by JM Guillen
“I was to be a cantorè, you know. I would have never left the Havens.”
He looked up into the night sky. “You sound uncertain, now.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think I can. I’ve learned the paeans. I love the stories. But...” I grasped for words. “It just doesn’t seem enough anymore.”
“That’s an odd idea.” Rasmun considered me and then hurriedly clarified. “I mean, you have seen firsthand what the cantorès do and how they care for their charges. Cantorès have quiet lives full of children, songs, and stories. Why would you think that’s not enough?” Rasmun turned down an alleyway headed toward Dockward Square.
I frowned. “It’s...” I reached for words. “There need to be cantorès. I know that.” I shook my head as if I couldn’t quite grasp an idea. “It’s not what I need to do though.”
“Oh.” That was all Rasmun said. He said it with an air of nonchalance, almost distraction.
I eyed the lightman, uncertain if I were being teased.
He glanced at me, then away.
“The important thing is it seems as if you are finding a question of import.” Rasmun spoke plainly and then let the words drift.
After an uncomfortable moment, I gazed up at him.
“A question?”
Rasmun paused mid-stride, the yellow gaslight flickering over his thin face. He went on a knee and looked me straight in the eye.
“Questions are important, young sir.” He gave me a crafty smile. “Sometimes, they are the most important things we have.”
I frowned, twisting my mouth up. “Why is that?”
The man scoffed slightly, as if this were something he had heard posed time and again. He peered sideward at me. “What do you gain if you tally a six and a nine?”
No pause. I knew my ’rithmic. “Ten-and-five.” I grinned slightly. “Simple.”
“Most questions are simple.” Rasmun canted his eyes at me. “Simple questions don’t have much value however. What a person needs…” He paused, studying deep inside me. “What a man needs is a hard question. An almost-impossible question.”
I furrowed my brow. “Why?”
Rasmun laughed. “Let’s see if you can figure it out. It’s a powerful idea, and you’ll remember it better if you find it.” He showed a cunning grin. “You asked me a moment ago ‘What question?’ Let’s start there.”
I ran my hands through my hair, a gesture I would keep for the rest of my life.
“Alright.”
“Think about the fire. Think about your friends.” Rasmun watched me closely. “Now, when you think about what happened, what do you want to know the most?”
The answer came swiftly. “Why. I want to know why it happened.” My eyes hardened like wintersteel.
Rasmun nodded. “The Esperans say that ‘Why is the great question.’” Rasmun narrowed his eyes. “But ‘why’ is often too great a question, even for a long life. Tiny things happen that lead to great things and every great thing creates scores more tiny things.” He let his words sink in. “So, young sir.” Rasmun leaned in close to me. “Be more specific. What do you truly want to know?”
I grew frustrated but tried not to let it show. “I want to know why…” I let it trail off. “I want to know where the people were who were supposed to take care of my friends.”
Rasmun smiled. “Much better. Who were those people?”
“You know.” I squirmed slightly. “The judicars or even the Inquisitors of the Forge. The fire started…” I drifted again as memory caught me. I shook my head. “No one was there.” I had tears again but did not let them overwhelm me. “They just wandered into the white flames and died. By the time Alej— the one judicar showed up, it was too late.”
“The inquisitors did come, didn’t they?” His words seemed nonchalant, but Rasmun knew what the inquisitors had done with the tainted children.
I nodded fiercely. “They came.” My words tightened full of impotent fury, full of red wrath. “They came after it was too late. They came in time to kill the children whom the fire had touched.” I glowered at Rasmun, trembling. “They only came to find out who had been tainted.” I paused, trembling harder. “They only came so they could take children away to the wards or kill them outright.”
Rasmun said nothing for a long moment. The stars above us looked on.
“So, you think that someone should have been able to stop the fire.”
I nodded. I tried not to see Tia in my mind, her pale skin blackening. “Yes. Someone should have been there. They are—they were—children. Someone should have taken care of them.”
A long moment of silence stretched between us then.
Rasmun stood, popping his fingers. “These are good questions. They are the kind of questions that a man can spend his life answering.”
“What do you mean?”
“Answers to large questions aren’t spoken, young sir. Answers to large questions are lived.” Rasmun made certain he had captured my eyes. He bent close. “Your friends are gone.” The words had weight, finality. “You can be angry. You should be angry. But anger alone won’t change anything.”
I was full on crying again, but no longer the sobs of a hurt child. These were tears of anger, fire, and steel. My fists clenched tightly. I held the lightman’s gaze, not even blinking. “You are saying they didn’t matter. That they died doesn’t mean anything.”
Rasmun shook his head. “No. Not at all. You are right. No one cared. Not enough, anyway.” He crouched again, took a breath, and went on. “The only person who can decide what those lives meant is someone who knew them. Someone who knew them, remembers them, and decides to make their deaths mean something. This is why these questions are so important.”
