by A J Witt
“That’s exactly the kind of suspicious behavior they’ll be looking for, and—”
With no forewarning, Sabine left the cover of the trees, stepped out onto Merchants Road, and headed toward Fermantis. The Adepts, with little time to react, followed the young woman.
Kyran called out as they were catching up to her. “What’s wrong with you?”
She stopped and swung around. “This was your idea, so just be quiet, by Lutigas!”
They walked in total silence while each formulated indisputable opinions that they kept to themselves. When the ground turned too wet, Merchants Road rose on stilts, protecting travelers from the swamp. Sabine, Kyran, and Edvon followed the elevated pathway to one of the city’s side gates. A guard was asleep in the otherwise empty archway, and Edvon gestured to stroll straight through.
“Wait!”
The guard had awakened and risen to his feet. “Trying to sneak in, weren’t you?”
“No sir,” Kyran replied, his voiced marred by excessive urgency.
“Are you residents of the city?”
“Umm … we’re not, I guess.”
“Why would you need to guess?” asked the guard.
“What … I—”
“Just joking, my friend. So if you’re not residents, what brings you to Fermantis?”
“We’re visiting.”
“From where?”
“Phaidros.”
The guard noticed the desperate condition of their clothes, giving him pause. “What’s going on here?” He pointed at the tears in Sabine’s dress. “Were you in a village attack?”
“Oh, this?” replied Sabine as she pulled on the fabric. “They’re our costumes, silly. It’s part of the act.”
“You’re performers?”
“That’s right.”
“What kind of act?”
Sabine smiled and grabbed both Adepts by the arm. “We’re dancers.” She proceeded to move her feet up and down, twirling them around in various nonsensical steps. Kyran and Edvon joined in, and the three, linked at the elbows, danced horribly in front of the guard.
“Okay, okay!” he exclaimed, pleading for them to stop. “Where are you performing tonight?”
Kyran chose an ambiguous reply. “Only the best.”
“You mean the Red Room?”
“Uh … yeah, exactly.”
“I thought the Red Room closed for good last year?” The Fermantese smirked, pleased by his crafty trap.
“Oh, you didn’t know?” pressed Kyran.
“What?”
“They re-opened last month.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep, new location. And by the looks of it, they’ve been, like, successful.”
“Hmm, good to know.” The guard nodded. “Alright. Enjoy your time in Fermantis. Break a leg!”
Kyran fought off an urge to heave a sigh of relief and followed his friends through the gates. A few streets further, they erupted into a fit of laughter.
“Dancers?” Edvon asked.
“More like clowns. Can’t believe he fell for—”
“Watch out!” exclaimed Sabine.
They pressed up against the wall as a group of Overseers marched by. Not one of them batted an eye in the fugitives’ direction. Kyran smirked. “Well, look who was right. I think we might actually be safe in this town.”
“Don’t be so sure.” The ever-stern brother was not to be upstaged. “We should head to the docks as soon as possible and get on the first boat to Portown.”
“Can’t we eat, first?”
“It’s too risky. And with what money, anyway?”
Sabine tilted her head back and removed her earrings. “These can sell for a couple coins, I’m sure.” The young woman held two pieces of jewelry in her palm.
“Do they mean anything to you?” asked Kyran.
“Not really.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, and I’m also super hungry.”
They searched for the nearest eatery in the disorienting city. Farm-and-Teas, the first such establishment the trio stumbled upon, had a line of patrons stretching to the adjacent canal. So they continued to explore and came to an intersection, finding themselves on a busy street. Is that fried balbak? Kyran salivated, unconcerned as another group of Overseers walked by and paid no attention to the runaways. And clam chowder? A shout put an end to his gustatory contemplation.
The brothers and Sabine turned around, and their hearts dropped.
Gorgios was across the way, his rabid pack of Overseers at his sides, and he was pointing directly at them.
“Kill!”
