The Remnant

by Paul B Spence

  "She seems so tough. I've never seen a woman armed."

  "She is tough, as tough as they come. She is a marine."

  "A marine? She served on a boat?"

  Tebrey shook his head. "Not exactly."

  "But she is a soldier. You trust her with your life?"

  "Emphatically. She saved my life once," he said.

  They walked in silence for a while.

  "Is she your woman?" Ana asked.

  It took Tebrey a second to figure out what she meant. "What? No! Why would you think that?"

  Hunter snickered from the rooftop.

  "I couldn't think of any reason for her not to be. If she isn't, do you have a woman?" He could sense that Ana wouldn't have minded sharing him, but she hoped he didn't. She didn't want to compete with anyone for his attention.

  He couldn't think of any how woman could.

  He searched her face, but she stood in shadow, and he couldn't make out her expression. "No, not anymore. Not for a long time."

  "Good," Ana said, stepping up to a locked gate. She was glad the light was poor. She was blushing fiercely.

  "This is your home?" he asked, changing the subject, which had suddenly become uncomfortable.

  "Yes," she said. "I thank you for my safe passage." She turned and unlocked the gate.

  "Ana," Tebrey said, "may I see you again?"

  She smiled there in the dark. "I'd like that. Lady Mason asked me to come again soon and talk more. Maybe tomorrow afternoon?"

  "That would be good," Tebrey said, suddenly embarrassed. He was glad McGee and Christopher were keeping back.

  "Good night," Ana said. She gave him a fierce hug before stepping through the gate.

  "Good night," Tebrey replied.

  They walked back to the house in silence.

  Hunter watched from above with approval.

  The city was just waking up when Jeroen walked up to the house where his friends were staying. He recognized it as one of the homes his uncle had lived in when he was younger. McGee was just out of sight behind the locked gate, but came into view when Jeroen called out.

  "I'd like to speak to Hrothgar," Jeroen said.

  The old sergeant nodded and trotted up to the house. He came back a minute later with Tebrey.

  "Hello, Hrothgar. May I speak with you?"

  "Certainly, Jeroen. What can I do for you?" Tebrey let him through the gate and into the house. Jeroen's sergeant bodyguard stayed behind to talk to McGee.

  "I'm not sure, my friend. Maybe you can give me advice; maybe I can give you a warning. I know you to be free of the politics of this place. Let me tell you of my woes, if you will."

  "Go ahead. Anything I can do for you, I will. You know that." Tebrey settled him in a chair with a cup of hot tea and sat across from him.

  "It is a sad tale." Jeroen proceeded to tell him of his conversation with the marquess.

  "Damn," was all Tebrey could say.

  "Indeed, we may all be," Jeroen said.

  "Now I understand the warning part. You want my advice?" Tebrey asked.

  "I do."

  "Lay low for a while. Don't make a decision yet. See how things progress. If things start to get out of hand, you can throw in then with the side you want to win."

  "Hmm. Not a bad idea," Jeroen said. "I hate leaving the city at a time like this, though."

  "Why leave? Find a little hideaway and settle down for a few months. Drop off the radar."

  "The what?"

  "Never mind," Tebrey said, grinning. "You could always stay here. We took advantage of you long enough; may as well return the favor."

  Jeroen shook his head. "I wouldn't want to interrupt your studies."

  "Nonsense." Tebrey looked at him for a moment. "Actually, you may be able to help."

  "How is that?"

  "I seem to remember that you can read. This is correct, yes?"

  "My father is a magistrate."

  "That's what I thought. We may have a little job for you, if you're interested."

  Jeroen laughed. "You never found a scribe?"

  "Not one we felt we could trust."

  He nodded. "I can understand that. I'd be glad to help."

  "Excellent! When could you start?"

  "I have a few hours free this morning if it is urgent. We can make more permanent arrangements later."

  "Let me get Mason and let you talk to her about what we need."

