by Patty Jansen
Sady looked at him in stunned silence, knew that the general was right—incredibly right—in principle, and knew he’d just made a monumental mistake that would cost him whatever respect he had with Finnisius, if there had ever been any respect in the first place.
The general was sure to think of him as a complete idiot now.
He would think a lot clearer if he wasn’t so fucking tired.
“Then . . .” He paused to order his thoughts and found they were all over the place. Riots in the camp, murderers loose in Tiverius, no money to do anything, and strange sonorics patterns. “Tell me, what would you do?”
The tiny smile around the general’s mouth was triumphant. No doubt he’d come here to tell Sady he was an idiot and succeeded, above expectations. “We have already isolated the camp and the wider area around it, so there is no risk to the citizens of Tiverius—”
“No risk? Tell me then why one of those southern refugees, a madman, is in the courthouse prison after having killed four people at my house?”
He had shouted much louder than intended, and Finnisius looked taken aback.
“. . . killed?”
“Yes, two surgeons and two domestic staff. Orsan, one of my private guards and I managed to catch him. He’s a southerner, an escapee from the camp.”
“Are you sure?”
“I don’t know where else he would have come from. He’s either escaped last night, or during transfer.”
The general looked as if he’d just been robbed of an argument.
After a short silence, Sady continued, “So, what do you suggest we do about this problem? The one that the city guard is so brilliantly coping with?” And what was the general’s mandate to pass major jobs like this onto the guard without the doga’s approval?
General Finissius’ expression was hard. “Increase the number of people. Look, that is a matter for the high command of the guard.”
“The city guard is not equipped to deal with large-scale riots.” Sady glared back at the general.
“And I told you: we have a country to protect—”
There was a sharp knock on the door and Orsan came in. “I’m sorry to interrupt—”
Finnisius rose. “That’s all right. I’m just leaving.”
No, he was not. “I haven’t finished.”
“But I have.” Finnisius left the room in complete silence.
Orsan stared after him, his eyebrows raised. His expression said, What was all that about?
Sady felt like saying, Well, Orsan, that was about Finnisius being a prick and having assumed authority he does not have, and challenging me to put him in line. And he didn’t have the people to put Finnisius in line, and likely Finnisius knew that, too. The question was: who runs Chevakia? Between the army, the city guard and the doga, Sady wasn’t sure he could answer that.
Orsan closed the door behind him, leaving an uneasy silence.
Sady sighed. “What’s the matter?”
“Uhm, we just got a message from Farius. If you could please come home as soon as possible.”
“From Farius?” He’d left the young guard with the southern family this morning. “Did he say what it was about?”
“No, sorry. It was a courier, not Farius himself. The message was only short, but it said it was urgent.”
What had happened at home now?
“All right.” He rose from his desk, while the fear of last night reached cold fingers into his heart. Walking through his house in the dark, finding bodies surrounded by puddles of blood. Intestines spilling out. Lana’s face ripped off—
Orsan left the room with him. As soon as he entered the foyer, people wanted to speak with him, including someone from the courthouse prison, presumably to talk about the interrogation if the prisoner, but Sady waved them all aside and left of the building, into the truck.
While the driver scrambled to build pressure in the boiler—usually he had notice of when the truck would be required and could prepare in advance—Sady wracked his mind about anything that might have become an urgent problem: Merni’s grumpiness towards the southern family. Their quiet apologetic presence in the kitchen. They’d eaten all of the terrible roccas Merni had made just to be polite. They’d said nothing.
The woman Loriane, he hadn’t gone to check up on her. Maybe she had collapsed. Maybe she had done something silly. Maybe there was something wrong with her. But no, what would she do that required his immediate attendance? Anything of that sort required a medic.
All he knew was that he had no time for domestic crises. He would have to send these people back to the camp as soon as the situation there was stable. Much better for them to stay with their kinsfolk—
The driver cursed fluently and hit the truck’s brakes with force. Tyres slid over the pavement with a screech.
Sady had to hold onto his seat to stop himself being flung onto the floor.
The vehicle skidded sideways and came to a halt. The driver cursed again. Orsan flung the door open and jumped out of the passenger seat.
Sady scrambled up. “What was that?”
“A child crossed the road in front of me!” The driver opened the door and let himself out of his seat. “She didn’t even look.”
“Did you hit her?”
“I’m not sure. She is only a tiny thing.”
Feeling sick, Sady followed him out of the truck, his head reeling. A child. He seemed to fall from one disaster into another.
A small girl sat on the pavement directly in front of the truck. She couldn’t be older than two or three at the most. She had her knees drawn up to her chest and her chin leant on her knees. Sleek black hair fell to her shoulders. There was no sign of blood. That was something at least.
“Little girl, are you hurt?” he asked.
She didn’t reply. She clutched her knees and rocked backwards and forwards in a way that chilled him. “Why is a child like that alone in the street? Where are her parents?”
