by Mirren Hogan
Del walked over to the table to be sure he reloaded correctly. "It wasn't a bad first effort," he said, trying to be encouraging.
"It was hopeless," Brish growled, "but I'll do better next time."
"I'm sure you will. Raise your arms a little more and stand with your feet further apart."
Brish nodded and walked back to the line. He stood, then glanced back at Del. "Like this?"
Uncomfortable, Del stepped over to him and put a hand under his arms. "Bring them up more. Just there. Good." He wondered if the firearm was too heavy for him. He doubted the young man would complain if it was. He seemed the type to persevere long past the point where he should stop.
"Now look down there and squeeze. And remember to brace for it to come back at you."
Brish nodded and fired again. The shot missed the target, but he was much closer this time. He scowled. "Can I try again?"
"Of course. You're determined to succeed at this, aren't you?" Some others looked less that enthusiastic, especially after Samiel having done so well.
"I want to learn everything I can so I can kill magin," Brish said, looking savage. He was almost too young to be convincing, but there was something hard in his eyes. He'd seen that look before. It was blind hatred and he'd seen it in the mirror. When Kaida bonded Risper, he'd seen it. When he'd seen her with that other draakin, it had been there then too. It was barely contained rage with little thought or purpose behind it. It had eaten him up for so long. It'd eat this young man up as well if he let it.
"I see. Are you also learning to defend yourself?" Del asked.
"Of course." Brish looked confused.
"Good, because isn't that what the reasoners are for? To defend the people?"
Brish gaped at him, then shrugged. "You can't defend against some things. But you can strike before anything happens."
"Yes, you can certainly try," Del agreed. "All right, aim again. This time a bit to your right."
Brish hit the target this time and grinned.
Del glanced over to see Andon watching the young apprentice. He'd seen that look before too—desire. Whether it was physical, or the need to control him, Del didn't want to dwell on too much. Both men were old enough to make up their own minds.
"Nice work Brish," Andon said, nodding his approval and making Brish beam.
Del wondered how they'd react if that was a magin Brish had shot. He turned to regard the target. It was gradually filling with holes. Inadvertently an image of Daven popped into his head. He saw him standing in front of them, his body full of holes, them laughing as his son laying dying.
He couldn't suppress a shiver. Not for the first time he wondered what he was doing here with these people.
"Thank you sir," Brish replied. He looked toward Del and his brow furrowed. Clearly he was troubled by something, but was it the firearm or something Del had said?
"Do you want another try?" he asked, trying to gauge the situation.
Brish's lips moved a couple of times before any words came out. "Can I ask you a question?" His voice was low, just loud enough for Del to hear.
"Uh, I suppose so." Haze, even a young reasoner might be dangerous, especially one as dogged as this.
"How would you use one of these for defence?" Brish asked, "I mean, you'd have to keep it loaded all the time, wouldn't you? And not miss the first time?"
Del bit his lip. "And you'd have to know they're coming," he added. "But if you're quick, you can turn it and use it to strike." He demonstrated, grabbing up a firearm and spinning it so he held the barrel in two hands. He swung it through the air, making sure not to hit anyone with it.
"Just don't use it like this if it's loaded, or you might blown your own face off." He tried to make light of it, and expected Brish to laugh, or at least think him foolish.
Instead he nodded and looked down at the one in his arms. "I'll remember that. You never know when it'll come in handy."
Del replaced the weapon onto the table and nodded. "It's always good to know a variety of ways to look after yourself. And those around you," he added.
"Right." Brish looked thoughtful and sad. For a moment Del thought he might cry. Whatever he'd gone through, he was still dealing with it. Hopefully he had someone to talk to about it. Even battle-weary young reasoners needed friends to confide in.
He sighed as Brish turned away. He should take his own advice and find someone to listen to him, if only because talking to people was more normal than talking to himself. Finding someone he could trust; that was another matter entirely.
Chapter Thirty-One
Brish's arms ached. When everyone had finished practicing, he'd stayed behind, shooting at the target over and over until his eyes started to blur. Only after he missed two in a row did he admit he was too tired to keep going. He put the firearm on the table and went to gather up the spent shot. If it wasn't for the distance, he'd think the bow and arrow a more efficient weapon. It was silent, and arrows didn't look as expensive as the shot or the black powder. He'd ask to learn that next, but he was reasonably happy. He'd done well here today. The only thing weighing on his mind was the man, Del.
His comment about the reasoners being for defence played on his thoughts. The comment matched with his perception until the moment he'd discovered there were assassins amongst them. His desire had been to join them to keep other people safe from the magin, to catch them before they struck. Sneaking around to kill was something else. He thought he'd reconciled with the idea, but now he wasn't sure. Who would Andon want him to kill anyway? Children in their beds?
He rattled several shot in his palm as he walked back to the table. No, he was sure he wouldn't be asked to do that. There were dangerous magin, those would be who the reasoners were after. That made sense. Remove a few of them and they'd be less likely to strike out.
But what of the children? They must be out there somewhere, maybe in Hoza. He put down the shot and they clattered across the table, too dented to roll. To damaged to be of further use.