  That morning, Ana walked to the market in high spirits. She purchased a small basket of pastries from a baker's kiosk to take with her when she went to talk with Hrothgar. Thinking of Hrothgar made her smile. She wondered what her parents would have thought of him, had they still been alive. She liked to think that they would have approved. She had lain awake in bed for a long time the night before, thinking of him.

  She wanted to take something nice for him and his friends. She still didn't know if she believed that they were scholars, but she did like them. They had treated her as an equal, something she had never experienced before.

  Still, there was a lot Hrothgar wasn't telling her. There were strange depths to the man. She also wanted to know what language he'd been speaking with his two guards. It was unusual, and unlike anything she had heard before. It made her think of the legends of people from the sky... She shied away from those thoughts. They were too strange.

  She might have to eat lightly that week for buying the pastries, but it was worth it.

  She didn't want her new friends to think her needy. The sad truth was that her money was running out. She had been careful with it, but the death taxes for her departed lady had taken most of the inheritance. She was probably going to have to take that work soon.

  Ana placed the pastries on her kitchen table when she got home. Her stomach growled as the rich, sweet odor of the delicacies reached her. She ignored it. She stoked up the hearth fire to heat water and sat thinking about the questions she had been asked.

  She knew very little about the forbidden ruins. Her parents had often told her and her sister, Eeva, tales of the dark things that had crept out of the night and driven her people almost to extinction, but those were just stories to scare young children, she thought. When asked, her parents had been unable to tell her what the things looked like or why they were so terrible.

  Ana tested the water's temperature and, finding it suitable, took the pot of tepid liquid and carried it up to her small bedroom. She wanted to bathe and dress nicely for her upcoming visit. She didn't have many changes of clothing, but she did have a nice dark green tunic, skirt, and bodice that her lady had gifted her to wear when the lady was entertaining guests. Ana thought that the deep color brought out her eyes, although she remembered several of the lady's guests had made disparaging remarks about it showing her disagreeably slim figure.

  Well, she thought, I can't do anything about that. All my people are slim. Hrothgar doesn't seem to mind.

  She looked at herself candidly in the mirror. She knew she wasn't pretty. She was too thin, her face too angular, nose too small and straight. Her skin was too pale, and she had freckles. She sighed. She had been lonely since the lady died. She sometimes talked to girls in the market, and she occasionally talked to her sister, married and happy. But Eeva wanted little to do with an ex-slave: She was embarrassed by Ana and bitter at the death of their parents at the hands of the mob that had burned down the tavern where they had grown up. Eeva had her own life now, and wanted no reminders of the past.

  Ana sighed and ran her fingers through her shoulder-length hair. It had grown out in the last few months but was still too short to be fashionable. She shook her head, amused by her self-reflection.

  What am I trying to do? Find a husband to take care of me? As if! Tebrey might be interested in being with her, but she doubted he'd want to make it permanent. I'll take what I can get, she thought fiercely. He doesn't seem to share the same prejudices as everyone else; maybe he'll want me.

  In any case, she was going to have to get moving if she wa
sn't to be late.

  Jeroen sat back from the table with a sigh. The small room seemed crowded with himself, the seven students and the aging scientist sitting around the table. It still seemed extraordinary to him that all of these odd people were from other worlds.

  "So, do you think you can help us?" Seshadri asked.

  His head ached with the strain of trying to understand the writings. "I do, although these texts are written in an old dialect, very difficult. It's going to take time. It might help if I knew what you hoped to find here."

  "I wish I knew, exactly." Dr. Seshadri smiled at the young man. "We are looking for information about those ruined cities. Why were they abandoned? What happened to the people? What did the original colonists think of the ruins?"

  "Are you wanting a general translation of all of the texts? Or, instead, do you wish me to skim through them and try to discover the answers to your questions?"

  "Ideally, I would like both. I'd also like to learn to read the texts myself."

