The Fire Eye Refugee

by Samuel Gately

  Kay was thinking this was a dead end. Why did Ban Terrel pretend to be interested in a child that didn’t exist? He got the mother’s name right. Assuming this was the right Maggie Jordene? There could be more than one.

  “How old are you?”

  “Tain’t polite to ask, but if you must know I’m in my middle forties.”

  Exactly as Ban Terrel had said. “I heard you were skilled in food preparation. Is that true?”

  “I’m a fine cook. Don’t know where you heard that, but it’s sure true.”

  “Why aren’t you working in the kitchens then?”

  Maggie’s mouth tightened. She looked at the ground.

  After a long wait, Kay leaned forward and put her hand above the bowl with the needles. “If you’re not going to answer, maybe we call this deal off.”

  “Because I’ve got some Gol blood, okay? And a couple people with big mouths felt they needed to share that with the camp. And then the kitchen didn’t want me. Thought I might poison the food or something.”

  Kay was surprised. “You’re mixed?” She looked at Margaret more closely. Now she could see some of the Gol in her. Her skin tone was pure Farrow, but something of the softer Gol features came through in her mouth and eyes.

  “Isn’t that what this is about? You sniffing around looking for traitors? While I sure as hell ain’t paired up with any Gol haught. One would think, maybe you’d have some sympathy, knowing what it’s like.”

  “Margaret, look, I’m not here for that. I’ve got no problem with mixed-bloods, obviously. Do you know a Gol named Ban Terrel?”

  “No. I’m no traitor. I don’t socialize with haughts. Not happy to be here either. Don’t know the haughts to be much better than the Winden. At least the Winden don’t pretend to be what they ain’t.”

  “Then I want to know about your parents, your childhood.”

  “But why?” Maggie was suddenly near tears.

  Kay didn’t answer, just reached into her pocket and pulled out the rest of the needles she’d brought. There were more than fifty. She dropped them slowly in the bowl at the center.

  “It’s not a happy tale,” Maggie said.

  “Then get it over with. And I’ll leave and you can forget this ever happened.”

  Maggie sighed. “I want your word this won’t be spread all over the camp.” She gave Kay’s nod a distrustful look, but began the story. “I was born in a small town called Edgen on the Gol side of the Gol-Farrow border. We were poor. My dad was a farmer, not a good one. He barely got by and relied on plenty of help from the community. My mother was a Farrow. My dad had fallen in love with her and brought her over to our side of the border. Some folks grumbled about it. No one treated us too nice, like we were dragging the town down with our low class ways. As if they had any class at all. Nothing but dirt-poor farmers working bad soil, too stupid to move on. So my folks got married, had my brother and me. And we were okay. Things weren’t great, but mostly people left us alone. But then when I was around six, my brother a little older, our uncle came home. We didn’t know we had an uncle. My dad’s parents were long dead and the uncle had been in the Gol army since before we were born. He showed up at our house one day and didn’t leave.

  “Uncle wore his army uniform a lot, only it was missing one of the patches. Rumor was that was the one they took off because he was kicked out. We never learned what for. But he sure didn’t like my dad being married to my mom. People in the army really hated the Farrow and mixed-blood. He would tell my dad about how everyone in the capital was talking about racial cleanses and that my dad was a traitor to the race and it was just a matter of time before events were set right. He said that a lot. ‘Events will be set right.’ It got bad. He didn’t like us kids because we were mixed-bloods. He took it out on me more than my brother because I looked more Farrow. Fairer hair and lighter skin. My mom and I started getting away from home whenever we could. My dad was always working the fields. But my brother was in the house with Uncle all day. He started recruiting my brother to his side. I heard him telling my brother about how he looked Gol enough and if he left his mom and dad he could join a university in Celest, put his past behind him.

  “One night I woke up, alone and cold, and I saw there was a light in the barn. My mother was missing. So was my dad. So I worked up the courage to sneak out to the barn and look in. My uncle had hung my father and mother, both were dangling from the rafters. Uncle was shouting army slogans and marching around in his uniform. Pushing on the bodies so they swung back and forth all wild. My brother watching on. I didn’t know if they’d come for me next or not. I didn’t stick around to find out.”

