Many in Estori—like the Mayor—gave her the eye for letting the girls get close to her, much less for taking them to her bed. But Scarlett felt that these darkening days, everyone should take whatever love they could find. So what if the town disapproved. She was the Overseer; one word from her, and anyone in town would disappear into the Eternal Queen’s dungeons, never to be seen again.
At least, that’s how it would have been once. Long ago.
Not that she would ever do that, subvert the law and abuse her position as all too many Overseers did. But as the most powerful—and resented—personage in the city, the townsfolk would always find some reason to disapprove of her. It might as well be one she enjoyed. Scarlett knew that in time, these young girls would find someone else they truly cared for, get over their starry-eyed admiration, and move on—just like everyone else in her life had.
Besides, what did it matter? She’d be dead soon enough anyway.
Another slight sound brought her attention back from the tangle of young women. There we are. It whispered its way up the wooden stairs, soft and furtive. But almost...purposeful?
Scarlett nodded; it wasn’t unexpected. She didn’t bother to draw her blade, or reach for her rifle; she probably wouldn’t need them. But she did pick her way quietly down the stairs, sidestepping the creaky steps by simple reflex.
Down past the landing, the dining room was dark and silent. She passed it by. In the adjoining kitchens, beneath her own bedroom, she found what she was looking for. The kitchen window stood open; in the unfiltered light, a strange, inky black shadow stood, completely motionless, about the size of a man.
The Overseer stepped into the room, and the darkness exploded behind her.
She was already moving. She spun as light glinted off a naked blade, casting the steady glow of the streetlights outside back into her eyes.
The blade darted for her head. She pushed the attacker’s wrist aside, grabbed and locked their arm at the elbow. The Overseer shoved the slim figure toward the table, but her opponent was too fast; she rolled to the side, dropped the knife from one hand, and caught it with the other.
It arced toward her face, too quickly to dodge.
Scarlett set her feet and leaned in instead, slammed both open palms into the Inquisitor’s chest with enough force to throw her backward. The intruder hit a tall chair and knocked it over, the jet-black cloak that covered it fluttering to the floor like a ghost.
Her cheek stung. Scarlett wiped away a trickle of blood and invoked her magic to start it healing.
“Glad to see you still got it,” the Inquisitor rose with barely a sound, save the quiet melody of her voice. Blond hair, so pale as to be nearly white, caught the outside light and brought back a wash of sudden memory. “I have to admit, I had my doubts.” She set a blood-lined butcher’s knife back on the side of the steam-powered stove and tossed the ebony cloak back around her own shoulders.
“Kaitlin.” To Scarlet’s surprise, she said the name without a hitch. “And you figured you’d test your theory out by seeing if you could murder me?” She snorted, folded her arms, and leaned against the wall as if nothing was wrong. “You could never best me back in the day. Why did you think things had changed now? At least don’t insult me with such a simple trick.” She nodded to the Inquisitor’s cloak, to the fallen chair.
“I figured you don’t get much practice, out here on the Edge of civilization, where nothing ever happens. Or matters.”
“You might be surprised what happens on the mainland’s Edge.” Scarlett bluffed, faking a smirk. Truth be told, without a discernible future or goals, she rarely did anything she didn’t need to anymore. What motivation was there past her duty? And if Kaitlin had done her homework like she was supposed to, she already knew that. Either way, and her natural talent aside, Scarlett was probably fairly lucky she hadn’t just been skewered with the butcher knife. What a way to go. “And if nothing out here matters, why are you leading a small army to destroy Estori?”
“That’s not…” The Inquisitor hesitated. Barely, but enough for Scarlett to notice. Enough for her to hear hints of the emotion that stirred underneath. “It’s not me. Leading, I mean.”
Scarlett’s cerulean eyes narrowed. “So...it’s him. I should have figured.” Her fist tightened with years-old rage. “I just can’t believe you still work for him after what he did to you.”
The blonde Inquisitor’s facade broke down a little more, and she shifted in place. “It’s not like there’s much choice. There never was.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest, stared at the puddle of street light on the floor. “Despite what you did back then.”
