground. “Vore! Garv! Cover me!”
“With what?” Garv called back, panting as she ran. “A fucking field stake?”
“Yes!”
It was the longest run Leigh had ever taken and each step seemed to take her nowhere. Evrik Niles lay on the ground near the gates in some eternal limbo she couldn’t reach. Just when she thought it was all a dream—some trick of a mind hinged too long on a bare thread of hope and desperate willpower—she was there, panting, breathing dust. The man who had helped cause so much death in the quiet little border town rolled toward her, holding the remains of his right knee, face pale and twisted in such agony he could not do more than sputter.
“Help. . .” The blue stains on his lips looked too bright. “Help. . . my leg.”
Vore jogged up, breathing hard, the stake clutched in one hand. “Oh my sweet ass,” he panted. “Look at this. Look at this fine mess. And that son of a bitch Karraetu took my Queen with him.”
Leigh didn’t care about the gun or Karraetu; her gaze had locked on Evrik Niles and could not be moved from his grime-streaked face. A curious sense of distance seeped over her, as though her body and mind had detached themselves from one another. Her mind went floating away toward the Senbehi—far, far above everything, up where the frost settled on the peaks. When Leigh moved again, it was for the pistol in the sand. She checked the clip, counting the bullets.
Two.
“What’re you. . .” Niles choked, lifting his head. His fingers spasmodically clutched the torn flesh where the bullet had struck his knee, little more than jellied ruin. “What’re you doin’?”
“Leigh,” Garv began, shoulders still heaving from her sprint. “We could find a rope, if you’d rather. The scaffolding against the gate would work. Be cleaner that way. No one person has the burden if we just tie him to a skittery da’mel and all shout at once. . .”
Leigh spat to clear her throat. “I am Leigh Enderi, Dogton Enforcer, sworn to protect the people and the property of Dogton, under the authority of Neiro Precaius, governor of the province of the Shy’war-Anquai—”
“You can’t shoot me.” Niles managed a weak, agonized grin. “It’d be treason. Neiro’s dead.”
“In his absence, and in the absence of my Captain, Ornealius Zerestus Wallace, whom you killed, I have the authority to sentence you.”
“Don’t,” a voice cried from wherever her mind had drifted to. Kaitar’s, Leigh realized; somehow during the long months of siege, he’d become the internal effigy of her moral conscience. “You’ll have to live with it the rest of your life, and it will hurt, and haunt you, and you’ll hate yourself forever.”
Her veins ran ice.
This is my choice.
Niles mouth parted in a shaky laugh. His head flopped back, hands coming away from his wrecked leg to wipe over and over again at his face, leaving it a red mask of gore. “Bunch of dumb fucks. All of you. Ain’t no better than me. I don’t care if you shoot me. I don’t care what they’ve got up their sleeves. Big joke, all of it.”
In that cold space she existed in, his words held no meaning. “You have been found guilty of murdering citizens of Dogton. You have been found guilty of blackmailing and bribery. Treason. Assault. Theft of property.” Leigh’s hand shook, so she braced it with the other to steady her aim. “Under the authority granted to me as an Enforcer of Dogton—”
“Leigh, you don’t have to do this,” Vore said.
“You are sentenced to be executed.” She pronounced each word carefully, without any hint of a Pihranese accent at all. “Do you have any last words, Evrik Niles?”
Niles squeezed his eyes shut. “I’d rather die. Fuck you and fuck your filth town! You’re all done anyway. Don’t matter if I’m here or not. They—”
Leigh pulled the trigger. A hole appeared in the middle of his forehead, perfectly round. His eyes popped open, wide, and sightless. Niles’s head bounced against the ground, pillowed by a spreading crimson pool. His chest convulsed once, then ceased moving as a last breath left his open mouth in a long groan. It was the loudest sound Leigh had ever heard, and it drilled into her, bringing her mind and body together with a jolt. Blood trickled down Evrik Niles’s forehead and slid to the bigger puddle beneath him. The wind stirred again, blowing his lank hair across his face so it covered his eyes.
He was an evil man. I had to do this. Is this how Kaitar Besh felt when he stood over my uncle? Is this why he lies about it?
And then she wondered if Evrik Niles really had been evil, too. Lying there, dead, he only looked pathetic. Rather small.
Vore stooped, pushed the dead man’s eyelids closed, and wiped his hand against his pant legs. “Well, here comes everyone else from the fields and from town.” He pointed at the throng of people meandering slowly toward the gate from their homes, and then jerked a thumb in the direction of the fields. “Need to get this cleaned up.”
&
nbsp; Garv nudged her. “Leigh, you with us?”
