“I have not joined Mister Montgomery,” Sil said to cut off the escalating bickering, but she kept both of them within her vision. “And you are right, Mister MaCathy. It is a wonder I joined him at all.”
Markus leaned over to Sil, resting his elbows on his knees. He sighed. “Sil. We all have our pasts—”
“Imperial investigator is one thing,” she crossed her arms. “But a smuggler, apart of a ‘crew’ is another.” His one eye widened, worry wrinkling his face. He appeared sullen, mouthing ‘please’ to her Sil held back a snicker. but he had helped her this far. And he had been honorable, even letting her sleep on his bed instead of the floor, and helping her with her shoulder —still sore— and he protected her on the stair outside. “Fine, Mister Montgomery. For now, I’ll stay, as long as we hasten to our goal,” she added, deciding to be cordial for now.
“Thank you,” Markus said.
“I thought you said you hadn’t practiced,” MaCathy added. “She didn’t even notice.”
“Notice what,” Sil asked.
Markus buried his face in hands. “Do you have to do this every damn time there’s someone new? How about I pay you to shut up.”
“You brought her and I want to make money. It’s just business.”
“What didn’t I notice,” Sil asked, crossing her arms again.
“He’s just trying to pin us against each other,” Markus said. “So he can make more money.”
MaCathy blew out smoke. “Right, love. If you want to know what I meant. Three gold pieces, unstamped. I’ll tell you everything about this noble imperial.” He grinned widely.
Markus groaned. “I’ll just tell her then.”
“That’s no fun,” MaCathy replied. “And not profitable. But maybe the look on her face will be good enough.” He clasped his hands on his bald head before resting his expectant eyes on her. “Go on Mister M. She already knows you were a criminal.”
Markus turned toward her, meeting her eyes again. He opened his mouth, but then closed it.
“Are you doing it now,” MaCathy jeered.
“Shut up,” Markus snapped. “I wouldn’t have to explain this if you hadn’t opened your damn mouth.”
MaCathy smiled satisfactorily.
Markus took in a deep drink before beginning. “Sil, listen. I know you can be a bit of prude—”
“Not a good start,” MaCathy said.
“I’m inclined to agree,” Sil added, feeling her face flushing. “What happened to ‘honesty first,’ Mister M.”
“Oh you’re still using ‘let’s be honest’ bit,” MaCathy added. “I guess if it works.”
“I will break this cup over your face if you don’t shut up.”
MaCathy batted his hands at him, making a ‘go-on’ gesture.
“Listen, Sil. I wasn’t always working for the Empire.”
“Yes, I gathered that,” Sil said, eyeing him suspiciously.
“I worked with a crew for a while before joining the Empire. Before things got too rough. Damn Night Lady made it big with some high-up connections, leaving us out in the cold.”
MaCathy raised his glass with a mournful, “aye, aye.”
“So, you were a criminal in the past,” Sil asked. “Yes I know that now. What else is there?”
“A bit more,” Markus said, taking a drink. “Remember I said I came over through the King-Maker’s lands. Well, I’m actually from those lands. I’ve been gifted with the King-Maker’s talents.”
Sil frowned. “And you’ve been using you’re blessing on me this whole time? What is it? What have you been doing to me?” She grabbed the sides of her chair, ready to bolt out of there. She’ll find Gene on her own, damn it all.
MaCathy leaned in. “He’s not that good, love,” he teased. He then brought his cup to his lips and muttered, “though as green as you are, I’m not surprised you didn’t notice.”
“Well…,” Sil prodded Markus to continue, ignoring the stout man’s insult.
Markus leaned back. “Influence. My skill allows me to effect emotions.”
Sil perked up. “So… you can make people angry then?” It would explain her lost temper. Maybe she hadn’t lost her discipline, maybe it was him— “You! You made me attack that stagecoach!”
“Oh, no, no, no,” Markus said, his eye shooting open. “I wish I was tough enough to handle it, but that was all you.”
“But you have affected me?”
“At times.”