Scarlett put her palms on the counter and cast her gaze out the window, turning her back on the dangerous assassin. Her childhood friend. “I knew I should have killed him before I left. I should have known nothing would change.”
Kaitlin drifted closer. Close enough to kill her if she wanted. “You did everything you could. And more. No one’s blaming you.” Her voice softened, closer still. “I never did, at least.”
“And for what?” the Overseer raised a fist as if to slam it down on the counter, but the ire evaporated before she could, burned out and turned to...tiredness, really. Exhaustion. “For him to keep his position? For you to go on and become one more Inquisitor standing in his shadow?”
The Inquisitor joined her at the window, side by side, shoulders a few inches apart. “Should I have gone back to living on the street? We both know that would have been just as bad.” She shook her head; slowly, her hood slid back. “If I even could have left. In the end, I showed too much promise. Just like you. Once you’re in the program, they never really let you go.”
She shifted, leaned on her elbows, and looked up at the much taller Carlyle. An almost-smile creased her face like a memory. “Except for you. They threw you out. Exiled you to here, in everything but the official reports.”
Scarlett glanced over; once she did, her eyes couldn’t help but linger a little too long. Cast in stark relief in the steady lamplight, she studied the Inquisitor’s pale skin, her bright, jaded eyes and delicate features. It’s like I didn’t miss a day. She took a shallow breath. It’s like nothing ever changed.
“It’s been a while.” Kailin turned away a little, helping break her gaze.
“Fifteen years.” She turned back to the window. Time settled back onto her like a mantle.
“Has it really? I guess I’ve been too busy to really...feel it. I dunno. What...what about you?”
“Not so much.” Scarlett shuttered her eyes for a moment. “Feels like a decade and a half to me.” If not more.
“You’ve gotten older.” The woman’s light touch on her arm startled her, like a spark. She almost pulled her arm away, but stopped the reaction just in time. She looked back again to find Kaitlin watching her, steady jade eyes studying her in turn. “It’s not...bad, though. Just noticeable.”
The Overseer snorted quietly. “Well, we can’t all have the Eternal Queen’s power flowing through our veins.” Inquisitors never suffered permanent injuries, or even aged. Not unless they retired—or failed. Instead, they served, and a sliver of the Queen’s might was their reward.
It made it very hard to turn your back on it and walk away.
Silence lingered and grew. Finally, Kaitlin took a breath and shattered it. “You know I can’t spare you.”
Scarlett chuckled darkly. “Did you hear me begging? It’s still a little early for that.”
“I’m serious.” The Inquisitor’s touch on her arm became a vice, spinning Scarlett to face her. “Scarly, I—”
After fifteen years, hearing the nickname aloud again was enough to turn them both to stone.
“You could just back off.” Kaitlin recovered first. “Leave Estori. I’d tell him we fought, but you managed to trick me and escape. Or that the militia came, and I left you for dead.”
The fingertips that dug into her arm hurt a little; Scarlett didn’t mind. The Inquisitor�
�s grip tugged her lower, until they stared into each other's eyes from a few inches away. “If you stay, we’ll have to fight each other. Like how I was supposed to assassinate you tonight.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Please don’t make me kill you. Just go.”
For a moment, she considered it.
“No,” the Overseer shook her head slowly at first, then more emphatically as traces of anger at herself seeped into the motion. “I can’t abandon the people here. I won’t. I made a promise. Took an oath.”
“Why?” The Inquisitor suddenly released her, the abrupt absence of her grip a shock of its own. She turned away; Scarlett followed suit. “By the Abyss, Scarlett. How many people did you help kill when you were with us? What difference does a few dozen more, even a few hundred more make now?”
She stared at the night sky through the open window. “Maybe a few more is too many.”
The Inquisitor took a deep breath. Angry, frustrated. “Why stand and fight for these people? For her cause? You don’t owe Jonelise or this rebellion anything. She’s not part of your heritage like the rest of Estori. So why throw yourself away—”
“Because I met her.”