  "Well," Jeroen said, digging through the books till he found the leather-bound volume he was looking for. "Let us start with this one. It is closest to the modern language of the Empire."

  "Good. I'll have my students compile a list of areas of inquiry. Once we begin to understand the information you translate for us, the sooner we can get these questions answered," Seshadri said. "Then, maybe we will finally be able to discover when humans first arrived on this planet."

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Tebrey mulled over the ramifications of the information Jeroen had given him. Put together with what he'd learned from the man he had interrogated, it painted a very frightening picture. The city was on the edge of revolt. The marquess was quietly planning a coup, and Jeroen's own mother was trying to kill them. The situation was looking quite grim, indeed. He was beginning to think that coming to the city had been a mistake.

  He was still brooding when McGee found him.

  "Yes, Sergeant?"

  "That red-haired lass from the market is at the gate, sir," McGee said gruffly. Tebrey knew that the sergeant was disgruntled about not being let out on his own. He wanted to explore the city, especially down by the docks. McGee had said that he was sure there would be good knocking shops down there. It didn't seem fair to him that the commander could go out and get himself a woman. Tebrey agreed, but didn't have much choice about letting him out. It was too dangerous. He'd promised McGee that he'd take him down there just as soon as he could, or arrange for him to go down with Jeroen's sergeant, Rutgers.

  Tebrey stood and stretched to the sounds of joints popping, amused at his thoughts. "Right. Show her in, if you would, Sergeant. I'll be down in a moment." Tebrey was uncomfortably aware of the fact that he hadn't bathed yet that morning. He had been too busy to think of such niceties. He quickly washed up in the basin in his room and changed into a clean shirt.

  What do you think? he asked Hunter, who was lounging in the sun.

  Hunter rolled his eyes at him. I think you smell better, at least. You're still an ungainly biped, though.

  Tebrey grinned and left the room. Hunter had been quieter since the day Tebrey had been attacked. He thought the cat might be blaming himself for not being with him.

  Or maybe I'm just bored, Hunter thought to him.

  We'll get out for a day or two soon.

  Good, Hunter replied. What you are going to do about your girlfriend?

  She's not my... He stopped when Hunter's mental mirth filled his head. Watch it, cat!

  Ana was in the parlor, looking out the window at the strawberry trees in the side yard.

  "Hello," Tebrey said as he entered the room.

  She turned and smiled shyly at him. "I brought some pastries that you all may like," she said, gesturing to the basket on the table.

  "Thank you," he said. "You look nice today. That dress brings out your eyes. Would you like some tea?"

  She nodded her head, unable to speak. She was painfully aware of how red her face must be. She wasn't used to being around a man, much less one so kind. She'd hoped he'd notice her eyes, and he had.

  He handed her a cup of black tea, well-sweetened with honey. "Mason should be down soon. I think she was taking an afternoon nap." He walked over and investigated the basket. "These look good." He took two out and handed her one as he walked to a chair.

  Ana sat across from him and tried to eat carefully so that she wouldn't get the sticky fruit filling on her face. If something were to happen, she was sure she would die from embarrassment.

  "These are very tasty," Tebrey said. The pastries were light and flaky with a rich, tart fruit jam of some sort in them. They were thinly glazed with sugar. "You'll have to tell me where you got these. Or did you bake them yourself?"

  "Oh, no," she said hurriedly. "I bought them this morning in the market. I'd be happy to show you the place. I'm afraid I'm not much of a baker."

  "Neither am I. In fact," he said, "I'm not much of a cook at all."

  She smiled and shook her head. It was difficult for her to tell when he was teasing her. With his build and the powerful way he held himself, he couldn't be anything but a soldier. He didn't seem to have many scars, though; none that she could see, anyway. That thought made her suddenly blush again.

  Mason hesitated in the doorway, watching them talking. Well, well, she thought with a mental chuckle. The commander seems to be smitten. I guess there is no reason for him not to get involved with the girl. We may be here a while.