Sil narrowed her eyes on him. “Such as…” Markus looked away before standing up and, then he walked to the window and looked out. “Why is this so hard for you to answer? Is it because you’ve always manipulated your way on everyone?”
MaCathy sighed. “’Manipulated’ is such a subjective term.”
“No, it is not.”
“Listen here, love. Can a memorizer stop himself from memorizing what he sees something beautiful? Can you stop yourself from casting a palm-light in a dark room? Can someone stop themselves from smiling when they see a friend? It’s instinct, love. Markus influences emotions. It’s their way of saying ‘hello;’ their way of smiling. He can’t force you to do anything—”
“That’s enough, MaCathy,” Markus said, turning over his shoulder. “You satisfied now?”
“Yes,” MaCathy answered. He turned to Sil, grinning greedily. “Now that you know how he can affect you, perhaps we can do some ‘honest’ business ourselves. Can’t have us partnering when Mister M can sour things.”
She looked over to Markus, who just shrugged, though his shoulders shagged a bit lower.
“I’m not partnering up with anyone,” she said. “We’re here for information.”
MaCathy frowned. “Another time, perhaps. My door’s open.”
Markus returned to the table with change in his demeanor. He seemed distant, colder with none of his joviality present. He began, “listen, MaCathy—”
MaCathy raised his hand, blowing out smoke. “I already know what you’re after. That fallen priest, Gene, right?”
“That easy?”
“Didn’t mean to bring up bad memories for you. But, yea, I have some info on Gene. And here it is…” Sil leaned forward, expectantly. MaCathy opened his mouth. “Fifty-five unstamped coins or a half-pound. But I know you don’t have that, so all you brought, on the table.”
“No ‘old friend’ discount?”
“That is the discount.”
Markus slid his hand inside his coat and revealed a small hefty dark-brown bag. He tossed in his hand. “A quarter of what’s in here.”
“Half,” MaCathy insisted.
“A third. I gotta eat too.”
“Half,” MaCathy said, biting his pipe. “I gotta stay two steps ahead of my wives.”
Markus juggled the bag into his other hand. “You bring up my past, expose it to an innocent woman” —Sil snickered— “And now you’re asking me for half of all I have for mere ‘words.’”
“These words might end almost eight years of your search.”
“Eight years,” Sil gasped. “You said you were searching for six. Not eight. That means you were after her while she was a priest in the Temple —before she was even went to war!”
MaCathy glanced at Sil for a second. “Agreed,” he said before swiping the bag from Markus’s hand. “And these drinks are on you too.”
“Fine, fine—”
“No, not fine,” Sil snapped. “I’m beginning to realize you’re full of lies and manipulations, Mister Montgomery. I should never have agreed to join you.”
“You didn’t have a choice, remember? You almost killed a man.”
“That was…was your influence! Just why are you after my sister?”
MaCathy threw up his hands. “You’re her sister!”
“Nice job, Sil,” Markus groaned. “He didn’t have to pay for that. I could have gotten our money back.”
“Our money? Your money, stolen, blood money—” She stood and stomped her feet for the door. “Good bye, Mi
ster MaCathy, Mister Montgomery. I’ll be going my own way from now on.” Markus shook his head at her, looking morose with a teary eye. He appeared lost, helpless, and desperate. Damn it all, that loaf. He’ll never be able to find Gene. He was a foreigner; he’d wonder these roads till he uses all his money and returns a failure. She almost felt pity for him— “You’re influencing my emotions, aren’t you,” she asked, flatly.
“Sil, please don’t go—”
She stormed out, slamming the door behind her.
Part Three: Mending, Ordeals and Trials
17
Mend on the Mend, Araa’s Ordeal, and Ed’s Trials
“Rochelle. You have to help us—”
“Garth?! A baby? Why do you have— Wait! Oh, no, no, no.”
