Riddle of Fate

by Tania Johansson

  “I am sorry for coming to talk to you,” Derrin said.

  “I should take you in right now,” Zera said. “You have no idea in what state the Order is.”

  “I am trying to make things right, Zera. Khaya was an innocent in all this and they were trying to get her killed.”

  “She was never meant to live this life she has.”

  “You don’t truly believe that, do you? Or have you changed that much?”

  She studied him for a long time before huffing a sigh and dropping her arms. “No. What you did shouldn’t have been possible.” She sat down on the edge of the slanted roof, her legs dangling down. As usual she was barefoot. “You know I never agreed with your sentencing. It was a kneejerk reaction from the Order.”

  “That’s why I knew I could trust you – why I came to you.”

  “I can’t change their minds. I’ve tried.” She looked up at him. “If anyone finds out that I met with you and didn’t attempt to take you in…” She shook her head.

  “I’m sorry for dragging you into this, but you are the only one I can trust.”

  “Don’t speak too soon. I’ve not made up my mind about that yet.”

  Derrin was fairly sure she wouldn’t betray him, no matter what she said. Fairly sure was not certain. “What do you think of Garelle and Meir?”

  “I never liked her and I wouldn’t trust Meir with a copper coin.”

  “Have you seen them together recently? On their own, away from the Hall of Angels?”

  “Those two hate each other. As far as I’m aware. Wouldn’t be in the same room together unless commanded to.”

  “Strange.”

  She gave him a confused frown. “They’ve always hated each other. Made it plain, too. Even when you were still with us.”

  “I know. I just thought their relationship might have changed.”

  “Now, what gave you that poppycock idea?”

  He chuckled despite the situation. “They are hatching some sort of scheme between them.”

  “Nonsense. Those two wouldn’t be able to play a game of flick without trying to throttle one another. Let alone working together.”

  He sat down next to her. “You’ve been a Master of the Order for longer than I’ve been a Collector. Have you noticed any changes recently?”

  “The problem with the Masters is that we never all meet. Perhaps two or three at a time – or when someone has done something extraordinary – five at most. It’s a flawed system.”

  “For whatever reason, Garelle and Meir are lying to the Highest. They are keeping information from him. My guess is that they are not acting according to his commands any more.”

  “How could you know this?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “You’re right. I don’t. What do you know?”

  “They captured Khaya and made a bargain with her. If she turns me in or convinces me to go in of my own accord, they will allow her to continue her natural life. Also, she would have to become a Collector when she dies.”

  Zera’s face paled. “They were instructed to monitor her. To await orders as to how to deal with her. Nothing more, nothing less. Where did they get this notion from?”

  “I think the more important question is why are they doing it? The Highest would not take this lightly. They are risking damnation. What are their goals?”

  She shook her head. “They both despised what you did. Perhaps this is a desperate bid to capture you. They could be lying to Khaya. Once they have you, maybe they plan to kill her anyway.”

  He hadn’t thought of the possibility of them betraying Khaya. Idiot! And he nearly handed himself over. He would have played right into their hands. “Regardless of what they were planning to do with Khaya, they are still lying to the Highest.”

  She shrugged. “They could be hoping that their plans run smoothly and they will get a pat on the back for bringing you both to justice in one fell swoop.”

  He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “I’m remembering why I like you.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I have to find out what they're up to. The Highest already knows something is going on. If I can find out what and bring it to him – help him – he might spare Khaya. Or at least honour her agreement with Garelle and Meir.”

  “How do you know – no, don’t want to know. Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “I will see what I can find out.” She held up her hand when Derrin started to speak. “Don’t thank me. I am not doing this for you. This is much bigger than you and your problems. The entire Collectors society will hinge on the outcome of this. Garelle and Meir cannot be allowed to overthrow the Order. That should be your focus.”

  Zera’s blue eyes pierced Derrin to the core. He nodded. “There was one other thing I wanted to ask you. What are the criteria for becoming a Collector?”

