The Fire Eye Chosen_Sequel to The Fire Eye Refugee

by Samuel Gately

  “But, Kay,” Jyurik said with a mock sincerity, “surely it falls on the Pathfinders to make such a decision. I was unaware you held any authority here.”

  “Also,” Kay cut in, “this one takes a punch like a twelve-year-old girl, and I’m pretty sure he pissed himself when I broke his scary mask and knocked him out cold last night.”

  Jyurik said nothing, but Kay caught a flair of anger in his lone eye.

  Gillis was still mounted, sitting silently throughout the exchange, no doubt happy to have both of them showing their cards while he did none of the work.

  “General Stern,” Jyurik said, turning away from Kay, “my employers send their respects.”

  Gillis looked at him suspiciously. “That is not my correct title.”

  “Oh, but it could be,” Jyurik said. “It is the appropriate rank for the undisputed leader of what should be a recognized branch of Celest’s military. But you are not, are you? Recognized.”

  “State your business, Jyurik. We do not look kindly upon enemies of our friends, especially those who acknowledge a role in the murder of a well-respected member of the Farrow community with a shrug.”

  “Oh, I’ve killed many people. And I’ll kill many more before we’re through. I’m no saint, just a humble servant, one who understand the shifting of winds and the changing of tides.” He fiddled with his scepter, the smoke still rising to merge with the growing dark above them. “The Melor are finished, they just haven’t figured it out yet. Before the Fire Eye has closed, they will be the ones erased. A new power will take their place atop Celest. One which will not be blind to assets that this Dynasty ignores. You will be armed. You will be authorized. Your current humiliation will not stand.”

  “You promise reward? At what cost?” Gillis asked.

  “I am not here to extract loyalty oaths, if that is what concerns you. I am not here to ask one single thing of you. I am simply informing you of change in…let’s say management. A change you will find favorable.”

  Kay laughed, too loud for the quiet graveyard. She almost didn’t know where to start. The masks, the casual cruelty of the three Gyudi siblings, the Kallaha Test. The promise of murdering the Melor Dynasty. She fought an image of Enos dead on a dirty street. For all his flaws, he was a child.

  She glanced at Gillis, ready to lay into Jyurik, but was dismayed to see the serious expression on the face of the Pathfinder. “Gillis, you can’t be considering this garbage.” She was met with silence. Well, if Gillis wouldn’t do something, maybe she could. She turned to Jyurik. “They told me Ewan was stabbed seven times. I wonder how many of those he was alive for. I wonder how many you’ll last through.” She moved towards him.

  Jyurik didn’t flinch. “If there is one thing I am not afraid of tonight, Kay, it is being stabbed.” He gave a pointed look at Gillis and Kay inwardly groaned as she realized the setup she’d given him. An easy path to appeal to the Pathfinders’ aggravation over their continued lack of right to arms.

  And with that final cheap score, Jyurik offered another bow to Gillis. “I’m afraid I have other pressing engagements. I thank you for your time. Until we meet again, General Gillis Stern, under far different circumstances.” He started off towards the distant city gates.

  As he passed Kay, who stared in disbelief, she took a step after him, tightening her fist. She wasn’t about to let Ewan’s murderer walk carefree to his other pressing engagements. She may only have one working arm, but that hadn’t stopped her last night.

  Gillis guided his horse into her path, cutting off her angle of pursuit. “We must talk,” he said as Kay looked up in fury.

  “Let me by.”

  “An exchange like this requires a debrief.”

  “Sure, I’ll be right back to debrief after I kill that fucking clown.”

  Gillis stared at her flatly, then raised a lantern. He lit it, then waved his hand in front of it several times. He was sending a message to the other Pathfinders. Kay regretted having never learned ma-lumens. She’d ignored Amos’s efforts to teach her the coded messaging, despite its use by both Farrow and Gol.

  “You’re going to do it then? He killed Ewan. He as much as admitted it.”

  “We’re not in the habit of killing messengers, Kay. He’ll be followed.”

