by JY Yang
Chapter Eleven
Most Honored Minister:
It is to my greatest dismay that I must report a fatal disruption to the investigation of the Rewar Teng Incident. I have no doubt that you have already heard of the escape of the two suspects we had in our custody, the terrorists Sanao Akeha and his female companion, Rider.
I write to you in this moment to request assistance. These two outlaws are crucial to the completion of the investigation. Only they know the truth of what happened at the institute, and I have yet to extract that truth from them. I humbly beg you to grant me the authority to hunt these fugitives. Grant me jurisdiction across the length and breadth of the Protectorate.
Yours most humbly,
Tensor Chuwan Sariman
* * *
My dearest Chuwan:
Blame the fortunes, who conspire to put you in such a terrible situation! You were doing well in the investigation, but it cannot be helped. These outlaws cannot be contained. I know Akeha well—I raised him as a child, and I am not in the least surprised by his despicable actions.
This turn of events makes it clear who was truly responsible for the disaster at Rewar Teng. Do we need any more proof of their guilt than the fact that they have fled from justice, leaving more victims in their wake? The families of the forty-two who died at Rewar Teng must have their answers, Chuwan. You know this as well as I do. We may not be able to draw the truth from the mouths of the reprobates ourselves, but we can at least give these grieving citizens a semblance of closure. Do what you can. Send in your final report.
Fear not. You have done an exemplary job in these difficult circumstances. I will see that you are rewarded accordingly when this is all over.
Minister Sanao Sonami
Chapter Twelve
FROM CHUWAN’S PERSONAL DIARY
[1162.07.19]
What do you do after you’ve made the worst decision in your life? Spend two days in a drunken stupor, shirking work and chasing away anyone who comes to your door, apparently. Regrets? Too many to list.
I did it. I caved to Protectorate pressure and drafted a fake investigation report, just like they wanted. How could anyone say no to Minister Sonami, a favored daughter of the Protector herself? Not this coward, obviously. Soon, an official decree will be issued declaring the investigation closed. The families of those who perished at the institute will have their answer. They will know to place the deaths of their loved ones upon the heads of those wicked, evil, no-good terrorist rebels, those saboteurs who invaded the institute and released the great beast that devoured everything in its path. Their anger will be reshaped into righteousness in the service of the Protectorate, their hearts rededicated to the cause of eradicating this blight from the bright rivers and the gentle green of the land. And I? I will of course receive my reward in due time for my role in this great orchestra. As promised by Minister Sanao.
Who cares if that is not what happened? Who cares if the truth has been strangled and buried in an unmarked grave? Who cares, as long as it all serves the needs of the Protectorate? None of my fucking business anymore, is it? I put my seal on it and sent it away. The families of the dead will have their answer. The soulless void of the high Tensorate has been appeased. I can turn my back on this as it sinks into the obscurity of history. In ten years, a hundred years, who will remember what happened here?
Fuck this all. I’ll never look Kayan in the eye again. I can’t. I haven’t even dared write her. I know what she’d say. However disappointed I am in myself, she’d be ten times more. And I deserve it. What was I thinking? What the fuck was I thinking?
Chapter Thirteen
FROM CHUWAN’S PERSONAL DIARY
[1162.07.20]
Upsetting day. More so than usual, which says a lot. I was ambushed as I was leaving the Halls of Justice. It was dark—I’d stayed late doing busywork, the details of which have been entirely purged from my mind. I was walking past that row of peony bushes that line the path and litter it with slippery flowers. A white hand shot out and seized my wrist. Of course I screamed, and a second hand clamped itself over my mouth. My mind went blank. I was sure I was going to be murdered. So much for all that Tensorate training! When it came to the crisis point, all I’d learned was for nothing. I couldn’t open my mindeye. I couldn’t see the Slack. All I could think was “I can’t die now.” I froze up like a fawn in the talons of a naga. No—worse, actually. At least fawns kick.