  “You know the answer to that. I’ve told you before. I am not discussing my life before.”

  “I know. I respect that, that isn’t what I’m asking. I know people on the edge of damnation are given a chance to redeem themselves by serving as a Collector. We all know that. Are there any other qualifying qualities?”

  “What are you driving at? You have something in mind. Out with it.”

  “To become a Collector, do you have to have had an ability in life?”

  She frowned, the corners of her mouth pulling down. “Luckily not. Otherwise I would have been languishing in damnation for a long time already.”

  “Why would Garelle and Meir tell Khaya that’s a requirement then?”

  “Who knows why they do anything.” She studied Derrin for a while. “If you believed that could be true, it must mean that you had an ability.” She wasn’t asking.

  “They told Khaya that I had a healing ability. You know I was a doctor when I was alive. They claimed I unknowingly used my ability while performing my duties.” He shrugged. “I almost believed it. Khaya thinks that's how I managed to save her. My ability was magnified when I became a Collector and that’s why I was able to do what was meant to be impossible.”

  Zera stared out across the city. It was near midnight and even a city of this size was peaceful. “And you don’t believe it now?”

  He shrugged, running a hand through his unruly hair. “I don’t know what to believe. I thought it made sense. It explained everything. It was neat.”

  “It might be true. A great number of recent recruits have come in with abilities.” She stood. “Seems like I have a lot to do. I will meet you here tomorrow at midnight.” She vanished before he could say any more.

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  A Greater Purpose

  “They lied,” Khaya said, sitting with her feet tucked under her on the chair.

  “It’s not surprising,” Derrin said. “We can’t trust them or anything they told you.”

  “And Zera will help us?”

  “She will, although her motives are unclear. It seems she doesn’t wish to get involved in our plight. She is only concerned about the greater problem: Garelle and Meir’s betrayal. They are working against the Highest. Something that’s unheard of.”

  “I’ll have to leave soon,” she said, glancing at the clock. “What do I tell them?” She wished she didn’t have to meet with Garelle and Meir, but part of the agreement was that she would report to them whenever they requested. Her stomach twisted at the notion of walking back into that mansion.

  “You have to convince them that you are doing as they asked.”

  A knock at the door. She stood. “Wish me luck,” she said and walked towards the door, her red dress swishing around her ankles.

  Derrin grabbed her arm and drew her to him. “I will be close by. Don’t take any unnecessary risks. All you need to do is convince them you are cooperating.”

  His hand on her arm was like a furnace, spreading heat throughout her body. She fought down the urge to kiss him. Her mouth was dry and she couldn’t speak, so she nodded before walking out.

 
; A burly man opened the carriage door for her. He eyed her like one would a rabid dog, his hand on the hilt of his sword. She felt like feigning a lunge at him. She resisted and pulled herself into the carriage seat.

  Yarissa sat across from her and Khaya felt the girl’s binding hold take a firm grasp on her abilities. Khaya forced a smile. “I thought we were on the same side now.”

  Yarissa sniffed and gazed out of the window.

  “Do you work for the Company?” Khaya asked as the carriage lurched into motion.

  “Which Company?”

  Khaya shook her head, dismissing the question. “How old are you?”

  The girl gave no sign of having heard the question.

  “Yarissa, I am not the enemy. We work for the same people.” Khaya placed a hand on her arm.

  The girl plucked her arm away, glaring at Khaya before once again staring out of the carriage window.

  So much for softening her up. “What have they told you about me?” When she didn’t answer, Khaya continued. “I was about your age when I discovered my ability. My first one at least. Your control over your ability is astonishing. I only recently learnt to control mine. Did someone show you how –”

  Yarissa made a vexed sound, cutting Khaya off. “I know what you’re doing. I might be young, but I’m not a child. And I am not an idiot.”

  “What am I doing? I thought I was just talking.”

