Mirror of Stone

by Corie J. Weaver

  Eleanor replaced the scroll on the desk.

  “That doesn’t sound too bad, does it? Dinner and conversation?”

  Mikka twitched her hem in a way that managed to convey irritation and sheer disbelief. “First, Kalal should not know you are here. Certainly not a detail such as your name. Someone has spoken out of turn and it must have been someone we trusted. Second, Kalal is not a fool. He must have some idea of why we took you. He hopes to parade you in front of the undecided council members, force them to agree you are unsuitable and the idea of negotiation with your kind is unsound. He will use this to discredit Bunyir and with him the entire peace coalition. For him it is a clever play.” Mikka stopped and whirled to face Eleanor. “So yes, it is bad. And there is nothing we can do about it.” She turned toward the door, her posture a rebuke.

  Eleanor threw the scroll down. “Wait.” Her mind raced. “You’re right, he will expect me to know nothing, to make a fool of myself and Lord Bunyir. Anything I do right, anything at all, will surprise them. We can try.”

  Mikka tapped a staccato beat on the doorframe. “You are correct. They expect nothing from you. We can at least give them better than nothing.”

  By the time the sixth chime sounded, Eleanor wished she had remained silent. The rest of the day had passed in countless drills and reviews. The greeting and leave-taking, correcting her accent, recognizing the Houses likely to be present.

  An attendant modeled the face paints for each House and Eleanor’s mind reeled under the sheer numbers of patterns. Different colors for each of the Great Houses, different patterns for each rank within the House. She worried she would never learn to keep them straight, never in time for the dinner.

  “I am sure only the lords of Houses will be present,” Mikka commented, “but I would be more comfortable if you did not tend to mix the sign for the heir to a House with that of a common porter.”

  Eleanor sighed. “Let’s do it again.”

  At the seventh chime, they stopped.

  “You know what you know. It is futile to try for more. We must start to prepare you.”

  Eleanor braided her hair and pinned it into a tight circlet. Early into her stay several of the younger members of Bunyir’s House had been curious about such a strange feature and had taken every opportunity to try to remove it.

  Previously, one of the maids had painted Eleanor’s face when required. This time Mikka stopped the servant and took the delicate brushes herself. Knee to knee, they faced each other. Eleanor tried to control her face against the tickling sensation while Mikka applied the pigments in clear, defined strokes.

  “They will wonder what this signifies. One more trick for them to marvel at. You’ll go in wearing the pattern of a noble youth of this House.”

  The training of the last several months kept the shock from Eleanor’s face and her mouth shut.

  Mikka clicked with amusement then applied fine powder to set the paints. She placed the brushes down on the tray and unfolded her body to its full height, prepared to leave. She stopped with her hand raised towards the door.

  “Two last lessons for you tonight. Do not commit yourself or Lord Bunyir to anything. Do not express a strong opinion. Remain polite, but vague. That should carry you through most conversational pitfalls.

  “Second, eat nothing his lordship does not approve. Take nothing from a plate he avoids, drink nothing from a pitcher he declines. We have been careful with your foods here, but many of our dishes will not agree with you. And,” she laughed, “poison is considered an art by many households. Some will see your presence among them as an opportunity to experiment, one not to be passed up.

  “Lord Bunyir waits for us. There is no more time.”

  As they stepped from the hall into the courtyard, Eleanor gasped.

  “What are they?”

  Before her stood a pair of enormous dark purple .. . things. Reptilian, with broad heads, pebbled skin and bowed, stumpy legs, the thick short tails swung perilously close to the delicate grillwork surrounding the carriage in which Bunyir waited. Arches of worked metal spanned the gap between their harnesses and the carriage.

  Mikka laughed. “Those are the finest matched pair of luthvi to be found anywhere in the city. They are reserved for special occasions. Normally, you would use the power cart, however his Lordship wanted them brought out tonight.”

  She lifted Eleanor inside the compartment and as she tucked the edge of her gown in, away from the door, whispered to her. “I want you to know you are a good student, despite your handicaps.”

  Bunyir patted her arm as the driver, perched on the seat above them, guided the massive luthvi through the city.

  “Look at the view, child. You always complain to me you do not get out of the hall.”

  Eleanor had often observed the city below her window, full of swirling robes and bustling people. Now all was quiet. The abandoned streets had a ghostly air in the night.

  Bunyir answered her unspoken question. “It is the dinner hour. At home you would be in your quarters, preparing for the evening meal. So is everyone else in the city, in their own halls and rooms. It is a clever time for Kalal to summon us. Few others outside the council will see you and wonder why you are here, or be curious about the alien among us.”

  Eleanor shifted on the hard bench and resisted the urge to stroke the soft cloth of her gown, having already had to apologize earlier for the inadvertent signal of disrespect.

  “I know you are nervous. We did not expect Kalal to call such direct attention to you. You will do fine. You may even enjoy yourself a little.”

  As he spoke the luthvi stopped in front of wide arching gates.

  “We’re so close? We could have walked!”

