Alban was momentarily speechless, the room quiet. Kay pressed her advantage. “You invited these men here to show them your shiny fucking toy, but I’m not a toy. I’m an asset. One that’s been performing as well as she can for ten years under a terrible handler who doesn’t know his ass from the Fire Eye.”
“You shut your fucking mouth!” Alban yelled.
Then both of them were off, yelling obscenities at each other, Kay forgetting the need to sell her calm, her face hot like flames were licking at it. Alban straining at the men who were now actively holding him back. After a few moments one of the men in the crowd gave a look to a guard behind Kay, then reached out and grabbed Alban’s shoulder. Kay felt a similarly firm hand grip hers, the guard from behind her.
They both fell silent as the man stepped between them. “All right, that’s enough, children.” He was tall, built. Short military style hair and a short beard. When Alban opened his mouth, the man cut him off. “You’ve talked plenty, Alban. Now I want to hear what she’s got to say.”
There was a long pause. Kay let it linger, milked it. Then spoke. “First things first. My name is Kay. Not Keara. Definitely not Bug. Kay.” She looked around the room, then turned, facing the guards behind her. She said to Amos, “They don’t give you the morning off after the beating you got last night? Who’s your boss?” The room was quiet. “He the one who told you to throw that fight last night? Could you have won if you weren’t bent? You had a chance to press him in the second minute that you passed by.”
Amos was looking at her, hint of a smirk, like he wanted to answer. But he held discipline and kept quiet.
“Who’s your boss?” she asked again.
Kay was turned to face Amos, who held eye contact, but she saw the slightest nod from the group of men out of the corner of her eye. Following the gesture, Amos looked pointedly towards the man who had stepped between her and Alban. She turned to him.
“Can I ask your name?”
“Gillis Stern. I’m with the Pathfinders.”
Kay recognized the name. They were one of the elite branches of the Farrow army, unequaled scouts. “Why’d you throw the fight, Gillis Stern with the Pathfinders? Sorry, why did you ask Amos Farr to throw a fight he could have won?”
Gillis looked back at her flat, like he was trying to puzzle her out.
“I realize this is the kind of matter that should be discussed privately,” Kay said, “but Alban thought it was a good idea we get half the camp in one room to discuss such matters. Can I tell you why I think you threw that fight? You’ve got a deal cooking with the Bosun. You lost so maybe you could be friends. What kind of deal are you making? I don’t know much about the Pathfinders but…” She trailed off and gave a shrug, letting the hint linger.
“You know the Bosun well?” Gillis asked.
“Sure. They’re headquartered in a spot called The Bear and Flower. It’s at the edge of the Lagoons. They have alliances with a few other Lagoons gangs like the Nymro and Four Aces. Biggest rival is the Canyon Gee gang out of the Shallows. Bosun like to fight and earn most of their gold off protection money for local merchants. Some of it is even deserved, I hear. Not the worst group to hop into bed with, assuming you’re getting something they can deliver if it’s needed outside of their territory, which isn’t all that large.”
Gillis looked approving. “We should talk more,” he said, ignoring a sputtering protest from Alban.
Kay nodded. “Yeah, I think maybe we should work out a deal. How about I report to you instead of Alban? Give you everything I can learn about the special council. You can turn around and tell this group. And we can be a little quieter and more careful with the way we handle things.”
Alban stepped in front of Gillis. “She works for me.” He was quivering with rage.
Gillis looked at him for a moment, cold. “Not anymore, she doesn’t.”
Kay leaned forward in her chair. No one was looking at her, but she still said loudly, “And my name is Kay. Not Bug.” She bent down to pick up the gold bars off the ground.
Chapter 5. Not Just the Strong Ones
Kay made to leave the room quickly, not wanting to face a reversal of fortune. Gillis grabbed her arm, but more gently than Alban had, and whispered that he would send a man to meet her inside the walls first thing tomorrow morning. She gave him her office address and stepped outside. The reception desk was manned, preventing her from lingering to listen to the arguments warming up behind her. She gave a smile, hoisted the canvas sack with the gold over one shoulder, and stepped outside the building.