A moment passed. Kaitlin’s voice calmed, almost curious. “Was she really that impressive?” She ran a hand through her short, soft, pretty hair. “I’ve heard...stories.”
“Honestly...no.” Scarlett chuckled as her old friend stared at her. “But I admired her honesty, her earnestness, her willingness to sacrifice for what she believed in. And I think the world needs that.” She grinned. “But Jonelise has nothing to do with my decision. Like with so many people, she’s simply a symbol. It’s not about her.”
“Then...what is it about? Help me understand why it has to be this way.”
“It’s about the people here in Estori.” Scarlett took a deep breath, took in the perfect profile of her face. Visually, the passing years hadn’t changed the woman at all; just a crisper version of the Overseer’s slowly fading memories. Scarlett supposed that was how it worked when all of your scars were only on the inside. “When I was assigned here, it was as a ‘Elizabethian protector.’ But, like every Overseer, it’s a lie. This position is really one of a watcher, a punisher. A bully.”
She stopped leaning on the counter and stood up straight. “In time, I came to take the role seriously. The people here needed me. Even if some of them hated me, too. That didn’t matter. How I came to be here didn’t matter. I had a job to do. It was all that was left to me after…” Her breath caught. She stumbled over the words and almost stopped. “After I lost you.”
“So this is about what you lost.” The Inquisitor’s voice was soft, almost vulnerable. “This town is a substitute for the good we did in the Order. For...me. But it’s not too late to—”
“No.” Scarlett cut her off, just as softly. “This isn’t about what I lost. This is about what I found.”
The kitchen grew quiet once more. “The rumor was that you turned against our Queen. That you’re a sympathizer now. That you even let Jonelise go. I guess that’s all true?”
“No,” Scarlett refuted it with a firm shake of the head, tossing her mess of crimson hair about her bare shoulders. “I support her Her Eternal Majesty just as much as I ever did.”
With a raised eyebrow, the Inquisitor scrutinized her.
“I just learned fifteen years ago that things are a lot more complicated than that,” Scarlett finished, gazing into her eyes one more time.
Kaitlin swallowed and turned away. “I...I have to go.” She pulled up her hood, rendered faceless by its shadows once more. “Xander will be expecting me back. My mission wasn’t supposed to take this long.”
Scarlett snorted. “I guess my old trainer doesn't think much of my skills, then.” She couldn’t help but grin a morbid grin. “Maybe that means I can surprise him after all.”
“You always were really good. But I wouldn’t count on it.” without a whisper of sound, the Inquisitor climbed back into the window, pausing for a moment just before dropping over the side. “Scarlett…”
“Yeah, Kait?”
She crouched, frozen on the sill, for a long moment. Backlit by the lantern light, to Scarlett she was nothing but a shadow. “Please. Don’t make me be the one to—”
“You won’t.” The Overseer gave her old companion an easy smile, dredging the expression from the depths of her memory. “I promise.”
“And...I just wanted you to know.” The hood turned away. “He stopped. After what you did after what you said.”
Scarlett stared at the formless shadow of her friend and wondered if she believed her.
“I still should have killed him.”
“He’ll get his.” The Inquisitor’s silhouette shifted, uncomfortable. “One day.”
And with that, she was gone.
“Oh, he will,” the Overseer murmured to the empty room. “That’s a promise, too.”
She stood there a long time, staring at nothing. Barely even thinking.
In time, she reached out, shuttered and latched the window. Finally convinced herself that Kaitlin wasn’t coming back, whether to see her again, or to kill her. Not tonight.
Soon enough, though.
And as she trudged her way up the stairs and back to bed, stepping instinctively around the creaky stairs, she wondered.
Why did I let Jonelise go that one day?
The legends were clear; I knew who she was. I could have stopped her. It would have won me the Queen’s favor once more. Stopped this all before it began. Saved thousands of lives, innocent lives.
She stopped at the foot of her crowded bed. Anastasia rubbed her sleepy eyes and stared at her, questioning.
So why did I let her go?