I sat, just watching the man while the lightman watched me until the silence grew heavy.
“My question isn’t really about why it happened.” I blinked tears back. “My question is about why no one was there. Why they were alone. Why, in a city where there are hundreds of judicars and purifiers and bonded guildsmen, not one person was there to stop this from happening.”
Rasmun mused. “Why there wasn’t a hero.”
I practically jumped from my skin. “Yes! That’s it exactly.” The words tumbled out in a rush. “The cantorès taught us hundreds of stories. There is always a hero, someone who comes along to make everything right. The hero never quits, no matter how bad it gets.” I grimaced. “Where was the hero here? Where was the person who was supposed to take care of us?”
Rasmun chuckled. “Are you certain there wasn’t one?” When I looked at him blankly, the lightman continued. “You might be making a mistake. What if this isn’t the end of the story, young sir?” Rasmun grinned. “This could just be act one, the first part of some grand Riogiin play.” The smile touched his eyes now.
“But it’s over. It’s over and they died.”
“Their part is over, true. But yours isn’t. Their deaths have given birth to something else. They have made you ask questions you never would have asked and think about things that you never would have thought.”
“None of that saved them, though.”
“No. It didn’t. But think for a moment. If the play were not over, then who would the hero be?”
I said nothing.
Rasmun stood and sat back on the bench next to him. When he spoke again, his voice was somber.
“You are alive, young man. They live in your memories. The questions that you are asking will shape who you are and what you do in the future. For the rest of your life you will be the man who was in the Havens when the fires came. This is part of you now.” He bore into me. “Do you know what it takes to become a hero, young sir?”
I thought a moment and then shook my head.
“A decision. That’s it. A simple choice. A hero is a person who has found a reason to try and change the world. They choose to do so. They make the choice again and again, whatever the cost. Whether they succeed or whether they fail matters little. Maki
ng the choice is what matters.”
The Simenion blew steadily off of the ocean, bringing the smell of waves and far lands to me. I breathed it deeply and ventured a smile. It was perhaps my first real smile in days. I fingered the judicar’s token, hanging on a thong of leather around my neck.
“I want my friend’s lives to have meant something.” The wind licked at the tears on my face. “Rio and Jaque, Cyrl and Tia, and Wayn and Paula.” I looked to Rasmun.
The lightman didn’t smile now. He regarded me with serious, earnest eyes.
“Tell me.”
I ran my fingers through my hair again. I didn’t trust myself to say the words. Instead, I pulled Alejandro’s token from underneath my shirt, showing it to the lightman. I wavered when he tried to meet my eyes. I hoped he would understand. I didn’t know if I could give word to the idea in my heart. It was a great commitment, and still, I felt very small.
Rasmun’s eyes widened a touch when he saw the token. His eyes flickered to mine.
Of course he understood.
“A judicar’s oath is a large undertaking, young sir.” He drew a breath. “It binds you to your duty, to your service to the city. You won’t be allowed to wed or have a family line.”
I shook my head. “I already don’t have a family line. I’m used to that.” It was the right choice. I couldn’t say how I knew, but for the first time in days I felt stable. Solid.
Real.
“It’s not a choice that should be made suddenly.” He was being careful with me, so careful, as if I might break.
I shrugged. “You’re the one talking about choices and great questions. I’ve already made the oath that matters in my heart. I want to stop things like this from ever happening again.” I met the lightman’s cautious gaze. “Being a judicar is the best way to do that.”
“You sound as if you’ve made up your mind, is all.”
Lost gods, but I had. I couldn’t even say the moment I had decided, but there it was. It hadn’t fully happened here in the lamplit streets either. Pieces of it had fallen into place in Cantorè Eimle’s class and when speaking with Alejandro. Other bits I had tumbled over in my mind as I lay in my cot, thinking about the way Cyrl grinned or how Jaque had always beaten me at rout.
The tale of Aeldred the Drae is a story about a man who believed in standing against evil. When no one would listen to him, he showed them what could be done by doing it himself.
My anger did me no good. I needed to do something. I needed to live the answer to my own questions.
“It feels as if any other choice would be…” I trailed off, searching for a word.
“Small?” Rasmun grinned as he said it.
I nodded. “Cowardly.” I watched the lightman for his reaction.
Rasmun’s smile turned reassuring. “That’s a man’s statement. It’s always good to meet a man who understands the value of a good question.” He held out his hand to me. “Always good to have a man like that for a friend.”
I took it, and we shook. Even, strong, I met his approving gaze.
For the first time in days, the whispers behind my mind fell silent.
It finally felt as if I were coming home.
###
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Next in the Paean of Sundered Dreams!
A steampunk action adventure set in a cursed, post-apocalyptic world.
Ysabel never worried about much, except of course the bloodstorms that plagued her home and the abominations that dwelt within them. Fortunately for her, her father was a man who always had a secret plan. In this case, his plan was to gamble until he made enough money to steal them both away to the distant city of Teredon. There, they would be safe from the gloaming darkness.
