by Eddie Han
“Where did she go?”
“Beats me. She found out her parents were killed in the invasion.”
“What day is it?”
“The Fifth, I believe. I’ll tell her you stopped by when she comes back. What was your name again?”
Sparrow checked his watch. It was nearing curfew.
CH 45
THE FINAL DIRECTIVE
Mosaic met Sebastian at the fountain in Trivelka Square. He quietly explained to her that they were forming a resistance group, just as Sparrow had warned. They were congregating at an undisclosed location. Although Sebastian had initially invited her, he hadn’t expected her to show up. He was suddenly reluctant to bring her along but Mosaic insisted on going.
“Are you sure?”
“They killed my parents, Sebastian. As far as I know, they’ve killed Dale and Darius. They’ve taken everything. I can’t just lie around the temple and wait to see what happens next.”
Despite his unease, he finally relented. Sebastian led Mosaic down an alley in what appeared to be an industrial part of the city. There was an inconspicuous green door. When they approached, a lookout peered through a small, curtained window adjacent to the door. Recognizing Sebastian, the young man with a gaunt face and black hat let them in. It was a small, out-of-place café. No one who was not from the area would ever expect to see a café on that street.
The air was stale in the dim, candlelit room. A clerk kept wiping down an already spotless bar while patrons quietly sat around tables with drinks and smokes. They were all young. Not much older than Mosaic. They trained their eyes on her as she trailed behind Sebastian. It didn’t take long for Mosaic to realize the whole scene was set up as a front.
One of the patrons arose from the table and got in front of Sebastian. “Who’s this?”
“She’s with me,” Sebastian replied.
“That’s not what I asked.”
“She’s the one I was telling Max about. Her brother’s a Republican Guard.”
Mosaic made no attempt to correct him as the unconvinced man scrutinized her. Then with a reluctant head toss, he gestured them to the back where there was a small gathering around a table. A young man who appeared to be about thirty years old greeted them. He was in a black turtleneck. Considering the circumstances, he appeared cheerful and carefree.
“Max, this is her,” said Sebastian. “This is Mosaic.”
“Welcome, Mosaic. Welcome. I’ve seen you before. The muse of the Halo. You have the most beautiful voice.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I wish it were under different circumstances. Please, sit with us.”
In a couple minutes, three facts about Mosaic were communicated: She was a close friend of Sebastian, an artist who performed regularly at the Halo, and the younger sister of two Republican Guardsmen. The information seemed to appease the nervous room. They made room for Sebastian and Mosaic at the table where they continued to plot their next course of action.
Mosaic looked around the room. The group was comprised mostly of young men. There were only a handful of women. It was unlikely that a single one of them had any type of military training. They appeared to be mostly students, maybe a few artists and literary types. By candlelight, she could see that they were either terrified or filled with idealistic zeal. It was telling of their naivety, their ignorance. As Mosaic surveyed the room, she thought Sparrow’s warning was more of a clear prediction. These people were going to get themselves killed.
“Well, how can we trust the Shen detective?” someone asked.
“Because the Eagle trusts him,” another replied. “He’s the only source we have on the inside.”
Sebastian leaned over and explained to Mosaic that “the Eagle” was the leader of the nascent resistance, a sentinel of the State Security Command that happened to be in town when the invasion began. Just as he finished, the lookout at the window whistled.
“Someone’s coming!”
Immediately, candles were blown out. The café went dark. Everyone froze and held their breath. A minute of taut silence was broken by a loud crash. The little green door was blown into the café and Balean soldiers poured in like rodents through a sewage pipe. There was screaming as the room scattered in a panic. A couple of the men who were at the tables tried to put up a fight, but were quickly subdued or killed.
Once the front room was secured, a Balean soldier started to yell for everyone to get down on the ground. Max and the others who sat at the table were already running through the kitchen. Sebastian and Mosaic followed closely behind. They squeezed their way between the narrow counters toward the backdoor. As they burst through, they were met by a squad of soldiers. Max and several others were apprehended, but a few broke through the squad.