The companions ran off in three different directions.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Her eyes followed the back wall from the ceiling down to the floor. It pitched in such a way that it produced a triangular shape, most likely to conceal ship machinery. From the floor, she continued to trace a trajectory, across the ravishing desk, with its generous spread of paper and quills, to the carved wooden door, an original antique. Or made to look like one, at least. Proceeding diagonally, her gaze twirled around the paintings on the wall, then went back to the ceiling where she had started. Along with most guests aboard Ocean Star, Neeta was amazed by the luxury of the cabins, the personal water closets, soft carpets, and large beds. Which I’ve already put to good use, it would appear.
She could feel him moving as he adjusted his arm around her waist. The Adept reached down to grab his hand, and their fingers interlaced. She pulled him in a little closer, their naked legs rubbing against one another. Neeta felt his manhood against the small of her back. Still rocklike. He repositioned himself, most likely embarrassed. Men are so stupid. She wanted him tight against her, intensely passionate. Otherwise, what’s the point of cuddling? She closed her eyes. Cuddling? Neeta shot up her head as if she had just awakened from a dream. What am I doing? Letting go of his hand, she spun around. “Why in the Gods are you in my bed?”
“I … wh—what?” Ruan stammered.
“How did you get in?”
“What are you talking about? We came back together last night, remember?”
“Get out!”
Ruan made the mistake of trying to discuss the matter. “I’m very confused, is there a reason—”
“I said leave, you cholee!”
Taken aback by her aggressive behavior, Ruan scampered off the bed. He fumbled for his clothes on the ground, and Neeta yelled once more. “Out!”
Still naked, Ruan took one last look at her and left the cabin. Neeta heard a woman’s shout of indignation coming from the hallway. The Adept let out a lengthy and affected sigh, sat up, and ran a hand through her long black hair. What in the Gods happened last night? She remembered being in the Undergrounds for hours on end, but the return to Ocean Star appeared a bit blurry. Neeta knew he had come into the cabin with her consent, and she cursed herself for being so halfwitted. This is my big chance. I can’t blow it. If I want to succeed, I should have been out in Fermantis at the crack of dawn, checking every street and alleyway. Marrek was offering a significant opportunity, and she needed to pounce.
The officer was proud of herself for predicting Elias’s demise, though she also pitied him. He was sitting on his patio, gazing in awe at his plants when he heard the anticipated commotion. Elias took a deep breath and marched to meet them, ready to be led to his execution. Neeta knew Marrek had no intention of reprimanding Elias. Not directly, anyway. But his message had been clear.
* * *
“Whoever finds the brothers will also find his or her responsibilities increased,” the preceptor said, ending the meeting. He called out for Neeta to stay behind. “I know the way Edvon thinks. He’s already left Phaidros, I have no doubt.”
“But … didn’t you tell us to search the city?”
“A precaution,” Marrek replied, stroking his chin. “They will hide in a remote village, and the only way to get to those is—”
“Through Portown.”
“I’ll be in position, awaiting their arrival,” interjected Neeta, intent on completing the preceptor’s sentences.
Marrek handed her a paper. “Here, take this.”
“What is it?”
“An Ocean Star ticket.”
Neeta raised an eyebrow. “Sir?”
“This situation calls for extreme measures. I want you on the fastest boat, and we got lucky. It’s leaving tomorrow morning.” The preceptor reached behind his desk and pulled out a package. “When you arrive in Portown, please deliver this to the tavern boy at the Golden Auralus.”
Neeta held the small box. “May I ask what it contains?”
“The package?” Marrek smiled. “Personal matters unrelated to this, I’m afraid.” A frown on Neeta’s face prompted him to subtly invoke his rank at the Academy. “Surely you can do me a little favor along the way, no?”
“Of—of course,” stuttered the officer. “Consider it done.”
