by Ann Aguirre
“Let’s hear it.”
“Something strange is going on with the Gols. After the last battle, we’ve kept watch via drones to see what they would do next. I expected another run at the hold, but instead, it looks like they’re moving camp.”
Callum stopped walking. “Changing the assault vector or a tactical withdrawal?”
The Gols had paid dearly for every centimeter and in every battle, they’d lost troops while gaining nothing of note. Maybe the field commander was giving up on Burnt Amber. Could he really be that lucky?
Jere shook their head. “It’s too soon to call. They could be regrouping or waiting for supplies. They seem to be augmenting their food by hunting the local wildlife, which might indicate that they could be running low on rations.”
“Or that they’re bored and bloodthirsty when they’re not getting blown up by our mines.” Callum tried not to hate the Gols, but when they were camped outside, doing their level best to obliterate everything he loved, such tolerance often proved difficult.
Hatred left a man perched on a slippery slope, however, and sometimes there was no climbing out of that pit, once bitterness pushed you over the edge.
That fast, with a single stray thought, he was there again on that mountain. They had been hiking, and he never saw it coming. Why didn’t I know? Nothing, nothing he said could reach her.
I watched her step into space. Falling. She didn’t scream. Not once.
No, now is not the time.
Jere regarded him with a troubled expression, brow creased. “What are your orders? This might be the time to go on the offensive.”
17.
After Callum left, Joss took a bath and tried to contain her giddiness.
The war was still going on, and nothing was official yet. If only she could talk to someone about their situation, but that wasn’t a good idea. All her friendships here were brand new, and testing loyalty when Callum’s leadership was at risk seemed like a terrible gamble. But as she dressed in the bathhouse, she recalled that she hadn’t finished her mission of rescuing the signal machine from Archives.
Jere said they would find it, though.
It was worth a shot to check with security, and if they didn’t locate it, Joss could go looking again. She had plenty of time before her nightly performance, too much time, really, and if she let herself, she’d fall apart, thinking about what almost happened yesterday. He’s safe. I saved him.
That didn’t mean he always would be, though.
That’s enough. Focus on what you can achieve.
Sadly, those were narrow margins. Ignoring the fear tightening her stomach, she hurried to the security center, where she found an officer she’d never seen before. The woman glanced up with a troubled expression, brows creased. “Can I help you?”
“I was looking for Jere. Do you know where they are?”
“Meeting with Callum, last I heard. Is there something I can do?”
“Maybe. Did they happen to bring up an old machine from storage?” Joss glanced around the office, but she didn’t see anything that looked obsolete.
“Yes! It’s hooked up in the conference room. We didn’t have the wiring in place here. Do you know something…”
But she didn’t address the agent’s curiosity. She headed for the conference room, desperate to contact the outside world. Yeah, this was a long shot, but if someone in Ash Valley found this message—against the odds—and showed it to Pru, she’d respond in code. It took Joss a little while to figure out how to work the device, but eventually, she set it up to transmit to Ash Valley.
Then she had to write something concise. She settled on cousin in trouble, besieged at Burnt Amber, send help if possible. Though Joss didn’t know what was happening in Ash Valley, it seemed improbable that any other Bristow cousins would have gone missing, plus nobody else knew the code. Satisfied with that, she encoded the message: xlfhrm rm gilfyov, yvhrvtvw zg Yfimg Znyvi, hvmw svok ru klhhryov. Her biggest worry was that if some random pride member found that message, they’d take it for gibberish and throw it away. Still, it made her feel better to try. Painstakingly, she sent it character by character and received a tone that seemed to indicate successful transmission. If she got through, she could send more detailed messages to Pru, ask her to contact the wolves and the Eldritch.
Losing Burnt Amber would mean devastation for the bears, but it would also give the invading Gols a foothold, a staging ground for the next stage of conquest. When she thought about it, it was faintly ridiculous for a singer to be doing spy work, but that was what war did, forcing people into roles they wouldn’t have chosen. So no, Joss wasn’t a warrior by nature, but when it came down to saving people she cared about, hell yeah, she’d fight.