“I have no idea. She just ran onto the street.” The driver looked around. His voice sounded shaken.
They were on the main street that ran to the hilly part of the City where Sady lived. The walls of the doga complex were to the right, the Chevakian Archive and the Scriptorium Library to the left. This street did not normally get busy with ordinary citizens; today, it was deserted.
Orsan knelt next to the girl. “It’s all right. We won’t get angry. We’re just glad you’re all right. Where are your parents?”
The girl looked up. Her eyes were bright blue.
The look on her face reminded Sady of the knife-wielding madman they had caught last night.
“I think she’s too young to understand you,” the driver said.
“She’s southern,” Sady said. Those eyes gave him the chills.
Orsan frowned at him. “From the camp?”
“Where else?” Anger flared inside him. That pompous idiot of a General Finnisius. If even a toddler could get out of the camp, then the army was doing a poor job indeed.
Sady held out a hand. “Come, I’ll take you somewhere safe.” How had she found her way here all the way from the camp? Did she even understand Chevakian?
She ignored his hand. He rummaged in his pockets, but any sweets he kept in there had long since been eaten.
“Come, I’ll take you home.”
As he touched her shoulder, she jumped up and retreated until she stood with her back against the truck.
“Whoa, I’m not going to hurt you.”
She crouched on hands and feet, like a wild animal, and made a hissing noise that made the skin on the back of Sady’s neck crawl. He retreated a few steps. Belatedly, he noticed how hot her skin h
ad felt
“Whoa,” Orsan said.
Sady said, “Don’t be scared. I know people who can talk to you.” Curse him. He’d been to the City of Glass twice, and had not learned one word of their language.
She ducked and ran, between Orsan and the driver’s grasping hands, into the street.
“Mercy.” Sady straightened, watching her cross the road without looking. Her black hair bounced over her shoulders.
“What was that about?” Orsan said.
“I’d like to know what southerners do to their children to scare them that much,” said the driver.
“At least the truck didn’t hurt her,” Sady said.
Orsan said, “I’d like to know what she’s doing here alone and why our men can’t even keep a little girl in the camp.”
“Good question. Make some inquiries.”
When he climbed back into the truck, Sady could still see the wild look in those blue eyes. All through the incident, the girl had uttered not a single sound.
* * *
The driver dropped Sady and Orsan at the gate to Sady’s house not much later. Sady was relieved to see that the house was still there. There had been no fires, the windows were all still intact and, when he entered, there were no dead bodies in the hall. That was at least something. Strange how expectations changed in a matter of days.
He walked into the hall. “Farius?”
There was no reply but the sound of a male voice came from the kitchen, so he went in.
Farius sat at the table, opposite Merni, who leaned her head in her hands.
“Oh, there you are.” Farius’ voice sounded relieved. He got up from the table and came to Sady’s side.
Merni didn’t move.
“What is the matter?” Sady shrugged off his cloak. “I’m extremely busy at work.” He found himself getting quite annoyed. He hoped this emergency was at least as bad as dead bodies in the hall, because he seriously had much better things to do.
“What is the matter?” Merni screamed, while she rose from her seat, pushing the heavy bench so hard that it wobbled. “You better ask what isn’t the matter.” Her eyes were wild.
“Merni, Merni. Calm down.”
“No. I’m not putting up with any more of this. First we have a murderer attacking our house, then these people take over my kitchen, then this woman just barges into the house and tries to drag people out—”
“What in all of mercy’s name do you mean?”
“That southern freak!” Merni buried her face in her hands and sobbed.
Sady frowned at Farius. “Does she mean Loriane?”
“No, we had a visitor. It was the southern woman who lives on Merchant’s Hill.”
“Lady Armaine?” The question was futile. There was only one southern woman in the merchant district.
“Yes, she came to the house, demanding to see our refugees. I said no, as you told me, but she had a private guard with her, and with Orsan being away, and Serran . . . I’m sorry— but there was little I could do to stop them. They came in anyway. The southerners were in the kitchen. The lady made straight for the woman Loriane. There was some sort of an argument with the woman, and the next thing the old lady attacked her.”
“She attacked Loriane?”
“Yes. I don’t know what either of them said. But I think she wanted Loriane to come, and Loriane didn’t want to come, and then the old lady used her sorcery—”
Merni jumped up. “In my kitchen! Sorcery in my kitchen! Magic!” Her voice rose to a screech. “You always said there was no magic. But I saw it. In my kitchen.”
“Shh, Merni, it’s all right now. I’m sure there is a logical explanation.”
“No, it isn’t all right. I don’t care for logical explanations. Whatever it was, that was no natural thing that she did. Next time she’ll use it on us, like they did to poor Lana and Serran. And you expect me to sit here and wait until she comes?”
“It wasn’t Lady Armaine who killed Lana and Serran. We caught the killer.”
