Pieces of Her Soul

by Serena Lindahl

  He and Reed had grown up together. Reed had always wanted Scholar House and Seb had always wanted to belong to the Planning House, but they had learned the value of pooling their research. Reed would reach first tier before him, building upon a scientific study involving the plants Seb helped hybridize. Their work centered on adapting the fruit-bearing trees to the cooler climate of the northern reaches of Megreria. Seb wasn't jealous of his foster brother; Reed put far more effort into working nonstop than Seb did. Seb valued his time off. He and Rowan had often spent hours walking the city and discussing improvements. Another pang of sadness struck him.

  At the moment, he hated every cobblestone that passed beneath his feet. His visions of reaching first tier had involved Rowan beside him every step of the way. Their minds worked in similar fashions and their personalities were a perfect match for the other. He also didn't want to give up the calming company of Rowan's beautiful sister. He knew he couldn't ask questions about how Rowan had suddenly turned, but he wanted to hear her husky voice again before he returned to a changed reality. She spoke into the silence before he could decide what to say.

  "What were you and my brother working on?" Kiarra asked, interest lighting her eyes. The more the sun shone, the darker green her eyes became. They fascinated Seb. He had to focus on his footsteps to avoid tripping and making an ass of himself. He wanted to watch her face, not the path before him.

  "We are trying to develop a new breed of apple."

  "Oh?" she asked. Seb was familiar with that word. The syllable was used when women with no interest in city planning humored the Greenies, as the Planning House occupants were nicknamed. In Kiarra's case, however, she seemed genuinely interested. Or maybe it was wishful thinking on his part.

  "Yes. All the breeds we currently grow are adapted to the climate here in Treleaven. The northern village of Abilon has two more months of winter than we do because of its elevation, and Sheldrake Port is more humid because of the sea. In both of those cities, the trees die before reaching maturity. Because of the climate differences, we export apples to the other villages in Megreria. Not only does this diminish the harvest for the people of the city, but apples do not fare well on a long wagon trip. They arrive bruised and are only suitable for applesauce or cider."

  "Hmmm," Kiarra mused. "Are there fruits grown in either of those cities that do not grow well here?"

  "Perhaps not in either of those cities but the southwest corner of the nation produces the grapes used to make wine, which is popular in every part of the kingdom. The oranges we import come from the country of Mishok across the sea to our east. Unfortunately, not many crops besides corn and wheat prosper near Abilon."

  Kiarra shivered. She had clearly heard the rumors arriving from Abilon as well. Abilon was the Megrerian city closest to Acclesh, their typically silent neighbor. Now, rumors abounded of scuffles near the border, small frays that threatened to spill onto Megrerian soil. The Military House and the King were nervous. Treleaven occupied the center of the kingdom, but the mines which provided most of their ore, the gas for lighting, and oil for machinery were located near Abilon. More military men might be sent to the mountain outpost, something unheard of in many decades.

  They descended the steps to third tier. Seb spotted the green tunics of his fellow classmates and the darker green robes of Master Granite in the near distance. "We are headed there," he said with a vague motion. He didn't point, not wanting to draw attention to their appearance. Seb lowered his voice. "I am sorry, Kiarra. Your brother spoke often of you. We were quite close and it was obvious how much he loved you."

  The female by his side nodded, her chin lifting. Seb recognized the determined set of her jaw. Rowan had employed the same expression when solving a difficult problem. They arrived at the group of students far sooner than he wanted. He bowed to Master Granite, making his apologies.

  "Sebastian Graham-Porter, I don't accommodate you to escort school kids around during work hours," Master Granite jeered. Seb noted Kiarra's eyes flicker with anger. No doubt she hated being referred to as a child. She might wear a school uniform but Rowan had said she was eighteen, waiting until the last allowable moment to take her tests.