She looked out over the camp. Her trip in had been hurried. She’d gotten some idea of the sprawling, messy scale, but no real concept of how the place ran. She hadn’t yet seen many other women or any children. She was pondering how best to begin the search for Leah Jordene when a soft voice came from the side of the building behind her.
“Keara?”
She turned. It was Ewan Silas, Alban’s old partner. He’d been waiting for her.
At the sight of Ewan, his wide pale face lined with wrinkles, Kay’s eyes filled with tears. Suddenly she was back to fourteen again, clawing at the dirt until she lost her fingernails. Just a dirty little bug, chased out of her bed, out of her home, to live on the street and eat garbage. Powerless to do anything but strike matches in the dark. To start fires. Fires that left good Farrow dead, Alban had said. Kay opened her mouth to greet Ewan, the first Farrow who had ever shown her any kindness, and broke into tears. “I’m so sorry,” she said, turning away from him.
“It’s okay. It’s okay.” He closed the distance between them and folded his arms around her, comforting her with a practiced hand. The hold of a father, something she’d never known. As she broke down further, sobbing in a way she hadn’t for ten long years, he gently guided her closer to the building. A small measure of privacy in the open camp. “Alban never believed you could grow up. Thought you were the same Keara. I had hopes for you and something tells me I was right to.” Kay cried harder.
After Ewan and Alban had arrested Kay, Ewan had taken her into his home for the few days before her exile was implemented. It spared her a return to the orphanage that had spurned her or a trip to the jail cells. Ewan had said it was no place for a young woman. Alban had laughed and called him soft. Ewan took her home and introduced her to his wife Lilian. The first night had been okay. Kay slept in a guest room. They put a bell on the door to alert them if she tried to wander off but she was too tired to do anything but sleep. The second night, after a day of showing Ewan and Alban the fires she’d set, her sparks, and being followed around by a mob clamoring for her blood, was anything but okay. The stress had broken Kay and she fought tooth and nail to get out of the house. She remembered Lilian’s tears, Ewan’s stress. Finally they had locked her in the shed. By the time Ewan opened the door the next morning, she had destroyed her hands trying to dig out, like a wild animal trapped in a cage. She remembered the door opening, the light streaming in and exposing the bloody claws she’d left herself with. It had taken almost a year for her fingernails to return. Lilian had wrapped her hands with a gentle touch that morning and then later gave her a lunch folded in a handkerchief when the orders for her immediate exile had come through. The handkerchief had been her prized possession until she lost it sometime during her first desperate nights in Celest.
Kay finally calmed herself, beginning to feel the balance of her emotions shift from overwhelming grief and guilt over to embarrassment. She dried her eyes, pulled back her hair. “Can we start over?” she said, extracting herself from his arms. Ewan handed her a handkerchief and discretely turned away, giving her time to pull herself back together. He waited.
After a moment, Kay handed the handkerchief back. “Well, Ewan Silas. It is good to see you.”
“You too, Keara. I haven’t been involved with Alban or the Guard for a few years, but I did catch word that you were still sending reports. I’d hoped that means you found some semblance of peace here?”
“I did. It’s certainly been put to the test this morning though. Could you,” she hated the little girl sound the tears had injected into her voice, “call me Kay instead?”
“Of course. Kay.” They looked at each other for a long moment. “Kay, I won’t pretend it was an accident, my being here. I have something I want to show you. Will you walk with me?”
“Sure,” Kay said. “I’d like to see more of the camp.” As they began walking, Ewan setting the direction, Kay asked tentatively, “Did Lilian make the journey?”
“I’m afraid she passed during the war. She would have been very pleased to see you well.”
Kay didn’t trust herself to respond and simply walked by his side. They walked past row after row of uniform tents. Every third or fourth tent held a small gathering of sharp-eyed Farrow, many of whom stopped talking to watch Kay pass. In their eyes she was a haught. One of the Gol who stared haughtily at the sky and thought it belonged to them. Ewan ignored the looks they drew and after a while Kay was able to as well, a skill she’d need to refresh. Her recent years spent with the Gol had softened her edge. They didn’t stare, they just ignored something that didn’t fit just as it was supposed to in their mind.