Hope.
Hope for a better and more just world than the one we live in. Even if we have to bleed for it.
Not for myself; I don’t deserve it.
With a self-indulgent smile, she crawled back into bed, surrounded herself with the warmth of people who thought they cared about her.
But because there are people out there who do.
- - -
Scarlett took another long draw from her smokestick and watched the militia drill from her position on the tall, grassy hill.
I wonder how many of them I can save. She shook her head. Any?
“Thought you quit smoking those,” Mayor Bertram commented from his seat at the nearby table. “You know, for your health?”
Scarlett shot the older man a dry glare. She knew the rolled narcotics were ultimately poisonous; everyone loved to remind her often enough. She just didn’t care. Especially now.
After a moment, she joined him at the table. Across it lay a detailed cloth map of the local area, along with a collection of small black and red game pieces chosen to denote the enemy and ally forces in play—along with the last crumbs and remnants of his lunch.
“Like all of those sandwiches?” the Overseer responded.
The portly Mayor offered her a shameless grin. “Guilty as charged.” He brushed a few crumbs from his otherwise pristine black-and-silver suit. “I suppose we both have our vices in these dire times, hmmm?” He frowned, running a hand through short, salt-and-pepper hair. “Is it just me though, or is none of it quite as good since Adie left?”
“Be glad she’s not here,” Scarlett crossed her arms and studied the tactics table for the hundredth time. “That way she can’t die with the rest of us in a couple of days.”
“And hopefully she doesn't die all the same, out there growing into a hero,” he sighed and followed the Overseer’s unrelenting stare back to the map and table. “You really don’t think this will go well, do you? We’ve got over five times their number.”
Scarlett glanced down the hill and barked out a laugh; the Mayor winced. “Bertram, they have soldiers. Well-trained ones, at that. We have civilians. Beyond my young guardsmen and a couple of hunters, half of these people still don’t know which end of their pointy stick to shove into the bad guy
.”
As if to illustrate her point, a heavy-set merchant with a leather vest over his sweat-stained red doublet fumbled his longspear dramatically, then hopped clumsily back so it wouldn’t stab him in his own foot.
The Overseer pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath. “Hold on. I have to go yell at someone.”
A few minutes later, the problem momentarily remedied, she made her way back up the hill. “You were saying?”
The Mayor was staring thoughtfully at the figures arrayed on the map. “So what do you think will happen?”
She gave him the same dry look as before, then glanced over. “Adain!”
The young man, still clad in his impeccably maintained black-and-silver guardsman's uniform, ran to her call. “Yes, Captain?”
She frowned at his eagerness; the only man in her entire unit that she was certain was actually loyal to her. And foolishly so, at that. “Go...get me a drink, please.”
With a grin and a crisp salute, he sprinted off.
Scarlett dropped the butt of her smokestick and ground its ember out in the pristine grass. “If we’re lucky, the town will be okay. Everyone that survives the occupation will probably adapt in a few months to the new Elizabethian Overseer's harshness, and to whoever they install as the new mayor. You and I, of course, will be long dead by then. Hopefully.”
The Mayor swallowed hard.
“As for the militia, a few of those that survive will be allowed to flee into the hills. Most will go to the Queen’s dungeons. Probably in Lisboa. But there won’t be very many of those. Survivors, I mean.” She stared at the singed spot of grass, a single blemish among the verdancy. “We were never big on survivors, as a rule. You only need a handful to spread the story after all.”
Adain returned; she took his drink and returned his salute. The Mayor sat there for a long time, quiet.
Finally, he took a deep breath. “So...what’s your expert opinion on how to try to avoid that fate? You’re the best military mind in Estori.”
“I’m also the only military mind in Estori.” She tapped the map with easy familiarity; she’d gone over it so many times she could almost trace the geography without looking. “They’re here to destroy Jonelise’s burial site. I imagine it’s for the psychological shock, though it might be to reinforce the story that she’s dead. Or to keep her from returning once again if that rumor is actually true.”
Survivors of Arcadia Page 7