  “Don’t play innocent. Pretending to be nice. Trying to make me talk to you. Hoping to raise my sympathy for you. And then you’ll try to use me. One way or another.”

  “Like the Collectors are using you?”

  “That’s different.”

  “Of course it is.”

  “Don’t patronise me,” Yarissa said, scratching her head. Her short, auburn hair was greasy and her fringe clung to her forehead. A faint unwashed smell hung around her and wafted across to Khaya.

  “Are they keeping you prisoner?”

  Yarissa’s angry mask slipped as her eyes widened for a second. “Don’t be ridiculous. Keep talking if you want me to tell the Collectors that you are planning to betray them.”

  Khaya’s stomach fluttered. It was an empty threat. There was no way the girl could know what they were planning. Khaya schooled her face, giving a small smile, which she hoped would throw Yarissa off.

  She was studying her nails and didn’t even seem to notice. The question had struck a nerve. If she wasn’t being held prisoner, they were holding something over her.

  With or without knowledge of Khaya and Derrin's plans, if Yarissa hinted anything of betrayal to the Collectors, all could be lost. They rode on in silence, the clopping of the horses’ hooves becoming hypnotic.

  Khaya’s thought drifted – as they did so often now – to Derrin. She was being foolish, she knew she was. He wasn’t human and there was no possibility of a happily-ever-after, but still, each time she saw him, everything seemed so much better, brighter and happier.

  She shook her head. She didn’t need these pointless feelings clouding her brain. Not when she was about to meet with the Collectors. Yarissa was watching her. As soon as Khaya noticed, the girl looked away. She twirled a strand of hair around her finger. Khaya was certain this youngster was innocent. And she looked familiar somehow.

  The carriage lurched to a stop. Khaya took a steadying breath, calming her racing heart. She stepped out of the carriage. The wind whipped around her, tugging at her dress and tangling her long hair.

  She stared up at the imposing mansion. Time to put on a good performance.

  ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

  Brier stretched up onto his toes to peer out of the window. Two days. Two days they’d kept him locked up. His backside was still too sore to sit down. They'd strapped him as if he were an errant child. He told them as much and Heran had laughed, saying that was exactly what he was. How dared they!

  Did they not realise how much he’d sacrificed for them. He’d lived. He’d given up his coveted release from life to help them. Sure, they were going to reward him for it, but he had to do all the work before that. And he had, curse them!

  A plate was slipped in under his door and he leapt towards it. “How long am I going to be kept in here? Hello!” As each time before, silence was his only answer. He didn’t even know who brought the food. What they gave him couldn't really pass for food, but it kept him alive.

  Oh, yes, he would submit to this torture. He’d sustain his life until he knew for certain he would be granted a role as a Collector. He couldn’t now throw everything away. No matter how tempted he was.

  He winced as he bent to pick up his plate. His back and bottom felt afire. Not in his wildest imagination had he considered the Collectors would debase themselves with physical punishment. At least that was better than them revoking their offer of redemption.

  He had to direct his anger, his hate. He knew who was ultimately responsible for all of this. Khaya. Even the name made him feel sick. Now it seemed they had let her go. Struck some sort of bargain. It had to be a trap. They couldn’t possibly bargain with her. Their laws wouldn’t allow it.

  Brier used the stale bread to mop up the last of the juices on his plate, trying not to taste it. The mansion’s front door opened, the heavy wood creaking. “This way,” he heard someone say.

  “Thank you, Ampir,” Garelle said. “I will escort Miss Pherela.”

  Khaya returned? Why would she walk into her enemies' open maw? Had she really gone crazy now?

  Brier pressed himself up against the door, his ear to the wood. All he heard was retreating footsteps. He stepped back, cursing under his breath. The door to his cell opened and he swung round.

  Heran faced him with a smirk. It belied the innocent appearance of his big eyes. “I trust you have seen the error of your ways.”