“How do you know that? As long as there is magic, they’ll come and kill us. I don’t care who they are. They’re all evil. I’ll tell you, either these southerners are leaving the house right now or I am going—”
“You want to turn them out into the street?”
Her face blazed with anger. “You care more about them than about us, that is clear to me. I’ve had enough. I’m going back to my mother’s house.” She untied her house apron and threw it on the table. Then she stormed out of the room.
Sady rose. “Merni!”
But she was already halfway across the hall. She opened the front door, went through and slammed it behind her.
Sady slouched back to the kitchen, slumped at the kitchen table, leaning his head in his hands.
“I could have told you that was going to happen,” Farius said. “She was extremely shaken by the events—”
“Farius, we are all shaken. Do you see me screaming at people?” Tears pricked uncomfortably close behind his eyes.
Farius sighed. “I’m sorry. I guess. I’m not sure she was all that well-suited to the job.”
He was right, and although it felt wrong to admit it, he had employed Merni because Lana thought highly of her, and not because he liked her. “Suited or not, I don’t think she’ll be back.”
Farius shook his head.
Sady sighed. “To be honest, I’ve had enough of people who blame me. If she doesn’t want to work here, I don’t want her back.”
“I hope that doesn’t include me.”
“Include you in what?”
“People who blame you.”
“No.” Sady sighed. “Sorry, Farius. I’m just . . .” not coping very well. Tears pricked behind his eyes. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, but that only made it worse. “I’m sorry.”
Farius nodded, silently, and made a show of staring at the table. Sady wiped his face again, the back of his hand wet with the tear that tracked over his cheek. He cleared his throat, attempting to get control over his emotions. “I’ll need a new housekeeper.”
He sighed into the silence that followed. “Do you know anyone?”
Farius shrugged. “I’ll ask.” Still looking at the table. “I have a cousin who may be interested.”
“Tell her she’ll have to deal with disruption, murder, and . . . magic.”
“He.”
Oh, all right, whatever. Farius’ young cheeks had gone red.
There was a small noise in the hall. Loriane stood in the doorway, holding a bowl. She was still wearing the night gown Merni would have given to her. Through the gauze-like fabric, he could see the outlines of her swollen breasts.
Had she been walking around like that all day?
“Farius, see that she gets something more appropriate to wear.” And while Farius nodded, he gestured to her. “Come.”
She came, and put the bowl on the table. There were brown crinkly things in it, like thinly-sliced, over-fried meat.
She said something and gestured at the bowl.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“I have no idea,” Farius said. “But it’s not bad. The southerners made it this morning. I guess they didn’t think much of breakfast.”
“I guess they were not the only ones.”
A small smile played on Farius’ lips. “They used the big frying pan and almost set fire to the stove. They also used up a lot of salt, part of why Merni was so upset, but they cleaned it all up when they finished. And whatever they call this stuff, it doesn’t taste bad.”
Sady eyed the stove, but couldn’t see a sign that it had been used. He took a piece
from the bowl and bit a tiny corner off.
A tang of salt, and sugar exploded in his mouth. He put the rest in his mouth and took another piece.
“It’s quite good,” he said.
Loriane smiled at him and sat down on the other side of the table. Her blue eyes were intense, with long, dark lashes. The skin around her eyes showed some wrinkles and he guessed that she was in her early forties. Her top lip curved into two distinct peaks, and her bottom lip was full and round. She had let her hair out of the bun and it fell in a cascade of dark curls over her shoulders, except at the temples, where white hair mingled with black.
“Thank you,” he said.
She attempted to repeat his words, which sounded foreign in her mouth. So she had been the reason that Lady Armaine came here? Lady Armaine wanted something from her? How did Lady Armaine even know that she was here?
From under her arm, she produced a book that he hadn’t noticed her carry into the kitchen. He recognised the worn front cover in an instant. Toki takes the train.
He used to read this to his little nephews when they visited, when Milleus was doing the job he now did. Suri would bring the boys, and she would sit where Loriane now sat, watching the boys fidget and bounce while he read. He could still see their bright eyes and hear their voices. Can we read Toki? Over and over. They loved that book to death. When they stayed overnight with “Uncle Sady” and slept over in the room that Loriane now occupied, they’d take it to bed.
Loriane opened the first page. Sady didn’t need the text.
“Toki got up early one morning. He was very excited. Today, he would take the train with its shiny red locomotive and its three carriages.” Mercy, the memories. Two little boys and their lonely mother. Brown eyes and honey-coloured hair. Soft cheeks and a pale-skinned neck that he’d often dreamed of touching. Soft lips he had never mustered the courage to kiss. He fought to keep his composure.
Loriane said something, pointed to the written words and her mouth.
Farius said, “I think she wants you to teach her Chevakian.”
“I know,” Sady said, but his voice wouldn’t cooperate. He cleared his throat, but the tide of grief had broken through the dam. Tears streamed over his cheeks.