The person who grabbed me was a woman, broad-shouldered and dressed like a worker. She didn’t introduce herself at first, and in my panic, I thought she was a demon, a jiangshi, the angry spirit of one of the institute dead, come to take revenge. Wild thoughts consumed me.
She asked, “Are you Tensor Chuwan Sariman?” In my fear, I couldn’t think of a lie that would save my life, so I nodded like a damn fool.
Her name was Cai Yuan-ning, and her brother Cai Yuanfang had died in the institute. I remembered his name. He had been the youngest member of the staff, a mere twenty-four.
The madness I saw in Yuan-ning was not a devouring inferno of vengeance, untamable by reason. Rather, it was a furnace—desperation burning bright and terrible, driving her forward. “Your report is wrong,” she kept saying. When I pressed her about what she meant, she said, “There’s more you don’t know.”
How naive did she think I was? I was frankly insulted she thought she needed to tell me this. By that time, I had calmed down a little, but not entirely. And in that dangerous zone—the heartbeat-sharp floodplain between animal panic and cold rationality—I decided she was worth questioning anyway. “So, tell me. What do you have that I don’t?”
She got nervous then, licking her lips, struggling for words. I could see her regretting the choices she’d made coming here. But she had my attention, and I wasn’t going to let her go so easily. “What did you come to tell me?”
She leaned toward me. “Did you read my brother’s letters? Did you see what we discussed?”
I told her there were no letters. No journals, no personal writings from any of the staff. I told her the Tensors who swept the institute found nothing. “Either they were destroyed, or someone else took them.” Foul lies. I am rock-certain that the Tensorate was hiding these letters from all of us.
“No letters? That’s not possible,” she said.
I grabbed her hand. “Tell me what was in those letters. You must have kept the ones he sent you. Where are they?”
She tried to pull away. I tightened my grip. The tides had turned: now I was the hunter, and she the soft morsel in flight. I assailed her with questions. What had her brother told her? What did he know? Had he seen something that shouldn’t have been there?
“I’m sorry, I don’t know,” she stuttered. “Please, don’t kill me.”
Her words jarred me out of the fit I’d fallen into. I wasn’t going to hurt her—what an absurd thought!—but she didn’t know that. She was a peasant, and peasants are raised to fear Tensors. I should know: I used to be a peasant too.
Guilt slapped me. I was fighting her when we should have been natural allies.
This dive into decency cost me. The moment I spent feeling remorse undid my focus, and Yuan-ning took full advantage. She jerked from my grasp and ran.
I shouted after her. She sped up in panic, fleeing down the white stone of the path. But then something happened that I swear must have been decreed by the fortunes: I fell. I tripped over something on the ground, but there was nothing there. And maybe I can blame my bad nerves, but I’ve never fallen like that in my life—ever!—so why would I start now?
By the time I regained my footing, Yuan-ning was gone. Which was just as well, because two guards arrived, alerted by my shouting. They were very concerned. If Yuan-ning had been there still, she would have been arrested on the spot. As it was, I told the guards that I had been startled by a cobra slipping into the grass. Searching for it kept them occupied for long enough.
I don’t know where Yuan-ning went. I don’
t know what she wanted to tell me. Idiot. If only I’d stopped to listen.
I came home and drank half a bottle of rice wine and lost myself to sleep for an entire sun-cycle. Of course I had another strange dream. This time, the ghost my mind chose was Yuwen, my roommate from the Academy. I haven’t thought about her in years: a fussy, watery girl with thin wrists and no convictions. She was saying, over and over, as she poured red liquid into a cup, “Things will go where they like. But you can change the flow.” What the fuck did that mean?
The sun has come and gone since I woke from that dream, and those words are still looping in my mind like a siren. Like the call of the gravesent birds that wake me at first sunrise every morning.