Before she left, she checked the roll of paper and set the machine to receive. It would likely take a while for that to reach Pru, assuming it ever did. By then, her stomach was growling so hard that it felt like there might be two badgers throwing down in there. Shifting, sneaking around, going to war, and then having her dreams come true all worked up an appetite. Joss went to the cafeteria and found Emilia nursing a pastry and a hot beverage. Her wife must be on duty, and Renna wasn’t around either, but the other woman offered a warm wave, as Joss filled her plate at the counter and carried it over to the table to join her.
Her nerves eased a little. Eating alone sucked, so it was good to find a friendly face. She wondered how Emilia would feel, if she knew what Joss had going with Callum. Would the rest of Burnt Amber be happy to see him cut ties with the order? While that much might be true, she couldn’t be sure how they’d respond to him wanting to pursue a relationship with a cat instead of a bear. While most holds were open to it, they might feel differently about their leader looking outside the clan. Such things always boiled down to personal power, issues of hierarchy and advancement.
Gods knew, Joss didn’t have a secret yen to run Burnt Amber. The fact that Callum was in charge troubled her, adding another layer of potential complication to a relationship that might already be doomed. Hell even knew if he could extricate himself from the order, and if he did, the clan might still pressure him to make a more suitable alliance.
“You look pensive,” Emilia said.
That was an offer to listen if Joss ever heard one, but she restrained the urge to confide. “There’s a lot happening right now.”
The other woman nodded. “I heard we might be taking the fight to the Gols.”
“Wow, really?” Joss paused mid-bite, suddenly terrified for Callum and unable to say a word in that regard.
“They’re keeping our orders quiet, but the word among officers is that we’ve got them on the run. That last battle was a rout, no survivors, and we have to hit them hard before they get reinforcements or supplies. The war could be won, right here at Burnt Amber.” Eagerness shone in Emilia’s eyes.
Yeah, Joss could tell she wanted that, glory for the bears. For her, it was more complex. Surcease from pain and violence? Yes, please. But she couldn’t stand to sacrifice anyone on the altar of battle. And loss was always a possibility, a dark specter lurking with their enemies amid the trees.
“When will you know for sure?” she asked, voicing none of these grim thoughts.
“Tomorrow morning, I suspect.”
From there, talk became general, and they chatted about lighter things. Either Emilia could tell she didn’t want to discuss the war, or she had nothing further to say on the subject. After lunch, Joss chose music as a distraction from the uncertainty. They were cleaning up inside Nayan’s club, and nobody stopped her when she slid in the back door and settled in at the piano. Running through her repertoire took a good long while, and in the afternoon, she worked on some new songs, muttering as she scribbled lyrics and tried a variety of melodies, discarding arrangements almost as fast as she created them.
Someone brought her out of the semi-fugue when they set a plate on the bench beside her. Startled, she glanced up to find Nayan waiting with one foot ta
pping. “Even geniuses need to eat,” she said brusquely. “What’s more, you should take a break or you’ll have no voice left for tonight.”
“And you don’t earn anything on me, if I can’t perform.” Joss offered a cheeky grin as she devoured the meal: some lovely grilled steak, roasted vegetables, along with fresh bread and cheese.
How much longer can we eat this well?
“Don’t be impudent. Next time, take yourself to the cafeteria and don’t worry the staff, who should be working, not watching over you.”
She could tell that the older woman was more bark than bite, however. Nobody cowered when she raised her voice; on the contrary, they ignored her carping and continued with their work. Joss did check the time, though, and it was later than she’d realized. Before heading to her quarters, she stopped by the conference room, just in case. Nothing yet. It was silly to be disappointed, but part of her couldn’t help it.
