A Soldier and a Liar

by Caitlin Lochner

  I shrug noncommittally. Tapping into someone’s thoughts that deeply is disorienting, and not something that always works in a fight. Maybe with Johann as my partner, it’s a skill I’d be able to refine. But I don’t know that I’d ever want her to know just how much I’m in her head for me to be able to fight like that.

  Probably her gift. I’ll have to ask her about it when her guard’s down.

  “Okay,” Johann says. “Let’s take a break, then go again. This time, with weapons.”

  16

  LAI

  JOHANN IS AN incredibly difficult and worthwhile opponent. I knew she had a short temper—I hadn’t expected she would leave it out of her battles. She fights with a calm head, and reacts without emotion. Sometimes taunts get to her, but so far we’ve been too engrossed in our fights to talk much, even for the sake of distracting each other. If anything, the longer we go on, the cooler she becomes. Frustration seems to make her more focused, not less.

  We practice hand-to-hand, with weapons, with gifts—she actually uses her fire after the first round—and without.

  It was hard enough to win without her shielding herself in a wall of heat. In a real battle, she wouldn’t even have to fight. She’d only need to call out her flames and her opponent would be killed instantly. No matter my fighting ability, I would lose in a serious battle without question.

  I’m starting to understand the Etioles’ resentment of us.

  We’ve been at it for a few hours when Johann finally says, “Do you want to stop here?” She’s just won after another round in which we were allowed to use our gifts. We’re both out of breath, and though I’d never admit it, all I want to do is lie down on the cold ground. My muscles ache and throb, and my mind is sluggish from extended concentration. Johann is much the same.

  “Sounds good,” I say.

  As Johann goes to get some water, a black butterflies drifts into view. It flies purposefully as ever toward me.

  Oh, come on. What is it this time?

  They’re never anything good, but I hold my hand out to it anyway. Its message echoes through my head. Cut it a little close this time, didn’t you, Lai? You’re getting sloppy.

  I frown and wave my hand through the remains of the rapidly disintegrating shadow messenger. Ellis is about the last person I want criticism from.

  I try to put it out of mind as Johann returns. After doing some cool-down stretches, we fall in line together and head back to our room. This time, none of the other soldiers stare at us as we pass. They’d dwindled away as our spars continued, and now they don’t risk eye contact.

  “You’re a lot better than I thought you’d be,” Johann says. “Where’d you learn to fight?”

  “Before I joined the military, I was living on the streets,” I say. “I learned how to fend for myself there. And then when I came here about eight years ago, Austin, and then another Nyte, taught me.” The memories of my training sessions with Sara lie heavier than usual on my chest. I shove them somewhere I won’t have to think about them. “What about you?”

  “I always got into fights when I was a kid, but I didn’t really learn how to hold my own until I joined Sector Eleven’s military.” Her lips curl in an uncharacteristically wry smile. “Sector Eleven is different from Eight. It was do or die, and I sure as hell wasn’t about to die.”

  I catch flitting memories from Johann of getting shoved down stairs, finding herself cornered by other soldiers, being pinned to the ground. I shudder inwardly. “Because you were a Nyte?”

  “There was that,” Johann says. “But it was also because I looked like a girl.”

  “But you are a girl.” Despite the fact no one’s around, I keep my voice low.

  She shakes her head. “Like I said, Sector Eleven is different from Eight. Women can’t join the military. We’re seen as weak. To get in, I had to pretend to be a boy, and I wasn’t very good at pretending back then.”

  “Why join the military at all?” I ask. “It sounds like a lot of trouble.”

  “I wanted to get stronger, and I needed their information,” she says. And I had nowhere else to go.

  “Information? What would you need that for?”

  She hesitates. “There’s someone I’m looking for. I thought if I joined the military, I could find out where he was.”

  “Oh. Wait, but how did the military not know you were a girl?” Surely that would have come up in the medical examinations or some other mundane way.