He snorted at the irony and grabbed up the firearm. He slung it over his shoulder and headed inside. He'd been out here for hours and hadn't eaten, his stomach rumbled, assisted by the smell of food wafting from the kitchen.
"Ah, you're still out here." Andon was stepping out just as he was coming in.
"I'm sorry, was I not supposed to be?" Brish stammered, flustered.
"I told you could stay out and practice as long as you liked," Andon replied, waving a hand in dismissal. "But there's someone I wanted to you see." He took the firearm from Brish and handed it to a passing apprentice. "Take that back to the manufactory and tell Del that's Andon said thank you."
The girl nodded and bolted off, her back rigid with the importance at being chosen by the captain himself.
"Who is this person?" Brish enjoyed spending time alone with the man, but the thought of children still stuck in the back of his mind. He pushed it away and cast a sidelong glance at Andon. There was no denying that the man was handsome and self-assured. Brish straightened his back and tried to lengthen his gait, wanting to emulate the other man's walk. In a moment he fell behind, lacking the height to pull it off. Red faced, he had to hurry to catch up.
"You'll see," Andon replied. "Don't look so worried,"
"Was I?" Brish asked. Andon’s eyes momentarily distracted him, but he chided himself. He had not come here to fall in love. He'd come to fight magin. Still, the man would make an old man forget his own name. Of course, he knew that.
"Just a little bit." Andon held his fingers slightly apart just in front of Brish's face. "Come on, down here." They took a flight of stairs which descended below street level.
"Isn't this where the cells are?" he asked, balking at the idea of going further down. It looked like an enclosed space, a dark, dank one. His heart raced before he even reached the bottom step.
"Some of them, yes, shhh."
Brish was about to ask why when he saw they weren't alone. General Russkan Zand himself stood a
short distance away, along with a man and a woman he didn't recognise. the general greeted them both with a nod.
"Andon here tells me you're eager to kill magin?" he said, sounding amused, "is that correct?"
Brish licked his lips, anxiety rising as all eyes were on him.
"Um, yes sir," he agreed, "that's what I've been training for." His arms ached again, reminding him how hard he'd been training. He drew himself up to his full height. He was a reasoner, he should look like one, even if he suddenly needed the latrine.
"Good. Well let me tell you." The general put a hand on his shoulder, "sometimes we dispose of magin publicly, to make an example of them. We've discovered that the number of magin turned in increases exponentially after that. It's not pleasant and we've prefer not to be forced into this action, but it's necessary. Have you ever seen an execution?"
"Only if you count Daris, sir," Brish replied.
The general's eyes flicked to Andon for a moment before returning to Brish. "A fine man," Zand said, "such a shame about what they did to him. However, I seem to have digressed." He pressed a finger to his lips.
"Ah, yes. Some magin, for one reason or another, we must dispose of quietly. There's several reasons for this, often related to their station in society, or their profession. A problem needs to be removed, but we can't allow one felonious vagabond to ruin the reputations of other citizens. Are you following me?"
"I think so sir," Haze, the man had a bigger vocabulary than Daris ever had. Although to be fair, Daris spoke in a way everyone could understand and relate to. The general didn't seem concerned about that. Quite the opposite.
"Good. Remember this, if nothing else—the republic rests on the backs of people like you and me, and our willingness to do whatever it takes to keep it secure."
"Yes sir." To be placed together with the general was overwhelming. Brish found himself looking at Andon for reassurance. The captain gave him a smile and a wink. His heart skipped at the gesture. Reason, the man would melt wax with a look.
"Thank you, sir, I'm just wondering what all of this has to do with me?"
"Right to the point, eh?" the general asked, chuckling, "Andon, you're rubbing off on the lad."
"I try," Andon replied.
"Any chance you can," the woman muttered. Brish glanced at her, but she was looking away. Was she a jilted lover? He decided it didn't matter. Andon's personal life was his business.
The general cleared his throat. "The point, young Brish, is that Andon here is of the mind that you've earned you first-level pin back with your diligence and hard work."
Brish gaped at them both in turn. This was an odd place for such an announcement. "Thank you, that's very—"
The general held up a hand. "However, I am of the mind that you have to earn it, with one more little task." He nodded toward the closed door. "In there is a magin. Kill him and you gain your rank."
Brish's teeth clicked together as he shut his mouth, but it was better than standing there staring and trying to compose thoughts tossed about in a turbulent mind.
"I just have to . . . will I have a weapon?"
"We did think about letting you do it with your bare hands," Andon replied, "but we thought this would be better." He slid a knife out from under his jacket and handed it over.
"Thank you." The blade was cold in Brish's fingers but fit there so well he knew Andon had chosen it for him. His hand shook, but he steadied it with a few breaths in and out.
Andon stepped to the door, unlocked it and drew it open.
Brish moved forward and stepped inside.
The door closed behind him with a click. An oil lamp flickered high on the wall, out of reach of the prisoner who was chained at the opposite end. He licked his lips and took a step closer. The prisoner raised his face and Brish almost dropped the knife.
"Harm?"
Chapter Thirty-Two
Harm's face was covered in cuts and bruises. One eye was so swollen it was barely visible. His lips were split in several places and his clothes were torn and stained with dried blood.