I can’t think about this now. Later, when I’m alone. We have to get Dogton in order now.
Leigh swallowed hard and faced the gathering people. “The Scrappers are gone, and we’ve got a lot of work to do before spring.”
“Good riddance,” someone muttered.
Excited chatter broke out, voices rising and laughing, all celebrating the death of Evrik Niles. Leigh listened, wishing she could share their joy, but she only felt empty and worn down to the bone.
“Vore, Garv, we need to find out if Neiro’s alive. He’ll be upstairs in the office if he is. Niles wouldn’t let anyone up there but Sokepta.” She wanted to lean against her two comrades and rest a moment, but instead motioned them to follow. “And we need to read all the messages on his VDA. He wasn’t answering any of them, and we need to know where the Scrappers went, and why, so we can understand what it may mean for Dogton.”
“Leigh, you’re turning into a hard man,” Garv said, attempting a smile.
“Woman,” Leigh replied somberly.
“Orin would approve at any rate.” Vore shot a backward glance at the throng of people, but they were busy kicking Evrik Niles’s corpse. “I doubt they’re gonna leave much to bury.”
But Leigh was not listening—not to the people cursing Niles’s name while they kicked his dead body with their heavy boots, and not to Vore’s commentary on the matter. She’d gone deaf at the mention of Orin; if she tried to picture his leathery, stern face and pale-blue eyes gleaming with the barest hint of surly humor, she’d fall into the dust and begin crying. The luxury of tears would never be hers again.
The office was barely unrecognizable. Evrik Niles had never kept it tidy, but now it looked as though a dust devil had ripped through the entire room. The stuffed threk lay in pieces, its body hacked and split apart, the Worm Glass eyes conspicuously missing. Broken bottles—some leaking their last dredges of Synth—littered the floor like a glittering carpet. The Veraleid transmitter was jammed haphazardly into a corner, dented from a recent beating. Even the monitor on the desk had been attacked, its screen flickering wildly against the long crack running from top to bottom.
Garv whistled. “He ransacked this place. What a sty.”
“It was the Synth,” Leigh said. “It drove him mad. “
A dull thud vibrated the ceiling directly above their heads, making the cell lantern atop the cabinet rattle.
“The hell was that?” Vore asked, staring up at the ceiling where a powdering of dust had shaken loose. “He got a threk up there?”
“Neiro.” Leigh moved toward the stairs, dimly aware of her hand pressing against the narrow stairwell as she began the ascent. They made their way to the unfamiliar second floor, as gloomy as downstairs, save for a small break of light coming from behind a closed door directly to the right.
Leigh hesitated, her hands curled to trembling fists at her side as she stared at the door. Behind her, Garv coughed and muttered about the musty smell. Neither she nor Vore seemed inclined to open the final barrier and see if Neiro Precaius lay dead or alive in his bed. And maybe nothing was behind that door. If they opened it to see an empty bed, with the sheets pulled tight and the coverlets folded and layered with weeks’ worth of dust, Leigh didn’t know what she’d do. Go mad, maybe, laughing in hysteria until Vore and Garv dragged her off.
She took a breath. “It’s Leigh Enderi, Eli Vorensi, and Kira Bolgarv. Evrik Niles is gone. We’re coming in.” She gripped the brass knob and pushed; the door opened with a whisper of stale air. When she looked inside, the blood drained from her face until she felt as pale and withered as the corpse lying in the bed.
We’re too late.
Sokepta stood near the window, peeking between the faded curtains. He turned as they entered, offering a weak smile, and put a finger to his lips. “He’s asleep.”
“Alive?” Leigh breath caught as she turned to the still, shrunken body on the bed. It didn’t look anything like the Neiro Precaius she remembered; that Neiro had been square and solid. Not a tall man, but wide, with steel-gray hair and eyes to match. The man on the bed looked old, the hair bedraggled and in bad need of a cutting. His jowls sagged, and whatever middle-aged vitality had lurked in in the breadth of chest and stomach was gone.
“He looks like hell,” Garv noted tactfully. The nervous humor in her tone betrayed her anxiety. “Are you sure he’s alive?”
Sokepta nodded, letting the curtains fall from his hand. “He is. One of you go downstairs and lock the office, though, or they’ll come in here like flies, wanting to know what’s happened. Neiro’s alive, but doesn’t need that kind of mess right now. He’s—”
“Who the fuck left it open to begin with?”
That raspy, clipped accent filled the room, so different than an Estarian drawl or rolling Pihranese. When Leigh looked toward the bed again, the body there was not corpse-still, but watching with a gunshot stare full of vicious triumph.