* * *
The box was still sitting on the cabin floor near the desk, and Neeta attempted to ignore it. Gods, I want to tear that wrapping open. Curiosity had been a predominant trait of hers since early childhood. I wonder what’s inside. Did the preceptor have a love affair? Or maybe he gambled too much in Mira, and that’s his payoff money. Neeta let out another exaggerated sigh. Too much speculation for someone who hasn’t even smoked yet.
She left the bed, pulling the sheet along and draping it around her. Neeta went into the washroom where she found her tube of lipstick near the sink and brought it to the desk. She pulled out a small leather sachet from a drawer. The officer unscrewed a hidden container affixed to the bottom of the lipstick tube and poured in finely crushed herbs from the sachet. After twisting the container back into place, she opened its cap. Neeta applied gentle pressure to the base, until it snapped out. Swiveling ninety degrees, the lipstick gave way to a small, retractable mouthpiece.
The Adept opened the porthole and felt the fresh air enter the cabin. The lipstick tube was getting warm in her hand, an indication the little Source-powered device was functioning well. Her lips sealed on the mouthpiece, Neeta inhaled once, waited several seconds, and blew vapor out of the circular window. She swung the top half of the lipstick tube back into place, and a click confirmed the apparatus had shut properly.
As it should for someone who had practiced it so many times, the undertaking lasted less than a minute. Neeta walked back to the bed and sat down, contemplating the objective at hand. Why am I doing this? It’s not for money. It’s not for fame. I guess it’s for my career, then … But why? What would a higher position at the Academy give me? Power? Responsibility? No, I’m doing it for the reputation, for the way I’ll be remembered. Is that what reputation means? How someone’s remembered? Who cares about how they remember you if you aren’t alive to witness it.
The inundating stream of thoughts brought on by the generous application of lipstick seemed to die down for a moment, so Neeta got back on her feet to get dressed. Most people in the Dominion shared her views on mortality. Years past, a faction had preached ascension to the Red City upon death, but like any other religious sect, the Temple viciously stamped it out. It doesn’t make sense. Neeta shook her head. Why would the Gods ever want us, of all people, in their Red City?
Once dressed, the Adept left her cabin, adamant that she would locate Edvon and Kyran. A frustrating task, for Neeta had no idea whether the brothers were in Fermantis. Like playing hide and seek with someone who’s left the house. Then again, they had to be somewhere. And if they’re here? Midway through Ocean Star’s deck, Neeta bumped into the captain. “Oh, perfect, it’s you.”
“Why’s that?” he asked.
“When does the ship leave?”
“Any of my sailors can answer that kind of question.”
“Okay, good to know.” Neeta’s smile oozed insincerity. “But when do we leave?”
Irritated, the captain glanced at his pocket watch. “Six hours.”
“Thanks.” Neeta walked away, pleased at having inconvenienced the unfriendly captain. She proceeded to search the town and soon came to the realization her mission was unreasonable. Bored and unsuccessful, the Adept made her way back to the docks. She wanted to rest on Ocean Star and start afresh prior to departure. The captain was walking the gangway again. Neeta watched him march past the city gates and vanish down an alleyway. From the corner of her eye, she caught movement and saw a figure dashing from behind a set of crates toward Ocean Star. The man made it up the ship’s ramp unnoticed. Intrigued, Neeta hurried after him and arrived on deck just in time to see him sneak through a hatch, one that led to the cargo bay below. The Adept followed the man to Ocean Star’s hull. She poked her head around the corner and saw him frantically inspecting his surroundings. He turned in Neeta’s direction. Edvon. Heart palpitating, the Adept forced herself to calm down. When she looked into the room once more, the young man was standing right in front of her.
“Neeta?”
She stepped out of her hiding place. “Edvon, what are you doing here?”
“Trying to find a place where I won’t be killed!” he exclaimed, waving his arms.
“Okay, take it easy. Marrek sent me to help you.”
“Have you found my brother?”
“No.” Neeta frowned. “I thought you were together.”
