by Jean Winter
Kade,
You know why I have to do this. I hope you find the animals well upon your return. I am so sorry. I won't blame you for helping them try to catch me. I just hope I can be fast enough. Please give Jos'lie my love.
Lyra
Swallowing back the lump in her throat, Lyra folded the piece of paper and wrote his name on the outside. Her vision was blurring by the time she was at the dining table and placing the note there where he would find it quickly. She shoved out of her mind his comment about the house possibly being monitored. She would just have to risk it.
Hitching her backpack up higher on her shoulders, and with a long breath, Lyra regarded the note one more time then spun to leave.
“Oh, Sugarpip …”
J'Kor stood upon the threshold, a hand on the knob, his expression, not of a raging anger, but of such disappointment and aching betrayal that Lyra couldn't bear it. It was so obvious what she had been about to do.
The backpack slid listlessly to the floor. Tears followed suit, wetting her cheeks in hot trickles. That was it? Her great escape, over before it even had a chance to begin? Lyra hadn't even been able to step foot out the door.
Why Father? WHY?
Still rooted to the spot, J'Kor said softly, “I realized I left my wallet.”
Lyra's knees crumpled under her. “I am sorry, my lord. I am so sorry!” She could only blubber through the sobs that racked her body. “But I had … to try. I had to!”
Slow, deliberate footsteps trod past her to the table where the soft scrape and crinkle of her note being unfolded became deafening in the otherwise still room. It was a full minute before any other sound disturbed the silence.
When the paper was placed back on the table, Lyra stood, staring miserably upon his brightly polished boots and preparing to receive whatever punishment would come her way. Another lifetime passed before J'Kor spoke.
“Lyra, go get in the taxi.”
That was it.
“Yes, my—sir,” she whispered.
She left her backpack on the floor, letting it remain inconspicuous as she shuffled out. J'Kor did not follow immediately so Lyra found herself alone, fretting, in the coach for a few minutes. When he finally climbed in, it was with a large pile of her—his wife's—clothing. And her tracker. The frocks were tossed next to her while he sat opposite and the silence hung heavily between them as the taxi lurched down J'Kor's driveway.
After not too long, he called to the driver to turn and when Lyra lifted her head, she was surprised to see Mejhisk's estate looming.
“You are not taking me with you to the city?” she said. He didn't answer.
At the mansion, he got out with the frocks and tracker and went to the door, telling Lyra to stay put. The door was answered by a rather bleary-eyed Mejhisk in a robe, but who looked otherwise like he had been expecting the early morning interruption. J'Kor must have wired him. Lyra was eventually hailed.
“Sal will keep you here until I get back,” she was told without a glance. “You will finally have time to work on those alterations.”
She was ushered inside by a, for once, sober Mejhisk who showed her to a guest room where she would begin her sentence. Lyra kept her head down. It was perhaps even harder to bear Mejhisk's disappointment bordering on accusation than J'Kor's. She had somewhat promised him she wouldn't hurt his best friend.
Securely locked in and alone again, Lyra went to the lavishly upholstered bed and curled herself on it, staring blankly out the window at the changing patterns of light as the sun made its celestial ascent.
# # #
The red sun crept slowly over the edge of the distant tree line as Kade stared numbly out the window of the cab. Somehow, despite everything, he had never thought Lyra's desire to free herself from him that strong. He had taken it for granted that she was learning how to be content and even happy in his home.
Kade wanted to get mad—mad enough to do something definitive and be done with her. But his hurt swallowed every other feeling inside, leaving him only with a great cavern of gnawing emptiness.
Her note had addressed him by name. He could tell how broken up she was, not only by the penned words, but by her every action of the morning to that moment when he had opened the door and caught her placing the note on the table. However, those strong feelings were not the ones that had won out. She was still too devoted to her other life.
