by C. A. Bryers
She nodded eagerly. “That won’t be a problem.”
***
As the day dwindled to a close and the House of Falling Rain began to settle into silence, Rainne Zehava unlocked the door to her temporary room. The lights in Adjutu’s Path, dimmed low during nighttime hours, slipped through the crack as she peered outside. The hall was empty as she stepped into it, and she closed the door behind her with a gentle click. Down the corridor she went, across the vast open space of the foyer, and into the passage housing the remaining stairwell leading below. Gingerly, she made her way down the metal stairs, wincing when even the slightest creak sounded beneath her feet.
She hesitated at the landing that opened onto the first level of the prison. Compelled to continue downward to her destination, Rainne crept into the dank hall instead, noiseless as a ghost. Some part of her had to look, to see for herself just what had befallen the poor girl.
She wandered to the left first, unsure of where exactly she might find the attack victim, but aware that it was somewhere on this first sublevel. Within moments, it was as if Ciracelle Belfair had cried out to be found as the greenish glow of the cocoon bloomed from the opening of one of the cells ahead.
Ciracelle floated within a few feet away, blond hair splayed out across the surface, her beautiful face serene in its repose as the tephic waters worked to heal her. Rainne made a tentative step to move inside, but stopped. She could feel the barrier inches in front of her face even if she couldn’t see it. Whether it was created to physically keep intruders out or to alert Lochmore and his assistants should anyone pass through it, she didn’t know. But even from here in the hallway, Rainne could see that Ciracelle was fortunate to be alive. The brutality that had been inflicted was sickening to see firsthand, the deep gashes and slashes appearing like black pits in her ghostly white naked flesh.
“I am saddened this has happened to you, sister of the Order,” Rainne whispered into the stillness, staring down upon the serene face protruding from the tephic bath. “May you remain safe until you are whole again.”
With that, she stepped away from the cell, returning to the stairwell. Maintaining stealth, she descended the last flight, stealing into the lowest level of the prison. The lights flashed overhead, only a handful of bulbs seemingly capable of sustaining steady illumination. The air was cooler down here, her hand absently drawing the loose bottom of her scarf close to her chin.
Rainne knew Salla Saar was somewhere on this level. She chose left again at the T-shaped juncture where the stairwell met the corridor, taking turn after turn around the massive central cell block with every compartment she passed standing dark and empty.
Afraid she might have walked the entire circuit of the square-shaped corridor, Rainne heard a shuffling sound from a cell situated at one of the bends.
“Who’s there?” a voice called out. “Lochmore, if that’s you, you know I didn’t do this.”
“Salla,” she said in a hushed tone, hurrying to the source of the noise.
From the darkness of the cell, Salla appeared against the bars of his door. “Rainne? What are you doing down here?”
“Quiet your voice. It carries. I came to speak with you. I want to help.”
Salla shook his head. “No. I don’t trust anyone up there right now, and I don’t want you getting involved. Stay out of sight as much as you can until the lockdown’s over, and keep your door locked.”
“I cannot do that, Salla.” She laid her hand over one of his, wrapped about one of the cell door’s bars. “This is what I must do to atone for trespassing upon your thoughts.”
“Rainne, I already forgave you for that. Let it go.”
“A wrong must be righted. Always.” A smile rose to her lips. “You are not in the position to stop me anyway, are you? Now tell me how to help you. What must I do?”
Salla backed away. “You don’t get it, Rainne. Someone up there in this House did that to Ciracelle. I’m not going to let you—”
“Forgive me, Salla.” Her eyes closed, the firmness gone from her voice, replaced by tentativeness. “The sights I witnessed in your mind have not gone. That girl, Natke Orino was her name. You left her in order to protect her from what you feared you might do. Protecting others is in your nature. But you must also understand that it is in my nature as well. I have spent many years protecting Ulong-Afa from the nameless disease that seeks to take him away. And perhaps just like Natke Orino, you underestimate me as well. She was not afraid to face danger. Neither am I.”
The man in the cell did not move, did not speak. Conflict was written across his face as if carved by a knife.
“If you will not let me help you, who will? Will you simply give yourself to the fate those above decide for you? Those you have just admitted you do not trust? Even in your darkest moments, you have wished to give up, but your strength of will would not allow it. Let me help you. Let me do what I can so you can give yourself one more chance at life.”
Salla moved closer again, hands grasping the bars of his door. Remaining silent, he offered the smallest of reluctant nods.
“That is well, because I have already spoken to Lochmore and offered my help.”
Salla looked stunned. “You did? Why? Why would he even let you?”
She shrugged. “He was skeptical, to be sure. Difficult to blame him, considering whose rho I am.”
“No kidding. What did he say?”
“What I expected.” She hugged herself tighter as the chill of the basement level seemed to have started creeping through her clothing. “He was a gentleman, of course—”
“Of course,” spat Salla.
Rainne hesitated before continuing. “He thoughtfully reminded me that should I or anyone prove your guilt, what little thread I have connecting me to the Order as uhreht’sa will be severed, thanks to the rho contract I agreed to.”
