The Broken Cage (Solstice 31 Saga Book 2)

by Martin Wilsey

  Before she got to the door, Vi said, “Please, wait…Thank you.”

  “Yes. Thank you,” Tannhauser added.

  Rand nodded, slightly, and walked out.

  For the next hour, AI~Poole gave Rand updates on the various efforts as she tended the fire in the smoker. She finally asked about the bodies, and AI~Poole just said they had been disposed of, as requested. She would later find out that Poole had carried the bodies away and was being kind by leaving out the details. When he moved out of the trees, he had dismembered them, tossing the legs and arms and other parts hundreds of meters out into the grassy plain. Carrion birds immediately started to feast. AI~Poole didn't know that the gunfire earlier had drawn attention. Witnesses observed the ‘Monster’ eating the men.

  Rand sat on a log, reading AI~Poole's detailed report on the plate analysis, when Vi joined her. Vi saw that she sat there with her eyes closed.

  “Tan says, you really are a witch.” She paused. When Rand said nothing, she continued. “You see, women are not allowed to do magic. Not allowed to do many things.”

  “Like what?”

  Vi's eyebrow rose. It was an odd mannerism on her bruised face.

  “We can't own anything. We can't go to school, learn to read, make our own decisions, travel without a man, or touch weapons. We can't even wear our hair loose.” She was spinning up. “We can't wear buttons or belts or have pockets, or speak unless spoken to. We can't talk loud, or wear perfume outside our homes, or look a man in the eye. We can't choose where we live or who with.” She looked over her shoulder toward the cottage.

  “Tan loves you very much.”

  Tears spilled from her eyes.

  “I am the lucky one. Fifteen years ago, I was a bed wench for a Keeper in Exeter.”

  “Bed wench?”

  “Yes. Keepers never sleep alone. It's unseemly. Two women usually, at least.”

  “What happened?”

  “I got too old. Never had a child. I was 'set aside'. When they put me out, it happened to be a day Tan was there. He took me up. He gave me a new life. A real life. He was never a believer. Until today.”

  “Until today?”

  “He says he saw things. Impossible things...magic.”

  Rand remained silent.

  “He says you can fly. He says you only pointed at the men and their heads were broken by your thunder, like dropped melons. He says you are immortal and can reduce a High Tracker, the hardest men alive, to truth, and screams, with a touch. He says my face was completely ruined and you healed me. He says there is a beast, a giant spider. You speak to it and it does as you command. He says one of those men was a Keeper and you fed his holy book, and his soul, to the beast.

  “He says you are powerful, cruel, without mercy and terrible.” There was a challenge in her voice.

  “He says you really do have magic, even though you are a woman. As much as the Keepers talk, few of them have magic. If any.”

  Rand let her talk. She talked a lot.

  “I always thought that witches were just stories told to scare children. I have never seen Tan so afraid. Not even when we were on our knees before the High Trackers. He is the bravest man I know.” She scratched her nose again.

  “Don't scratch it, if you don't want a scar,” Rand said, absently.

  “Strange thing is, I believe him. You hide it well. But, I see anger burning in you, like metal for the mold.”

  “I won't hurt you, or Tan.”

  “I believe you. But...what about this huge beast? He said it is a spider, bigger than the biggest bull.”

  “Vi, it will do what I tell it to do.” Rand stood, raising Vi up with her. “His name is Poole.”

  “It has a name?”

  “Stand up here.” Rand gestured to the fallen tree trunk they had been sitting on. Standing on it made them about the same height. Rand pointed into the trees. “Poole. Show yourself,” she said, out loud, to the woods.

  There was movement as Poole lowered his body from the pine cover. ‘The beast’ moved to a clear spot, seventy meters away. Vi gasped and almost fell from the log. Rand placed a hand on her back, to steady her.

  Suddenly, they heard bounding steps, moving fast, and Tannhauser was there between them and Poole. He had one of the swords, the point aimed at the spider.

  Vi spoke first. “His name is Poole.”

  His eyes were still wide, when he asked, “Why has he got only six legs?”

