One of the few things those two polemics, Gene and Glen, seemed to agree upon was that history often repeated itself. Was there at some time another ‘major’ who would had risked giving up everything in a lapse of judgment? What did he do with his new-found time?
“It wasn’t a lapse of judgment,” Ed grumbled to the stars. He wasn’t a murderer; he was a soldier. Soldiers killed other soldiers in open combat. And that was what he was asked to do: murder an injured defenseless woman on a pretense of helping her. Ed cursed. He made the right decision. Yet, here he was, without a command. He had to deal in realities; no amount of self-justification was going to change it.
The dawn approached and with it the changing breeze. Soon, the sun would peak over the eastern hills behind him and smack the mountains. Already, their snowy slopes were lit like red glass, smoking into descending mists. People in the city could see him here, he realized, sitting on a rock plainly visible to anyone who would just look up and southeast. And his morning meditation would be over. His safety from the terrors gone.
In a few hours, his aid would seek him out and his last days would begin. He was tempted to cancel all his duties and leave them piled up for Niklas; that smug bastard would probably change everything anyway. No…Ed would muster on. His troops needed that much, until the transfer. It must be seamless, like running a finger over two pieces of sown cloths. ‘Ready by Spring,’ that’s all that mattered.
He had spent so many years on this assignment. And now, afterward the transfer…what? He knew he couldn’t leave the city. No one who knew the Beast laid here could leave until the final phase. So he’d be stuck here. Would they have him report to Niklas? Ed laughed. He’d sooner quit altogether…. No, no he wouldn’t quit, but he wouldn’t accept that. Then what?
Ed took comfort in that it would only be for a season. A little vacation. Ed found himself smiling. Once war with Sig began, he was sure he would be reinstated. Yes, that made sense. Niklas was always a city garrison man from Sat’r, and Ed was always a field man. It would make sense Niklas would take over Ruby City eventually and he’d be on his way to the imperial border. With this investigation far behind everyone, Predt no longer a person of interest, even Glen would realize this was all much to do about nothing.
“But a whole season unassigned,” Ed sighed. “And winter too.” He stood, feeling lighter than usual, yet that familiar foreboding returned. Competition for who would lead those new weapons to battle would be stiff from younger and better-connected warriors who were only children when Ladress broke apart. But Ed would fight it. He had seen it happen to others before; he knew what to look for. Everyone would start patronizing him like some old warrior with his glory behind him, inflate his ego so they could post him in one of the military colleges. “Will not happen.” With Glen advocating for him, he’d get another command. He was sure of it.
Ed took in the deep refreshingly cold air, heavy with forest scents of pine, maple, and various sweet smelling aromas. “Maybe Glen’s right,” he exhaled. “Time away would do me some good. Refocus on the war.” Ed stretched his muscles, feeling them ache and complain for being still too long. “Some training too,” he added.
Ed then descended the Seer’s Mound and made his way back to his barrack house where he found Glen waited for him, sitting on the door step with another bottle in his hand and reading over papers in the other. His hair was a mess, his beard bushy and unkempt, and his blue robed clothes looked ragged with the hems frayed and coming undone. Ed wondered if the other magistrates joked about Glen behind his back. They probably did, but Glen wasn’t one to care, not when he was knee-deep in his work.
Once Glen caught sight of him across the staging ground, his face lit up with worry. “What now,” Ed muttered to himself.
“Ed,” Glen shouted, running over to him with heavy breathing while grabbing at his stomach. “I have….” He slowed, already out of breath, distracting the other soldiers’ morning exercises.
Ed met him more than halfway. “You could have waited for me.”
“No,” Glen gasped. “Too urgent. Good news. Here look.”
Glen handed him a paper, crumpled and folded as it had been stuff into his pocket. It read: ‘Confirmed: Araa and Loyt sighted in Faf’r. Night Lady involved. Will follow.’
Ed felt a cold wind blow through him. This changes nothing, he thought. Loyt was an Islander impostor. He’s helping her get home. They need supplies. But…would she say something? “She promised,” Ed whispered, walking up to a marching pace to his barrack. He threw open the door, ripping it from its top hinge. “Get in,” he told Glen.