  “Yeah, as far as the gates, then he’ll lose you and continue spreading his poison. Maybe pick up a couple kids on his way back underground to drug and imprison.” She’d lost her cool, couldn’t stop fidgeting with her scarred hand, rubbing her thumb across the cut which mirrored Ewan’s. “You’re so morally pure? I’ve seen some of the things you do.” She could feel she’d missed her chance. Jyurik was gone, leaving behind only the lingering smell of smoke.

  “You should calm yourself. This is not about morals. If morals were my objective, I would have killed that smug son of a bitch for that fucking shrug. But I don’t give a fuck about morals. You know our mission.”

  “But that can’t align you with him?”

  “I’ve made no indication that it does. But at the same time we must consider that we are hardly aligned with the Melor now, are we?” When she frowned, his voice grew louder. “Do not make light of our problems, Kay. It has been four years. Four years unrecognized. Our order is being eroded and our mission is far from complete. We pledged to keep the Farrow safe. That pledge did not expire when we crossed into foreign lands. And it grows harder every day we proceed uncompensated and unhonored. Did you pass word on to Yamar of our request?”

  Kay nodded slowly. She could sense they wouldn’t appreciate his lack of an answer. She knew how it grated on them to be ignored.

  “And do I even have to ask you what he said? He’ll think about it. And do nothing. The clown, as you call him, asked nothing of us. You would have us do something more than that? On behalf of the Dynasty that has made a policy of treating us like children, not to be trusted with anything sharp, even as they divide and assimilate our people into permanent stations in their lowest classes, without exception?”

  When she didn’t answer, Gillis looked off towards the horizon, a habit that reminded her painfully of Amos. He’d always done the same when lost in thought. “What can you tell us of the Gyudi?” he said finally.

  The other Pathfinders were coming out of the shadows. More lanterns were lit. Gillis raised a hand and was tossed a wineskin. He took a drink and threw it to Kay. She glared at him a moment, then took a short pull.

  “They have some sort of underground lair inside Celest. I don’t know where. There are three siblings who run the show.” They passed the wineskin around as Kay told them what she knew. By the time it was empty and Kay was finished, the sun was a distant memory, the Fire Eye in its full glory above them. The buildings in the distance had again started sending their ma-lumens messages across the sky. Kay was certain none of them held any answers for her.

  …

  After the long walk back to the gates and across the city, as Kay rounded the corner opposite her office, she let out a long sigh of relief. She hadn’t seen her sofa since the morning after the Opening, which felt like a lifetime ago. Her arm was beginning to ache again. The pain driven out of mind by the sight of Jyurik was setting up shop for a long evening. Several glasses of gin may have to be the first order of business.

  She was reaching for the door handle to the staircase when Joah burst out. He held her belt with her baton and jars of demonlord pepper and pearl ash, which he thrust into her arms.

  “Where have you been?” he said. “She was found.”

  “What? Who?”

  “Jenna. Jenna Weiss. She’s back.” Joah was off in the direction of Weiss manor, clearly expecting Kay to follow. And, of course, after letting out another sigh, she strapped on her belt and did.

  Chapter 14. A Packed Room

  Dynasty guards were stationed at the Weiss’s front gate. Three carriages had parked haphazardly across the drive to the manor. Kay took one look and pulled Joah around the corner to the servant’s entrance. It
was locked but was quickly opened at her knock.

  The Weiss’s butler, a thickly built Gol with the unusual name of Dedo, looked out. He scowled when he saw Kay. “What the hell are you doing here?” He brought nothing of his usually rigid manner to bear.

  “I heard she’s back.”

  “How’s that your business? She came back on her own. Your days of swindling this household are over.” When Kay didn’t move, he made a shooing gesture. “Find your way off our property, wetblood. The master muttered something earlier about a lawsuit to recover the gold he wasted on you. Best to stay out of his sight. Permanently might be long enough.”

  “Get the fuck out of my way, Dedo.”

  “Or what?” He opened the door, squaring up to them. “You and your little friend should try something. I’d love it.” He began rolling up his shirtsleeves over thick forearms. He glanced down at Kay’s sling. “Then you can sport a matching set of slings.”

  “Let her pass.” The voice came from behind Dedo.

  Dedo turned around angrily, but the expression slid off his face in an instant when he saw Yamar in his full Wrang uniform. “Of course, Master Soldier.” He fell back to a servile manner, the only side Kay had seen of him before this exchange. Dedo stepped aside and gave her room to enter. He slipped a distrustful look to Joah as he passed.