  This question struck Rand as funny and she could not stop herself from breaking out into laughter. It rapidly escalated to uncontrollable hysterics, when Vi joined in, after Tannhauser said, “What? WHAT?”

  Soon, they were laughing, to the point of tears. When AI~Poole texted her HUD, “Well done.” Another realization struck her.

  Rand knew inside that it was a reaction to the stress of everything that had happened, to the killing of seven men today. The thought that she had tortured one, the thought that she had also murdered a prisoner today was what sobered her up.

  When they finally sat, once more, on the log and looked into the forest, Poole was gone.

  “He is watching over us. He is the one that saw the High Trackers coming.” Deciding, she said more, “I can hear him in my mind. He is the one that warned us.”

  Rand looked at them, wiping the tears of laughter from her eyes.

  “We are sorry. We did not know they followed us.” Tannhauser spoke more openly, now. “Thank you.”

  He brushed his fingers across Vi's nose and cheek. Even the bruising was fading. The nanites were busy. They would continue to find things to repair, until they expired in a few days.

  “I thought they came for me. Why were they following you?”

  “We usually winter in the north, the opposite of most trackers. Tan is an amazing hunter and trapper. We traded meat and furs with a village there, for everything else we needed, to the inn’s owner mostly.” Her face crumbled then she fought off tears. “Fern made the best stews...” Her voice faded, and Tannhauser picked the story up.

  “Fresh meat weekly was easy. Tamas would even send a boy around with a sled and a horse once a week or so—fat rabbits and deer, mostly. We'd spend the winters quiet-like. Dreaming, and eating more than we should. And...”

  Vi blushed.

  “Then, the lad stopped coming round,” Vi continued. “Once two weeks passed, we were worried. The season had just begun and it was not cold enough, yet, for the meat to keep. Only the deep winter blizzards would cause such a delay. It was barely autumn, then.” She swallowed hard at that point.

  Tannhauser said, flatly, “They were all dead. The village was burned. The fires were cold by the time we got there. The tracks told the story. Men on horses had killed many. The survivors were made to drag the dead and wounded into a barn. And then, once the doors were nailed shut, it was set afire. Anyone who tried to get out got an arrow for their effort.”

  “But, there was more. Something else.” Vi looked back to the woods. “Other tracks we'd never seen before. Something...big. It killed them all, the raiders, I mean. It hunted them down and crushed them or ripped them apart. There was blood everywhere. It wasn't a battle. It was a slaughter. We ran.” She stopped there.

  Tannhauser picked up the story, as longtime couples often did.

  “We closed North Reach and headed south. We didn't want...We couldn't. They were our friends.”

  Rand asked, “Where were you going? What was your plan?”

  They seemed to look, guiltily, at each other. Vi spoke up first, “We took the raider's gold. We collected their purses and had more than we could carry. We buried most of it at North Reach and then we ran. We had never had money before. With what we carried, we could sleep soft at an Exeter inn and stay drunk all winter, if we liked,” she said, knowing they'd never do that.

  “Then, we found another village that was burned to the ground. We have been heading south ever since,” Tannhauser said. “We didn't know we were being followed by a Keeper.”
/>   “Why didn't you take their weapons?” Rand was thinking like a soldier.

  “Weapons are forbidden to all, except the Keepers and their men.”

  Once again, they looked guilty.

  “We took bows, arrows, knives and other gear. They were better quality than what we had, but not so much that we would stick out. Trackers are allowed simple bows for hunting and knives and axes as tools, not as weapons.”

  “Smart.”

  They seemed surprised by this reaction.

  “Where were these villages?” Rand reached under her tabard, brought out the tracker's map and unfolded it, carefully. The enhanced tactical map opened in her HUD then, as well.

  “Where did you get this map? I have never seen one so well-made or detailed,” Vi said, imperfectly.

  Rand pointed. “We are here, now. Which way did you come south?”

  Tannhauser slowly traced a finger on the map from shelter to shelter. Her tactical updated as he did this. Tannhauser even added information regarding shelters that were not on the map. Eventually, he had to guess where the villages were, above the gorge, based on the location of the single village marked as Greenwarren.