Glen, unphased, walked inside with his bottle in hand and sat in the nearest seat.
“We got them now,” he said, triumphantly. He uncorked his bottle. “We’ll seed rumors in Faf’r to cover up anything she might have said. Oh, and I didn’t tell you any this, alright?”
Ed paced, brooding over what this could mean. Why did they have to go to Faf’r? Did she have a waking memory episode? “Who’s the Night Lady?”
“Ah,” Glen said after a deep draught. “She’s a pretty big criminal in Faf’r with influences across the three princedoms. I doubt they actually saw her; her whole organization is named the ‘Night Lady.’ We think she’s more of a contractor for smaller criminals, linking jobs with the right people who can do them. That’s the downside.”
Ed stopped pacing. “What could they possibly want with them?” Glen stood slowly, groaning the whole way. He looked so exhausted with jaundice visible around his eyes. His bushy peppered beard gleamed with spilled wine and sweat.
“I couldn’t even guess,” he said. “Or why Loyt took her there. Islanders are weird enough, and just as sanctimonious as Gene and those priests. This could all be some stupid stunt to get her home.” Glen stressed that last sentence, meeting Ed’s eyes as though he wanted Ed to comment. Glen knew more than he was letting on; maybe Predt overheard Ed and Araa. Or maybe Ed was becoming paranoid. Either way, he remained silent. “Don’t worry,” Glen added, looking back to his bottle. “We’ve got a few of our best going into to get them. Landrie’s not sparing the fatted calf on this one. We’ll bring her back. Maybe the Doctor can still help her.”
“Maybe the Doctor should look at you,” Ed said, changing the subject.
“Me?” Glen laughed. “I look that bad, huh? I should probably get a new uniform.” He opened his robes, examining the darker blue shirt underneath, and sniffed. “And probably bath too.”
“Probably?”
“They’re running me like farmer’s ox, Ed. But don’t worry about me. Nothing a good rest and some summer sun couldn’t help.” He drank another mouth full. “I’m out of here. I just wanted to let you know where we are, that we’re getting close and we’ll know what happened soon.” Glen went for the door, now hanging open by its bottom hinge.
“Glen,” Ed stopped him. “Why are you telling me all this? And why did you cancel my interview with you?”
Glen locked eyes with Ed, worried lines forming in the corner of his eyes. “There’s a rumor going around. I don’t believe it but…that you let her leave.” Ed’s heart skipped, but he kept his eyes on Glen. He wouldn’t flinch. He wouldn’t —couldn’t— tell him anything. His future in the military career depended; his command depended on it; his fight against Sig and reaching Sera depended on it. …His whole life depended on it. “I have to be honest with you,” Glen continued, breaking eye contact to look outside and squint. “I’m trying to remove doubt around you, Ed, but where ever I look, you seem to be at the center of this.”
“I lead the garrison here. I am the center of everything.”
“Not for long,” Glen said, with a cold finality that seemed to suggest more than a ‘season’s’ sabbatical.
“Then you’re coming here and telling me all this information…to warn me?”
Glen exhaled. “I’m here to let you know to be ready. Like I said, someone has to get blamed for this.”
“I didn
’t do anything wrong,” Ed said firmly.
Glen cocked his head back, drawing his lips to a line. He then closed his eyes and set his jaw. “Ed,” he began uncharacteristically somber. “Did you let Araa—no, I don’t want to ask.” He relaxed the tension in his face and shook his head. “Now that we know where they are, we’ll get them back. We’ll know what happened that night. I’ll…I’ll talk to you later.”
Glen stumbled out, leaving Ed crushed once again. He should have been more careful. He should have known someone was watching. He should have…not let her go. He should have let her die on that operating table.
Ed leaned against the broken wall —still broken from the day before— and slid to the floor. His aid walked in.
“Is everything alright, sir?”
Ed slowly rose back to his feet, fortifying himself against the rising terror in him while clasping his shaking hands behind his back. “Yes, runner. Please wait outside. I need a minute.”