“Please. I’m giving him to you. We…were supposed to end him, but he’s only three weeks old. We couldn’t—”
“A baby? That was your mission? You two were sent to kill a baby! That One-Night bitch. I told you! She’s going to make you worse than him—”
“You were right, Rochelle! Is that what you want me to say? Fine, there. I said it. Madeline’s back home, getting things ready…so we’ve decided to leave the Shadows too.”
“It’s not that easy leaving the damn country, Garth. You already had your chance to leave with me and you are not leaving…that…thing here. Raise him yourself. You two have already broken your precious oaths. You can raise another brat.”
“No…he’s not safe up there. They’ll notice if we forge the registry. This is big, Rochelle. We wouldn’t be asking you this if it wasn’t. Besides, you owe us for leaving like you did.”
“Hmm...so then you plan to stay behind, even if you manage to leave the Shadows?”
“The One-King must die.”
“Ha! Who’s the brat’s parents?”
“Can’t tell you.”
“A memorizer then, huh? You don’t want him to read it from my mind. What’s his name then?”
“Mendeleyev Von Mendevoch.”
“A Drakendor baby? Some poor girl’s child of a Commissioner?”
“No…it’s just a name we made up to make it easier for us to...”
“Kill him, yea, I get you.”
“Please, keep him underground. And thank you.”
“No! Wait, damn it! Don’t just disappear like that! …Now what am I supposed to do with you? You better grow up fast, Mend. I just started here too so everyone has to earn their keep around here. …And now you’re crying. Wonderful.”
-Conversation between Rochelle Von Davenance and Garth Lions
Mend awoke with a mind on the edge of dream, eyelids refusing to open. He heard shuffling somewhere in the room, but no humming, no Lora —that bitch, Josie! She had stabbed him with an injection. Next time she neared him, he’d head-butt her or something…sleep took him again.
He awoke, again, to a feeling of something prodding his side. Cold bony hands glided over his stomach and pushed against his neck.
“You haven’t given him anymore sedatives, have you,” asked a gravelly voice, Doctor Yah’v.
“No, doctor. I’m so sorry. I…I must have given him too much.” That voice…Josie? It must have been her, sounding nauseatingly innocent. He’d bite her fingers, but he could barely move. Or, maybe he’d roll over on top of her. His body felt so heavy, so sleepy; he let himself fall under again.
***
Roe sat there outside the jail for minutes, maybe even a half hour passing with her back against the cold stone wall, fatigued arms by her side and legs outstretched, threatening to cramp. She slumped her head back against the stone. At least in the shadow of the small dell, lovely darkness embraced her. Cool breezes rustled leaves, caressing her face and tasseling at her short hair.
Mission accomplished, she reminded herself and smiled. She didn’t have to be that naive and simple-minded Araa anymore. She was Roe now, Rowena Lions, the Night Daughter of the Coming shadows on her way to the rendezvous at the shore…at all costs. Her head bobbed forward.
“Wake up, Roe, stay awake,” she said, slapping her face with a numb hand. Surprised at the sudden strength, she lifted her other arm. She felt better, she had to admit, and stronger. Maybe that stimulant the Major gave her was finally working. Whatever that blueberry drink those other two gave her wasn’t doing its work yet. Maybe one of Zeth’s immunities counteracted it?
She tried bending her knees, but her calf muscles tweaked, wanting to knot up, so she gently lowered them back down. She banged her head against the rock behind her letting out a grown. How was she going to get out of here by morning if she couldn’t even walk? If they found her, they’d operate, and she’d most likely not survive. Dead with the secret of her mission. If she was going die anyway, she had to try to make it to the shore rendezvous, complete her mission, and get those suits so the Coming Shadows can wake the Veiled Goddess. Two weeks travel by foot, or rather a quick jog most of the way. Jogging was definitely out of the question, but she had to try.
Mustering up her strength, she grabbed hold of the rock behind her. With muscle weakness racking her body, she pushed herself up, bending her knees as little as possible and setting her jaw against the muscle spasms under their support of her. With a lot of effort, she had done it. She was up right and leaning against the rock wall behind her.