  Yamar wasted no time leading them back into the manor. “She turned up at the front door about three hours ago. Haven’t gotten much out of her yet. Practically every member of the Dynasty’s committee has sent representatives. No one wants to look late to the party, and it’s preventing us from making any real progress. I was headed back there to ask the butler to restrict further access to the manor.” They passed another set of soldiers. Once they were out of earshot, Yamar continued quietly, “Look, Kay, don’t expect a warm reception in there—”

  “I’m not.”

  Yamar glanced at her from the sides of his eyes, trying to read her face. “I mentioned bringing you in and Mylor and his wife were opposed.”

  They reached the sitting room, the doorway packed tight with people. Yamar shouldered his way inside, Kay and Joah in his wake. The walls were lined with Gol, some uniformed, some not. All watching the three in the small seating area at the center of the room. Mylor, Bola, and their daughter, returned to them. The room was bright, every candle lit and a roaring fire in the fireplace, as though enough light and warmth could drive away any lingering memories of the time she’d been gone.

  Kay felt a different warmth in her chest as she looked at Jenna, perched on the edge of the sofa. The seventeen-year-old appeared tired and afraid, unsettled with the attention on her, taking a cup of tea from her wide-eyed mother. Even as Kay felt the room turning to her and girded herself against the cold reception no doubt headed in her direction, there was still a lightness inside her. A joy. Jenna was indeed a talented painter. She’d captured her own likeness, her own fragile beauty in the self-portraits she’d done. Kay was delighted to finally see it in person, safe and alive.

  “Is there something you need?” Mylor asked coldly, staring at Kay.

  Bola looked up at Kay and then to Yamar. “I thought we discussed this. Her business here is done.” Her fists were clenched tightly in her lap. “For three months, we endured—” She cut off abruptly as Jenna stood next to her.

  The teacup and saucer fell from Jenna’s lap, striking the hardwood floor and shattering on impact. Her eyes wide, she looked at Kay in disbelief. “You’re alive?” She took a half-step towards her. “Is it really you?” Tears began streaming down her face, her voice trembling in the suddenly quiet room. “I’m so sorry.”

  She gave a sharp sob as she stepped forward, shaking off the grip of her concerned mother, then she looked down at Kay’s hand and reached out to take it, gently touching the long cut across her knuckles. “It is you. I thought they’d killed you. You made them so angry.” From this close, Kay could see how young the girl was. “Oh, your poor hand. You were bleeding everywhere.” Jenna looked at Kay’s sling. “And your arm.” She reached out as though to touch it.

  Kay stood awkwardly, still feeling the eyes of the room on her, uncertain how to react. “Jyurik doesn’t mess around,” she said quietly.

  Jenna met her eyes. “No, never. I was terrified of him. Terrified of all of them. Once they had me, they were never going to let go. But I saw you standing there, unafraid, and then…” She trailed off, looking to the side. Kay followed her eyes and noticed Mina, the younger sister, standing in the doorway. “And then I got your message. And I found the strength they’d taken from me. I found the strength to escape.”

  Jenna suddenly threw herself onto Kay, crushing her in a hug with total disregard for the arm she’d just lamented. “You found me in that horrible place. And you brought me home. You brought me back. Thank you.” She broke down crying, holding tightly to Kay.

  Kay returned the hug as best as she could with one working arm. She felt another pair of small arms slip around her waist as Mina joined them. Kay closed her eyes and let herself get lost in the moment, forgetting the room, forgetting her pain, just her and the girls, safe again together. She held them tightly and they held her back. After a few long, shuddering breaths, Kay opened her eyes to see Bola and Mylor, stunned before her. She fought a sudden temptation to throw them a withering look. She had more work to do here, and ungratefulness always came at a price for a wetblood.

  Joah had no such reservations, and as Kay held the girls close, she heard him seize the offensive and drive the point home. “Yes, she did,” he said loudly, making sure everyone in the room heard him. “She brought you home.” That might have been enough, but Joah was known to take things a shade further than necessary. “Hey, where’s Dedo? Dedo, you hear all that shit? Why don’t you make yourself useful and go fetch Kay a gin? I’m sure she could use one after three months of tireless, uncomplaining effort resulted in her bringing your master’s eldest home safe and sound. And I’ll have a glass of wine. The good stuff. What, Yamar? Don’t give me that look. Are we not celebrating?”