Kay and Ewan talked a bit about his retirement, Lilian’s death. Kay described how she’d found work tracking down runaways and it had grown to a bit of a specialty for her.
Ewan laid a hand on her arm, stopping her. He spoke gently. “That may be a good lead-in to what I wanted to show you. I’m afraid it may be a little tough on you, on an already emotional morning.”
“What is it? Contrary to recent evidence I’m not made of glass.”
“I’d never suggest such a thing. Not of a child who was dropped in a strange place with no support and somehow found her feet. Still…” He pulled her to the side of a tent. “Look around that corner. You don’t need to let them see you if you don’t want.”
Kay peeked around the edge of the tent. At first she suspected she was looking at the camp school. There were thirty or forty children, all running around in a clearing among the tents. Not particularly well organized. Some chased a ball around. Others sat in small circles. All wore shabby clothes and looked underfed. As Kay watched a toddler winded her way through the ball game, unafraid despite the legs whipping past her. The child drew close to a group of chatting women, all holding one or more babies. One of them reached down with a free hand and absently picked up the child. Kay felt a chill as she recognized the woman.
This whole day was like a sick reunion. Ten years ago she’d been turned away from Ferris, from the Farrow. She had found her feet, like Ewan said. She found the Fire Eye. Built a life. Why did they have to follow her?
“The Lady Garret,” Kay said, giving the name a sarcastic formality. “Never just Garret, certainly never Mom, always the Lady Garret.” The headmistress of the orphanage Kay had once called home. “Lilian doesn’t survive the war but the Lady Garret and Alban do and find their way to Celest. The Dynasty weeps.”
“It wasn’t her specifically I wanted you to see,” Ewan said, defensive. “Just focus on one of the other women. Or the children.”
Kay wasn’t ready to. “Did you know why I left the orphanage?”
“The fires.”
“Yeah, but that was the ending. The beginning was when this one kid showed up. Funny to think of him as a kid. Back then he was like a giant to me. Randall. Just made the age cutoff for the orphanage or was smart enough to lie his way in. None of the other children treated me differently because of my Gol blood. Until he arrived. He taught them all about how I was different and deserved to be abused. Fed them all the popular slurs. Haught. Sungod. Copper. He did the same with a dozen other kids. Sniffed out everyone’s weaknesses and outed them. He was running the place a week after he arrived. He cultivated some toadies so he always had the numbers. One or two of the older kids who didn’t bend before him went missing. There were dark rumors about how badly they’d died. Don’t know how true they were, but I definitely noticed when he started taking a special interest in me.
“One day he pushed me into the laundry, had his toadies watching the door. Managed to tear most of my clothes off, laughing and hitting me the whole time, calling me a haught slut. I was finally able to break a window, cutting my hand in the process, and someone outside started yelling. The Lady Garret came in and saw me naked and covered in blood from my hand. She got me out of there, but nothing happened to Randall. I saw from the way he was looking at me after that it was just a matter of time. Garret didn’t help. It couldn’t have been more obvious she was stepping to the side. She was just as scared of him as I was. I knew I had to get out of there. That’s when the fires started. I mean, I’d been playing with fire for a long time before then. But that’s when they really started. I learned if I lit my bed on fire they’d make me sleep in the lock-up area. Which meant Randall couldn’t rape me after the lights were out. A few days of that, him hunting me harder and harder, me getting more and more stressed and desperate, and the fires started to get out of hand. I took to the streets before they could transfer me to an even worse place. And a couple weeks after that we met.” She looked at Ewan.
He looked troubled. “What was his full name? Unlikely he survived the streets and the war, but I could ask around. You could do what you wish with the information.”
“Lenz. Randall Lenz,” Kay said. She was staring at the Lady Garret again. “Why’d you bring me here, Ewan? This isn’t a happy memory for me.”
“Just watch her for a minute. Look through someone else’s eyes. She’s worked tirelessly for the children. I wanted to show this to you because…” Ewan trailed off, staring at Kay as she watched Lady Garret.
