The Lightning's Claim

by K. M. Fahy

  “Thank you, Minna,” she said, smiling wide enough to show bright white teeth. “Please, come in.”

  Catarva left the door, and Minna ushered Kitieri and her siblings into a spacious room dominated by a large oblong table lined with eight plush, high-backed chairs. Kitieri expected Catarva to take her seat, but the Baliant skirted the table to enter the chamber beyond, and they followed into a bright dining room.

  Settings were laid out at the far end of another long table, and Minna rushed ahead to pull out the cushioned chairs. While Catarva took her place at the head, Kitieri motioned for Taff and Jera to go around the left side as she took the right, choosing the chair to the Baliant’s left. Kitieri held insistent eye contact with Jera as they took Catarva’s invitation to sit, planting her feet on the floor and hands in her lap. Jera mimicked her proper movements with a grin.

  Servants entered, filling water goblets and pouring wine from a carafe into small crystal chalices. Kitieri eyed the water as the servant moved around the table, the burning thirst pricking at her throat. As soon as Catarva lifted her own glass, Kitieri brought the cold liquid to her lips; despite her attempts at propriety, the chalice returned to the table nearly empty.

  “Well,” Catarva said, commanding the attention of the room, “welcome to the Church of Enahris. You all know my name, but I do not know yours.”

  Kitieri gestured to her siblings. “This is Taff, that’s Jera, and I’m Kitieri.”

  Catarva nodded at each in turn while a servant set cups of soup before them. Jera’s eyes widened as she leaned over the cup and Kitieri cleared her throat, sending her back into a polite position.

  “It is a pleasure to have you here,” Catarva said, taking a sip of the soup. On her cue, Taff and Jera began scooping up the thick, creamy broth, slurping it loudly from their spoons while Kitieri kept her eyes on the Baliant.

  “Why did you do it?”

  Catarva’s eyes lifted from her spoon, and Kitieri was again struck by their bright amber color.

  “Their intentions, should I deny you, were clear,” the Baliant replied. “While I do not condone the brutal ways of our brother Church, I am seldom in a position to intervene. Today, however, presented a rare opportunity for me.”

  “So you scored a point in some kind of game?” Kitieri’s eyes narrowed.

  Catarva smiled, taking another sip of her soup. “All politics are a game, Ms. Kitieri. To assume otherwise is to fool yourself into believing this world to be a fair, righteous place. But no, it runs deeper than that.” The Baliant shifted in her seat. “News of what happened in Histan’s Square preceded your arrival.”

  Kitieri looked down at her soup. News traveled fast.

  Catarva’s eyes lingered on her, assessing her every movement.

  “I am correct, then,” she continued. “You are the young woman that survived the Judgement.”

  The words rolled off her tongue like cold honey, slow and smooth. Kitieri kept her head down, but noticed Taff and Jera go still across the table. Despite her gnawing hunger, all appetite fled as her mouth went dry. She licked her lips, summoning just enough moisture to speak.

  “I know… I know that I should have submitted to the gods for my crimes…” Kitieri choked on the last word, and cleared her throat. “And I know that my element is banned in the city. But my brother was there. I was the one being judged, not him, and I couldn’t let him die for me.”

  The words came faster and faster as she spoke, and Catarva extended a hand toward her on the table.

  “You are not on trial here, Kitieri.”

  A servant collected the soup cups, and Kitieri’s left its place untouched.

  “I’m not?”

  Catarva lowered her chin, raising an eyebrow. “Any human to stand at that pillar would stop the lightning if they could.”

  Kitieri fiddled with one of the silver forks to her left. “Last I heard, lightnings were banned from practicing because they were too dangerous.”

  Catarva folded her hands, intertwining her long, slender fingers. “That’s an old law.”

  Kitieri’s brows twitched into a faint frown. “Does it not exist anymore?”

  “It does.” Catarva spoke slowly, deliberately. “But there’s not been much cause to enforce it of late.”

