“First of all, where is your Elder?”
“We do not know,” the assistant replied.
Orion listened carefully to the voices of the minds.
“Yes,” he said. “You do not know. This surprises me to some extent, as it reveals your Elder for the supreme coward that he is. He left you all to face me alone.” He grinned. “So, according to your rules, what happens? Who makes decisions for you?”
“If the Elder is not able to perform his duties, the Elder-in-Waiting takes his place,” explained the assistant Twilight’s Hand. “That is you,” he said turning to the Elder-in-Waiting.
Me? The Elder-in-Waiting was shocked despite himself.
“Oh good,” Orion said. “It’s exactly what I thought should happen. Now Elder, come up here, would you? I appear to be sitting in your seat.”
The Elder-in-Waiting approached hesitantly.
“Sit, sit,” Orion said, vacating the Elder’s Seat.
“We have work to do, all of us,” he continued pleasantly. “First of all, we will have a meeting here on Stone Island, to which all the residents of the island will be invited. This meeting will take place at dawn, in front of the Sanctum. I will talk to the people and explain to them what has happened. Afterwards, you will each return to your islands and reiterate what I have said, verbatim if possible, to your respective citizens.
“Is that understood?”
The former Elder’s former – possibly – assistant pointed out that the people on the island were likely to be asleep, being as it was barely an hour before dawn.
“Yes,” Orion agreed. “So you will all go and wake them up. There’s not much time, so I’d hurry if I were you.”
And there it was: the tiny opening in a mind…
Relief that that was all... Orion took note.
“Elder, please, you may unlock the door. But come back. I’d like a word with you before you go.” He motioned to the former Elder-in-Waiting who was standing beside him.
The new Elder did as he was bidden, opening the door for the remaining Twilight’s Hands to waken the residents of the island. He then returned expectantly to where Orion was standing thoughtfully before the pond.
“I have been told that a young man was involved in Carl’s poisoning–” He raised his hand to quell any potential protest. “I know he was involved – perhaps unknowingly,” he added in a charitable tone. “Where is he?”
The new Elder readily revealed all he knew: “The Elder placed him in penance for his unwitting role in this grievous matter. He is in the Hollow Hall.”
“Oh good. I’d like a few minutes alone with him before the meeting with your island folk. By the way, she calls herself Dalga now, not Cypress,” he added.
The former Elder-in-Waiting stopped and turned to face Orion. “Why?”
“She knows it was the waves that saved her. Because she could swim. I know what you did for her…” Orion added quietly.
“It does not matter,” the new Elder said evenly. “For one who throws his daughter off the rock, there can never be forgiveness or understanding. It is the way of things.
“Come, Hunter. I will take you to the Hollow Hall.”
They left the hall and took a winding marble staircase to the floor below.
“Why was the Cypress Ritual restarted?” Orion asked as they descended. “Did the Elder give a particular reason?”
The new Elder stopped. “No,” he said slowly as one exhausted. “No reason was given except that it is our tradition.” He resumed walking down the stairs. At the bottom of the steps, he pointed towards a heavy black door to the left. “That is the Hollow Hall,” he explained.
“There may be something else,” he said uncertainly. I do not know, he thought. It is a feeling I got after the tree planting ceremony. I dare not speak.
“You are a thoughtful man,” Orion said.
Perhaps it is to do with the Veil, thought the former Elder-in-Waiting. The Elder has spoken to me of opening up, of reaching those beyond the Veil. I know nothing else.
“I see,” Orion said meditatively. “Before I go in, do you know anything about a young man related to the Elder who was given a position in the Light Labs?”
“I heard about it. That’s all. I do not know who it was, or what may have happened to him.”
“Well let’s see what this one here knows…” the Hunter mused.
“I will leave you now, Hunter. The door to the Hollow Hall is not locked; the one within would not leave without permission. If you have no further need of me, I will go out and bring our people to hear the truth at dawn.”
They parted ways before the Hollow Hall.
41
Orion examined the black door before him. It was built to fit seamlessly into the opening in the marble wall. Its dark presence was a perfect barrier to light.
He knocked loudly to announce his presence, and pushed the door open…
Seated on the floor against the far wall of the square room – perhaps some fifty square meters of it, Orion calculated – was a bearded man, squinting now, in the unexpected light. Orion walked slowly towards him, leaving the door ajar.
“Hello,” Orion said pleasantly. “Why don’t you get up?”
The man rose warily, keeping his back firmly against the wall.
“Let’s talk… Or rather, you talk – or think, either is fine with me – and I’ll listen. Yes?”
“I will tell you everything, Hunter,” the man said quickly. He was shorter and broader than the former Elder-in-Waiting. You do not belong to the Elder’s clan, thought Orion. You are one of those who came from the mainland. They must think you expendable.
“Yes, that would be best,” Orion said evenly. “In fact, you don’t have a choice.” You will tell me what you know, but it may not be accurate, and it will probably not be the whole of it… I know this, too.
“Now, listen to my questions and answer them as accurately as possible. I don’t want you to guess, do you understand. You know I can tell if you don’t know, don’t you?” he warned. “If you’re not sure, just say so.”