Edvon brought his hands to his face. “He might be dead.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Overseers found us, and we ran, and … they were shouting the Recital Supreme … and …”
“And?”
“I don’t know … I—I need to go back out there and find him.”
Neeta put a hand on the Adept’s forearm. “Come to my cabin, it’s safe and comfortable, and we can talk more there.”
Edvon’s hesitation was clear.
“To make a plan,” she added.
He walked behind her to the upper decks. Neeta unlocked her cabin and beckoned Edvon to go in first. But rather than following him, she slammed the door shut, locking the Adept inside.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“Where are they?”
Silence.
“Tell me!” the giant bellowed. “Tell me where they’re hiding!”
“I d—don’t know …” The young woman was whimpering.
The slap on her face made a sickening sound, and onlookers cringed. Joss and Pluto rushed to join the crowd of Fermantese gathered near Hermits Fountain. They were watching a group of Overseers conducting a public interrogation of an alleged traitor. The besieging Overseers donned short white tunics, sleeveless and held firm by leather belts from which various weaponry dangled. “What in the Gods is going on?” The pack was ruthless and malicious, at least according to Pluto. Joss shuttered as another outburst resonated throughout the square.
“Tell me now!” The Overseer who kept shouting was immense, at least a good foot taller than his nearest companion. Not that the others were undersized, by any means. “It will only get worse for you. You filthy little traitor.”
Pluto’s laugh caught the attention of a few locals and Overseers. Oblivious, he turned to Joss. “This must be some kind of street theatre.” The mustached man nodded, equally keen to watch the performance. After all, they owed a duty to support their brethren, no matter the medium. With a firm grip around her slender wrist, Gorgios yanked Sabine back toward him. She cried out for help, shaking her arm to free herself. Joss shot his friend a sharp look. “Well, she’s obviously not the best actor,” said Pluto.
A disruption in the crowd revealed a new character, an arrogant town official in fancy attire. Pushing the last spectators out of his way, the man strutted into the center of the circle. “What’s going on here?”
The small group of short white tunics approached the man, who seemed to be regretting his decision to get involved.
“Temple business,” said Gorgios.
“But …
I—”
“Temple business,” repeated the ominous Overseer.
The town official had heard enough. “There’s nothing to see here, people. Go on your ways!”
While most in the crowd shouted back, complaining of the Overseers’ treatment of the young woman, Pluto instead bobbed his head in admiration of the town official’s performance. It had been the one needed to save the show. “Boy, this guy’s good,” he whispered to Joss.
“Come on people, go along!” Seeing that nobody obeyed his command, the town official squeezed back through the crowd and receded from view.
Pluto and Joss gave him an enthusiastic clap before turning their attention back to the main stage. With no further interruptions, Gorgios had again immobilized Sabine who screamed out for help and fell to the ground. Grabbing her hair, the mammoth Overseer pulled the young woman off the cobblestones, and she cried out once more, tears streaming down her bruised cheek. Pluto rolled his eyes, finding the scene to be forced. “Gods, she’s so bad.”
“What did you just say?” asked a woman next to them.
“Just awful acting,” Pluto whispered back. “She’s detracting from the entire—”
The sound of another smack permeated through the air. An infuriated Gorgios had again resorted to physical violence, but this time, someone in the crowd spoke out.
“Hey! You can’t just hit her like that.”
Gorgios ignored the objection, but Vivian, one of his brawnier colleagues, made it a point not to and marched straight toward the man who had dared to speak up. The Fermantese put out his arms, waving them in an ineffective and, as it would turn out, detrimental action. When Vivian reached her target, she snatched one of the man’s outstretched arms, twisting it to the left and sending her victim flying into the cobblestones with a thud. “Don’t ever mess with Temple business!” The vicious Overseer brought her foot on top of the injured Fermantese in a triumphant display of authority. “And that goes for the rest of you.” She glared aggressively at random people in the crowd.