  "His tardiness was my fault, Master, I detained him," she said in a clear voice. Seb's other classmates surveyed the impending drama, some of the men eyeing Kiarra hungrily. The women ignored them for the most part, taking the opportunity to chat amongst themselves, although a couple threw scathing glances her way.

  Seb assessed Kiarra again, ignoring the fact that she was Rowan's sister. There were far prettier women, but there was something about her which drew the eye. She had strength, at the moment overlaid with sadness, a quality which appealed to any man who preferred their partners to be companions instead of decorations. The kingdom's structure had evolved, allowing any woman the chance to progress to the point of their male counterparts. However, there were still many females who chose to marry into second or first tier instead of advancing on their own wits.

  "And who are you?" Master Granite looked down his hooked nose at Kiarra.

  "I am Rowan Walton's sister, Master," Kiarra stated, not withering one bit under his stare. Seb was impressed. He had seen grown men practically fall to their knees at a word from Master Granite. The common belief was he hadn't been born with the surname of Granite; he had adopted the name to demonstrate what a hard-ass he was.

  "And where is your tardy brother this morning, Miss? Wherever he is, there had better be a damn good excuse for his absence."

  Kiarra's eyes flew to the group of students. The women were paying attention now, every student hanging on to each word. "It would be best, Master, if I told you in private."

  Seb hid his smile behind his hand. No one told Master Granite what to do. There must have been something in her voice, however. Or perhaps it was her impressive determination and strength in the face of the angry teacher. She had the tone of a military general when she set her mind to it.

  The old man nodded, stalking several feet away. Kiarra followed. Seb was at a loss to ignore the sway of her hips under the blue skirt. Her bottom was deliciously rounded, perfect for grabbing. He shook himself free of the lust. He typically had a strong libido, but this girl amplified those urges into something even more powerful.

  Though their faces weren't visible, Seb knew the second Kiarra shared the news. The Master's spine stiffened in surprise. A Soul Tender wasn't "born" very often. The thought sent another stab of sadness through Seb. He reckoned it would take days, perhaps weeks, for him to adjust to the change.

  The Master returned, barking at his students to get back to work. He said not a word of Rowan. Meanwhile, his best friend's sister gave him one last smile that pulled at his heart before walking away. She didn't head toward the school on the other side of the city, Seb noted with amusement. His gaze followed her form until the Master yelled at him. The cane his teacher swung toward his head refocused his attentions on his lessons.

  Chapter Seven

  Kiarra

  I walked along the path towards Low Road, away from Sebastian, the red-headed man with the cute smile and an adorable spray of freckles across his nose. I enjoyed connecting with someone who would miss Rowan as much as me, besides just my Mum. His hazel eyes had been the exact shade I associated with fall, the perfect blend of green and brown with flecks of gold. Absently, I plucked the first leaf off an over achieving apple tree. Unless I tested into the Planning House, I would likely never meet him again. This seemed to be a recurring theme with the men I had met recently.

  The sky was beautiful and bright, one of those mornings that spoke of spring as the sun's warmth chased the lingering chill from the air. The birds chirped noisily, flitting from branch to branch.

  As I walked closer to the walls of the city, the housing became poorer. The kingdom boasted that anyone, regardless of birth, could earn his or her way to first tier. But the formative years of a child born into a typical family of the fourth tier were not as smo
oth as those born into first, second, or even third tier housing. The people, no matter their status, had jobs and means to pay for food, but if their work was manual labor, they received less money for the extra necessities of life. The primary schools attempted to equalize Trealeaven's children. It was a well-known fact, however, that many first tier children were tutored privately instead of attending school with the remainder of the city's children.

  Eyes regarded me as I ambled, obviously in no hurry. My uniform stated I should be in school but I had several ready excuses should I be questioned. I believed losing my best friend and brother had earned me a day off. I doubted Master Blevins would agree. Taking a quick peek around to ensure no one was paying me much attention, I slipped under the boughs of several mature apple trees. My feet wound along an obscure path Rowan and I had discovered as children.