  Brier swallowed his caustic response, restricting himself to a nod. “Khaya is here.”

  “Good ears. Remember those ears hearing things they weren’t meant to was what landed you in that cell in the first place.” He turned. Striding away, he said, “Come.”

  Heran led him to the front door. A horse was tied to a post at the back of a large, black carriage. “Ride back to Arroe. This carriage,” he said, motioning with his head, “will be bringing Khaya back to her home. Keep an eye on her. Find out if she is meeting with Derrin.”

  “But, I can’t even see him.”

  Heran patted Brier on the arm. “Remember why you do what you do. And find a way.”

  ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

  Garelle led Khaya to the same room where they had their first meeting. Meir sat at the mahogany desk in the far corner, but stood when they entered. His black hair was sleeked back, adding to the sharpness of his face. “We’ve been expecting you,” he said as he strode over to the sitting area. He motioned for Khaya to take a seat in the armchair.

  Yarissa took up Meir’s vacated chair at the desk. She was dwarfed by the large wingback leather armchair. She folded her arms across her chest, looking bored.

  As Garelle moved behind Khaya, a look passed between her and Meir. His face darkened for a moment before he regarded Khaya again. It seemed that gaze saw too much. Suddenly, she was certain they would be able to see straight through her lies. She forced her face to remain still.

  She broke her eyes away from Meir’s. “I don’t have much to report yet. I’ve not seen Derrin again.”

  “Don’t be too hasty,” Garelle said, gracefully seating herself on the sofa across from Khaya. “We are working together now. We feel it’s essential that you are happy and understand the importance of what you do.”

  “I thought Derrin would come to me,” Khaya said, “but he hasn’t. Maybe he was wary. He must be aware that you’d captured me and it must look suspicious that after all you went through to get me, you let me go.”

  “True,” Meir said, his hands together and his chin resting on the tip of his fingers. “Naturally, he won’t be able to resist coming to you much longer. And when he does, you will convince hi
m you are still on his side.”

  “Of course,” Khaya said. “But you have to realise if he sees any other Collectors lurking about me, he will not reveal himself.”

  Meir held his hands up. “We won’t be seen. Have you decided what you’ll tell him?”

  “I will keep it simple. I was given a choice. I could accept my fate and give up life, or if I wanted to continue living, he will have to hand himself over to you and let justice be served, and I will serve as a Collector once I die.”

  “Blunt,” Garelle said. “You think he would hand himself over in order to grant you a life you were never entitled to?”

  “Yes,” Khaya said, unwavering in her confidence. This, at least, she knew for the truth. She smiled.

  “Hmmm,” Meir said, “I wonder if you will be able to give him up.”

  Never, Khaya thought, but said instead, “He made a mistake. He has to suffer the consequences. Besides, I’m not ready to die yet.”

  “Do you deny that you love him?”

  Khaya intended to say yes, she didn’t love him, but realised before the words came out that they would ring hollow, even to someone who was deaf. “No, I don’t deny it. But there is no future for us. He isn’t alive. It’s torn me up inside, but I know we have no future. As hard as it is, I have to distance myself from him.” They could never be together. Even when all was said and done, even if she lived a long life, and he escaped the Collectors – never. She fought the tears that stung her eyes.

  Garelle studied her, her face thoughtful. “I do believe she is telling the truth,” she said. “That is all we needed to know. I must admit I was afraid you were deluding yourself with fantasies of living happily ever after with him. It's good to know your feet are firmly on the ground and we are in agreement.”

  “Return here as soon as you have any progress to report,” Meir said. “I expect to see you back within a few days.”

  He stood and Khaya did as well. A scrawny man sat in the corner of the room. How odd. Had he been there when she walked in? Or had he slipped in later unnoticed? “Ah, I see you’ve noticed our friend,” Garelle said. She waved a hand at him and he sidled closer. Was he the servant she’d seen in the hallway after her bath?