  “I think they did know, but Nytes are rare in other sectors and Nytes with strong gifts even rarer. They knew they could use me, so they let me in.”

  I had heard there were sectors that looked down on women and denied them certain rights—I’ve even met women from those sectors through the Order—but it’s hard for me to personally imagine. It’s bad enough getting abuse as a Nyte, let alone for anything else. I wonder what that must have been like for Johann growing up. To be hated not only for being gifted, but being a girl, too.

  “But you’re in Sector Eight now,” I say. “Why keep up the pretense of being a boy?”

  “You must know how hard it is for a Nyte to move from one sector to another,” Johann says. “It was hard enough getting permission from Sector Eleven’s Council without telling them I’d been lying about my gender for seven years. And if I’m found out lying now, I might just get sent back.”

  “I doubt the Council here would let you return even if you wanted to.” We come to a stop in front of our door. “Is that why you came to Sector Eight, then? To escape from everything?”

  “No,” Johann says quietly. She hesitates again, an oddity even just the one time, before unlocking the door. She doesn’t continue until it’s closed behind us. “I came here because I found out my brother had come here.”

  “Oh. Is he the person you joined the military to find?”

  Johann seems to withdraw inside herself as she rummages through her drawers for clean clothes. “Yeah.”

  I know better than to pry this much. If I really wanted to know, all I’d have to do is lean in on her thoughts. But I want her to tell me. She wasn’t the only one who had a change in opinion about her sparring partner. “Can I ask why?”

  Johann pulls out a wrinkled but clean pair of black pants and a plain red shirt. She stares at them for a moment before sighing and dropping them on her cot. “He killed our parents. So now I’m going to kill him.”

  The words hang in the air, a wall between us. Johann continues to stare at the messy clothes on her bed. Her expression is impossible to read. “I used the military’s information system to track my brother to Sector Eight. Two years ago, when I thought I was strong enough to kill him, I followed him here. But now his trail is gone. There are no records of him currently living in this sector, but there aren’t any of him moving to another sector, either. He must be here, but I don’t know how to find him anymore.”

  I don’t know what I was expecting her to say, but it wasn’t that. I had known about her search for her brother from listening to her thoughts, but not the reason behind it. Now I wonder if I shouldn’t have asked about it at all. Idiot, you of all people should know better. You did know better.

  “I’m sorry.” The words ring empty, but I don’t know what else to say. It’s that same feeling of knowing there’s nothing you can say as I felt back when I was with Kitahara in that cave-in.

  Johann shrugs with one shoulder. “It was nine years ago.”

  I want to ask why he killed them. How she knows about it and why he didn’t kill her, too. There are so many things I want to know, but I’m not going to lean on Johann’s thoughts for the answers, and I’m certainly not going to ask the questions aloud. Not unless she wants to talk about it.

  “Well, you don’t have to pretend to be a boy when you’re with me,” I say.

  She looks up at me.

  “I mean, when no one else is around, of course,” I add quickly. “Unless you don’t want to. But I already know your secret, so you don’t have t
o keep up the act around me. You can use your normal voice or take off your binding or say or do whatever you want.” At her continued silence, my babbling gets out of control. “And, you know, I can speak Gervaic a little, too. That’s Sector Eleven’s main language, isn’t it? I’m not great, but I’ve kept up practicing, and I think we could hold a pretty decent conversation. I mean, if you wanted to.”

  She continues to stare at me, skeptically at first, but then with something almost like surprise when she realizes I mean it. Maybe I’m imagining it, but her shoulders seem to loosen fractionally. “Danvu, Cathwell.” Thank you.

  “You can call me Lai. If you like.”

  She gives me another measured stare, but this time, it’s accompanied by a smile. “All right. Lai it is.”

  17

  LAI

  MENDEL TAKES FOREVER to get back from meeting with yet another information broker. I’m leaning against the wall across from his and Kitahara’s room when he finally returns.