Pulling Mosaic by the wrist, Sebastian managed to get them past. As they ran down the street, they could hear soldiers in close pursuit.
They turned the corner into a wider street. One of their pursuers caught up and dragged Sebastian to the ground. In the process, he knocked Mosaic down on the cobblestone road. Another soldier joined them and began to club Sebastian. With the first couple blows he split Sebastian’s scalp. He was knocked unconscious. They kept beating him, smashing his glasses onto his face.
“Sebastian!” Mosaic cried. “Stop it, you’re going to kill him.”
She got up, ran at them and jumped on one of the assailants. He grabbed her and lunging forward, threw her off of him. As she tried to get to her feet, he ran up to her from behind and kicked her on the small of her back.
He returned to Sebastian, who was being shackled. The soldiers were out of breath and irritated. Sebastian was bleeding profusely but the soldiers did not seem rushed. The one who had kicked Mosaic returned to her. She was still lying face down on the ground.
“You are in violation of curfew and hereby charged with unlawful assembly. You and your friend are coming with us.”
As he spoke, Mosaic remained unresponsive. Then the other soldier spoke up.
“Wait. Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
There was silence. But the soldier hovering over Sebastian couldn’t shake the feeling that someone, or something, was lurking in the darkness of an alley just a few paces from where he stood. He removed his pistol and locked his gaze into the black. “Someone there?” he called.
Again, silence.
“What is it? You see something?” his comrade asked.
With all attention honed in on the alley, no one seemed to notice the charcoal gray figure walking up fast from behind. He grappled the armed soldier in such a way that the barrel of his pistol ended up tucked below his chin. There was a pop. A poof of blood and brain matter dissipating. Without pause, the figure drew his blade and lunged toward the soldier who had kicked Mosaic. Backpedaling, the soldier raised his pistol. In a panic, he flinched and set off an errant shot. When the smoke cleared, he had been disemboweled.
With the hood of his jacket pulled far past his brow, his face in shadow and a bloodstained blade in hand, Sparrow looked down at Mosaic. She was trembling. He knelt down next to her, “Can you walk?”
“Sebastian.”
Sparrow left her side to examine Sebastian. Then he came back to Mosaic. “He’s not going to make it.”
“No.” Mosaic closed her eyes.
“Get up,” Sparrow said, extending his hand down to her.
His voice was even and cold. She looked up and then took his hand. Mosaic stood and looked over at Sebastian. Seeing him with his crushed skull, bleeding to death, she wanted to crumple to the ground. Her hand went limp in Sparrow’s hand.
He grabbed her tightly and began to run. She ran to keep from falling. As they ran, Mosaic began to weep. Her cries deepened until she was barely running. Feeling the weight, Sparrow stopped so he wouldn’t drag her to the ground.
Mosaic staggered aimlessly. She finally fell to the ground. Sitting with her head in her hands, she convulsed, trying t
o regain composure.
Sparrow squatted next to her and said, “Mosaic, I didn’t come to save you.”
Thirteen hours earlier, he had been sitting with Magog in the bathhouse within the lair of the Carousel Rogues. They had discussed their imminent departure from the city. After going over some specifics of their exit, Magog had then issued the final directive.
“Remy will remain here. For now, he will continue to run the guild and monitor the state of affairs. But before we depart, we need to address something. Mosaic Shawl. That is her name? Your strange behavior these recent days necessitates a show of commitment. We have lost confidence. Go and restore it. It is what the Umbra demands.”
As the Vengian, he had responded with a nod. But now, here, he was sitting next to the woman—a woman who as a child had shown him kindness. Looking at her, the thought of taking her life for the purposes of a “show of commitment” was absurd. He remembered the feeling when he was asked to accept the murder of the only father he knew. Magog had told him that Aleksander T’varche had welcomed his fate. And there was the same sense then—a wanton, absurd waste.