I keep running the encounter with Cai Yuan-ning through my head, and I can’t shake the thought that her sudden appearance—and fortuitous getaway—are connected to these strange dreams I’m having. It makes no literal, material sense, but every time I think of one and then the other, something clicks pleasingly into place in my mind. Maybe it’s instinct at work here, or all the years I’ve spent picking puzzles apart. My unconscious mind sees patterns before my rational self notices them.
Or maybe I’m being sent a message. Maybe something or someone is telling me that the investigation is not done yet. Some kind of bizarre, unknowable slackcraft is being used to plant ideas and images in my head, to manipulate the fabric of the world so that strange things keep tumbling into my path. But who would be capable of doing this, and what do they want? Whose side are they on?
I just reread that entire last paragraph. It sounds like the ravings of a madwoman. And that madwoman is me.
Time for more rice wine, I think.
[Some hours later]
Mad as it is, I can’t shake that line of thought. I think I know what I must do.
I’ll never get peace otherwise.
Chapter Fourteen
FROM CHUWAN’S PERSONAL DIARY
[1162.07.21]
So, this is what it’s like to be an outlaw. All the songs play up the excitement, the adventure, the nobility of convictions. What a joke. All I feel is stressed out and anxious, and toweringly stupid. Out of my depth.
But I did it. I broke into what used to be Tensor Ngiau’s office and stole those gravesent transcripts so I could see what they were trying to hide. All it took was staying late in the compound and slipping through gaps in the guards’ attentions. Don’t act like this is some kind of great achievement, Sariman.
How I found the transcripts was a matter of miracles. There’s this ornate incense burner in Tensor Ngiau’s office. When I got in, a massive stack of papers was in the barrel, charcoal-black but still crawling with worms of red fire at the edges. I still don’t know what drove me to do it, but I put the fire out. Good thing I’m not completely useless at slackcraft. When I peeled the charred contents of the barrel apart, I found the transcripts at its heart, charred around the edges but still intact. See? Miracles, as I said. I don’t know how or why those papers in particular were spared, but they were.
What sloppiness on the part of the Tensorate. I mean, if they’d truly wanted to destroy all evidence about the institute, the absolutely could have. But they didn’t even try. The way this looked to me, they were just disposing of trash, burning the clutter in Ngiau’s room. They clearly did not think anyone would be searching for this now that the official investigation has been closed.
So, hubris, then.
In any case, I have the transcripts and I’ve read them. My first reaction: vindication. My second reaction: Horror and fury. I’m only slightly ashamed to say I felt vindication first. But I was right; what went on in that institute was fucked up as a pig’s ass. No wonder those bastards wanted to keep this under wraps. And it’s only half a transcript, too. Which means there was worse than what I read. Great Slack, what were they up to in that dark, breeding humans? Murdering children?
Now I have to find out. But my flash of bravery (or madness) is over, and in its wake, it’s clear that I don’t have a plan. In fact, I never had one. I don’t even know what I should do with these gravesent transcripts. Should I destroy them? Erase all evidence of my guilt and remain a good girl in the eyes of the Protectorate? It’s not too late to turn back. I haven’t done anything irreversible. I could still drop this surreptitious investigation and pretend none of this ever happened. Go back to my gilded life with a tight smile on my face.
Who am I trying to fool. Of course I’m keeping these. Maybe at some point in the future, they’ll be important evidence. Maybe I’ll get to accuse someone of great evildoing and this will be what seals their fate. But for now, the next step is to follow these transcripts where they lead. And I have some ideas.
Chapter Fifteen
Ngiau never sent this one to me. I wonder why.
PRISONER INTERROGATION TRANSCRIPT
[1162.07.14]
Being the transcript of the questioning conducted by Tensor Ngiau Chimin of the prisoner Sanao Akeha, in relation to the investigation into the disaster at Rewar Teng
Tensor N: This is a pleasure. How often does my job bring me face-to-face with one of the most notorious criminals in the Protectorate? I’m frankly surprised by the scale of your crimes this time. I had thought you could be redeemed. I have a certain fondness for you, after all. You probably don’t remember me, Akeha, but I remember you and your sister. I watched you from afar, when we both lived in the Great High Palace. Do you remember that?
