by May, K. C.
“First left, second right,” Retar said. “Will that be all for now?”
“Yes, thank you.” On a whim, Jora scratched the top of the parrot’s head with her index finger.
“Mmm. That’s nice. I like that.”
First left, second right, she thought, feeling like a criminal for sneaking through the temple like this. If it hadn’t been for the fact that the god Retar himself had given her the directions, she would have thought her soul would surely be condemned to Hell. The door to the dominee’s office was closed but it wasn’t locked. The dominee probably had as much trust in other temple clergy members as Jora’d had in other members of the Order.
The room was dim, but what daylight was left shining through the large plate window was enough for her to easily make out the two books sitting to the right of center on the wide desk.
Jora flipped open the one with the black cover and recognized her own handwriting. She picked it up and opened the tan-covered book underneath. Inside were the notes penned by the late Elder Kassyl. She put the two books inside her robes, flat against her chest, and tugged the fabric to cover them.
She checked the corridor in both directions and eased the door shut behind her before hurrying back the way she’d come. The parrot squawked at her when she stepped past it, ducking back into the chamber. She’d barely gotten turned on the bench and pulled the divider shut when the cantor’s face appeared in the grating to her right. She let out a startled yelp, as did he, and pushed the door open.
“What on Aerta are you doing?” she asked, putting a hand to her chest in shock, covering the bulge created by the top edge of the book under her robe.
“I’m s-so sorry, Novice. I-I didn’t hear the murmur of conversation, and I was afraid perhaps you’d fallen asleep. I didn’t mean to interrupt if you’re still in communion with Retar.”
“I’m finished now,” she said. “I’m not used to people sneaking up on me like that while I’m having a private conversation with the god.”
“I’m so very sorry. Please forgive me.” His hands quivered as he wrung them, the key’s thong draped over his wrist.
“Let’s pretend I wasn’t here, and I’ll forgive the intrusion,” she said. “If you’ll kindly let me out, I’ll be on my way.”
“O-Of course. Let me...” He hurried down the aisle, and she followed, adjusting the folds of her robe to hide the bulging books. When he unlocked the door, she wished him a pleasant evening and left, eager to get away before he noticed the lump under her robe.
Hurrying back to the dormitory, Jora knew she couldn’t stay. The moment the dominee realized the books were gone, they would suspect her. They couldn’t observe her, but they could observe the cantor and see that she’d been there. She would possibly be charged with a crime, if not for the theft, then for illegally entering the dominee’s office.
She considered fleeing now with nothing but the books and the clothes on her back, but with the flimsy sandals on her feet and no money, she wouldn’t get far. Besides, she couldn’t leave without her flute. Once the enforcers locked up at night, she would be trapped within the confines of the property until close to dawn.
When she returned to her room, Jora packed her old clothes and a clean robe, folding the books into her clothing to better hide them from anyone who managed to snoop. She laid her flute atop the clothes, stuffed her hat on top, and then fastened the top flap and slid the bag under her bed.
It occurred to her that novice robes wouldn’t be as useful as adepts’ robes. All novices were supposed to train in Jolver. Wandering around the countryside in novices’ robes would call attention to herself, but an adept or elder traveling alone wouldn’t be out of the ordinary. The green or golden robes would also give her the advantage of assumption; any Truth Sayers she encountered would assume they couldn’t observe her, while they would expect to be able to observe a novice or a nonmember of the Order.
During the night, when everyone else was sleeping and her mind was too restless to join them, she snuck down to the laundry and grabbed a set of the green adepts’ robes, freshly washed, dried and ironed. For a moment, she considered taking elders’ robes too, but she was too young. Passing herself off as an adept would be hard enough; posing as an elder would look downright ridiculous. She also filled the water skin that Gunnar had given her. It wouldn’t last all day, but she could refill it at a stream.
She did manage to sleep a couple of hours that night, but they were not restful hours. When she was too uneasy to sleep anymore, she put on a simple shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, then the trousers and outer robe that designated her as a Novice. It was still dark outside, and so she crept downstairs with her bag, looking for a place to hide it where it wouldn’t be seen but would be easily accessible when she was ready. Not far from the back gate was a hedge that lined the tall brick wall enclosing the Justice Bureau grounds. She pushed the bag under the hedge and behind the thickest of their trunks. In broad daylight, it might be noticeable, but she planned to be gone by then.
She waited in her room until the sky glowed pink in the east and then went downstairs to join the other regulars beside the Spirit Stones. If she failed to come one day to hear the Changing of the Tones, people would wonder and Elder Sonnis would grow suspicious. She needed everything to seem as normal as possible until she was due for her first lesson with Disciple Bastin. By the time they realized she was gone, she would be four hours away.
“Good morning, Novice Jora,” Elder Sonnis said, smiling gently as he strolled over to the stone. “I’m glad to see you here.”
“Why do you say that, Elder?”
“Sometimes a loss as devastating as what we’ve all suffered this week, with the tragic deaths of Elder Kassyl and Novice Gilon, disrupts our lives and makes everyday tasks seem less worthwhile.”
The other adepts and elders nodded sadly.