  Kay’s memories of the Coulet Family, stacked in a pile at the edge of the room, came back. Such ugliness where cultures collided.

  “I ran to the neighbors. But they were scared of my uncle. They didn’t want to see justice done. They just wanted me away. So I was passed from house to house until someone finally took me across the border, made me the Farrow’s problem. I eventually found a farmstead that could use help in the kitchens and with sewing. I worked hard and earned my keep. And when I learned there was an eligible bachelor who was headed farther west, I locked him down. Managed to get farther away from Gol and never looked back. First husband died and I found a second. Better man than the first. But he passed too. I got my share of abuse, seemed like it never took long before the neighbors knew about my blood, but most treated me fair. It was only when we had to come back to this cursed country that my neighbors and friends started really turning on me.” She looked up at Kay, eyes angry. “That enough dirt for the princess to roll around in?”

  “Tell me everyone’s names.”

  “First husband was Garvin. Second was Greg. My dad was Eustus, mom was Carrie. My brother was Olim. The uncle,” here she paused to spit on the floor, “was Carus.”

  “And the town was Edgen?”

  Margaret nodded cautiously.

  “And no Leahs?”

  “You already asked that.” Margaret rose, her face dark. “Now if you don’t mind, I think I’ve told you more than enough to justify a few needles.”

  Kay stood as well. “Thanks.”

  “Fuck your thanks.” Kay could see Margaret’s fists balled up at her sides in a hot fury. “I’ve been more than fair. Now get the fuck out of my tent.” It was clear some line had been crossed and Margaret was livid. She practically chased Kay out.

  Once Kay was outside, Margaret began yelling after her. “Why don’t you stay on your side of the fucking wall? Stand on your high buildings, look up at your precious fucking little fire in the sky, and leave us alone!”

  Kay walked away, not turning as she heard Margaret’s raw voice fall silent, not turning as she heard the tent flaps fall closed again. Not turning as she heard the sounds of weeping begin behind her.

  Chapter 16. Threats in the Camp

  After Kay had taken a couple quick turns to get away from Maggie’s tent, she paused to get her bearings. She looked around for a moment, then decided to check in on the orphanage Ewan had showed her the other day. It didn’t take long to get there. The scene was the same, children running around as the women cared for the little ones, Lady Garret with them. Kay watched, concealed behind a tent.

  Why had Ban Terrel set her on Maggie? And what did she do now that she found her? Children were easier. Almost always the people looking for them meant to protect them, bring them home. The fact that they were looking for them nearly always put them on the right side. These orphans would all weep for the opportunity to have someone actually looking for them, not just ignoring them. Kay would have. But fetching adults was a whole different game. There didn’t seem to be much to Maggie. A dark and troubled past, for sure, but not one of significance. Not the kind of life to catch the attention of a man well-positioned with the Dynasty. Ban Terrel had known Maggie’s name, a bit about her, all accurate. Where had that information come from? Would he be surprised to learn there was no daughter? Was Maggie
lying, maybe she’d known Ban Terrel once, perhaps under a different name? Kay had been expecting a mixed-blood girl, not a mixed-blood woman.

  She wasn’t ready to see Yamar and deal with his questions. He’d threatened to put another investigator on the case, but she wasn’t sure she believed him. They’d made a good choice in hiring Kay. No one else could have gotten access to the camp and set an experienced former cop on finding the girl. Then come up with the mother’s location the next day. She was uniquely qualified for this one. Which meant they needed her. They could wait.

  Kay watched the children play for another moment, toying with the bracelet on her arm. One girl was shoved down by a larger boy. Part of Kay wanted to go help her. She didn’t often spend time with children. She’d never seriously entertained having any of her own, but she liked the idea of protecting them. Some sort of guardian from the shadows. As compulsions went, a lot healthier than wanting to start fires.

  There was a sudden movement and Kay felt rough arms lock around her. A man’s voice, slurred with drink, “Look here. A pretty little sungod wandering all alone.”