  The main course arrived, and Jera elbowed Taff as a large beef roast was set before them, surrounded by potatoes and mounds of steaming vegetables. Kitieri leaned out of the way to let the servant distribute her portion, pondering Catarva’s words. As the rich aromas filled her nose, a loud grumble tore from Kitieri’s stomach. Her hand flew to her abdomen and she cast a sideways glance to see if Catarva had noticed, but the woman was smiling at Jera’s awestruck expression.

  “Please, eat,” Catarva laughed.

  Jera looked up at Kitieri, her fork and knife poised at the ready, and Kitieri nodded. Taff and Jera dug into the roast like they were in an eating contest with free food for life as the prize.

  “Why don’t you enforce the lightning ban anymore?” Kitieri asked, taking a bite of her own dinner. Though she tried to keep her expression neutral, the burst of flavors and hot juices in her mouth made her eyes water. She had never tasted anything so delicious in her entire life.

  “Because until today, lightnings were thought to no longer exist.”

  Kitieri’s head snapped up, and her chewing slowed.

  “So you can see, perhaps,” Catarva continued, “why your arrival here presented such a unique opportunity.”

  Kitieri set her fork on the edge of her plate. “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “You have a rare talent in a dangerous world, Kitieri,” the Baliant said. “That you managed to survive your own element into adulthood, alone, is phenomenal. But what’s more, you can wield it.”

  “I—I don’t know about that.”

  “You walked away from that pillar unscathed.” Catarva leaned in, bright eyes intense. “Even before the lightnings died, no one has ever managed such a feat. How did you do it?”

  Kitieri looked to Taff, who was watching her with wide eyes.

  “I’m not sure,” she muttered. “It just… happened.”

  “I see.” Catarva straightened, poking daintily at the food on her plate with her upside down fork. “I’m curious. What sort of training did you receive as a child?”

  The image of their mother in her chair, holding her book on elements, flashed through Kitieri’s mind.

  “Not much,” she said. “The lightning was dangerous even before the Strikes started, when I was eight. One day, I accidentally killed the hog my dad had saved up for, so… I never used it again.”

  “You locked it?” Catarva’s hard eyes were intent on Kitieri. “That is exceptional control for such a young age. I knew many adults who could not lock their lightning once the Strikes started.”

  “I don’t have control.” Kitieri frowned. “That was the whole problem. I was going to hurt my family if I didn’t do something, so I had to lock it.”

  The Baliant gave her a patronizing smile, and Kitieri felt her temper ignite. “While I understand your reservations, Kitieri, control can be taught. It’s nothing that training can’t fix.”

  “Training? What training?”

  “Through the Church of Enahris, of course.”

  An incredulous laugh escaped before Kitieri could stop it.

  “Hold on,” she said. “You’re telling me that the Church of Enahris just wants to give me free elemental training?”

  “Well.” Catarva dipped her head, dabbing at her lips with a linen napkin. “It’s a fair bit more complicated than that.”

  Of course it is.

  The uneasy feeling that had settled in her stomach the moment she’d stepped foot in the Sanctuary reared its head. This woman was far too interested in her element; it was, beyond a doubt, the only reason she’d claimed them as members of her Church when she could have told the truth.

  Kitieri looked across the table at her siblings, who were scraping
their plates clean. She’d barely kept them one step ahead of death since she’d left to buy that damned Gadget. Every move made, every word spoken, had removed one danger only to threaten with something more insidious. Catarva had not spoken the words yet, but Kitieri felt the walls of entrapment closing in around her. Taking them in had been a calculated move, and the Baliant would seek her repayment.

  Servants whisked the dinner plates away, and miniature porcelain cups filled with a fluffy brown substance appeared on the table. Taff poked at his skeptically, while Jera leaned so close she almost dipped her nose in it.

  “What is it?” she asked, scrunching her face.

  Catarva laughed. “Try it. I think you’ll like it.”

  Jera dipped her spoon into the spongy dessert, bringing it to her mouth, and her eyes shot open wide. “It’s so good!”

  She dove into the rest of the cup and Taff joined, emboldened by his sister’s proclamation. Catarva’s expression became serious again as she turned back to Kitieri.