“It’s important to continue moving forward,” Elder Sonnis said. “We can find solace in companionship and in the things that give us pleasure.”
She turned toward the east, toward the glow in the sky, not wanting to listen to him anymore. Those words spoken by any other lips would have had meaning for her. Spoken by him, they were a mockery of her affection for Gilon and Elder Kassyl and the depth of her grief.
The sun seemed to take forever to rise that morning. Jora stood with the others, one hand on the Spirit Stone, waiting. Her heart beat so furiously, she was sure everyone around her could hear it. She heard their breathing, the rustle of their clothes when they moved, their feet shuffling on the stone.
At last, the sun’s first rays touched the waters of the sea with a golden sparkle and the tone changed, lifting Jora with its beauty as it sang through her bones. Tears ran down her cheeks when she realized she wouldn’t get to experience the tone change the following day or the day after that. Perhaps never again, if the only two Spirit Stones in Serocia were located in front of Justice Bureau buildings.
When she opened her eyes, she was alone. The others had gone inside, and the sun was a tiny sliver above the horizon.
It was time.
She walked through the Bureau’s main building, as she’d done every morning after the Changing of the Tones, though this time with feigned nonchalance. She was alert to every sound, every door opening, and every pair of eyes meeting hers as she passed. A pair of footsteps behind her quickened her heartbeat.
“Novice Jora,” said a voice behind her.
Run or stop? She paused, knowing that running would only draw attention to herself. “Yes?” It was Adept Fer. She broke into a sweat.
“I wanted to express my condolences on the death of your friend. It was clear the two of you were close. I’m very sorry. The work we do here can be difficult and, as we’ve seen with Novice Gilon, dangerous.”
“Thank you, Adept. It’ll take some time to get past my grief, but I hope that focusing on my studies will help.”
“Yes, that’s a good attitude, but please don’t overd
o it. Disciple Bastin guides you so that you don’t overtax your mind while you’re still learning. Is she working you too hard?”
“Oh, no. Disciple Bastin isn’t to blame for what happened to Gilon.”
“Good. She’ll be reporting to me, now that Sonnis has been promoted to Elder. If at any time you feel she’s pushing you beyond your tolerance, please come and see me.”
“Yes, Adept. I will.” Jora started to turn and continue on her way, but the adept stopped her.
“Ah, speaking of Elder Sonnis, he’s asked me to send you to his office right away.”
Uh oh. Jora swallowed. The dominee must have noticed the books missing. Why else would Sonnis be so anxious to talk to her? “Um, yes, of course. I need a few moments to, ah, take care of something first.”
“He said it was most urgent, Novice,” Adept Fer said. He took her arm in a firm but painless grip.
“I understand, Adept, but I truly must run to my room first. I, um...” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I started my monthly menses, and I must change my rags rather urgently.”
He released her arm immediately and took a step back, as if afraid to catch some disease. “Oh. Yes, of course. Please hurry. His schedule for today is quite busy, as you can imagine.”
She started to the back door. “I will. I wouldn’t want to keep the elder waiting.”
She scuttled down the hallway and out the door. When she reached the walkway that led to the dormitory, she slipped around the side of the building. Her bag was right where she’d left it, and she pulled it out of the bushes, slung the strap over her shoulders, and exited through the side gate. She rounded the corner, her heart thundering in her excitement about getting away unseen. That was close.
As she made her way east, toward the docks, she looked casually over her shoulder, hoping she wouldn’t be spotted. Not far away, she entered a narrow alley of apartment houses. Ahead, someone opened a door and a dog stepped out, then began barking at her. Jora stopped, unsure whether to try passing the dog or backtrack.
“Don’t mind her,” the owner said. “She’s all talk.”
“I see,” Jora said. She walked along the wall of the opposite building anyway, just in case.
“Are you lost, Novice? Justice Bureau’s back that way.”
“Ah, no. I’ve got a package to deliver,” she said over her shoulder. She picked up her pace, not wanting to be questioned further—or worse, robbed of her bag. No one would rob a Justice Official, would they? That would be the dumbest crime ever committed.
Though the purple robe and shaven head might give her immunity from crime, they would draw attention to her the farther she got from the city. Across the next street, she came upon a vacant apartment that looked like it had recently been destroyed by fire. Its ceiling was collapsed, and charred wood and other debris littered the front room, but it gave her the privacy she needed.
She slipped off the sandals and pulled on her boots. Her feet practically sighed, relishing the fine fit. She took off the robe and stuffed it into her bag. Passersby would remember a purple-robed novice with a bag slung over her shoulder, but they might not notice a plainly dressed woman. Without hair on her head, her hat sat lower, completely covering her ears and her bald head.
Glancing behind her, she saw no sign of alarm, no indication she was being pursued. Sonnis wouldn’t wait long before sending someone to her room and beginning a search for her. Without a horse, she wouldn’t get as far in the time she’d bought herself as mounted pursuers could, but with the help of a tall tree or two, she was hopeful she could evade capture, at least until she reached Kaild.
She bought an orange in the market and peeled bits of the skin as she walked, tossing it into the gutter where birds and mice hunted for morsels to eat.