Stifling a sigh, she turned and left the security center. And nearly ran into the abbot, a stern-faced old man who had never spoken to Joss directly. Today, he stepped directly into her path. “I’ve been looking for you,” he said.
Has Callum spoken to him already? She tried to school her features into neutrality and worked to control her heart rate. Those physical tells would be a dead giveaway to another Animari. “Oh?”
“Indeed. I need to talk with you, my dear. Will you accompany me?”
Callum still didn’t know if he’d made the right decision.
But he remembered how he’d fallen for that feint and nearly gotten himself killed. If this tactical retreat was another lure, hoping to draw them out of the hold, it was better not to give chase. It was a gamble because if this wasn’t a trap and the Gols were getting gear or reinforcements, the situation inside Burnt Amber would soon become untenable. After discussing the issue at length with Jere, they’d both concluded that it was better to sit tight. They didn’t have the numbers to risk a full-on assault, and if they got flanked, it would be a bloodbath.
Gossip was racing through the ranks, and soon he’d be hearing from the soldiers, disappointed in his gormless leadership. There was a difference between fearless and feckless, however. What good was glory if he decimated the population? Callum didn’t give a damn about accolades; he just wanted to protect as many people as he could, for as long as possible. Long term, that was a shit strategy for winning a war, but he couldn’t bring himself to elect otherwise.
At any rate, the withdrawal of troops would give them some breathing room before the next onslaught. He could use the rest, and he was sure the soldiers could too, even if they railed against his caution. The notion of another round of visits to inform families of their lost loved ones cramped up his guts.
Damn, I should pay my respects to the brothers who fell yesterday.
First, he’d see them in the morgue, then he’d say the right words for them in the chapel, though he wasn’t sure if the goddess would listen to an oath-breaker. In these times, he was neither holy man nor free man, and it seemed as if his prayers might go unheeded. Still, he knew what he needed to do.
The morgue was deep below the medical center, a preternatural chill lingering in the silent halls. Though he knew it for nonsense and superstition, it wasn’t difficult to imagine unquiet spirits lingering here. Callum quickened his step and hurried into the room where the bodies awaited yet another funeral service. This time, the abbot would deliver the inspirational message.
He identified Brother Timmons first and in the slot next to him lay his closest friend, Brother Cadwell. The two had been inseparable, always sighted together at work or in prayer. The catastrophic damage that had slain them hadn’t healed, leaving terrible wounds imperfectly stitched with stark black thread. So strange to see those lines in their flesh, as Animari healing normally obviated such treatment.
This was a heavy burden, one he might never be able to put down. With a sigh, Callum closed the doors and left, just as the attendant returned. He ignored the curious glance aimed his way and cut a path to the chapel. Where he found the abbot leading Joss to what seemed like a private exchange.
Shit. What now?
He kicked his pace to a run and intercepted them before they headed into the building where the brothers were quartered. Confusion flashed on Joss’s face, then her look darkened to anxiety, the echo of it wafting from her in a sour wave. Sometimes, olfactory markers were no help at all in containing a volatile situation. This was his business to handle, and even if the abbot had suspicions, he shouldn’t confront her without asking Callum directly.
“Is there something I can help with?” he asked.
The abbot shot him a puzzled look. “Not unless you possess musical talents that you’ve kept hidden.”
This isn’t about us? Damn.
“Did you want me to sing?” Joss asked, smoothly covering his discomfiture.
“I heard that you performed a lovely tribute to the fallen soldiers, and I wanted to ask if you would be willing to honor our lost brothers in the same way. If you have time, we could consult regarding their favorite hymns.”
“It would be my pleasure. I do have a performance tonight, but I can chat now, if it won’t take too long.”
Callum loathed himself for the relief that coursed through him. Right then, he knew he couldn’t continue putting this off. If he let himself, he’d nudge it forward in favor of some more pressing issue, and he’d be damned if he left Joss feeling like a dirty secret longer than necessary. He made eye contact with her, then said to the abbot, “Once you finish talking to Joss, find me. I have an urgent matter to discuss.”