  “I grew up in Greenwarren. I wonder...” Tannhauser said, fading off into thought.

  They fell silent.

  “I came from the south and planned to go this way.” She drew her finger along a path farther west, to a narrow pass between two massive lakes.

  “That region is so sparsely populated because the winters are so long there. It gets so much snow each winter, it's difficult to live. When you get ten inches here, they get ten feet there. This cabin would be buried above the chimney before the solstice and still be buried at the equinox. They say there are a few villages, but those people know how to live there.”

  “Tell me about Greenwarren.”

  “It's a forest village, a town. It’s at the southern edge of Thirl Forest. The mountains here create a great bowl of a valley where the winds are gentled and the soil is rich.” He indicated the mountains on the map. “You see, the trees there grow straight and tall, hundreds of feet high. The town harvests them for beams and masts and other grained lumber. It was the only city that held trade with the south. My pap was a picker. He selected the trees to be harvested. I'd go with him and help collar the trees.”

  “Collar?”

  “That is when a tree is picked and we cut all the way around the trunk. Then, it is left to stand dry for a few seasons. That is the key for a good Thirl mast. It's got to stand dry. When it is ready, the axeman will drop it. Done right, most of the bark will pop right off when it hits the ground.”

  “Do your parents still live there?” Rand knew, right away, it was the wrong question to have asked.

  “My folks died, twenty-two years ago, of the fever. Most everyone did in Greenwarren. I was ten at the time. Had to learn to survive, quickly. I became a tracker by the time I was fifteen. I was a tracker for eleven years when I met Vi.”

  “Where did you learn to read?”

  The reaction Rand received was as if she had slapped him. He was on his feet and looked like he was ready to run, again.

  “I'm sorry,” she started, while folding the map, playing for time as she thought fast. “It's just that, it was obvious that you could read the map. Here, by the way, I want you to have this.” She handed the neatly folded map to him.

  “Rand, only Keepers can read. You can be put to death for learning to read, without being apprenticed as a Keeper,” Vi said, patiently, understanding the depth of Rand’s ignorance.

  “Look. I know you can read. Both of you.” She looked at Vi now. “Most trackers can read and write. I have been reading the journals for a while now. I have seen your own entries. I think it's a brilliant idea to share information like that. Why are the Keepers the only ones allowed to read?”

  “Because the letters are a form of magic,” Tannhauser said. “They can't just let anyone have that power. Think about it. I read a book and a few hours later, I know how to forge steel. Or, I know how to get to Greenwarren. Or, I know what herbs to collect to ease pain. Or, I make poison. If that isn't magic, what is?”

  “And, those journals are only for trackers. Never to be spoken of,” Vi added.

  “They are magic. Other trackers that use them can talk to me. Across time. Even beyond death. This is too much for one day.” Tannhauser shifted into Common Tongue, as he walked away.

  “Where is he going?” Rand asked.

  “He says he needs a drink. I must say, so do I. He says there were flasks and wineskins in the saddlebags.”

  Rand smiled at the thought of a drink.

  When they got to the cottage, he had already emptied the saddlebags on the table. In the second one, he found a finely crafted silver flask. He opened it and sniffed. Looking at them, he smiled and took a long pull. He handed it to Rand. It tasted like strong bourbon—very smoky with oak flavors.

  She took a second drink, before handing it to Vi, and said, “I suppose you are forbidden from drinking, too?”

  They laughed.

  ***

  Vi made them dinner—grilled venison and pan-fried tubers. It was delicious. Rand took the first watch. When she knew they were asleep, she had Poole come up and she unloaded everything for sorting, and dividing up, tomorrow. The pile she had taken, from the eleven men she killed, was large.

  Eleven men, including a pilot and her first Keeper.

  It was a good start.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  High Keeper Meeting

  “The High Keeper was the supreme ruler, dictator, despot, whatever you want to call him, on the planet Baytirus. According to Mason, he was hundreds of years old and may have been one of the founding colonists. He was ruthless and, probably, insane. He also knew Wex before any of us.”