SA: . . .
Tensor N: Not going to talk? We have many creative methods to get people to speak up, Akeha. Would you like to try them out?
SA: If you want to waste your time and effort, go ahead.
Tensor N: This is not an empty threat, Akeha. I haven’t constructed my reputation as an expert interrogator out of nothing. I’m sure you know.
SA: What did you expect? That I would fall to my knees, beg for your mercy, and tell you everything?
Tensor N: No, I expected you to act like the arrogant brat you are—
SA: A brat? You would call me a brat? You, that parasitic grub clinging to favor in my mother’s palace?
Tensor N: Ah, so you do remember me.
SA: You had one friend back then. Didn’t you? One of the serving boys. Daisun.
Tensor N: You—
SA: He was a pretty morsel, whom you liked more than he liked you. And then something happened. Daisun became a walking ghost. He wouldn’t eat and wouldn’t talk to people. He wouldn’t say what was wrong. Then he disappeared.
Tensor N: You dare?
SA: What did you do with his body?
Tensor N: You are accusing me of a serious crime.
SA: You thought no one knew, but I did—
Tensor N: I don’t take these accusations lightly.
SA: Haah. You can try to deny—aah. You know, I quite like pain. Ah.
Tensor N: Get him out of here.
Chapter Sixteen
PRISONER INTERROGATION TRANSCRIPT
[1162.07.14]
Being the transcript of the questioning conducted by Tensor Ngiau Chimin of the prisoner known as “Rider,” in relation to the investigation into the disaster at Rewar Teng
Tensor N: You must know why you’re here.
R: You want to know what we saw down there, in the institute.
Tensor N: We want to know what you did.
R: We did nothing. No, that’s not entirely true. We did kill the beast. But it attacked us first. Everything else was dead when we arrived.
Tensor N: Don’t lie to me. We know who you are.
R: Do you? Sometimes, it feels like I don’t know who I am.
Tensor N: Oh, you think you’re funny. We know who your friends are. Are you aware how much of your treasonous behavior is punishable by death?
R: All of it, I assume. Is this why you have called me here? So you can offer to spare my life in exchange for information?
Tensor N: Things will go easier for you if you cooperate. For you, and for your p
artner. His wounds are serious. Don’t you think he needs a doctor? Listen. I know your type. You don’t seem violent. Just fell in with the wrong crowd, didn’t you? I’ve seen many cases like yours before. These rebels, these terrorists, they start off pretending to be your friends, offering you help and support. Before you know it, they’ve become your only help and support. You can’t escape. You’re trapped. But it doesn’t have to be this way. We can help you leave. Let us.
R: I just have to tell you what happened?
Tensor N: Just tell us everything.
R: And all this will be on the record? Your assistant—he is writing this down?
Tensor N: Yes. Does that worry you?
R: It does not. Very well. I will tell you all that I know.
Tensor N: I knew you would be reasonable. Let’s start. What brought you to the institute?
R: I was looking for my sibling. My twin.
Tensor N: Your twin? What was her name?
R: I don’t know.
Tensor N: You don’t know?
R: We were separated at birth. I do not know their name—if your people named them at all. They were one of your experimental subjects at the institute.
Tensor N: Your sister was a goat? Or is your naga a cousin? The only experimental subjects at the institute were the animals being bred there.
R: No, you Tensors experimented on children in the caverns below the institute. They lived there. Do not look so surprised, Tensor—your investigators found me there. They saw what was hidden in the rock. The pods and the living cells—
Tensor N: A ludicrous story.
R: It is indeed. Unfortunately, also one that is true.
Tensor N: All right, if you want to go with that story, we will put it on record. Perhaps a plea of insanity will save your life. Let’s go step by step. Start with your approach to the institute.
R: I came on foot. We traveled north on Bramble, my naga, but she got hurt in the bad weather, and—
Tensor N: Who’s “we”?