  His shoulders are slumped as he walks down the hall, hands shoved in his pockets. The meeting must not have gone well. Sure enough, when I listen in on his thoughts, it’s to hear that the broker couldn’t find out anything about Mendel’s past.

  “What do you want?” Mendel asks as soon as he notices me.

  “So touchy. Sorry your meeting didn’t turn out like you’d hoped.”

  It takes a moment for him to process how I knew where he was and what happened. Then he remembers my gift, and the frustration that was simmering in the back of his thoughts flares up. “Is that all?”

  I lift my chin and look down at him. “I hope you don’t think I would waste my time going around giving condolences to everyone who’s had a bad day.” He opens his mouth, but before he can reply, I say, “I’m here for our deal. You’ve held up your side of the bargain so far. Or would you rather I leave?”

  All the anger in his thoughts deflates. It isn’t replaced with the anticipation he had when I first told him I’d try to help him get his memories back.

  “Well?” I ask.

  “Let’s go.” Mendel unlocks his door and walks inside. When I don’t follow, he raises an eyebrow.

  I shake my head. “Not here. Kitahara could come in at any moment.”

  He doesn’t protest like I expected him to, but silently follows me as I lead us away from modern Central and into the walkways that link to the more disused building in the back.

  I know Mendel is too caught up in his thoughts to pay attention to where we’re going, because he nearly runs into me when I stop.

  The usual clean halls are gone. There are no high, narrow windows. There aren’t any Watchers around, either, as I open one of the doors and wave Mendel inside an old meeting room turned storage room.

  Crates are stacked everywhere, rusty filing cabinets filling the spaces between. The tiles are cracked. Dust coats everything.

  I climb onto a stack of crates and take a seat facing Mendel.

  She really does like putting herself above others. One day, when I don’t have to stay on her good side to get her to help me, I’m going to find out about her past and even the playing field. I should have asked Mark to dig up something on her.

  “He wouldn’t have found anything anyway.” I cup my chin in my hand, watching him.

  Stupid mind reader. “So how’s this going to work?” he asks.

  A few days ago, the night after my conversation with Al, I managed to sneak out to the Order to pick up Peter’s power crystal and check the specifics of his gift one more time, among all my other usual tasks. When I first asked him telepathically if he could help me out, I was worried he’d say no—it’s a personal thing to ask for a Nyte’s power crystal—but he was happy to be able to assist. I should’ve known. I can’t rely too much on his constant eagerness to help, though. He has enough to do as it is.

  “I got a power crystal from the friend I told you about,” I say. “His gift works on a question-and-answer basis. I’ll ask a question, and any relevant memories that answer that question should appear. We’ll both see them, so, sorry, but you won’t be able to keep anything in those memories secret from me.”

  Not that I could’ve anyway with her annoying gift.

  I smile but don’t comment. “Do you want to choose the question? They’re your memories, after all.”

  He looks surprised, or maybe skeptical, that I’m leaving the decision up to him, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he wonders what kind of question he should ask. His thoughts wander back to our recent run-in with that group of rebels, and the one, Devin, who recognized him. Why did he know me? How does he know me? Even now, the rebel’s words gnaw at his thoughts.

  “Do you want to ask how you know Devin?” I ask.

  “I’m not going to waste my time asking about some rebel.” Maybe it’d be better if I didn’t know anyway.

  “It could be dangerous not to know.”

  “Can you just let me decide on my own, without prying into my thoughts?” Would she just get out of my head already? It’s not like I control every thought that crosses my mind. It was better when she was pretending to be some weirdo and I didn’t know.

  I open my mouth to reply to that thought, think better of it, and close it without saying anything.

  I’m surprised she’s passing up a chance to screw with someone.

  My nose scrunches at that thought, but I keep quiet. Unlike with Fiona, Mendel and I aren’t close. By any definition. If I get under his skin too much, it could end up making things worse for me later on.