Lady Garret looked old and tired. She was worn down, far worse than Kay had ever seen before. She’d always thought the Lady Garret lived a little too comfortably while the orphans under her struggled. But now it looked like she was struggling along with them. They all looked hungry. Weary and tense.
“Keara, Kay,” Ewan said, “I know they’ve got you looking into something on the other side of the walls. Just keep in mind, if you can help us, we could really use it. This isn’t the only orphanage in the camp. There are schools. There are nurseries. Hospitals filled with the elderly. It’s not just people like Alban over here. We have good souls. We have good people. Alban and his group still sting from the beating the Winden gave us all. They can’t show it so they get stiffer and more unyielding every day. They’ve started calling the camp New Farrow. If word of that gets back over the walls, I think the Gol will sweep us all into the ocean. They’ll kill the children.”
Kay let the message sink in. He was right. It wasn’t Alban and Gillis who would starve if the Gol turned the refugees away. It was these kids. Every Farrow who’d survived the war and had been foolish or trapped enough to turn to the Gol for refuge. She was a hypocrite if she worked to help children inside the walls and ignored these. No better than the purists, who decided who was worth sharing their world with based on blood. She placed her hand on her leather bracelet, names flitting through her mind as she ran her fingers over each groove.
“I get it. I hear you.” She turned to Ewan. “But forget Randall Lenz. I need your help with someone else, actually. A girl named Leah Jordene. Twelve. Mother named Maggie Jordene, might be working in the kitchens.”
Ewan agreed to help and Kay watched as he walked over to the Lady Garret to ask her about Leah. Kay kept close to the tent, trying to resist a powerful urge to burn the whole fucking camp to the ground, children or no. Ewan returned to tell her Garret didn’t have a ward by that name. Together they went to the kitchens but found no one by the name Maggie or Leah. Ewan said he’d ask around and they parted ways. Kay headed back to Celest.
Chapter 6. She Must Stay Lost
Kay got more trouble than usual at the gates. The Gol guards could smell the camp on her. The Farrow in her blood. But she had her papers and, more importantly, the right skin tone. She fo
und the appropriate time to flash a smile and made it through without them searching her bag and finding the two heavy gold bars. She took her time the first few blocks making sure she wasn’t followed from the gates. Her office was more secure than her apartment so she headed there to put the gold in her safe. After that she was eager to get home, open another bottle of gin, and stare at the Fire Eye. Think through what both Alban and Ewan had said. Whether they were still partners or not, they were naturals at the bad cop, good cop game, somehow both pointing her in the same direction for different reasons.
Kay’s office shared the building with a small store. The family who operated it rented her the two rooms above. She’d set up Abi in the front room, using her to screen which of their visitors made it into the back office. There was a back staircase Kay could duck down when her clients grew unruly. The building was secure in part because the store hired a nighttime guard, though Kay couldn’t see him as she turned the corner and crossed the dark street, the sun now down.
Something gave her pause. A flame flickering just around the corner past the office, faint light dancing on the cobblestones of the street. She slowed, looking carefully. The flame grew larger and she realized the Fire Creep was standing just past it. He was staring at her, silent in his white robes and slippers, holding a paper lantern. His hood was down, and she could see his long face. Large nose that looked almost like a beak. Droopy, sad eyes that held her for a moment. Then the lantern floated up from his hand between them.
Its momentum carried it forward into the street, floating level at eye height. It stopped, rested for a moment, then began floating back towards the Fire Creep. Kay took a step to the side and realized that the Fire Creep was gone, maybe ducked back into the alley. She’d never seen the Fire Creep aside from his performances. For all the attention she’d paid him, she’d never caught him on his way to or from the plazas. The idea of seeing him at a restaurant or grocer seemed crazy, but she should have seen him coming or going once. The lantern was headed after him. She followed it around the corner. It was on its way down the alley, picking up speed, the Fire Creep not in sight. The lantern was the only light in the dark space, still floating along as assuredly as if it were in someone’s hand. She followed.
The Fire Eye Refugee Page 4