21
Mend on the Mend, Araa’s Ordeal, and Ed’s Trials
“Mister Blue, are you with me today? I see I have to find your…mind…again —there, you here.”
“…”
“Yes, yes, I’m really close to synthesizing the serum. Soon I won’t need to draw anymore of your blood, and I’ll have it distributed through my territories. Thieves will do the rest.”
“…”
“Ah, yes. I’ve sent Cyne to talk to the boy, Glen Tellerson. See if he can decipher more about him. He’s surprisingly resistant to my mind’s eye. He’s a memorizer like myself, but his resilience was unexpected. Could it be the serum? That would be interesting.”
“…”
“The Black Monolith? The Shard in the Northern Islands? No, it hasn’t awoken. Blekengor the Black Star must still be wondering out there, but I’m not concerned, the constant battle between the Islanders and Glacial Barbarians makes it easy for me to monitor the Monolith. If Blekengor were to die, I’ll know of the Monolith awakening within a few days. Soon, the Golden Lady will be under my protection too, but the Veiled Goddess’s location on the other hand, I know nothing save that Eventide lives too—”
“…”
“I am not going to kill Glen, Mister Blue. He saved this island and you. You do intend remain in your body, don’t you? But neither will I let him leave, not until I know everything inside his head. You say he’s been in contact with Blekengor. Alright then, if Cyne fails, I’ll strap him to a table and spend all night boring into him if I have to. We’ll find out where your murderer brother is and what he’s plotting.”
“…”
“Yes, Lora. Lovely woman. I believe she’s just a rat here. We have them time from time. Once I decipher her intentions, I’ll execute her.”
-Conversation between Emperor Siga Ladress and Mister Blue
Mend woke from a fretful sleep to the sound of the door opening and conversations spilling inside. Though he still felt a bit groggy, his mind cleared enough to pick up three male voices. Still, no Josie. She’s fine, he told himself. She’s the Shadow’s ‘perfect’ assassin, after all. …Damn it Josie, hurry up and get here so I know you’re alright —so we can leave.
Only one of the men stood in the room, conversing with the other two voices outside. A dark-skinned man, thin, bald, without any facial hair, he wore a uniform strikingly clean in colors of blue, black, and a white shirt. He carried himself with air of responsibility —authority, more like. The way he listened by curtly nodding his head without so much as a grin or a frown to whoever lurked outside gave the impression he wasn’t just another doctor. But Mend had to admit there was something ‘trusting’ about the man, like he knew how to keep secrets by how he kept his face so stoic. Mend had seen the chief engineer, the emperor. The regent, maybe? No, Mend remembered Sera saying he was an old man.
He turned slowly, looked Mend square in the eyes and to his surprise, he felt his worry melt away as curiosity rose within him. Who knows what kind of trouble he might get into now. The man didn’t smile; he didn’t nod; he only put his hands behind his back and walked over to Mend’s bedside. Curious indeed, but not dangerous. How would I know? Mend didn’t have an answer, he just knew the man was… a friend. What in Depths am I thinking that for?
“Hello Mister Tellerson,” he finally said with slow even keeled voice. Why not be pleasant? Mend extended his hand and the man shook it.
“Nice to meet you, but Glen is just fine,” Mend said, feeling pretty good for the exchange. Maybe a few days without Josie around to stab him with needles brought out his good side.
“It’s good to meet our hero,” he said. “My name is—
“Wait, wait.” Mend interrupted, feeling suddenly awkward having a conversation in bed. He pointed to the chair by the window. “Can you please grab that?” Mend began his torturous struggle to sit up right, his muscles sore from the previous day’s exercises. Yet, he didn’t mind it. He was actually pleased about it. This kind of pain was so much better than his old pain.
“I’m the emperor’s master of servants here, Cyne Munda,” he said, grabbing the chair for Mend. Cyne Munda? Didn’t Josie say he was blessed by the King-Maker? Damn! Mend didn’t know what kind of skill that was? Not magic, not stealth, not strength or memorizing. Ugh, why didn’t I ever learn those things? Mend hopped onto the chair and yelped as his body thanked him with shooting soreness.