  Though the leaves hadn't unfurled yet, the tiny buds filled me with joy. I had always thought working in the orchards would make me happy. Tree tending was one of the lowliest jobs with not much room for advancement, but I never cared for status. The fourth tier housing wasn't much different from second tier. Fourth tier was the most populated section, besides the Commoners tenements, meaning more units. They were often cramped but still well maintained on the outside. I’d never been inside the buildings, it was considered rude to enter housing units below our status. Still, I knew the lower tiers shared bathing houses and cooking facilities and single people without families often shared quarters. Even that wouldn't be so bad.

  Smiling at a robin perched above me, watching with glassy eyes, I found the overgrown oak next to the wall. I swung up onto the first branch. The climb was more difficult in skirts but still manageable. I hadn't ascended the trees here in many years but my body remembered the movements. With strong arms, I pulled myself up the tree until I reached the special brick Rowan had showed me. Making sure it would hold my increased weight; I put my toe on the protruding stone and used my upper arms to drag myself onto the top of the wall.

  The wall was about three feet wide and had knee high border walls on each side, preventing the patrolling guards from falling off or kicking objects onto passerby's heads. The ground was a long way down. Patrols rarely traversed the entire perimeter. Nothing had threatened the city's safety in decades. I hoped to sit in peace for some time before I encountered a patrol.

  I kneeled, my elbows balanced on the short wall, looking out over the farmland beyond Treleaven. I had never been beyond the border wall, having no reason to venture past. Rowan had made many trips with his House, though, and would regale me with stories. He had also received a more in-depth history of the building of the wall and the farmlands that provided the city with most of its food. The information he passed to me shamed the short lessons we received in primary school. The River Ilia sparkled in the near distance. It provided Treleaven with most of its water as there were no significant bodies of water or running water inside the walls.

  According to geography class, a huge lake lay at the base of the mountain range to the north. While I could decipher the jagged teeth of the mountains which separated us from Acclesh, I couldn't glimpse the glitter of water. Rowan told me the sea was visible from the southern wall, but I had never traversed the circle. There were guard posts set up at the head of each House's section and I didn't want to explain my presence to bored soldiers.

  Farmhouses dotted the landscape and fields were being tilled in preparation for planting. The citizens beyond the wall also belonged to a House, but their involvement was more of a token standing than the all-important designation it became within the city. Perhaps if I tested low in all the Houses, I might find a life outside the walls. I would have never considered leaving the city before Rowan was taken but I now had less reason to stay. I would miss my Mum, but she needed more time to work on her research anyway. After my testing, I wouldn't endanger her opportunity to reach first tier Scholar. She didn't need to worry about a daughter with erratic House loyalties.

  "Something tells me you're not on a school trip."

  "Mother Saint," I cursed sharply, hissing in surprise. The male voice had crept up behind me. I had heard nothing, not the scrape of feet on the stone wall, not breathing. There hadn't been a lot of ambient noise to cover up footsteps, either. The song of the birds and the far off hammering from the forges within the Military Quarter were the only other sounds. I placed a palm over my rapidly beating heart, looking behind me.

  I recognized Mason from the previous night, but his form appeared larger in daylight. His shoulders were impossibly broad, his body bulky with impressive musculature but not so massive it seemed unnatural. His dark hair was cut short, his cheeks and square jaw smooth. In the light of morning, his pale blue eyes twinkled. Realizing my face was about level with his belt buckle, I stood swiftly. The adjusted height helped but he still towered more than a head over me.

  "Are you here to apprehend me?" I cocked my head to the side. He was obviously on duty. I had never seen another soldier wear the red uniform with the gold buttons so well.

  Mason raised a single dark brow. "Are you doing something wrong?"

  "Not really," I hedged. Technically, I wasn't supposed to be on the wall and I should be in school, but....

  "As long as you are not cataloging our defenses to sell information to our enemies, I won't tell anyone you were here." His tone suggested he found me amusing.