“I’ll go lock it up,” Vore said meekly. He vanished downstairs. Garv babbled an excuse and followed him. A moment later, Leigh heard the two Enforcers trying to put things in order while bitching about the mess.
Neiro Precaius squinted. “Who the fuck is standing there? I can’t see too well. That static round. . . doesn’t matter now.”
“Leigh Enderi.” Her voice almost cracked. “Vore and Garv and I are the only Enforcers left.”
“Yes, yes I know. The Drahgur kept me as informed as he could.” Neiro scowled as he struggled to sit. “Help me, damn you. I want to gloat a moment before I go downstairs and see what he’s done to my town.”
Sokepta slid an arm behind Neiro and heaved. As Leigh moved to help, she smelled the sickbed odor emanating from the sheets. She’d never been so physically close to Neiro before, but the fear she’d felt for him in her greenhorn days evaporated. After he sat upright, she pushed a pillow behind the small of his back to take some of the weight.
Sokepta went to the window and peeked out again. “It will be nice to be able to leave this room without begging. Neiro is not very good company for such an extended length of time.”
“Is Niles dead?” Neiro asked.
“Yes.” Leigh nodded. “I. . . sentenced him. For his crimes against Dogton.”
I murdered him. I stood above him, and I pulled the trigger.
“Good. I wish I could have done it myself.” Neiro grinned briefly. “Sokepta hasn’t been able to tell me much. Niles wouldn’t let him out except when absolutely necessary. Where’s Viyr?”
“In the warehouse. He’s. . . we don’t know if he’s alive.”
Neiro snorted. “Of course he’s not alive, not the way you and I are, anyway. I want to know if he’s able to be reactivated. His Shelfing took the brunt of that static round. Fried it. The data there may be lost forever. If that’s the case, he’ll just lay there for all eternity, staring at nothing, just like a broken VDA, to put it bluntly. But if we’re lucky, the code that keeps him functioning could be recovered. Did he look damaged physically?”
“Not that any of us saw, no.” Leigh said.
“Well, did any of you look him over or are you making that assumption based off a glance?”
I’ve faced down Lein Strauss. Evrik Niles. Scrappers. I can speak frankly to Neiro Precaius.
“The Shurin,” she began. “Sairel said he could repair Viyr. He says he can help Dogton. Evrik Niles wanted to execute him, and he put out a bounty on Kaitar Besh and Mi’et as well. He ordered a lockdown on all water rights to Enetics. Neiro, you have to call those orders off, and you have to ask the Shurin how damaged Viyr is; none of us know how to gage that.”
Neiro’s mouth moved silently. His face, sheet-white except two bright splotches of red on his cheeks, twisted into a mask of ill-concealed fury. “Evrik-fucking-Niles was a bigger idiot than I imagined.” His teeth gnashed as he spoke. “Get the damned shark and bring him here. Piss on it all, I’ll make Nyia roll over and show her belly for wh
at she’s done.”
Burial
Sand poured over Kaitar, red and scouring, threatening to fill his lungs. His fingers dug into the shifting earth, clawing as every muscle strained to be free, to feel the fresh air again. He slipped, dug his toes into the narrow shaft, and pushed with what strength he had left. He made the mistake of trying to breathe through his nose to alleviate the burning in his chest, gagging as sand clogged his nostrils. Then, a dazzling light washed over him, too hot to be anything but the desert sun. If he hadn’t been so exhausted, he would have wept for joy.
When he finally rolled to his stomach, Kaitar coughed to clear his throat. He did not open his eyes as he lay sputtering, listening to his heart quiet to a steady rhythm. After what might have been moments or hours, a sound other than his own breathing filtered through his awareness; Mi'et, spitting up sand and cursing his bad arm. Alive.
Both of them, alive.
For hours, they’d wandered through the burrows. Kaitar had wondered if he would go mad before they found a way out. More than once, he’d been convinced it was all some awful joke on the two of them, something Gah’leen and Madev had planned together years ago, and he and Mi’et were damned to be swallowed in darkness.
Little by little, a thought beyond the knowledge that they’d finally escaped took shape—a small town on the edge of the scrub land, surrounded by a tall wire and sheet-metal gate. A lookout tower peeked over a rocky bend, where the town nestled against the foothills. In the east, the great Senbehi guarded the desert like a jealous brood hen.
I want to go home.
He opened his eyes and blinked hard to clear dust from his lashes.
Mi'et lay a few feet away, breathing evenly, his scarred arm shielding his face from the bright sunlight. Kaitar tried to guess how long they'd been lying there, but decided he didn't really care. It was enough to feel the sun again, and breath the untainted air.
"Mi'et?"
A grunt of acknowledgement.