“Not quite healed, are you,” Cyne asked, putting his hands behind back again. Normally strange men with hands behind their backs worried him, but it didn’t seem to bother him now. How strange.
“No, actually. I’m doing much better. You should have seen me yesterday.”
“And our staff? Have they been treating you well?”
“Well actually—” Mend stopped himself. What am I doing? He was about to oust Josie right here and now without even a second thought. He gulped. There’s something not right here, and that something, Mend had no idea how to counter.
Cyne grinned ever so slightly. “It’s alright, Glen. We know about Nurse Lora. We won’t let her harm you again.”
“What happened to her?”
“Nothing yet,” Cyne admitted. “We need to ascertain the extent of her activities.”
“Is that why you’re here?”
“No, Doctor Yah’v already told us what she did to you. We’ll find out what she knows before she is punished.” Cyne then took another chair and sat. Great, he planned to stay awhile. “When His Majesty visited you, I trust he said he was interested in giving you a job?”
“Straight to the point.”
“I’m a very busy man, Glen. Points are all I have time for.” Whatever that meant, Mend felt pretty good about it. Maybe this could bring in some good coin.
“So, then he’s OK with the whole Chief Engineer’s brother trying to track her down.”
Cyne shrugged, the gesture seemly forced. “It was expected. She told us about her past years ago, but at the time, her brother owned a small trading business. We have since learned that in those years he’s done well for himself. And your presence here presents us both with an opportunity to see just how well he is doing for himself.” Cyne ended that sentence without so much as an eye twitch, but Mend already knew where this was going —double crossing a client who never existed. Almighty, you amaze me.
“I’m listening,” Mend said, added a bit of skepticism to his voice. As pleasant as Cyne was, Mend didn’t want to look too eager to turn sides.
“Is it correct to assume you will be returning to Glen Gallegos with news of his sister?”
“Eh, that’s not really how it works. Some buyers, I see face to face. Others, prefer…distance.”
“Enigmatic, I see.”
“I have to be,” Mend replied, trying to be cautious, but he would really rather trust the man. He seemed like an alright guy, the reserved kind he could have an ale with and talk about old jobs without being criticized. “I have to eat, you know.”
Cyne nodded curtly. “I
understand. You will be well paid before you go.”
“Oh? Before I go? Fine. What do you have in mind?”
The corners of Cyne’s lips turned up ever so slightly. “Our sources have a difficult time ascertaining what Miss Gallegos’s brother has been doing since his discharge at the end of the Brothers’ War. We know after his brief military career, he settled somewhere in Ruby City, in Prince Landrie’s princedom. And we know he’s wealthy from the copious amounts of alcohol he imports in his name. Would this fit a description of a man you know?”
Naturally, it didn’t; he never heard of Glen Gallegos before coming to this island —Mend winced suddenly, but it wasn’t from pain, but an emotion: guilt? Yes, guilt and it was mounting and overwhelming him with the burden of his lie. He didn’t want to lie. He didn’t want to tell him he knew this Glen to cover his story. Instead, he felt the urge —no, need— to tell him the truth. That he’d be happy taking their payment and be on his way out of this Almighty-forsaken island. That he knew Josie and that he was going to screw up their plans to capture her. But Cyne was a perfectly reasonable man, trying to connect two separated twins. Admirable, and admirable people were hard to come by. Besides, there was money at stake; as a show of faith, Mend should tell him everything he knew about —There is something seriously wrong here! This isn’t how I think!
Cyne’s eyes narrowed on him. So that’s it! He was doing something to Mend. But what?
“Uh…No, sounds like no one I know —personally,” Mend said, chuckling nervously despite his feelings clawing at him. “Truth be told, I was contacted, given this assignment. Dropped off compensation. It’s safer for all of us in my line of work not to get any closer to a buyer than I have to. You understand.” Good, his reason for being on the islands till made sense and he told the truth, sort of. But, in spite of himself, Mend added. “But, I know how to reach him.” Stop trying to be helpful!
Call of the Chosen- Broken Kingdoms Page 50