  Some noise must have alerted him, because Tebrey looked up at that point and smiled at her. "Hello, Doctor," he said clearly.

  "Hello, Tebrey," she said. "Ana." She entered the parlor and prepared herself a cup of tea. At Ana's invitation, she accepted one of the pastries and found a chair. "Am I interrupting anything?"

  Tebrey smiled. "Not at all. We were just discussing our relative inadequacies when it came to cooking and baking."

  Mason glanced at Ana, who smiled hesitantly back. "You're a strange man, Commander."

  Tebrey grinned at Ana, who began to giggle.

  "Did I miss something?" Mason asked. She was definitely going to have to keep an eye on these two. They were growing closer to each other than they knew. She realized that she had come to think of Tebrey almost as a younger brother or son. The thought was disconcerting. She'd once been attracted to him; now that seemed weird.

  "Private joke, Mason," Tebrey said. "How are you this morning?"

  She shook her head at his thickness. He seemed oblivious to the almost worshiping look the girl was giving him. "Fine," she said. She was surprised that Tebrey hadn't picked up on her thoughts, but then she remembered him saying that he had to keep tightly shielded in the city to keep from becoming overloaded. "Ana, have you given any more thought to our questions? I know you were thinking that you might need time to try and remember more about stories you were told as a child."

  Ana shrugged uncomfortably. "I haven't remembered anything else about that, ma'am. I'm sorry."

  "Not a problem, dear," Mason said soothingly.

  "May I ask you both something?" Ana said. She was very nervous about asking; she didn't want them to think her insane, but she couldn't stop thinking about the strange language they had spoken. She knew languages fairly well. She knew that no one spoke that one – at least nowhere she had ever heard of.

  "Certainly," Mason said. Tebrey nodded his consent beside her.

  "Can you tell me where you are from? Really?" Something about the way she asked made it clear that she knew they weren't being completely honest with her. "I don't want to seem rude, but I know you aren't what you say you are."

  Tebrey sighed and glanced at Mason. "I told you she was clever. Well, Mason? Do you want to begin, or should I?"

  "Does it really say that?" Jane asked. She, Dr. Seshadri, and Douglas were sifting through the tomes with Jeroen. They had been taking notes for hours, trying to learn the language. They barely even had a sense of the grammatical structure. It seemed th
at the written language was much more complex that the spoken one.

  "Yes. Why?" asked Jeroen. He couldn't understand what fascination the texts held for them, although he was quickly becoming fascinated with Jane. Fatten her up, he thought critically, and she wouldn't be bad looking, even with the blond hair and fair skin.

  "I'm just surprised – and confused. I thought I knew what that passage was going to be, but then it turned out to be different. The part about the other people really caught me off guard. Did you know that the Taelantae were here when your people arrived?"

  "We don't use that word!" Jeroen said angrily. "Where did you learn it?"

  "We have our sources," Seshadri said, his voice calm. "Why, is it a problem?"

  Jeroen was surprised at his own frightened reaction to hearing the name. Thankfully, none of the other students had noticed their exchange.

  "It is one of their words. I'm sorry; I shouldn't have reacted that way. It is just ingrained that in me that that language is not to be spoken. There are dark legends about the use of those words."

  "So you did know about them being here first?" Jane pressed. "Before reading it here, I mean."

  "I knew there were legends, and these aren't much better," Jeroen said, gesturing at the books dismissively. "You told me yourselves that we arrived from the same planets you have come from. How could there have been people here before us?"

  "That is one of the things we are trying to find out," said Dr. Seshadri. "Why is it bad to speak the language?"

  "Because that is the language of the demons."

  Ana sat listening to them, barely daring to breathe. The tale they spun for her was like nothing she had ever heard before. It was an incredible story. She knew that she should get up, thank them for the tea, and leave. Such things couldn't be real! But something about the sad, slow way that they spoke of things made her believe them.