Mosaic looked up at him. Looking into her big tear-filled eyes, Sparrow thought of the cake Mosaic had handed him when they were children. The song from her lips. He thought of Dale’s final request before their parting. He thought of Dale, his friend. Rohar. The potato shared with a starving Goseonite boy.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, as he drew his blade.
It was dark.
CH 46
A CONFESSION
Ipromised him Sanctuary.”
“So give it to him.”
“You know it means nothing now. What he needs is immunity.”
“He’s not a part of the coalition. He’s not Shaldea.”
“I owe him. The queen owes him.”
“She’s not the queen,” General Arun Kilbremmer replied. “Not yet.”
He wasn’t much older than Alaric Linhelm. The general sat across from the ex-templar in full, dark plate armor, decorated with a gilded coat of arms. His sheathed gold-hilted broadsword lay across the table between them. They were in the general’s makeshift office that once belonged to the colonel of the Republican Guard. They were arguing like they used to years ago, when they were friends and colleagues.
“Why didn’t you just come to us from the beginning?”
“We couldn’t be sure,” Alaric replied.
“Sure of what?”
“Whether or not reintroducing the child would be welcomed by the current regime.”
“You don’t trust the duke?”
“His Majesty had me swear that I would protect the child. For years, I have taken great care to do just that. And nothing in this world is more dangerous than a power-hungry man near a throne. Besides, with our plan, no one had to know. We did not set our eyes on the throne. Our plan was only to seek audience with the duke to make an appeal for an end to this madness. To plead for the restoration of peace.”
“This is the path to peace, Alaric. Order and justice. And if she had no interest in reclaiming the throne, you shouldn’t have openly declared her our queen.”
“I already told you. She killed a Shaldean Rajeth to save our companion. I only revealed her identity to save her life.”
“The duke is not corrupt. He is as committed to the law as the king was. Had you come to us, he would have understood.”
“Like I said, it was a risk I could not take. You sit on a seat of power; you of all people ought to understand my reluctance. It is a difficult seat to relinquish. Very few men do it voluntarily.”
“The duke is a better man.”
“Is he? I was not willing to stake the child’s life on what I did not know. And now I am glad I didn’t. This war reveals the nature of your duke. You and I know it is an unjust war.”
“I’m a soldier, Alaric. I don’t have the luxury of making judgments on the throne, regardless of who sits on it. The voice that comes from it must be heeded.”
“And yet, you tell me he’s a better man. Which is it? It’s a dangerous thing, Arun, to judge and vacate judgment as it suits you. Crimes come in the form of commission and omission. You must know that making no decision is also a decision.”
“Is that what they teach you in the temple?”
“It’s what every human ought to learn in their youth. Let’s dispense with all this. We’re not getting anywhere. Now, how do you suppose he’ll take the news?”
“The duke? You’ll have to tell me. I’m sending you both to Valorcourt immediately. I would’ve preferred to send her by way of the skyship, but seeing as how your friends destroyed it, that’s no longer an option.”
“The sky is for the birds.”
The general shook his head at his stubborn old friend.
“Arun,” Alaric explored, “if the regent is unwilling to defer to the rightful heir, who will you support?”
“That’s a decision I hope I will not have to make.” The general sighed. “It’s a different world we live in, isn’t it, old friend? Alliances with terrorists. You, an ascetic. Me, an armchair general. What happened to us? What happened to the glory days of the king and his Crimson Knights? When good was good, and bad was bad.”
“The world shrank,” Alaric replied. “In the days of old, wars were waged between us and them. Now, it’s all just us.”
The general nodded. Then he said, “I’ll give him free passage on the main roads. But that’s it. He gets himself in trouble, he’s on his own. That’s all I can do for an Emmainite ranger.”
“Thank you. And now, about the Meredian.”