The man nodded vigorously.
“Did you intend to kill Carl Volkswahr?”
“Yes.” He shrank back.
“Was it your idea?”
“No! I only did what I was told. I had to do it,” he said in a pleading tone.
“I’m not here to judge,” Orion said serenely. “I’m only here for information. The only wrong answer is a lie.”
“It wasn’t my idea.”
“I believe you. Do you know why?”
“Why?” The man sounded surprised by the question.
“Yes. Why was it thought necessary to kill Carl?”
“He knew…”
“What did he know?”
“The Cypress Ritual,” the man replied in a firm voice but his mind was far from certain.
“I told you, the only wrong answer is a lie,” Orion cautioned.
The man was silent.
“You are not sure if Carl knew about the Ritual or if that was the reason for his murder? Which is it?” Orion let out an impatient sigh. “I know you’re uncertain. I feel it. Don’t be stupid. Remember who I am!”
Fear flooded the man’s being.
Orion backed off. Are you afraid of me, or what the Elder will do to you if you tell me? Or both, perhaps…
“Fine. You were told Carl knew about the upcoming Cypress Ritual. Were you told how he is supposed to have found out?”
“Because of the other two immortals, the ones called Dragan and Philippa,” the islander replied. “That’s what Dragan must have come to the islands to discover. He might have told Phillipa and – and Carl Volkswahr.”
“But Dragan and Philippa died several months before Carl. Why wait so long?”
“What?”
Orion sighed. “Let’s start at the beginning, shall we? How about you tell me first about Dragan and Philippa…”
“He – he came to the Island of Birds. I saw him spying!”
/>
“You did? On whom was Dragan spying?”
“Just spying.”
“Just spying? Randomly peeking around or–”
“I don’t know,” the man said stolidly.
“You’re quite good, you know,” Orion remarked. “Good at hiding your thoughts. Your mind is completely blank. I commend you. Many people who practice for ages can’t manage to attain that level of obliviousness.”
The islander looked at him hesitantly, uncertain whether to take Orion’s words as a compliment.
“How did you know he was spying?” Orion continued.
“What? He was sneaking around. It was obvious.”
“Around where?”
“Here and there. Anywhere. You know: spying.”
Orion said nothing.
“Just, you know, spying…” the man repeated, attempting to fill the conversational void.
Still, Orion was silent. The man fidgeted.
“You don’t believe me?” he began defiantly. Orion took a step towards him. They were no more than an arm’s length apart, and the wall was not giving any ground. But Orion just stared. It was not a particularly menacing stare, but it was constant. The man made a half-hearted attempt to slide towards the entrance, but a butterfly knife that came out of nowhere and embedded itself in the wall next to his left ear impeded his progress. He did not cry out even though the knife had nicked his earlobe. He could not feel the pain for the thundering of his heart.
“Relax,” Orion said, and meant it. Fear was messy. It got in the way of truth. Deftly, he removed the knife and moved backwards: one step.
“I will not harm you,” he said sheathing the knife up his sleeve. “I keep telling you: all I want to know is the truth, but I don’t want you to worry if you think what you know might not be the truth, for it most certainly is not the entire truth – if any part of it.
“All I want from you is what you know.”
And there it was: bright among the digested, half-forgotten memories, and partial-truths. An image: Fiona.
“She was there on the Island of Birds?”
The man nodded miserably. “I was visiting my cousin on the island and on my way back to our boat after Evening Song, I saw Dragan behind a rock watching her. It was near the dock where the boats come.”
“Watching them,” Orion corrected. “You thought it, so you should say it. What is the purpose in telling such a blatant untruth?” he shook his head with genuine lack of comprehension.
“Yes, Hunter,” the man said obediently. “I saw them. It was Fiona …”
And the Elder, thought Orion, finishing the sentence. “No one can hear you,” he assured the man. No one can hear you think. No one as well as me, in any event.
“They saw you?”
The man looked at his feet.
“Who else was there?”
The man shuffled his feet.
“But he is not a Twilight’s Hand?” Orion asked, surprised.
The man shook his head once. No, it was the Elder’s middle son. His eldest is the Twilight’s Hand of the Island of Whispers. “I didn’t see anything else, Hunter.”
“So, what about your statement that Carl was killed because of something he might have been told?”
“I don’t know,” the man said sullenly.
“You don’t know…” Orion said, speaking mostly to himself. “But you provided the lightberry that killed him.”
The man hung his head. “Yes. For that I am being punished by the Dark One.”
I’ll see to it that you’re punished for it on the mainland in full view of the Sun, Orion thought. “There was another, wasn’t there, who went to the mainland? He worked in the Light Labs with Carl.” It was not a question.
An acknowledgment. “Who?”
Orion sighed inwardly. “How many times do I have to remind you to tell the truth?” There was a definite edge to his voice, accented by the small, razor-sharp blade that appeared at eye-level. Orion used his free arm to pin the man against the wall by his throat. “How many times can you lie to me, do you think, before I lose patience? I can’t abide people who try to hide things from me. Do you know why?”