  "Thank you," I replied gratefully. I always expected soldiers and the Military House in general to be overzealous with their power complexes. Mason proved me wrong, both last night and now. The remainder of his words filtered in more slowly. "Do we have enemies?"

  "Depends on who you ask." The voice did not belong to Mason and I whirled around. My heart resumed the mad beat from which it had just recovered. The spy who had followed me last night had crept up behind me as I stood talking to the soldier. He wore gray today instead of black. His darker skin hinted at more than Megrerian blood, perhaps Mishokian ancestry as his skin was a beautiful walnut tone that would be difficult for a night dweller to acquire. Mason hadn't acknowledged the newcomer in any way, not even a flickering glance over my shoulder. He had to have seen the spy's approach, however.

  "Is it your intention I fall to my death?" My tone was venemous, the result of being startled twice in two minutes. “It may not be wise to continually shock a woman who is standing atop a twenty-foot wall."

  "Twenty-two feet, actually," Mason corrected, his eyes twinkling. His teeth flashed in a wide smile, deep dimples in his cheeks appearing.

  "You're losing your touch," the spy chastised me. "Last night, you immediately caught me following you." In the stress of the night before, I hadn't realized my conscripted assistant spoke with an accent. I couldn't place the lilt, but he hadn't been born in Treleaven. His consonants curled inward. I found the effect pleasing and imagined listening contentedly to his voice for hours. Too bad his observant nature probably marked him as a man of few words.

  I shifted so both men were before me, my back against the short wall. The spy, whose name I didn't know, also looked different in the light of day. His brown eyes were clearly intelligent, his body lean and toned, his height average. His brown hair was longer than Mason's but shorter than my brother's, falling over his ears and onto his forehead. I’m sure he intended to appear as a nondescript entity, everything about him made to be forgettable. His animosity aided him in his profession, but I easily identified the traits which set him apart from others. His hair was dark brown but multiple strands were so black, they shone blue in the sunlight. He had several small scars on his face. Despite the sunny day, he still managed to blend into his surroundings. He merged with whatever shadows surrounded him.

  "Ian, it's early for you to be roaming about." Mason greeted the spy, Ian, with a smile. When the soldier smiled, he was gorgeous, his dimples enhancing his attractiveness. Women of several different Houses probably fell all over him. His first tier parentage increased his worth in the eyes of some.
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  "Mason," Ian responded in kind. He smiled as well, a crooked grin that made him appear less forbidding. There was an old white scar above his right eyebrow that looked like he had acquired it in childhood. The two men clasped forearms in the manner of old friends. I guessed they had worked together before. Shadow House often teamed up with Military House. The spies gathered intelligence and the soldiers acted on the information.

  "You know each other?" Mason's eyes darted between Ian and me.

  "Not really," I shrugged. "Ian helped me last night when I was dealing with my brother's change." I didn't add that Ian assisted me in dragging my drunken father home and Ian didn't mention it, much to my relief. "You obviously know each other, though." The conversation felt forced to my ears. Being bracketed between the two powerful males was robbing me of necessary brain cells. My skin itched pleasantly in ways I had only imagined.

  "We've worked together before," Mason confirmed my guess. "Ian grew up in Abilon and only came to the city when he tested into the Information Exchange House."

  I played with the tuft at the end of my braid, a nervous habit. My hands had to be moving if my feet were still. "How is my brother?"

  Mason shrugged broad shoulders. "I was not permitted to speak with him. We delivered him to the King who accompanied him to the tower. There he will remain." Mason’s voice hid something. A peek at Ian's furrowed brow bolstered my suspicion. I deliberated only a second. If my brother had spoken to him, I wanted to know.

  "He said something to you, didn't he? Or something else happened? What are you not saying?" My voice fumbled the words. It wasn't wise to question a high ranking soldier, and I hoped Mason wouldn't report me for being insubordinate. Mason's ice blue eyes settled on my face, a war waging as he struggled with whether he should tell me the truth.