  “I have an offer for you,” she said.

  Kitieri met her gaze, jaw clenched. The word “offer” made it sound like she had the option to turn it down, but Kitieri held to no such hope.

  “What.” She forced the word out.

  “I have made it no secret that your particular skillset is of great interest to the Church of Enahris,” Catarva said. “You hold a unique advantage over any man in this city, and for that reason, I would very much like for you to consider joining us as an officer of the Church.”

  Kitieri remained still in her seat, repeating the words twice in her mind.

  “I’m sorry,” she said after a long pause. “Was that a job offer?”

  “It was.”

  “As an officer?”

  “Yes.” Catarva suppressed the amusement that pulled at the corners of her lips. “Starting pay is a round per week, with housing, clothing, and meals provided here.”

  Kitieri blew out a fast puff of air. That was more money than she could make in a whole month at the mines. She shook her head. It didn’t matter.

  “As generous as that is,” she said, “I can’t leave my family. They need me at home.”

  “Oh, your siblings can stay with you as dependents, and you will be allotted one of our family suites in the north wing. We have fantastic educational programs for the families of our officers and staff, where they can pursue academics, weaponry, elemental training, or just about any trade they desire, and PCR’s are available upon request. You, of course, will go through specialized combat and elemental training in our officers’ program.”

  Kitieri looked down at her hands, picking at one of her nails. Of all the things she’d expected Catarva to say, this had been last on the list. She was already in the Baliant’s debt for putting the Church of Histan off their heels, and now she was offering safety, food, beds, education, training, and more money than Kitieri could even fathom. Every item Catarva threw in to sweeten the pot felt like another nail in some hidden coffin, and it made Kitieri’s skin crawl.

  A drop of blood sprang up on her finger where she’d picked the skin raw, and she quickly folded her hands in her lap.

  “And may I ask,” she said, “what is expected in return for all of this generosity?”

  “You would work for the Church,” Catarva replied.

  “What does the Church want with my lightning?”

  Kitieri met the hard amber eyes, and Catarva’s expression softened into a demure smile. “A chat for another time, perhaps.”

  Shocking.

  “What if I say no?”

  Catarva pushed her chair back from the table. “It’s a job offer, Kitieri, not enslavement. You are always free to leave.”

  She stood, coming to her full height in the long, impressive robes, and servants moved for the double doors leading deeper into the Baliant’s chambers.

  “Sleep on it,” she said, turning for the doors.

  “Wait.” Before she realized what she was doing, Kitieri found herself on her feet. Catarva looked back over her shoulder, calm and neutral.

  “Yes?”

  “I’ll do it.”

  Catarva bowed her head with a slow smile.

  “Very good,” she said. “Your training begins tomorrow.”

  Minna unlocked one of the hallway’s many doors, pushing it open into a candlelit room.

  “Your accommodations for the evening,” she announced, inviting them in with a sweep of her hand. “I took the liberty of lighting the candles before dinner so it would be nice and cozy for you.”

  As she moved across the room toward another door, keys jangling, Kitieri glanced around the small quarters. Two beds stood against the far wall with one nightstand between them, and a mirror and washbasin rested on a short chest of drawers.

  “I know it’s small for the three of you,” Minna said over her shoulder, “but it’s only for tonight. Tomorrow, I’ll get one of the officers’ suites ready for you, and you’ll all have much more room. For now, you can use this room, too.”

  She opened the second door to an adjoining chamber, identical to the first, and turned with a smile. “I thought the little gentleman might prefer his own space.”

  “Oh, you’re a gentleman,” Kitieri whispered down to him, nudging him with her elbow. Taff nudged her back, grinning.

  Minna went on. “Check the drawers; you should have everything you need. I guessed on sizes, but I am hardly ever wrong anymore. Lots of practice! Oh, except for you, my dear.” She beckoned for Kitieri to come closer. “I will need precise measurements from you before I leave, as you will need a uniform first thing tomorrow morning. We normally have much more time for these types of arrangements, but it seems Baliant Catarva is anxious to get you started! Hopefully Meral can make a few quick alterations to one of the uniforms in her stock…”

  The woman trailed off, fumbling with a roll of measuring tape. She instructed Kitieri through the necessary movements, lifting her arms and turning her around, while Jera giggled. Satisfied, she rolled the tape up and shoved it back in her apron pocket.