Kade checked his watch. He had planned in a cushion in case of some travel delay. Discovering your khar prepared to ruin her life by making a break for it was a new one, though, and that time was more than used up. Well, headquarters was just going to have to sit on its hands for a few extra minutes.
The coin came out and Kade spent rest of the drive fiddling with it, unable to get his mind off Lyra. Her reluctance. Her defiance. This final betrayal.
Her humble petitions for forgiveness.
Her smile.
The way she laughed. How it felt to dance with her. Holding her hand while walking in the rain. His dreams had been filled with her of late—
Blast! You have to get her out o' your system, you fool!
Caldreen's ring of skyscrapers was gleaming in the distance when Kade finally had enough command to start focusing on the job ahead. The summons had said “detainees,” as in more than one. This would be a long day. It usually took three or four hours for a single interrogation—to patiently wait out the resolve of the person sitting across from him. Only the very well-trained ones were disciplined enough to hold out longer without revealing something he could use to work his way into their heads.
Fortunately, the morning rush was over by the time the taxi wheeled into the inner city streets and Kade was dropped only a few minutes late at the front steps of the modern concrete compound that was Caldreen National Military Headquarters. The huge, dark and imposing building had been designed to commemorate the famous Siege of the Rain and the old bunker castle that had originally stood in that spot. According to the history books, Caldreen was only a fledgling town when a neighboring enemy attacked with such a barrage of flaming arrows and catapulted fireballs that it appeared as if the heavens themselves were raining down fire. Everyone fled to the already well-stocked and prepared castle, and were able to wait out the attack for thirty-five days until the enemy ran out of ammunition and food. The castle held, but its once shining white bricks were burnt to a scorched ebony.
He got checked in at the front desk and was shown directly to the waiting Colonel Thyks, his austere office decorated only with a national flag displayed proudly on the back wall and a shadow box of medals hanging under it. Kade removed his hat upon entering.
“You are late,” said the stiff, square man who peered at Kade through deep set eyes nearly hidden under bushy, red eyebrows. He indicated for Kade to sit down. “But thank you for getting here. I know your notice was short.”
“Sorry, sir. I had an unexpected delay getting off this morning. What can I do for you?”
The stout man leaned back in his chair, rubbing thoughtfully at his thick, ruddy mustache. “Well, three men were handed over to us a couple weeks ago and, honestly, I am no' sure what to make o' them.”
“How so?”
“They were picked up by the security detail o' that last khari'na caravan that came through here. The head guard said they were acting suspicious, hanging around outside the Coliseum after the auction. He said he had reason to believe they might be some kind o' shady associates o' the Malig'ahnts—something to do with an incident regarding one o' the khars for sale, I believe. You know I never bother to follow all that gossip. Did you hear about it?”
Kade cleared his throat that suddenly felt very sticky. “Aye, I … heard o' it.”
The man nodded. “We have questioned them multiple times and, while I have a nagging feeling they are hiding something, I do no' think they have any connection with the Malig'ahnts. Besides, their dress and manner o' speech indicate they are no' from around here.” Leaning forward, Colonel Thyks l
aced his fingers together on top of his desk. “At best, they are just simple, opportunistic vagabonds passing through, but at worst, well, you have heard o' the escalating violence around Tangun?”
There was a vague memory of the news on his voicebox, and other rumors. “A little.”
“We have recently begun uncovering a spy network that we think is connected to Tangun's government. There have been small infiltrations into some o' our high security tactical files that have begun to make even the High Lord, himself, take notice.”
“You think these men could be hired spies?”
“That is what I need you to help us determine. I have already let Feesgud have a go at them, and now I am turning them over to your discretion.”
Kade's lids closed briefly in aggravation. Feesgud was one of those interrogators that preferred to just beat facts out of his prisoners. “Sir, if they were watching the khari'na, they were probably just getting their thrills ogling at women they will never be able to afford.”