  Kay thrashed but his grip just tightened. “You ever been with a real man? You’re gonna love this.” He removed one arm and began fumbling with his pants.

  Kay threw her head back, cracking hard against his nose, then twisted in his arms. She got a hand up between them and gave him a solid shove. He fell into the nearby tent, rolling off it near her feet. She reached for her baton, then thought better of it. She pulled her jar of demonlord pepper out. For a second, as he rolled on the ground trying to get up, his drunkenness obvious, as she pondered smashing the whole thing on his face. Using a boot to rub it into his eyes along with the broken glass. Rage rose in her, hot and familiar, threatening to take control, before she managed to quell it. That would kill him. Instead she took out a pinch and blew it in his face as he found his feet. There was a moment of surprise, and then he began screaming and fell back to the ground.

  Kay gave him a hard kick. “Hey,” she said, leaning over him. “I see you near these kids again, I’ll come back for your fucking eyes.” She looked up and saw several of the children running towards the ladies, seeking protection from the screams. One or two of the ladies were approaching. Kay turned and left, not eager to see the Lady Garret.

  Her blood was still hot as she walked towards Ewan’s tent, fingers burning. It was the timing. She’d been lost in the fantasy of her as some sort of savior for the children and that asshole had ruined it. He’d reminded her this side of the walls wasn’t some safe memory lane. In a lot of ways, she was less accepted on this side. It took the Gol a closer look to see her blood. The Farrow knew she was part-Gol the second they saw her.

  She went to find Ewan and Amos. They were together in Ewan’s tent. Kay ducked in.

  “What happened?” Ewan asked, looking up.

  “Nothing,” she said sharply. Seeing his look of surprise, she took a breath. “Sorry. I mean, I spoke with Maggie. We’re best friends now. Why don’t you pour me another cup of tea and we’ll talk? Unless you’ve got something stronger.”

  …

  She’d never looked at the Fire Eye from outside Celest. Maybe she’d do so tonight. She wasn’t ready to see Yamar again. When they left Ewan’s tent, the sun going down, she told Amos she wanted to stay in the camp. He didn’t object and offered to have a tent cleared.

  “Let’s just go to yours.”

  He looked reluctant. “It’s nothing special.”

  “All I need is a bedroll. It can’t be worse than the sofa in the office.”

  He nodded and led her on a meandering route through the camp. The pathways were falling dark. The tents glowed from interior lamps, the people inside casting long shadows as they moved about. He walked tall and straight down the center of the rows of tents.

  Kay was confused by his posture at first. So bold, almost like he was on parade. He was drawing eyes to him. She felt conspicuous and out of place in his wake. Many of the eyes slid curiously to her after noting his presence. The women and children looked favorably, however, and more than one left their tent to offer him dinner. He politely declined all offers and kept the chatter to a minimum. Kay saw different sets of eyes slide down to the ground when he passed, men melting into the lengthening shadows. She realized this was a patrol. He was letting the tents know that one of the Pathfinders was watching.

  The tents were grouped in clusters, something like neighborhoods. When they were between two such groups, a young Farrow appeared in the shadows of the tents ahead. His hands flashed, giving Amos some sort of sign. Amos replied with his own hand signals and the youth melted away. The exchange had been swift. Kay might have missed it if she hadn’t been watching closely.

  Amos slowed his walk, lost in thought for a moment. He gave a small grunt as if reaching a decision he didn’t like and turned to her. “I’ve got to swing by another neighborhood. It’s a little out of the way. I could take you to my tent to wait.”

  “I don’t mind a little more walking,” Kay replied, curiosity outweighing her desire to get off her feet. He was hesitant. “You expecting trouble?”

  “Not too much.”

  Kay was trying to read his voice, but he sounded more tired than anything else. She said, “I can sling a mean rock too.”

  He nodded and led them down a different path. A few minutes later they were in front of a well-lit tent filled with boisterous laughter. A large man stood at the front flap. Kay was trying to decide if he would be better classified as a guard or a bouncer. Amos walked right up to him.

  “Need a word with Quaid. He here?”