By the time she reached the docks, the sun appeared to sit on the horizon like a yellow duckling paddling across a pond after its mother. Men and women were toting bags and nets and poles, loading their boats for a day of fishing. Their arms and shoulders were tanned from the sun and heavily muscled from working the oars.
She sat under a tree and ate her breakfast while waiting for enough of the fishers to leave so she could call to Sundancer without attracting too much attention.
While waiting for the docks to clear, Jora took a moment to enter the Mindstream. After finding the dominee’s thread, and finding the dominee pacing in her office, she traced the thread backward. The dominee, sitting at her desk, had penned a hasty note. Jora paused the scene to read what she’d written:
Books are gone. Find out who took them and get them back, and then punish the thief.
She then let the stream flow forward again and jumped to the white-robed man the dominee had called to deliver it, observing him as he scurried out of the temple and down the street to the Justice Bureau. In fact, he ran up the steps past Jora, who stood alone, her hand on the Spirit Stone. After speaking with the desk clerk and waiting for an enforcer to escort him, he went to Elder Sonnis’s new office and presented him with the note. The elder kept a straight face except for a twitch in the side of his mouth and thanked the messenger. The messenger left before she saw what Elder Sonnis did next, but she could guess. That must have been shortly before Adept Fer stopped her in the hall.
Adriel’s words came back to her: I overheard Elder Sonnis talking about you. Talking with a Legion captain.
Jora considered the possibilities. If she Observed Adriel at the moment she’d overheard Sonnis discussing her, maybe she could hear the rest of the conversation. She plucked Adriel’s thread in the Mindstream and followed it back to the day she’d met with Elder Gastone.
Adriel sat on a wooden chair in front of the elder’s desk, casually looking around. Faint voices carried from the hallway and moved to the room on the left, muffled through the wall.
“Good afternoon, Adept.” a stranger’s voice said. Jora took the opportunity to jump to that man’s thread, a Legion officer.
“Captain Kyear,” Sonnis said with a shallow bow. “Thank you for coming.”
Kyear? Jora wondered. He must’ve been related to her father, though she didn’t know any soldiers from Kaild who currently served the Legion as a captain, let alone one of Dyre’s brothers or cousins. His face was unfamiliar, though she saw a slight family resemblance in the square jaw and wide mouth.
The two men shook hands and sat, the captain in a rigid chair in front of the desk and Sonnis in a cushioned chair behind it. The position of power.
“The order was quite clear,” said Captain Kyear. “I don’t know how much more light I can shed on the situation.”
“You must understand,” Sonnis said, folding his hands on the desk in front of him. “What you’re asking us to do is... severe. Novice Jora is one of the most talented we’ve had in many years, perhaps decades.”
Jora was surprised to hear him say that aloud. He’d never let on that he considered her particularly talented.
“The Legion appreciates your position, Adept. There’s simply no other choice.”
“What if there was?” Sonnis asked.
“And what would it be?”
“The issue isn’t what she knows or doesn’t know but whether she would discuss what she learns with those she trusts most, in particular the leaders and returned soldiers of her hometown. Am I understanding correctly?”
“I’m not sure I like where this is going,” Kyear said, his voice tinged with doubt.
“Your commander and his officers were careless enough to let a recruit see something he wasn’t supposed to see—”
“And he will be dealt with.”
“—and now you want us to slay one of our most talented novices. Because of your carelessness.”
“It’s the simplest solution to the problem.”
“Simple for you,” Sonnis said. “I assure you, I can manage her.”
“How do you know that when she can’t be Observed?” Kyear said.
“True, someone has taught her the barring hood,
” Sonnis said, “but the girl is pliable. I can manage her, especially if she had no one else to turn to.”
Jora’s heart sputtered. What had he meant by that?
“No,” Kyear said. “The Legion will not sanction this... alternative of yours. It’s extreme and entirely unnecessary.”
“It solves both of our problems.”
“It crosses the line.”
Sonnis sighed. “Then at least give me the evening to discuss it with Elder Kassyl. This isn’t an action I can take without his consent.”
“Very well. Notify us tomorrow once the deed is done.”
Jora shuddered, closing the Mindstream and looking about. They’d intended to kill her because of something they were afraid she would find out. Something about the tones? About what Gilon had witnessed? It had to be one of those. What else would’ve alarmed the Legion so greatly?
Chapter 20
Boden sat in the back of the wagon, his hands bound in iron shackles, eating bread and cheese. It had been four days since he’d left company forty-four, and he expected to arrive in Jolver by the end of the following day. He almost welcomed it. At least a court-martial would give him a chance to explain himself, and he might get some answers to the question that tormented him: Why?
Though they’d stopped for the night at one of the smaller way stations inland, he wasn’t permitted to leave the wagon for more than a piss. Two ropes were looped around the shackles, each tied to one side of the wagon. He could move his hands a few inches forward and back, enough to raise the food to his mouth, but not side to side. A cup of water sat between his outstretched legs, and he set the bread on his thigh before carefully raising the cup to his lips for a drink.