“O' course, but unfortunately, the auctions are also a great place to eavesdrop on high society who never seem to keep as tight a rein on their tongues in such atmospheres. Please take some time with them and place your recommendation on my desk before you go.”
“Aye, sir.”
Kade was introduced to a guard who would escort him to the interrogation cell and remain to assist in whatever way Kade thought necessary. He was shown down the narrow corridor and Kade asked the young, enlisted soldier if he knew anything about the conditions under which the men had been kept.
“Aye, sir,” his escort replied smartly. “They have been on half prisoner's rations in a bare room. Though I believe Officer Feesgud has withheld food and drink for the last three days.”
An inward groan rolled through Kade. How was he supposed to get anything intelligent—or coherent—out of starved and dehydrated men? They were probably delirious by now.
Sure enough, the small window at the cell door revealed three shiftless bodies sitting side by side on the floor against the back wall. Beaten. Bloody. Soiled. He swore softly.
In his own experience, Kade had grown to appreciate the subtle art of discovering the mind's depths through careful observation and asking the right questions over pummeling it to pieces. Well, at least he knew exactly how to start with these ones.
“Which one would you like to interrogate first, sir?” The young escort's name badge said Private Nessip.
Kade took a closer look at the three huddling near each other. When an eye was lifted to another, a nod of weary encouragement was offered back. The oldest looking one mumbled something in the youngest's ear and reached a very tired arm to gently lay on his shoulder. It looked like the younger had been weeping. These men were close, maybe even brothers.
“I would like to interview all three together,” Kade said. Sometimes it was advantageous to observe the body language between comrades during questioning. “Open the door.”
The trio warily looked up as he stepped inside the room, furnished with the usual table and one chair. Kade removed his hat and jacket and handed them to his escort. Then he undid his stupid, tight sash and draped it over the young soldier's arm. It was terribly uncomfortable anyway.
Quietly, he sat at the table and from out of his briefcase produced a pencil and paper on which he wrote up a list. “Please bring me these things in this order as quickly as possible,” he told Private Nessip, handing him the sheet.
Nessip scanned the list. “Sir?” He looked up, confused.
“Do you have a problem with any o' that, soldier?” Kade said calmly.
Nessip snapped to attention. “Uh, no, sir.”
“Good. And if anyone gives you any grief over it, tell them they can complain to Colonel Thyks directly. Thank you.”
The door was soon locked behind him and Kade went around the table to squat before the prisoners. He gave a smile.
“Good morrow. My name is Officer J'Kor and I have been asked to interview you gentlemen today.” The men stared sullenly at him, suspicious, saying nothing. “With your permission, I would like to start by inquiring o' your injuries first. I am having some medical supplies brought in. Will you let me help you get them dressed?”
Kade waited patiently for the glances of surprise mixed with nervousness to pass. He made note of the scorch marks behind the tattered remains of the oldest one's shirt. “Are those electrical burns?” he asked with a gesture to the man's rib cage.
The man probably wasn't much over fifty, but his current haggard appearance added considerable years to the thinning, dark blond head of hair matted with blood and filth—a contrast to the sharp intelligence of the eyes that watched Kade closely.
“I think my friend's arm is broken,” he finally mumbled through a fat lip, gesturing toward the man he had been consoling only a few minutes ago. “He needs attention first.”
“Peerz, don't,” the other man hissed, sporting prominent freckles and a pug nose. “Don't trust him. It's a trick.”
Kade's stomach twisted into something tight and nauseous. He knew that manner of speech, that accent. They sounded like Lyra.
The elder man—Peerz apparently—responded with patience to his friend. “If he is willing to doctor us, we have to take advantage of it, Lowet. Sursha needs his arm set and your shoulder must be put back in place.”
Kade turned to the one Peerz had called Lowet. “You must be in a lot o' pain.” But Lowet just lowered his head, refusing to acknowledge him, so Kade left him alone for the moment, looking to the husky, twenty-something year old Sursha with the brown curls, instead. “May I take a look at your arm?”
