by Simon Birks
Ka Pinto didn’t rush the bathing. Washing had become a ceremony to him; a precursor to meditation, a preparation. It helped him clear his thoughts, to square everything away. When he finished he put on a fresh robe, walked into the meditation room and sat at its centre, his back to the door.
Almost instantly there was a noise behind him. Ka Pinto turned and looked into Gideon’s eyes. The boy looked distant once more.
“What are you doing here?” Pinto asked, rising from the floor. “You should not be here.”
Gideon’s face held no expression. He was barely present.
He doesn’t know where he is, Pinto thought. He’s sleep-walking.
“Wake up!” Ka Pinto shouted, but the boy didn’t move. “Gideon, you’re asleep. Wake up!”
The boy moved too quickly for the older man to react. He stepped forward and stabbed Pinto in the chest. The Ka looked down at the hilt jutting out from his body.
“What have you done?” Pinto said.
“You have to die,” the boy said, but it wasn’t his voice.
“Why?” the Ka asked, feeling weak, but there was no answer.
Ka Pinto’s legs buckled and he fell to his knees.
He looked one last time at his room, at the few possessions he’d collected over the years, and wondered, what is all this for? His mind didn’t answer him this time, and he fell, lifeless, to the floor.
*
There was a noise. A thud. Gideon blinked.
Where am I? he asked himself.
What have I done?
He looked down and saw the Ka dead in front of him.
“Ka Pinto?” he asked.
There was no answer. The breath caught in his throat. He must have done it, yet he had no memory of it. Gideon panicked, became dizzy for a moment, but managed to stop himself from falling by putting a hand against the wall. He looked again at the Ka’s body.
“I’m sorry,” he said to the empty room.
Another moment passed, then the boy turned and hurried from the house.
The Cook, The Coachman and the Servant Girl
Visenai slept. She had been tired, the night before filled full of celebration for the master and his guards. There’d been a hunt during the day, and whilst she hadn’t been part of it, she had helped with the preparations for the hunters’ return.
She’d been thanked, too. Ma Poppun, chief cook and head of the servants, had made sure she looked the girl in the eye when she told her how much help she’d been.
Ma Poppun sat in the chair by the dying fire, and watched Visenai sleep. She hardly stirred, or made any sound; so much so, that every so often Ma Poppun would heave her old frame out of the chair and go over to the makeshift bed to check on the girl’s breathing. Hossip put his head around the doorjamb.
“Everything all right?” the coachman asked.
Ma Poppun smiled at the man.
“Yes,” she said. “She’s out for the night, I’m sure. Are they still going?”
Hossip nodded.
“I believe they are. I haven’t checked in a while, but I thought I’d best leave them to it. They can get a bit too rowdy for my liking. Would you like a drink? Something stronger than the bean?”
“No, thank you. Wouldn’t, even if I could. Are you turning in?”
Hossip shook his head.
“The master asked me to check over the horses. Make sure none were in trouble. They push them hard on these hunts.”
Ma Poppun stood up from her chair.
“Well, there’s none as good with them as you, Hossip.”
“I wish,” the man replied. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“We’ll be here,” the Ma said.
Hossip left. The old lady walked over to the pot of soup on the stove, found a cup, and ladled some of the thick mixture into it. She picked up a spoon and went to stand by the one and only door. Slowly, carefully, she started to eat.
Beyond the door was a large courtyard, which sat behind the house. In the centre of the courtyard stood a large statue of a horse on a high pillar. Ma Poppun had always liked the statue. It made her feel safe. The cook’s eyes lingered on it, wondering. How have I grown so old?
Then she looked past the statue at the house itself, or semi-castle as Ma Poppun liked to call it. She could see the candles flickering, and shadows crossing the window as the people moved around inside. By the look of the Orbs, she’d have said it was the early hours of the morning. It would start getting light again soon.
The soup was good, if a little cold. The woman glanced back at Visenai, and envied her deep sleep. The Ma would be lucky if she got two hours. It’s not that they didn’t give her the time off. The problem was that lying down gave her too much pain, and sitting up wasn’t a whole lot better, but at least it allowed her a little rest.
Ma Poppun looked out over the courtyard. She finished her soup, set the cup back onto the tray, and sat back in her chair.
She thought about many things; odd, weird visions and voices, and then, before she had time to realise what had happened, she was sleeping too.
Nayt
Nayt heard the knocking on the door and jumped. It was stupid. He knew the Telar-Val were coming to interview someone. Ka Pinto had told him. But somehow he’d forgotten.
Not enough people to cope, he thought.
Nayt got up from the chair. He’d been thinking a lot, just lately. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d thought so much. About the Complex, and what was happening here. About his part in it. It couldn’t go on like this, he couldn’t keep it quiet much longer, however generously they were paying him.
And do you know who’s at the door?
He wasn’t prepared to tell the Telar-Val. He would be implicated.
Does that matter?
Yes, it does. I’m part of it. I’ve been part of it ever since the madness started. Ever since they showed me what…
The knocking came again. Nayt jumped.
Get a grip on yourself.