  Bunyir made the signs for amusement. “If the dinner goes well, you can stroll over for a chat on another day.”

  Eleanor bit the inside of her lip. That was a big if.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Hear now the findings of this panel.”

  The room around Adam quieted, voices turned to murmurs. He sat at a long table with deBaca next to him and faced the panel of investigators from Internal Affairs. The inquiry had lasted three long days. Previously called witnesses clustered in the back of the room with curious spectators. Jake would be there as well, ready to take him back home as soon as the mess ended.

  The pause dragged on. Sweat ran down Adam’s back, and he itched, unable to feel like he’d gotten truly clean in the holding cell where he’d been kept.

  And what if he was sent back? What if they found him guilty for something he didn’t do? At least, he didn’t think he did anything. But then why did his stomach feel like it was filled with lead?

  The head investigator’s voice resumed. “Despite Officer Cole’s best efforts and at great risk to his own health, regrettably the girl Eleanor Weber was lost in the mountains and is presumed dead.”

  A man’s sob broke the silence, then cut off. Greg Weber, Eleanor’s father, Adam guessed.

  “The death of Dr. Frank Tepper is lamentable, but there is no reason to believe his accident had any connection to Officer Cole’s activities.”

  Adam let out his breath.

  “We find no fault towards Officer Cole in either of these matters and recommend he be returned to active duty immediately.”

  deBaca stood, clapped her hand on his shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She walked through the press of people without a backwards glance.

  Adam waited until the room cleared. He heard the crowd around Greg Weber move outside, their soft noises of consolation faded as they passed out of earshot. Then Adam made his way to the back of the hall where Jake had waited for three days.

  “Told you it would be all right in the end, boy. But we need to talk, so let’s get home.”

  Adam nodded, h
is jaw tight.

  The pair stepped out of the hall and started down the steps when a hand snaked out and grabbed Adam’s arm to spin him around.

  A long moment passed before he recognized the boy who stood before him. Doug. Thinner than his hazy memories, the tight face and narrowed eyes silenced the words of greeting as they came to Adam’s lips.

  “You killed her,” Doug spat. “You killed her and left her there, didn’t you?”

  “I,” Adam fumbled for words. “I don’t think I did. I don’t remember, but I don’t think I did that.”

  The falling face flashed before him. The face didn’t have a girl’s features, at least Adam knew that.

  “You threw her into the river to die.”

  That incident had come out, along with the entire investigation up to the point of the prospector’s camp.

  Adam shook his head. “You weren’t listening. I didn’t push her, she jumped.”

  A group of prospectors testified about Eleanor’s time in the camp and Adam’s search for her. They all had glared at Adam, convinced of his guilt, in particular the rangy woman who ran what passed for an inn. Convinced or not, they had no proof they could bring against him, no matter how much hatred and suspicion they hurled at him.

  Doug wouldn’t be shaken off. “You chased her. If it hadn’t been for you, none of this would have happened. You killed her.”

  Adam took a breath to defend himself then let it out without a word. Nothing he could say would persuade the boy that whatever happened to Eleanor, it wasn’t Adam’s fault. Especially when he couldn’t wholly believe in his innocence himself. He reached into his pocket and grasped the pendant.

  Jake stepped between the two and reached out towards the younger man. “I’m sorry about your girl. But we don’t know what happened, probably won’t ever know. Standing here making a scene isn’t going to help her or you. Let’s get inside somewhere and finish this, see if we can come to some sort of understanding.”

  Doug stepped away from them both, his face white. “There is nothing to understand. You killed her, whether you remember it or not. I’ll remember for you.” He spun and ran down the stairs.

  Adam stared at Jake, who wore a grim expression. “Do you…” Adam trailed off. He had not yet voiced his worst fear, as if saying the words would make the nightmare true. “Do you think I killed her?”

  Jake shook his head. “I wouldn’t think so, but I wasn’t there. And honestly, it doesn’t matter, does it?” His thin lips twitched in response to Adam’s gasp. “We’ve got other things to worry about.” Adam raised his eyebrows. There were things his grandfather wanted to talk about, safe from outside ears.

  When they reached the hidden room, Adam collapsed into a chair. Jake remained standing, but leaned against one of the few bare spots on the walls.

  “Guess who sat through the hearing this whole time.”

  Adam shrugged. “My back was to everyone. Eleanor Weber herself could have been there and I wouldn’t have known.”

  Jake let out a thin bark of laughter. “No, nothing quite so surprising. But Olympia was there. Well, her main weasel, acting as her eyes.”

  Still reeling from Doug’s attack, Adam couldn’t keep up. “What? Who?”

  “Dick Sullivan, Olympia Norris’ muscle for the past thirty years. He gets in and gets things done for her. He’s never been reluctant to get his hands dirty so she stayed clean. Don’t know why he was in attendance, but he listened to everyone’s testimony. Didn’t stay for the verdict and left looking happy. And that’s interesting.” Jake got out his pipe and spun it.

  Adam felt like shaking the old man, then took a deep breath. “What do you mean, interesting?”