“You have the audacity of a thief,” the general said, shaking his head in disbelief. “No! He admits to serving the resistance. He took part in taking down the skyship and the killing of my men.”
“Yes, I know Arun. I’m not asking for immunity.”
“Then what do you want?”
“It’s not what I want. It’s what she wants.”
When Dale had been brought into the Ancile, the structure appeared to him like a king on his knees. Most of the western and northern perimeters had been leveled. Debris from the night before was still being swept and gathered. On every parapet that was still standing, Royal Balean banners flew where once flew the golden eagle crest and star of the Republic.
Dale was allowed a bath before he was taken into a cell. He discarded the camouflage he wore into battle and put on his regulars. As a captive, Dale experienced firsthand the level of Balean commitment to law and order. His captors, some of whom had to have been his combatants on the field the previous night, treated him fairly. They stuck strictly to protocol—never even verbally attacking him. When Dale was shown into his cell, he nearly thanked the guard.
Alone at last, Dale curled up in the corner of his cell. He thought of Darius. His death. His life. With the memories playing in his mind, there was a stifling pain in his chest. Then he thought about the men he had killed in response—how easy it had been.
He wept.
“Dale,” a soft voice called from behind.
Selah stood on the other side of the iron bars. When he saw her, he quickly averted his eyes. With his head still bowed, he rubbed his face in the palms of his hands.
Without a response, Selah turned away. She pressed her back up against the iron bars and crouched down. After a long silence, Selah began what sounded like a confession.
“My mother was executed for treason when I was nine years old. Her brother, my uncle, was discovered to have ties with an insurrectionist group. He was arrested. At trial he was found guilty of treason and sentenced to death. My mother tried to free him but failed. When she was implicated, she was defiant. Even as she sat on the throne, she spoke against it and what she thought was tyrannical rule. With the queen speaking out, people wondered if she would usher in political reform. In the end, she was executed along with her brother. My father gave the order.”
She spoke with a muted numbness—a detached recollection as
if telling the story of another.
“I was sent to the College of Sisters. Soon after, Alaric Linhelm was sent by my father to be my guardian. Early on, from time to time, he asked me if there was anything I wanted to tell my father. I wanted to curse him, but I said nothing. I got letters—letters I never read. Then one day, Alaric told me that my father had passed away. Later, I found out he killed himself, overcome with grief. I felt nothing.”
Selah sighed. “I’ve forgiven him. It took me years to realize it, but he was just a man. Torn, like so many others, between ideas, beliefs. Could he have changed the law for his bride? What would have become of the country if she were pardoned? I realized he suffered under that decision until he could bare it no more. When I forgave him, I felt as though I could finally live—like I was released.”
She glanced over her shoulder.
“You’re a good man, Dale. Don’t give up.”
She stood and looked at him. With his head bowed, he did not stir.
“I…” She appeared as if she had wanted to say something more but stopped herself. “Good bye, Dale Sunday.”
Then she turned and walked down the cellblock. Dale finally looked up at her. He thought about calling out to her. But he didn’t. He just watched her leave.
Two hours later, the guard entered with his ring of keys in hand. He unlocked the cell gate and held it opened.
“On your feet, Meredian,” he said.
Dale did as he was told.
“Turn around.”
The guard shackled Dale’s hands behind his back. Once shackled, he was led out of the cellblock through the bunker at the center of the star fort. When they emerged from the building, dawn was hardly breaking, a soft glow in the distant horizon. The cold morning air swept across Dale’s face. His nose went numb. He saw a blood-stained chopping block in the middle of the court and a hooded guard standing by it with a battle axe. An executioner. Dale braced himself for the unknown. But he was escorted past the chopping block and through the east gate, beyond the outer wall where Valkyrie was waiting for him. The guard unshackled Dale and left him. Confused, Dale stared at the ranger, who handed him his backpack. It was stocked with rations. Valkyrie also handed him his sword.