It was one thing to tell them, but quite another for them to discover it on their own. That wouldn’t look good, and the guard was certain whoever was in charge would put the blame solely on him, and make sure the blade came down on Nayt’s neck.
They mustn’t detect your nervousness. Show a calm exterior, or tell them the truth.
If he was to tell them the truth he had to do it immediately, as if he’d been waiting for them to arrive. Then, maybe, some of it would look like it was their fault for not arriving sooner.
Knocking sounded again from the door. Nayt didn’t jump this time.
Well done, that’s more like it.
There would be three of them outside. Three Telar-Val to interview the Resurrected. One to ask the questions, another to take notes, and the third to stand guard. Always the same. He had to be calm. To them he was just guarding the food store, and making sure Broken Song didn’t run out of supplies. They had no reason to think anything of him. He was the lowest of the low; the most insignificant person in the Complex. An annoyance passed through him then. Unexpected, but not unusual.
The lowest of the low, and they, the mighty Telar-Val, with their swords and uniforms and orders from on high. They wouldn’t even notice him. No one ever noticed him. Apart from Ka Yeta.
Even then, you notice her more than she notices you.
Even so, she did notice him, and their meetings made the days worthwhile, somehow. Of course, she had no idea about the food store, either. And in a way they were at opposite ends, joined by the children, yet separated by them, too.
The knocking at the door got louder.
Nayt lifted the wooden bars out of the slats. They were heavy, but he was strong. He put them to one side, twisted the handle, and heaved the heavy door open.
“You took your time,” said the woman at the front.
On her shoulder sat an eagle, so still it could have been stuffed. Nayt had never seen such a bird up close.
“My apologies,” Nayt said. “Come
in.”
He watched the three of them pass by. The woman, sure of herself, was slightly detached; a tall man with slicked-back hair whose eyes didn’t seem to stop moving; a smaller, heavier man, who smiled pleasantly, and tried his best to make up for his companions.
“We are here to see the Ka,” the woman said.
Nayt offered the briefest of smiles.
“That would be Ka Pinto,” he said. “His house is 8-6. Would you like me to escort you there?”
“No,” the woman said, without looking at him. She was looking at the corridor they were in, scrutinising it.
Better get them out of here.
“It’s this way,” Nayt said, walking ahead.
Too keen.
Nayt stopped and looked at them.
“Unless there’s something else I can do for you?”
It was a ridiculous gamble. As soon as he’d started saying it, he’d known just how foolish he was being. The tall man’s eyes briefly alighted on Nayt, and looked him over in an analytical way. The woman put her hand on the wall. The smaller man came forward.
“No, I’m sure that’s not necessary,” he said. “Is it, Ja Jenza?”
The woman looked at the man. “No, not necessary,” she said, standing upright once more.
Nayt felt grateful to the smaller man. His Ja had been unable to contradict him in public. The Telar-Val had to remain united in front of strangers. It was the only reason she had decided against looking further.
“After you,” the woman said, and then added, “I look forward to speaking to you more when we are done.”
Nayt flashed her another smile, before turning and leading them down the corridor towards the Complex door. This was not turning out to be a good day at all.
The Spoon and the Saucepan
“Ma Poppun,” Visenai called quietly. She hadn’t seen the woman sleep this long before. She was worried she might wake up too late. “Ma Poppun?” she tried, slightly louder.
Visenai didn’t want the master to come in and see her sleeping, though the chances of him coming-to before early afternoon were slim to none. The fire was out, and the day was starting to chase away whatever early morning chill there’d been.
“Ma Poppun!” she said loudly, for a third time, but it didn’t look like the woman was going to wake.
Visenai walked to the door and looked out. There was no one in the yard, bar a few chickens stretching their skinny legs. Visenai fetched a wooden spoon, and went over to the mostly empty saucepan of soup.
“Sorry,” she whispered, before banging the spoon on the side of it.
“Wha… what?” the old woman said before she’d even opened her eyes. She looked to where the girl had been sleeping. “Visenai?”
“I’m over here, Ma Poppun!”
The cook focused her tired eyes on the girl.
“Are you trying to kill me, girl?” she exclaimed. “You scared me nearly to death.”
“I’m sorry,” Visenai said. “I tried to wake you…”
Ma Poppun’s look of shock dissolved into a smile and she beckoned the child to come over.
“Of course you did,” she said. “Sorry, I just woke with a start. Look at the sky, I’ve slept for an age.”
“It looks like it’s going to be a nice day.”
“Yes, it does. And so quiet. I don’t think I’ve ever heard it so quiet. That’ll be the ale. Now, help me up, and we can go and see what sort of mess they’ve left us.”
Running Away
Gideon wasn’t mad. He knew this to be true, so why had he done it? Why had he killed the Ka? He might not have liked him, but he didn’t hate him.
Gideon sat in his meditation room, still in shock, unable to fully form a single useful thought. They would find the Ka. They would find him, and when then did, they would seek Gideon out, and kill him.
So why are you still here?
His inner voice was right. He needed to leave.
The boy stood, crossed to the door and opened it. He looked out towards the Ka’s house. He couldn’t see anyone around, but it was likely they were already there, inside.