  “That should do it!” she chirped. “I’ll leave you be now. Do sleep well, and I will see you bright and early tomorrow for your first day.”

  The door latched with a gentle click, and Kitieri let out a long, slow sigh. After a moment of silence, Taff turned to Kitieri with a quizzical look.

  “Do we live here now?”

  Kitieri sank down onto the edge of the nearest bed, rubbing her face with both hands. “I guess so.”

  Jera hopped onto the bed beside her, bouncing on the soft mattress. “What about home?”

  Kitieri ran a hand over her sister’s clean hair, smoothing the little strands that stuck out of her braid. “It will still be there.”

  Taff sat down on her other side, his eyes serious in the flickering candlelight.

  “Do you really want to work for them?” he asked.

  “No,” Kitieri answered, looking down. “But I had to accept.”

  “Why?”

  “Did you hear what she said? She’s offering you two a life that I would never be able to afford working in the mines. And that’s if I could get that job back, which I doubt. I didn’t show up today, and they’d be looking for any excuse to lay into me. Histan’s Church stole every bit I’d saved, so we’d be starting over from scratch.” She turned her head to meet her brother’s stare. “I had to accept.”

  “I thought Churches were bad,” Jera said, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

  “We’re just going to have to wait and see,” Kitieri replied. “We can’t control what others do, we can only control ourselves. Right?”

  Jera nodded. “And all we can do is our best.”

  “That’s right.” Kitieri squeezed her shoulder. “But I need you both to be very careful here. It sounds like I’m going to be busy, and I won’t be able to be with you during the day. I need you to look out for each other, okay? And… I need you to promise me something.”


  “What?” Jera leaned in, like she was eager to learn a secret.

  “If you don’t feel safe, or anything happens that makes you uncomfortable, I need you to tell me as soon as you can. We are going to have to be honest with each other through every step of this, all right? We stick together.”

  A tight grin curved Taff’s lips. “The Manons survive.”

  “No matter what,” Jera added.

  Kitieri smiled, pulling them both in close to her. “No matter what.”

  Chapter 9

  “Breakfast, breakfast, breakfast!” Jera chanted, jumping up and down at the door to their room. “Come on, Taff, hurry up!”

  Taff emerged from the adjoining room, pulling a dark gray shirt over his head.

  “Cool off, will you?” he said through the shirt’s fabric. As his head popped out of the hole, his hair a staticky mess, he stopped in his tracks. “Whoa, Kitieri.”

  Kitieri held out her arms, looking down at the officer’s uniform Minna had delivered earlier. The gray pants tucked neatly into tall black boots, and the matching gray jacket fit her form perfectly. The stretchy material allowed for a large range of motion without constriction, and breathed much better than she’d expected.

  “Pretty sharp, huh?” she asked. Taff nodded, jutting out his lower lip in approval.

  “Breakfast,” Jera whined, hanging dramatically on the door handle.

  “All right, we’re going, Jera,” Kitieri laughed, pulling her sister off the door.

  Minna awaited them outside. “Oh my, don’t you look wonderful!” she said, taking in Kitieri’s appearance. “It fits beautifully. That Meral is a master, she really is. Let’s get you fed, then!”

  She led the way down to the dining hall; they could smell the aromas long before they reached the open archway.

  The sheer size of the hall stole Kitieri’s breath. One long table ran down the middle, piled with a variety of dishes, and dining tables lined both walls. Jera’s hands flew to her cheeks as her mouth fell open.

  “I can take whatever I want?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Minna laughed, walking them to the end of the line that ran the length of the center table. “We take most of our meals in this style. The coursed meal you saw last night is by invitation only. You are fortunate that Baliant Catarva has taken such a liking to you.”