The man did not answer, which Orion had not expected – as much because of the pressure on his windpipe as the distracting effect of the sharp point an inch away from his eyeball.
“Because it’s wrong,” Orion spat. “I know it, you know it, so why continue?” He released the pressure on the man’s throat a little but did not let him go. The knife remained in place. The man gasped for breath, afraid to move his head too far for fear of the steady blade.
“If I let go, will you tell me the truth? Only the truth. Blink once for yes.”
The man blinked.
“Now, where were we?” Orion stepped back and lowered the knife to waist level.
The islander’s hand flew to his throat. “Yes, yes, I know about the other who worked at the labs,” he said in a hoarse whisper.
“Good.” Orion smiled. “That’s better. Did he stay on the mainland?”
“As far as I know… he is close to the Elder. I don’t know him. I heard he was on the mainland.”
“Did you hear where he was staying on the mainland?”
The man paused. “I’m not sure,” he replied.
“Good,” Orion nodded. “That’s good. You’re telling me you’re not sure. You’re not just guessing, but now I want you to give me your opinion. Where do you think he might be staying?”
“My nephew’s wife’s friend married someone from the mainland. I know they have apartments for rent. I heard that they rent them to islanders who need to spend time on the mainland. Maybe he is there, I don’t know.”
“Maybe indeed… Thank you.”
“Is that all?”
“You will tell me where I can find your nephew, his wife and her friend.”
The man looked stricken. “You won’t harm them?”
“I want information,” Orion replied.
“But – but my nephew had nothing to do with any of this!”
“Information, please. Now.”
The islander lowered his head.
42
THE RECKONING
It was Dawn. It was Light. A crowd was gathered before the Sanctum of the Dark One. Orion regarded them steadily. He stood at the top of the steps and spoke loudly and clearly so that they might all hear him and take heed.
“Islanders, citizens, good morning.” He paused and started to walk down the steps until he was at the same level as the people. He spoke as he walked slowly among them, weaving between couples, separating children from their parents. And he felt their fear, their growing apprehension.
“It is a good morning,” he said. “A very good morning. It is the first dawn after the last dawn that Cypress saw.”
And he could feel their fear rise like a trapped creature, and he was glad.
“Cypress was eleven years old when she was cast off the rock on the Island of Birds.” He stood beside a woman with a small girl in her arms. The woman clutched the child tightly, trying to push past the crowd that encircled her. He passed her with a dismissive glance.
“Why do I say that it is the first dawn when the Ritual took place a week ago?”
No one spoke.
“I will tell you why: because Cypress was saved from certain death yesterday. She is now in Pera. She has decided that she cannot bear to hear the name Cypress, and she is called Dalga, for the waves that took her to safety.”
There were sobs in the crowd. Deep, uncontrolled sounds that spoke, not so much of loss, but of relief.
And he was glad to feel that in addition to the fear.
“This is the first dawn for Dalga,” Orion continued. “Cypress is no more…
“But there must be recompense…” Orion said in a voice that cut like a razorblade. “What is the recompense for blood?”
“Blood!” shouted someone in the crowd.
And there was rage, there, in the crowd. Fear
and rage, and relief.
Orion was glad.
“Yes. Blood is recompense for blood. Must there be blood?” He stopped speaking and looked straight ahead, unseeing. “It is up to you,” he resumed. “It is a choice you have. There will never be another Cypress Ritual. Never. Not today, not in a hundred years. Never. It is over.”
Again, he felt an overwhelming sense of relief, but also frustration.
“Because if there is ever an attempt made – now or in a hundred years – I will know of it. I am immortal and I am the Hunter. I will know. The Truth.”
They accepted this. Orion was glad.
“And if there is an attempt, which you cannot hide from me, there will be blood.” He looked around him at the frightened faces and enunciated his meaning carefully, so that they would hear and take heed.
“It will be your blood that is spilled. You must trust me because I speak the Truth: upon my order, every person living on the White Islands over the age of eleven will be killed. There will be no exceptions. Your children, who have been spared, will be taken from the islands to Pera, and every trace of your culture, teachings and traditions will be irretrievably destroyed.
“Do you understand?”
There did not appear to be any confusion. Orion was satisfied.
43
RETRIBUTION
This is the story of the man who returned to his island after committing the greatest crime. He thought he would not be returning, and the truth is, we neither expected nor wanted him to return. But he did. He came to tell us that he had failed, and that he had always meant to fail, which I knew. He said the crime had not been consummated, which is not the same thing as saying that the crime had not been committed. He knew this, and I knew it. Those of us who matter knew what it meant.
He did not deny his role. He did not seek to justify his actions. This was commendable, but it was not enough. I do not believe it will ever be enough. Not for me, not for her, not for any of us who matter.
I am charged with writing this story for I am Twilight’s Hand. It is my duty. Committing the greatest crime was his duty, some have said. I know in my heart that there is no such duty. It is cowardice to claim so.
the Dark shall do what Light cannot Page 39