  --Solstice 31 Incident Investigation Testimony Transcript: Captain James Worthington, senior surviving member of the Ventura's command crew, regarding Mason Tuey.

  <<<>>>

  Mason was ordered to meet with the High Keeper while he had his breakfast in the garden. He was led there by a small, thin man that was one of the High Keeper's ushers. They all looked the same to Mason. Short, thin, and dressed in a simple, white tunic with a cloth belt of the same material. Their heads were completely shaved. Even their eyebrows were gone. There was no mistaking an usher or disguising yourself as an usher. Ushers were tiny. They never spoke. If one came for you in the Citadel, you went, no questions asked. Mason had no idea how many there were. He didn't know if they even had names.

  The roof garden of the Citadel had two sets of pilings for personal shuttle landings. The elevator doors opened directly between them. Only controlled, automated landings were allowed on the roof of the High Keeper's Citadel, by explicit appointment and by permission. Even then, it was only to drop off VIP passengers. Just, the Lord High Keeper himself was allowed to keep a personal shuttle there. Its sleek, black carapace and trio of guards were always there, just like the pilings, day and night.

  The Lord High Keeper rarely went anywhere in recent years. But, he sent his personal shuttle for people. It wasn't a pleasure, usually. In fact, the shuttle was often thought of as a harbinger of doom. A one-way trip.

  Mason had never been up there before. The garden was mature, and beautiful in its absolute perfection. Walking its paths revealed views of balance and symmetry, so perfect, so controlled, that it wasn't natural. Every blade of grass was the same length and perfectly straight. The giant trees that provided the dappled shade were perfectly still. They were perfect in their gnarled greatness, as perfect and as random as a Mandelbrot. Simulated streams, ponds, and waterfalls were tuned, to make the perfect sound of falling water compliment the music he heard as he approached his final destination.

  Cresting a small hill, the path wound around to a small bowl. The road skirted by a slight set of risers, concealed by a perfect hedge of shrubs of different heights. The risers were occupied by a chorus of about twenty youn
g boys that were humming, not singing, complex harmonies. A flute was the only instrument played, and a single voice of a young girl sang a beautiful song.

  The usher halted and Mason almost walked into him. He was to wait until beckoned. He was within the line of sight of the High Keeper, who sat in a chair at a small table on a flagstone patio at the bottom of the bowl. He was next to a large pond that had huge gold and silver fish, circling near the surface. The High Keeper talked to the tracker, Tolwood. Mason was so close to the chorus that he could not hear the conversation. Clever set up.

  The usher stood, unmoving. His hands were at his sides, palms facing back and fingers wide in the standard ‘wait here’ posture. Mason had seen them stand in this position for hours.

  Another usher waited, on the far side, for Tolwood to finish and be led away.

  He looked further into the garden. The music was so beautiful. Another tune started. This one he recognized. The flute, alone, was heartbreakingly beautiful. He glanced at the musician for the first time. Her flute was long, black and carved on most of its length. He followed its length up, past her beautiful hand, to her face. At first, he thought she played with her eyes closed, in concentration. He was close enough to see.

  Her eyes were sewn shut.

  The entire chorus of beautiful, young boys had the same impairment. Even the young girl, the soloist, had her eyes sewn closed.

  Their clothes matched and seemed selected individually to match the flowering shrubs in the small, artificial vale. They had a silver manacle on their left ankle that had a ring. All the rings were attached by a long, thick silk rope.

  Mason closed his own eyes and took a deep breath. Turning his attention back to the High Keeper, Mason saw him scolding Tolwood. Tolwood was unarmed. His sheaths were empty. But, Mason thought that didn't make Tolwood any less dangerous. Mason was sure there was a sniper, with a plasma rifle, hidden there, somewhere.

  The High Keeper tossed some bread into the pond as he dismissed Tolwood. The gold and silver fish fought over the food. They were all mouths and threw themselves on top of each other to get to the bread. The sight was unnerving to Mason, for some reason.