At Sursha's hesitation, Peerz nodded ever so slightly and the man finally offered his forearm, swollen noticeably on one side. Gently palpating the area, Kade could easily feel the slight protrusion of the radius near the middle where it had snapped. Sursha winced at his touch, but held still otherwise.
“Are you a doctor?” he ventured.
“No, but I served enough time in years past to know how to set the common breaks and injuries.”
For the next few minutes while Kade waited for Nessip's return, he assessed Sursha and Peerz's other maladies. A possible cracked rib, bruises, second-degree burns, a pulled tooth … That brought him back to the stoically saturnine Lowet again, turned away, nursing his limp arm.
“You really should let me reset that for you.”
“Why?” Lowet muttered. “You going to nurse us back to health just to break us all over again?”
Looking him in the eye, Kade said, “Well, sometimes you just have to have a little faith in your fellow man, Brother.”
The telltale startlement at Kade's choice of words was enough. Definitely Percs. Blast! However, it didn't necessarily make a connection with Lyra. He had heard of other Believer colonies in other areas of the nation.
Recovering quickly, Lowet grumbled, “I'm not your brother.” After a moment however, he grudgingly presented his dislocated shoulder to Kade.
Once Kade felt gingerly around the joint and was sure he knew how the ball was misaligned, he positioned himself beside the man and yanked. Hard. Lowet screamed just as Nessip reappeared with a large pitcher of water and several glasses. The young soldier's face turned green, his first deduction telling him that the new interrogator had already moved on to the torture part of the session, but through his grip on Lowet's arm, Kade felt the satisfying click of the ball as it returned to its socket.
“Aaargh!” Lowet growled through gritted teeth. “Peerz, that sure felt like torture to me.” However, upon regaining use of his arm, Lowet gave a small grunt of contentedness.
Kade went to the table and poured three glasses of water. “Nessip, why are you just standing there?” he said to the slightly befuddled guard. “I canno' continue this interrogation without every item from my list.”
“Aye, uh, aye, sir! Here, sir.” Nessip quickly brought in a few more chairs and a pile of clean washing cloths. Then he hefted in a couple la
rge basins filled with more water.
Nessip left again for more list items and Kade offered the glasses to the trio, inviting them also to the table to begin cleaning themselves up. No one drank until Kade poured his own and took a large obvious swallow, but after that, they relaxed visibly.
Sursha needed a little help with his one useless arm. Kade moved his chair next to him and the sloshing and wringing out of wet rags and the clink of water glasses predominated between two more returns of Nessip bringing a large medical bag brimming with supplies and fresh changes of clothes. Dressing—medically, as well as literally—proceeded from there. Lastly, Nessip came bearing food. Good food. Kade had specifically requested a full meal from whatever was being served in the officer's mess today.
Having finally accomplished his tasks, Nessip took his post by the door and watched with great interest, his superior personally assisting each man with his bandages.
“Why are you doing this?” Sursha asked softly as Kade finished wrapping the splint for his arm.
“Isn't it obvious, Woodrose?” Lowet grumbled through a mouthful of thickly buttered roll. “He's buttering us up to get us to trust him.”
WOODROSE? Kade almost froze. Curse the dark side! Could this get any worse?
“You are right, o' course,” Kade acknowledged lightly. “I have found the offer o' respect to be a greater motivator for cooperation than pain when dealing with rational prisoners—when I am afforded the time to be patient, that is.” Having finished with Sursha's arm, Kade rolled up the extra binding strip. “And you three are quite fortunate. Today, we have all the time in the world.”
This was said with a smile and Kade knew he already had the upper hand more than they realized, but he also knew he couldn't get cocky or he might reveal himself. He had to proceed with care. Scraping his chair around to the other side of the table again to face them, Kade said, “So how about for starters, we get to know one another?” He turned to the youngest first. “Sursha, tell me about yourself.”