You should run.
Where?
The city would be a good place to get lost in.
It might be some time before the Telar-Val found out Gideon was the child who’d been Resurrected. If he acted now, he could still escape, or at the very least hide.
Gideon wondered what he should take with him.
Just take yourself. Get out of here. If you’re stopped, tell them you’re going for fresh water.
Gideon nodded. The voice was right; he was right. The voice was his, he had to remember that. If he thought the voices weren’t his then he’d be nothing more than a muttering madman.
Go now. Stop waiting. Why are you waiting?
Gideon put on his sandals, grabbed his Blinks, and left the house where he’d spent the last seven years of his life, without looking back.
Lyrin Bone
Ja Jenza stood in the small room, unable to believe what had happened. Someone had been murdered. Not just someone; a Ka. A Ka had been murdered on her watch. The more she thought about it, the more difficult it became not to break out into a broad smile.
Murders were a rare occurrence at the Complexes. Maybe one every few years; certainly no more than that. They were always assigned to the discovering Ja, which today was her. A lesser-experienced Ja might have cordoned off the area and sent for someone else from the city, but Jenza was experienced - ten years’ worth - and she wasn’t going to give a case like this to anyone else.
When she could bear it no longer, Jenza walked into the Ka’s empty bedroom and grinned so hard her cheeks hurt.
And to think I almost didn’t come.
Jenza had woken that morning, thought about the coming day, and almost stayed in bed. She was never going to move on in the Telar-Val talking to some child about his Resurrection.
She had almost sent Harrar, her beloved eagle, with a message saying she was unwell. She probably would have done if Harrar hadn’t looked so tired.
“Ja Jenza,” came a voice behind her.
Jenza quickly looked in front of her; no mirrors to give her expression away. She dropped her smile into a gaze of perfect neutrality, and turned to face her subordinate.
“Jin Graim,” she said. “Is there something for me to see?”
Graim nodded; a tight gesture. He was tall, slim, with slicked black hair and a small, tight-lipped mouth. Jenza didn’t trust him.
“The weapon,” he said.
Jenza moved past him immediately. A weapon? Who leaves the weapon behind?
In the main room, where the now stiff body of the Ka lay, Graim had pushed Pinto onto his side to reveal the sharpened dagger still lodged in his chest.
“What sort of weapon is that?” Graim asked.
“A Lyrin bone,” Jenza said, immediately.
Graim frowned.
“Lyrin? The Lyrin is a myth, Ja Jenza.”
“Then for a myth,” she replied, “they have very sharp bones.”
The Lyrin weren’t native to these parts, it was true. It was a creature from the eastern lands. A rock dweller, with far too much intelligence to become prey to humans.
“How could they have come by such a weapon?”
Jenza looked at the knife, its naturally serrated bone still stained with the Ka’s blood.
“I don’t know,” Jenza said. “Bind it.”
Graim produced a strip of cloth from under his belt, and carefully unfurled the brown material. One side was shiny, the other normal and dull.
“Be careful. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how important this case is. Don’t make a mistake.”
“No, Ja Jenza.”
“If we get this right, it could be the making of all of us.”
She watched as Graim did his tight little nod again. She thought she saw a slight nervous tremor start to creep into his movements.
A body, and a murder weapon. Jenza was no spe
cialist, but she could tell the Ka had been dead for several hours, probably all night.
“Have you got any theories?” Graim said.
Jenza nodded.
“Maybe. I’d like to speak to the child who was Resurrected as soon as possible. Can we find out exactly who that was?”
“It might take a while,” Graim said.
“Then you should start now,” Jenza replied. “Harrar should reach the city with the news soon. We need to keep this Complex as secure as possible. Is another Ka on their way to see to these children?”
“She’s on her way now. Her name is Yeta.”
“Excellent, let me know as soon as she arrives.”
Jenza headed to the door.
“Where are you going?” Graim asked.
“I’m going to take a walk around. See if I can… pick up on anything.”
Graim nodded.
“Fair weather, Ja Jenza.”
Jenza afforded herself a small smile.
“And fair weather to you,” she replied.
Blinks
Gideon was at the furthest end of the houses, at the front of Broken Song. Here, two buildings, a small medical centre and a larger building, which housed food and supplies, were all that stood in the way of him and the rest of civilisation. Gideon could almost feel the pull of it on his skin.
No child was allowed beyond this point, and, in truth, they never bothered to come here. They had everything they needed in their houses. They had been perfectly nurtured, smothered, encased like un-hatched eggs.
Reaching this point had not been a problem. He had walked the path between the buildings unchallenged, but to go to the medical building required a Ka to take you, and the Food Store beyond was completely off-limits to the young. Punishment for being there alone was swift and hard; a beating by the Sharg, then shackled in your house until they saw fit to release you.
The few children he’d seen had also been wearing Blinks; white robes with long hoods purposely shaped so only the floor and the feet of others could be seen through the hole at the front. If any of Broken Song’s children wanted to venture out of their house, this was what they had to wear. They made eye contact with anyone else virtually impossible.