Sometimes, plans go awry.
After making an impossible choice, Ysabel is carted away for a lifetime of servitude and slavery to hard-eyed and bestial men. She despairs, understanding the horrifying uses that men find for young slave girls.
The rest of her life will probably be spent as a plaything for savage sky pirates, and it seems as if there's nothing she can do.
Soon things take a decidedly strange turn. When she is bought by the enigmatic Captain Argent, she is certain she knows what he will want. But the captain has plans of his own, incomprehensible designs regarding ancient magics and rituals that somehow involve Ysabel. It seems that he may hold secrets that can save their benighted world, and she may be a component in an alchemy that is older than recorded history.
But then Ysabel finds a darker path.
When worshipers of ancient and faceless powers realize what her captain plans, they execute a devastating attack and steal Ysabel away. Soon she is alone in the deep-ruins of her city, surrounded on all sides by cultists who are tainted and mad. Now away from everything she has ever known, Ysabel must discover if her captain's claims are correct. If they are, she may be able to drive back the darkness, at least for a time.
If they are not, it seems as if she and Captain Argent will never leave the city alive.
Slave of the Sky Captain
The Third in the Dossiers of Asset 108 series is now available for pre-release!
And now a sneak peek at
Chapter One
November 17, 1999
San Francisco, California
There was an explosion in the distance. Dust and detritus sifted alarmingly from the ceiling, implying that the entire structure might, in fact, decide to fall in.
“There’s just too many.” The grizzled man’s eyes narrowed as he peered into a darkened hallway. “We won’t make it through this way.”
An eerie, crimson light flickered from overhead, outlining his silhouette starkly. The man started to speak again but was interrupted by a sourceless, mechanical, vaguely feminine voice.
“WARNING. Infectious biohazard is confirmed in this area. Please vacate to your nearest safe zone.”
“Fuck that,” sneered a younger man. “You’re just afraid.” The young man gestured toward the darkened passage. “We punch through here. It’s the shortest way and we don’t have time to play it safe.”
“Yeah!” I nodded, cheering the guy on my television and leaned back on my couch as I took another sip of my beer. “Fuck that. Punch through. You tell him, Blake.”
Outside, the San Francisco sky continued to rain.
“I don’t know who died and put you in charge,”—the older man gave Blake a cold look—“but your stupidity is going to get us all killed.”
“Maybe.” Blake looked from Captain Stark to the curvy blonde woman at his side. “Or maybe I’m the only thing that’s going to get us out of here alive.”
“Seriously?” I laughed with a mouth full of beer and almost choked as it came part way up my nose. “Who says shit like that?” I cackled, and fell back on the couch again, gesturing at my television. “Who writes shit like that?”
“You’re a wild card, Blake Runner.” The older actor’s voice was hard. “We’re going to have to find another way, or we’re not making it out.”
“I think I need to make it out of this show right now.” I reached for the remote and pawed more than once at my side-table before I realized it wasn’t there. I looked around the room, still didn’t find it, and sighed.
It seemed like I was going to have to either stand up to look for the remote or keep watching this schlock.
I took another draw of my beer.
Outside, the sky rumbled. I frowned then shrugged it off. Thunder was odd in the Bay area, but not unheard of.
I glanced at the clock. It was already seven.
I
frowned harder.
“Where are you, Guthrie?” Wyatt had promised to swing by tonight, but he was late.
Wait. Was he late? I couldn’t remember what time he’d said. Of course, now that I thought of it, my best friend had been pretty vague about our plans in general.
“I’ll go on without you if I have to.” Blake’s eyes flicked to the older soldier and back to his curvy companion. “But this ends tonight, one way or the other.”
“Yeah, one way or the other, Wyatt,” I muttered and took another sip. Standing, I glanced at the end table where the remote should have been. “Going on alone would be better than staying in all night, and I’m sure I can find some company.”
“If you go alone, you’ll be dead before dawn.” Captain Stark’s voice was stark with certainty. “You’re a fool, Blake.”
Thunder sounded outside again and I started. The rare weather was more than a little unnerving.
I stepped to my window and looked outside. I could see most of the city from my apartment, typically a calming view.
Not tonight, however. Tonight I felt twitchy, like a razor drawn across thin wire.
I leaned against the window sill and noticed that my hand trembled, just a bit. I touched two fingers to the side of my neck and counted quietly.
My brow furrowed as I realized my pulse was elevated.
Something was wrong, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Wyatt was supposed to have come by already…
I stopped in place and frowned. What time had he said he’d be by again?
I tried thinking of when I’d spoken to Wyatt and drew a blank.
“This is ridiculous.” I finished my beer and tossed the can. I stepped toward the kitchen with the thought that I’d get another.
I froze in place, one foot in the air. I set it down as my eyes widened and slivers of frozen steel sliced through my mind.