Brish shook his head, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. How was his friend here? Why? He glanced at the knife in his hand and the blood drained from his face.
"You're magin?" How was that even possible? He was one of his best friends. Surely, he'd have known if the man could do magic? His head spun, and he was forced to lean against a wall and push out several breaths.
Harm nodded and gave him a small smile, even though doing it made him wince. "I'm part of the Yaraz."
"You're . . ." So all of those conversations, Harm had known everything. So many of the pieces fell into place. "Did Daris know?" The words came out just above a whisper.
"Yes," Harm replied simply. "He knew what I was from the start." His voice was hoarse, as though he hadn't had a drink in some time. "I was the one liaising with Nerra. She wanted his help to bring the other magin into line." He snorted and flinched. "You saw how that went."
"Badly," Brish agreed. He sat down against the wall, ignoring the damp on the floor which soaked into his trousers. "Did you murder Daris?"
"No," Harm leaned his head back so the flickering light from the lamp reflected in his eyes. "But I think I know who did. Bakel Tam leads the other faction. He's a nasty piece of work. He'd happily kill anyone who got in his way. He's also unpredictable, which makes him even more dangerous. He's kept his people safe for years, so they follow him." He shrugged.
"Why didn't you tell the reasoners all of this before the attacks? Or even after them?" Brish's tone was justifiably accusing. How many lives might have been saved had Harm spoken out? Most of the hall might still be alive.
"Daris told me not to," Harm replied, "he wanted to make the problem go away without any further violence. He said there had been enough bloodshed by then. Had I, or he, told the reasoners they would have hunted the magin down and slaughtered them. Many of them are only children."
Brish licked his lips, finding them dry, along with his throat. Harm was right, they would have done just that.
"I gave them everything we found in Daris' secret room," he admitted.
"Then they're on the way to kill them all," Harm said, "if they haven't already."
"Andon said people have gone to Hoza to find out if they're still there," Brish said. They might well kill them, but that wasn't his problem, or his decision. "But if they're the bad magin, why do you care?"
Harm smiled. "You always did see things in black and white. Good and bad, right and wrong. Life isn't that simple."
Brish's hand tightened around the knife. "You know how many people they killed?"
"How many?" Harm asked. "How many people did the children kill? What about the babies? Or the men and women who just want to live, and protect their families, how about them? Yes, some of them have done terrible things, but some of them as innocent as you are. More so."
"They follow a murderer."
"Are you sure you don't do the same?"
Brish gaped. A day ago, he'd have denied it, but now he wasn't so sure. It was no secret that reasoners executed children. Andon would do whatever his job required of him, including that.
He pushed the thought away as violently as he could. These were magin they were talking about, not decent folk. Although looking at Harm, he couldn't bring himself to think of him as anything but his closest friend. The man wouldn't hurt anyone or anything, not even under duress.
"You're a seer?" he guessed.
"Yes, but I'm not a very good one." Harm grimaced. "I might get a hint of foresight once or twice a year, and it's usually about nothing important."
"Like what?" Brish asked, curious despite himself.
"Oh, things like knowing it'll rain in two days. It keeps me dry, but it's not all that helpful."
"It'd help if you're a farmer."
"You're right," Harm said, "I might change professions if I ever get out of here."
Silence fell. They both knew the chances of that were slim.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Brish asked softly, reluctant to disturb the moment.
"I tried," Harm replied, "many times. It just never seemed to be the right opportunity. And then after Waya died, everything became more urgent and Daris couldn't risk too many people knowing. Of course, you'd found out or guessed most of it anyway." He smiled.
"And you fed me just enough to keep me under control without giving away too much," Brish concluded.
"It wasn't about controlling you, Brish," Harm said. "It was about keeping you safe. If Bakel knew you'd followed him that night, he might have come after you."
Brish blinked. "I—" He remembered the meeting, the man with wild curls and Daris refusing to take part in something.
"Daris begged him to meet with Nerra, but he wouldn't," Harm went on, "she even risked coming to Paryos for it. Brish, you have to believe me that magin in general aren't dangerous, just a handful of them. It's easy to blame them all for what a few have done, but by reason most of us mean no harm to anyone. All we want is to live our lives without fear of death."
"That's all most people want, " Brish replied bitterly, "including Waya." His best friend had hated magin long before any of the attacks, before she had a good reason to. "She'd have despised you if she'd known," he said softly.
"That was another justification for not telling you," Harm said, "you told her everything."
"Isn't that what friends do?" Perhaps Brish had misjudged their relationship.
"Only if doing it doesn't risk their lives. Telling you this before now would have," Harm replied, unrepentant.
Brish thought for a moment. "Is there a Yaraz headquarters? Do you who where it is?"
"I know how to find them," Harm said with a nod, "but I'm not going to tell you. Even if I thought it was safe to, I know your friends will be listening. I haven't told you anything I haven't said to them already. Evidently it's not enough." He glanced toward the door and for the first time since Brish had met him, he looked defeated.
"Maybe you should tell them where they are?" Brish suggested, "maybe they would . . ."