  Chapter 15. The Blue Line

  “They first approached me four months ago.” Jenna was again seated, fresh teacup in her lap, eyes down, trying to ignore the pressing looks of the full room. She’d pulled Kay onto the sofa beside her. Mina had been sent off, though Kay suspected she’d find a way to listen in. Bola sat next to Jenna, Mylor in the remaining chair. Yamar perched on the coffee table, facing Jenna. He was ostensibly leading the questioning, though Jenna kept looking to Kay for approval. Joah hovered quietly behind the sofa. The others lined the walls. Dedo had never brought Kay her gin, which was okay given how tired she was.

  “I’d begun showing my paintings in a pair of galleries on Bridge Street near the Apex. At first they weren’t getting much attention. I was disappointed. I would walk there every day and check in with the owners. And every day nothing. I went to a few shows and stood next to my work. Everyone passed me by. Too young, too raw. No good backstory. But mostly silence. I was…sad. I felt like a failure.”

  “Honey,” Bola said, concern on her face. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

  “Because, Mother, I wanted other people to buy my paintings. Not you and Dad or one of your friends you pressured into it.” The petulance in her voice again reminded Kay of how young the girl was. “I wanted to see if I had real talent, if I could make it.” She fought over a noise of protest from her parents. “And it looked like I didn’t, at least not right away. But then someone bought all my paintings. Every single one out of the first gallery, then went to the second and bought all of those. The owners were elated when I showed up. All were purchased at the listed price with a bonus thrown in for the curators. And the buyer wanted to meet. I was given very little information, just a time and place. The place was the house at the corner of Bridge and Northern Avenue, an older home with several stories. Nice-looking, wealthy.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Kay watched Yamar exchange subtle looks with a
pair of Wrang at the door. They left the room. Eyes would be on that house within the hour.

  “When I went in,” Jenna continued, “I was greeted by a woman who gave her name as Eliza Solo. About Mother’s age, very well-dressed. She brought me into a back room, and I saw all of my paintings filling the room. They were all just piled up against the walls, like she didn’t care for them. But there was one on an easel in the center of the room. In a place of honor. And I learned that was the painting that prompted her to buy my whole collection and arrange the meeting.”

  “You’d painted the Fire Eye,” Kay said.

  “I’d painted the Fire Eye,” Jenna replied. “And she asked me to do it again, in front of her. She provided me with paints and sat there watching. When I was finished, she raved about it. Poured me tea and talked with me about my artwork. She asked me to come back the next day. I painted four more, some on canvas, others on masks they had. And another four the day after that. It wasn’t so much the money, though there was plenty. It was the attention. I remembered standing in the galleries, everyone passing me by. This was so much better.

  “She started talking to me about an underground community, a sort of paradise, where an artist like me would be recognized, no longer spit on and ignored. I remember when she said that, spit on, I could see a lot of anger. It scared me a bit, but she kept selling this idea of a better place, right within Celest, outside of the world I knew. And then one day, when I went there, there was a man waiting with her. Jyurik.”

  Kay shifted, turning to catch Joah’s eye. She’d told him about the identity of Ewan’s murderer on the brisk walk over here. He discretely touched his jacket where his knives were hidden. Kay nodded grimly. Yamar and the Dynasty would want prisoners. She and Joah could keep it simpler. They wanted revenge. As she turned back to Jenna, it seemed as though the candles in the room burned brighter, hotter for a moment.

  “He was charming, and he made such a big deal of my work. I said okay when he asked if he could take me to meet some patrons. He led me to a door in the basement of a building. It opened to a tunnel.” The teacup Jenna was holding began rattling in its saucer as her hands shook. “It was dark, and there were men waiting. They wore masks with the Fire Eye painted on them. I was scared, but he told me to keep going. He said they did a lot of quirky things and when we got where we were going, there were a lot of people waiting to meet me.” She looked at Yamar. “I don’t remember it all very well. It seems like a lifetime ago. I don’t know if I could find the door.