“Now to walk—” A trickle of rocks slide down into the dell. She froze, becoming silent like the moon, and stiller then the mountains around her. She scanned the dell top, seeing only trunks of trees lit with the fading remains of that blue vision she had. But there, she saw it: barely hiding behind one of the trees was an outline of a head and body. Someone was there. Caught already?
“Araa,” came a whisper. “Are you there?”
She waited. The voice sounded familiar, a male, about— Loyt? That Islander fanatic? That boy who had been always following her? The one she laid flat on the floor before the morning job assignments?
“It’s me, Loyt.” That idiot, just go away. “Where are you. I can’t see you.” I don’t want to be seen. “I’m here to help. I overheard. Major Omen is letting you sneak home.”
“What?”
She heard a branch snap and that dark figure stumble down into the dell in front of her. He quickly rose to his feet, a wide embarrassed smile reflecting in the moon light.
“Hi Araa,” he said loudly, looking over to her right somewhere.
“I’m over here,” she whispered, and he turned, finally finding her. “And whisper, I’ll still hear you.”
He scratched his head. “You don’t look like you need help—”
“What do you know? Tell me now!”
He backed away, surprise on his face. No time to pretend to be an Islander anymore.
“Uh, nothing,” he stuttered. “Heard some people talking outside my room about how they were going to jail you for trespassing in the mines and that the Major was going to help you sneak home instead.”
She relaxed. Rumor must have spread quickly; his own fault for not keeping his mouth shut. Sorry, Major, she thought. Not my fault. “Yea, I’m heading home. You want to help me? Get me a horse.”
He grinned. “Oh, I’ve got better idea than that. I’ve got a carriage—”
“Good! Yes! Let’s go!” Roe would have leapt onto him if she could. A carriage! She could be at the shore in a week.
“Uh, we just have to get there,” he said, turning up the steep dell side. “It’s in town. Faf’r. A day’s walk. Come on. I’ve got a few days off from work anyway.” Faf’r? That wasn’t a town, that was a city, and avoiding people was exactly what Roe wanted to do. The less she needed to explain about herself, the better.
“No, no, no. That’ll take too long,” she said. “Look. I’ll start heading east until I hit a road. Come find me when you—” She tried to push herself off the stone wall, but her legs gave out and she slid back down to the ground instead. She landed with a thump and her hamstrings knotted. Wincing, she tried stretching the cramps o
ut.
Loyt shook his head. “You don’t have to pretend. I can see you are hurt.” He crouched down and helped her up, her arm around his shoulder. “Come on, I’ve walked to town plenty of times. Might take a little longer like this, but we’ll get there.”
She resigned herself, and let her body sag against him for support. In no way was she able to move without someone’s help, and the further she got from here, the better. Faf’r? Isn’t that where the Night Lady Rochelle’s based? Seeing no other way, she decided to take her chances. No one outside her crew had ever seen what she looked like anyway, not even Rochelle, so if they were discreet and quick, it shouldn’t be too bad.
Loyt started humming in rhythm with his steps, helping her climb up the steep incline. She could use him, too. He was so willing to help, and he trusted her; the options were almost overwhelming. Maybe he ‘more-than-liked’ her; that would make sense. But that must make him the only Ladress man interested in Islander girls. Still, she could use that. Yes, this would be easier than she thought. You can do this, Roe.
“Thanks,” she said with a softening smile, even though he probably couldn’t see it.
“Not a problem, Araa,” he replied before humming again. “Islanders gotta stick together—”
“Wait, what?” With her weak grip grabbing onto low branches, Loyt lifted her to a sitting position on top of the dell, legs throbbing over the edge. “You’re from the Islands?”
He chuckled, helping himself onto the ledge. “Yup. Now, come on,” he said, lifting her back to her feet. “It’s just through this forest, and out across a clearing.” Well, that explained a lot. Why he was so different from other people in Ruby City. So helpful, so…willing to please. Roe almost felt bad about it: manipulating him into getting her to the shore faster wouldn’t even take much. But at all costs, she had to get there.
Call of the Chosen- Broken Kingdoms Page 42