Her green eyes flickered, and she bit her lip. If the abbot could read the tension between them, he gave no sign, only offered a serene nod. “This won’t take long. I’ll be with you presently.”
Callum said, “I’ll be in the security office.”
It seemed like forever, though it probably wasn’t more than half an hour that he wasted, staring at Gol troop movements without noting anything of worth. Jere gave him a few strange looks, which Callum ignored. Finally, the abbot presented himself and Callum led the way to the conference room, where that ridiculous signal machine was all hooked up, as if that would do any good.
“I collect this is a matter of some urgency,” Abbott Ambari said.
The older man took a seat with great composure, and Callum did the same, though nerves urged him to pace. Yet it wouldn’t help his situation to reveal how agitated he was. Really, he should have scripted this confession, but now that the moment was upon him, his mind was blank.
“Forgive me,” he said, after a long silence.
“First, I must know what offense you’ve committed.”
“Over the past few weeks, it has become clear to me that I can no longer serve the brotherhood. You were right when you said that no man can row two boats, and this is where I’m needed most.”
He paused, took a breath, because that was the easy part of this encounter. The abbot would understand a call to duty. He might not be so tolerant regarding Callum’s other reasons for wanting to be removed from holy orders.
“There’s more,” the abbot prompted.
No point in dancing around the subject. Without fanfare, Callum dropped to his knees and bowed his head, the posture of the penitent. “I’m no longer chaste in heart and mind, and I can’t staunch my longing for Joss any longer. Nor do I wish to. Rather than serve with resentment and secret shame, I implore you to release me from my vows so I can seek happiness elsewhere.”
“That is no small request.”
“I’m aware.”
Unexpectedly, Abbott Ambari said, “I wondered how long it would take you to reach this conclusion.”
Startled, he raised his head to find the old man smiling. “What?”
“You didn’t come back the same. Not after Ash Valley. Not after you inherited leadership of Burnt Amber. And there were eddies of yearning and discontent that hadn’t been present before. I didn’t know
that you had a lover per se, but I am skilled at reading the hearts of men. And yours has not been with us for some time.”
“I’m sorry. You led the brothers here because of—”
“Not because of you,” the old man cut in sharply. “Because this is the correct course. We will fight regardless.”
Those words lightened his heart, but he still didn’t get up. He’d stay down until the abbot made a judgment. “And my petition?”
Callum knew damn well that while there were formalities to observe, the decision rested squarely in Abbott Ambari’s hands.
“I must meditate on this matter. Such decisions must not be made quickly or lightly, and you do realize, that even if I approve your request, you will no longer be counted among the faithful? Are you willing to forswear your goddess as well?”
The question gouged in between his ribs with all the pain of a blunt knife, wielded with tremendous force. Yet he answered in a level tone. “I understand as much. But I also question whether a benevolent deity would mind such things. The rules of the order were written by men, after all. I’m willing to trust my belief in a loving goddess, one who embraces all who come to her.”
After a long, measuring silence, the abbot inclined his head, shrewd eyes twinkling with a light Callum couldn’t read. “I see. This interview is at an end. Do not speak of this to the others, go on your way, and await my decision.”
18.
For the next few days, Callum virtually vanished, and Joss wondered what was happening with him.
Things must not have gone well with the abbot, but she couldn’t bring herself to seek him out. He was at the memorial service, but his face was impassive when she sang for his fallen brothers. Every night, she looked for him in the audience at Nayan’s place, but he didn’t attend, and a vise slowly, silently tightened on her heart. As a distraction from her fear, she checked the conference room regularly, but so far, nothing had come in the signal machine. She’d just inspected the device thoroughly and was on her way to meet Emilia and Trini for lunch when she spotted Renna hurrying toward the far side of the hold.