  Mendel returns to considering the question he wants to ask. He wants something that’ll be broad enough to bring up as many memories as possible. But he also doesn’t want to see anything mundane or pointless that won’t give him any clues to go off from here. Something that’ll hit the most important parts of his life.

  He takes so long I start to get bored and he starts getting frustrated with himself.

  “You know, we can do this more than once,” I say. “You don’t have to worry so much about picking the one perfect question.”

  “Fine,” he says. “Ask what my life was like before I lost my memories.”

  A broad question. I don’t know if that’s good or bad.

  “All right, then.” I heave myself off the crates and walk over to Mendel. He tenses, but I don’t pause before drawing a sky-blue crystal out of my pocket and setting both it and my palm against his forehead. “His gift works through touch, so both the crystal and I will need to be in contact with you. Are you ready?”

  He hesitates, which surprises me. Then again, he’s been full of hesitation about all this since I first made the deal with him. Our recent encounter with Devin has only made him warier of his past. But finally, his eyes meet mine. “I’m ready.”

  I take a deep breath and close my eyes. Focus on the crystal in my hand until I feel the thrum of power connecting from it to me. I’ve never heard Peter ask his questions aloud before, but I do it now both to put Mendel at ease and to feel more solidly in control.

  “What was your life like before you lost your memories?”

  A barrage of images instantly floods my head.

  I stand overlooking a city blanketed in darkness. The night is broken only by lanterns strewn throughout the maze of streets below. Next to me, a girl with pale blue eyes leans against the balcony railing. “The night is approaching,” she says.

  I’m in a woodshop that isn’t Central’s, poring over a model of a building. My hands move slowly, carefully around it.

  As I walk away down a dark hall, Devin says, “You know, I used to respect you.”

  My eyes snap open as soon as the images stop. There were other scenes as well, blurring behind the ones that mainly stuck out to me, but they were all hazy. Impossible to make out.

  Mendel opens his eyes, too. “What gives, Cathwell? Why’d you stop? And why were those memories so broken up like that?”

  “I stopped because that’s all there was.” I could tel
l as soon as the power from the crystal cut off that no other memories would appear for us. “That was all our question dug up. But that’s … not how it usually goes.” I drop my hand from Mendel’s forehead. “Whenever my friend uses his gift, he always sees whole, clear memories play out. I don’t know why it was so fragmented like that.”

  “I couldn’t make out many details, either,” Mendel says. His eyes drift to the crates behind me. Thinking. “That girl’s face, the city, the places. Everything was so blurry. Why?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t know. Like I said, it isn’t normally like that.”

  His eyes cut back to me with annoyance. “That’s not exactly helpful.”

  “What, you think I’m doing this intentionally?” It’s a struggle to hold back my irritation. Though whether it’s aimed at myself for not being able to follow through on my promise yet or Mendel for being Mendel, I can’t tell. “At least there was some success.”

  “Yeah, if that mess is what you wanna call success.”

  “Hey, it’s better than nothing, isn’t it? Now stop complaining and pick your next question. Maybe if you’d picked something less broad, the results wouldn’t have been so bad.”

  “Fine. Then ask how I lost my memories.”

  “Fine.” I shove my hand and the crystal against his forehead. This time, we’re glaring at each other when I say, “How’d you lose your memories?”

  The memories come slower this time, as if they’re being dragged to the surface of some deep lake.

  I wake up to see someone I don’t know staring down at me. I sit up so fast I nearly headbutt him, but he jerks back to avoid me. He’s got dark brown hair long enough that it almost obscures his eyes. I don’t trust people whose eyes I can’t see. I think.

  I enter the bar for the first time with enough fake confidence to take on a pack of Ferals. I know this district is anti-Nyte, but when the information broker’s messenger told me to meet him here, I couldn’t think of a good reason to ask for a different place. I’m not worried about being discovered because of getting hurt. I know my way around a fight. I’m worried this guy won’t help me find out about my past.