“Just a chance for him to stake some of his reputation for you and put you in his debt, most likely.”
Recalling Lochmore’s tentative offer, she had to bite her lip. “You really do not like him, do you?”
He swatted the subject aside as if it were an insect. “We’ve already been over this.”
She nodded. “You are right. We must focus. You have been in here most of the day contemplating matters, I should imagine. You must have thought of somewhere to begin.”
“I don’t know anything for sure. I don’t know if it’ll lead anywhere or if you can even get an answer, but the one who’s blaming me, his name is Joht Tavross.” He shook his head. “It’s stupid. It can’t be—”
“Let me be the judge of that.”
Reluctantly, he continued. “He said something yesterday after Ciracelle was found. He said that…that if he wasn’t so sure it was me, Lochmore would be at the top of his list, or something like that. I keep wondering why he said that. Maybe there’s something there, but Joht’s all mouth, so probably not. Why would the Adjutu of the House do that to Ciracelle?”
Rainne’s brows furrowed. “I do not know Lochmore well, so I am not the one to ask. What do you know about him?”
“He’s fair for the most part, I’ll give him that. I might not like him, but I’ve met worse.” He leaned a little closer to the bars, almost conspiratorially. “He…does like women, though.”
The furrow of her brows deepened. “Lots of men like women, Salla. I believe you do, if I am not mistaken.”
“No, Lochmore really likes women. Haven’t you noticed? He’s constantly laying on the charm, even with you. And…”
“Yes?”
He hesitated. “I saw him one night. I don’t know if you’ve met Iriscent—”
“Yes. I knew she was the one handling your evaluations. I found her before I spoke to Lochmore. She was the one who told me where to find you.”
“So you know she’s one of Lochmore’s assistants. All of his assistants are female, and, you know, not all that tough to look at. But Iriscent and Lochmore—I saw them together.”
She thou
ght on it a moment, catching his meaning almost instantly. “I see. Well, I am not sure if cavorting with an assistant is terribly frowned upon, since this place is a bit unusual as far as where the rules may fall. But I will look into it for you. Now, tell me everything.”
***
Around noon the following day, Rainne found Joht Tavross amongst ten other House students in the commissary. From a distance she watched him, the way he carried and conducted himself, trying to get a measure of the man. He sat in the middle of a long table against the far wall, surrounded by a handful of others. Even here in a casual dining setting, Joht commanded the attention of those around him. He led the conversation, with one person adding a remark here or there, but more often than not, few words were spoken without Joht following those words with some sort of diatribe of his own.
He was tall, fit and handsome, she had to admit, but he exuded a self-assured confidence about his looks and abilities that immediately transformed him into something vaguely distasteful. Just observing him from across the room brought Rainne to the conclusion he would be unbearable to deal with on a regular basis. She knew his type and knew it well, cut from the classic mold of Majdi who favored brawn over the more nuanced and skillful approach of those who leaned instead on tephic ability.
Striding ahead toward his table, Rainne watched the man’s head lift, his expression alone irritatedly asking who she was and what she wanted from him. But recognition was quick to flash in his eyes, and a broad grin spread across his face.
“Tallas’s rho, right? Sorry, Salla’s rho.”
“I would like to have a word with you. On behalf of Lochmore’s investigation, that is,” she said evenly.
Joht’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not answering any questions from that scag’s rho. What, are you trying to clear him?”
“Trying to learn the truth, actually. If the truth is that Salla did attack this Ciracelle woman, so be it.” She did not speak further, nor did she move from where she stood.
The big man on the other side of the table shoveled another scoop of food into his mouth, gauging her anew. Each chewing motion was slow and deliberate as he stared up at her, but before long, he seemed to lose interest in the contest.
“Scatter.”
Some at the table left more quickly than others, but within seconds, Rainne was alone with him. Wiping off the faded old bench, she sat down directly across from Joht.
“Thank you.” She folded her hands, setting them on the table a few inches from the other’s plate. “Please tell me what happened.”
Joht rolled his eyes. “Look, you’re wasting my time if that’s all you’ve got to ask. If you’re part of Lochmore’s investigation, you’ve read my account of what happened.”
“Yes. You conspired with Ciracelle Belfair to read Salla’s mind and expose his secrets to the House at large. Admirable.”
Joht swept a hand through his straw-blond hair. “Underhanded? Sure. Do I regret it, though?” He stared at her long after it had become uncomfortable. “Only because of what it led to. Only because of what happened to her. What he did.”
“She must have meant a great deal to you,” Rainne said, reining in her forceful approach.
He gave a casual bounce of his shoulders. “We had a history. Some of it was fun.”
“So you have your opinion of what happened to Ciracelle, clearly. What evidence do you have?”
Joht snorted. “Evidence? There’s no evidence. Anybody could have done it, but—”
Rainne’s brows raised, a smile tugging at her lips. “Well, I am certainly glad you said that instead of me. I do not want to lead you to conclusions, after all.”
The man before her pointed his fork at her as if to begin some long, belabored speech, but shook his head before a word was uttered. With a snorting laugh, he went back to his food.