  The huge man’s eyes stayed on the horizon, offering no response. Amos pushed past him into the tent. Kay followed cautiously, not liking to leave a potential hostile at her back.

  The tent was larger than expected. There were maybe fifteen men, most seated on the ground eating. Several women were pressed closer to the tent’s edges, holding platters of food and wine vessels. The smells of cooked meat and thick smoke filled the air.

  Amos moved swiftly through the crowded gathering towards a small man who had his back to the tent flap. Kay watched as many of the gathering noted Amos’ presence and actively ignored it, as the bouncer had, carrying forward with their boisterous laughter and eating. As she hung close to the flap, she saw that the crowd was positioned as though in deference to a single man, seated on the only chair in the tent, against the far wall. This was his tent. And he was studying Kay.

  She met his eyes for a brief moment. The man wore a black suede outfit of expensive tailoring. Elaborate gold jewelry wrapped his wrists and neck. There was more on his fingers and the sparkle of diamond earrings. A jeweled nosering topped it off. He gave a dark smile and leaned forward as if to look more closely at her.

  Amos had reached his man. He gave him a firm tap on the shoulder. “Quaid,” he said in a hard tone.

  Quaid looked back and blanched when he saw the Pathfinder behind him. He gave a nervous look to the man in black. Seeing no immediate help, Quaid rose to talk to Amos, donning an open and inviting expression Kay immediately distrusted.

  “Amos!” Quaid said. “Grab a plate!” He raised his own a bit as if in demonstration. It looked as if the food and drink in this tent was far more abundant than elsewhere in the camp.

  “I’m good. You noticed I wasn’t in the camps last night?”

  Quaid gave a perplexed look. “Can’t say I noticed. Not like I’m tracking your movements.” He gave a laugh. “We aren’t that close, friend.”

  “I think you noticed. I think that’s why you thought it was safe to head over to the West Quarter and try to squeeze some protection money out of the tents.”

  The rest of the tent was pretending to ignore the conversation, but the chatter had slowed and become strained. Kay snuck a glance back at the man in black, who was still staring right at her, trying to catch her with his smile.

  Quaid said, “Don’t know what you’re talking about.�
� His grin was looking more forced.

  “Let’s talk outside.”

  As Amos turned as if to leave, Quaid shot another look at the man in black, hoping to find some support. The man in black was ignoring him, his eyes still crawling all over Kay.

  When Quaid didn’t follow, Amos turned back. “If we’re doing this in here, why don’t you set that plate down? No need to waste food. People are hungry.”

  “I don’t know what you heard.” Quaid’s eyes were flitting around the tent, looking for any sort of lifeline. He saw Kay in the corner and opened his mouth as if struck by a sudden inspiration. “Is that—”

  Amos laid the first blow deep into his gut. The plate broke on the ground. While Quaid was gasping for breath, Amos followed up with a hard cross to his face. Quaid tried to fall, but Amos caught his shoulder, holding him up with one thick hand. He leveled two more blows into the hustler’s ribs, then put him on the ground with a hard right that rocked his chin back. Amos’ fist came away bloody.

  “We’ve talked about this before, Quaid,” Amos said, the tent now quiet. His words carried. Everyone else was looking at the man on the ground, not bothering to pretend to ignore it. Kay snuck a look at the man in black. He was whispering to one of his toadies, his eyes still glued to Kay. “West Quarter is off limits. Anyone has a problem with that,” he didn’t quite look at the man in black, but the words were clearly aimed in that direction, “you take it up with the Pathfinders.”

  He gave one more dark look at Quaid, moaning on the ground, then headed for the exit, gesturing for Kay to go ahead of him. The bouncer from outside slid in front of them, blocking their path, and the toady Kay had seen the man in black whispering to came in from the other side.

  “Amos,” said the toady, “Vascal would like a word with your friend.” His eyes flickered to Kay.

  “Get the fuck out of my path, Marcus.” When they didn’t move, he took a step forward. They slid apart in front of his advance. Amos opened the tent flap, letting light in and smoke out. Without turning back to Kay, he said, “She can speak for herself, but my advice to her would be to tell Vascal to fuck off.” He waited, holding the flap open.