  “Sullivan listened to every scrap of testimony, hearsay, anything to do with the girl, your hunt.” Jake tapped the pipe on his leg. “But if he left before the verdict, he wasn’t interested in what was going to happen to you. Just to find out what was known about the girl.”

  Adam broke in. “Wait. We know Olympia was the woman in deBaca’s office who told me to get the pack. And Doug,” he paused, “Doug said Olympia had visited Eleanor’s father’s bar and then later argued with Eleanor’s aunt about some unknown item, probably whatever it was the prospector left in his room when he died.”

  “If Sullivan was happy when he left, it must be because no one knows what happened to the girl or what she was carrying, not even me.” Adam grimaced. “So getting whatever the thing was isn’t as important as making sure no one else finds it either.”

  Jake stretched out in a chair across from Adam. “What would Olympia want to have hidden and stay hidden? That a girl on a colony way out here could have stumbled on? Better yet, I’d love to know what even worse thing was Sullivan tied up with that she couldn’t send him before now.”

  Adam lowered his head to his hands. “Is that all?”

  The first weeks after Adam returned to work, only easy cases reached his desk - ones requiring little effort, seldom more than a single communication or file search. Just as well. He lacked the enthusiasm for the law he once had cherished.

  Every time Adam filled out another form, checked another citizen’s record against the regulations, he questioned the goals of his work, what ends his work would be used for. Every time he used the comm system at his desk, he wondered who else listened. Had he gone back into the pool of normal, automated surveillance, or would there be a red flag on him forever?

  At night he and Jake continued to gnaw at the puzzle of Olympia’s inexplicable presence on Travbon, but made no headway toward a solution. Frustration with the mystery drew a cloud over their everyday interactions.

  Adam chewed over the problem at his desk on another morning, indistinguishable from all the others since his return, when a new report came over his screen.

  Code 743. Unregulated death. Investigator required.

  He recognized the geoloc. Laura’s farm.

  For a minute, he stared at it. His clearance for fieldwork hadn’t come through yet. He should leave this to another officer. And yet, there might be a clue there, something that would trigger his memory.

  Adam slapped the keys to signal the system he would take the call and raced out of the building for his first field assignment since his last, disastrous mission.

  Adam finished listening to the report as he flew and then focused on his scattered memories. He remembered the slope of the land about the farmhouse. He powered down the flitter and stepped out into the quiet yard. As he approached the door, a tall boy stepped out.

  Davey? Matt? Whichever of the twins stood before him, the boy had hit a growth spurt since Adam’s last visit. Taller and broader, Adam barely recognized him.

  “Oh, it’s you.” The boy’s rigid shoulders drooped. “I guess that’s something.”

  Adam stopped and made a guess. “Davey, right? I need to talk to you and your brother out here before I go inside.”

  The boy’s pale face frowned. “But we need to be with-”

  “No.” Adam interrupted, “You need to be out here. I need to talk to you both outside.”

  The boy scowled, disappeared into the house and emerged moments later with his twin. The teenagers stood apart from Adam, arms folded across their bodies, walled against him.

  “Guys, we don’t have long. It’s possible another officer might be following up on this report and is close behind me. You have to tell me the truth, fast.”

  He examined one, then the other.

  “Neil’s death. Did either of you have anything to do with it?”

  Their eyes grew wide and they shook their heads from side to side.

  “Guys, please, trust me. If you did something to protect your mom, tell me. I’ll figure a way out. Don’t make me work blind here.” Adam pled with them, heard the concern that had devoure
d him on the flight spill through his voice.

  Matt spoke first. “We’ve been sleeping rough for a week, going along the fence for repairs. We came in when we got the emergency call from Mom. By then, Neil was already dead.”

  Davey spat on the ground. “I know it’s wrong, but I’m sorry one of us didn’t do it. Now he dies by accident. Bastard always wins.”

  Adam laughed. “Somehow I don’t think falling into the thresher mangle counts as winning, guys.” He felt the weight of his worry lighten. “As long as you two are in the clear, then it’s a pretty straightforward accident. Let’s go inside, get the paperwork done and over with. I’d like to check on your mom, make sure she’s all right. No matter what, losing her brother must have been hard on her.”

  Through the door with the carved tree a silent kitchen greeted Adam. Laura faced the door, a young blonde child in her lap. As he entered she blinked in recognition. “Oh!” She put the small boy on the floor and stood up, drifted in his direction, her face worn and tired. “It’s you. I never expected the officer would be someone we knew.”

  Adam smiled. “I saw the report as it came through and figured I’d come see what happened.”

  She stopped her approach.

  “Ma’am, what did happen?”

  She stumbled back towards her chair, lowered herself. The small boy climbed back into her lap and Laura stroked his hair and gazed past Adam, at the carved door.

  Adam took the seat across the table from her, recorder out, but not on. Not yet.

  “Ma’am?”

  Laura came back to herself. “It’s been a good harvest. We needed to get some of the grain ready to ship back to town. The boys were gone, I’d sent them out to check the fences again. Told them to stay out a while.”