“Anybody could have done it, you say?” Her head tilted to the side, waiting for their eyes to meet again. “What about you?”
He looked as though he’d been slapped. “Me? Why would I hurt her? I just told you that what happened to her is tearing me—”
“Consider this: that Santerre woman sends you all on your way. Once she is gone, you decide to meet with Ciracelle downstairs, to learn Salla’s secrets while it is still fresh in her mind. Santerre said in her statement that Ciracelle did look uncomfortable with you. Knowing what the two of you did, it is understandable to think she might have felt some guilt about betraying Salla. Perhaps she refused to tell you more.” She eyed him carefully. “This angers you, and there she is on the floor.”
“No, that’s not what happened. She was going to tell me in the morning.”
She leaned closer. “Are you sure? Salla told me as well that there was regret on her face when you appeared.”
“I don’t give a dead nereid’s bloated carcass what he said. I said that’s not what happened. I would never hurt her. Never.”
Feeling as though she’d run into a stone wall, Rainne decided to shift tactics. “So you had a history with Ciracelle. Tell me about it.”
Joht took another bite, eyes cast to his plate this time as if deciding whether he ought to say more on the matter or not. “We were together for almost a year. Ended not long before I was sent to this garbage pit, in fact,” he said, waving his utensil beside his head to indicate the House.
“Were you in love?”
The fork banged against his plate as Joht groaned in disgust. “Just like a woman to ask something stupid like that.” He paused then, staring listlessly for several moments. “I cared about her at times, sure. Can’t say I ever loved her, though. She looked the part of the kind of girl I’d go after, but…” He let the thought trail off. “When we were together, she got a little…obsessed. Started affecting my training near the end. Orrock told me to lose some weight, so I did. Broke her up a bit, I suppose, but she was messing up everything. Put my head in a fog so I couldn’t see straight at what I was doing, what I was after. I got in a fight and was sent here, and wouldn’t you know it, there she is a few weeks later.”
“Why did you not avoid her here? Leave her alone? It was no secret she was part of your little group here.”
Joht offered a humorless laugh. “You don’t get it. Of course you don’t, you’re uhreht’sa.”
Rainne flashed her eyes wide in mock surprise. “Oh, and you have defeated the current archsentinel and taken his place, then, is it? Congratulations.”
There was bitterness in the face staring back at her, but also a measure of grudging respect. “I’ve seen you a few times here and there. You always seemed so…” He paused to use his tongue to sweep something from between his teeth. “Meek. So timid. Look at you now, little girl with that scarf of yours just so. Pretending to be hard as stone.”
She gave him a placid smile, leaning closer. “Where I come from, you place yourself at the feet of the one you have wronged, or to whom you owe a debt. It is nothing more than a gesture of supplication in hopes of gaining forgiveness or a chance to repay that debt.” The smile faded. “You, however, I owe no debt, nor have I wronged you. Therefore, you get me as I am. In you, I see a boy so scared of what others think of him, so that boy must scare others. But you do not scare me, Joht Tavross.”
The big man laughed, scooping another mound of food from his plate to his mouth. “I didn’t think much of you before,” he said as he chewed, “but I kind of like you.”
Rainne’s smile returned, and she set her hand on Joht’s. “Do not talk while you eat. It is revolting.”
Joht chortled anew, but after a moment’s pause, he lowered his head and quietly finished his mouthful of food.
“Answer my question, please.”
“Oh, why did I let her hang around?” He tapped the fork against his plate, sighing. “You know I’m training to become archsentinel, right? That’s right, of course you do. Thing is, not many people can get there on their own. They need people around them who believe in them. It gives them strength and confidence, and it goe
s a long way toward convincing the people who matter that you’re worth the shot.” He sat there silently for a moment. “And Ciracelle? She was easy to get on my side, even if I didn’t want much to do with her when she showed up here. But nobody believed in me like she did. Nobody.”
“So you were together again while here in the House?” Rainne presumed.
Joht’s face contorted. “No, no, of course not. I kept her around, sure, but no.” He smirked. “She’s kind of a child, really. Acts out when she doesn’t get her way. She tried to get me jealous. Started running off at night to see someone.”
Rainne’s interest perked at the volunteered information. She leaned across the table as if sharing a secret. “Was it Lochmore?”
Joht wagged his fork at her. “You’re smart, too.” He nodded. “Yeah, pretty sure it was him. Snuck out most nights, came back dead tired. That old Adjutu must have some powerful stamina to wear that girl out.” Shaking his head, Joht laughed in retrospect. “She started sliding after that. Really bad, you know? She could never get enough rest, and her tephic—man, did that sink like a rock. And for what? To make me jealous so I’d take her back? Nope. Sorry, girl. Don’t care what you do or who you do it with. I mean, think about it. Maybe that’s why she just, plunk, plunk, plunk, started falling apart.”
“Because her plan to make you jealous didn’t work?”
The other shrugged. “Or, like I said, it was the late nights doing who knows what with Lochmore. Either or.”
