Solitaire
A deep red glow soaked through the curtains and filled the room as the sun slowly sank into the embrace of evening. I flipped through a deck of cards, carefully marking the aces. There wasn't much else to do. I had been waiting for well over two hours, attempting to maintain the appearance of ease. I propped my legs up on a chair and purposefully slouched a little more.
There was a sound of footsteps on the stairs, then the scent of soap and leather. The door opened quietly and Harper came in. He placed his cap on the rack and then hung up his heavy coat. He looked tired, as always.
"Oh, it's you, is it?" I asked.
"I haven't been gone so long that you've forgotten about me, have I?" he asked.
"How could I? You've been in the papers every day." I set the cards aside. "From the last I read I would suppose congratulations are in order," I said.
"You'd suppose?" Harper peeled off his gloves and tossed them across the pile of newspapers on the table in front of me.
"Papers have been known to get their stories wrong," I said.
"Yes, I'll give you that." Harper dropped down into the seat across from mine. He lit a cigarette and took in a deep breath of the smoke. The weakness of his right hand was hardly perceptible anymore. Only the thick, red scar remained as evidence of how badly hurt and infected the flesh had been.
"They misspelled your middle name, by the way," I told him.
"Did they?" Harper squinted at the litter of pages. "Jubaal. At least it wasn't Judas. I don't even care. I'm just glad to have the court proceedings and hearings done with."
"So, it's over?"
"It's done. I went to the gallows myself this afternoon to be sure," Harper said. "The abbot is most certainly dead and done with."
According to the papers, Abbot Greeley had ordered Captain Brandson to assassinate Lord Cedric to suppress a confession that Cedric had signed. Apparently, it had implicated them both in the murder of Lord Cedric's niece. The story in the papers made Lord Cedric out to be a kind man brought low by one moment of rage and terrible misfortune. Abbot Greeley, on the other hand, had taken on a deeply sinister role. There was even an implication that the abbot had been using the niece's death to blackmail Lord Cedric.
It was a remarkable work a fiction that Harper had strung together with confessions and tiny pieces of evidence. Brandson's pistol, left at the scene of Lord Cedric's murder, struck me as a particularly nice detail.
If he had wanted, Harper could have indulged in a little gloating or self-congratulation. He had certainly worked things out well enough to deserve it. Instead, he was quiet and thoughtful. He was acting as if there were something he still had to attend to. I shuffled through my deck of cards to give myself something to do.
The papers had mentioned other things, but I waited for Harper to bring them up.
"A game of cards?" I asked.
"Not yet. It's nice to just sit here and do nothing."
"It's not all that easy, you know. I've been sitting around trying to do nothing for the last two weeks."
"Your rooms look good," Harper said. "Did you paint the walls white?"
"No. I just washed them."
"Hmm." Harper wasn't paying much attention to the conversation. I knew him well enough to recognize the times when he was working his way to an unpleasant subject. I absently dealt myself a hand a solitaire. Harper smoked in silence for a while.
"I was surprised at how many people came out to see him swing," Harper said. "I don't think he even saw me in the crowd."
I didn't know quite how to respond. The abbot's destruction had been Harper's passion for the last month. He had been at the courthouse for days on end, giving testimony and presenting evidence. All that he had seemed to want was the abbot's public execution. Now he had it. The abbot had not been punished for any one of his real crimes. None of the harm he had done had been undone. All the execution had given Harper was revenge. I wondered if that had been enough for him.
"You could put a queen there," Harper suggested as I turned the cards through my hands.
I nodded and laid the card down.
Steadily I slid card after card into the long columns of suits and numbers. At last I had only two cards left, and neither of them could be placed.
"You could trade them for others in the deck," Harper offered.
"Advising me to cheat against myself, Captain?"
"I'm told it's common practice." He took a last drag of his cigarette and then crushed it out against the newspaper. The smell of singed newsprint and tobacco curled through the air.
"I don't feel like it today." I folded the two cards and set them down.
"Was that a bottle of wine I noticed when I came in?" Harper asked as I shuffled the cards back into a single deck.
"The finest from Hells Below," I said. "Would you like some?"
"I believe I would." Harper smiled briefly. He looked good smiling. It brushed away the fine lines of exhaustion and overwork that had become etched into the corners of his eyes.
I got up, opened the bottle, and handed it to Harper.
"No glass?" he asked.
"They were all smashed. I still haven't gotten any new ones. How about a bowl?" I offered, thinking it might amuse him.
"The bottle's fine."
I sat back down and watched Harper carefully lift the bottle with his left hand. The motion looked surprisingly natural. He pushed the bottle aside after he had taken a long drink.
"Did you find Edward?" he asked.
"Yes. He's fine. So is your sister."
"They still haven't run into each other?"
"They have." I shoved the cork back into the neck of the wine bottle to stop its thick odor from crawling out into the room.
"And?" Harper prompted.
"And your brother-in-law has to be some kind of saint. He's started working with Good Commons. Your sister and he seem to have patched things up. They're both doing quite well."
"That's good." Harper nodded.
"The wine is from Sariel. A token of his thanks."
Harper nodded and I continued shuffling my cards. Harper leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. I played another game of solitaire and left him alone. Sooner or later he would tell me what I already knew from reading through the papers. I could have cut him short and brought it up myself, but there was no point. I was as willing as he was to let it wait.
I enjoyed simply sitting with him. It felt easy and comfortable.
"Belimai," he said at last.
"Yes?" I glanced over to him. His eyes were still closed, his head tilted slightly as if he were almost falling asleep.
"Did the paper say anything else about me?"
"Aside from how courageously you served the cause of Justice, and what a nice profile you had?"
"Yes, aside from that." Harper's voice was serious, but his body remained limp in the chair.
"It mentioned that you might be offered a position as an abbot, possibly at the Covenant Inquisition House." I looked down at my cards.
"I have."
"Oh. Well, congratulations again." I stopped playing with the cards. Covenant Abbey was far from Hells Below and far from me. Harper could hardly be abbot there and still be seen in my company, or the company of any Prodigal.
I realized that the last business Harper had to deal with would be me.
"So, when will you be going?" I asked.
"I didn't accept it," Harper said.
"You didn't?"
I was so prepared for another answer that it took me a moment to understand what I had heard.
"No, I tendered my resignation."
"You what?"
"I resigned." Harper opened his eyes and looked at me. "I'm as done with the Inquisition as Abbot Greeley is."
"Why?" I stared at Harper. He didn't say anything. For several moments he continued gazing at me, then turned and uncorked the wine bottle. He took another deep drink, then picked up the cork with his right hand and carefully pu
shed it back into the bottle.
"If you don't want to tell me, then never mind," I told him as the silence began to stretch on. I dealt myself another hand of cards. They were a worthless mix of deuces, jacks, and fours. I scowled at the cards and then folded them down onto the tabletop.
"You know Brandson didn't hire on to a ship and escape, don't you?" Harper said.
"I just assumed you killed him. Why?" I asked.
Harper glanced down at his scarred palm and then looked at the wine bottle. After a moment he shifted his attention back to me.
"Does it bother you that I killed two men and falsified evidence, just to see Abbot Greeley publicly executed? Just to satisfy my need for revenge?"
It didn't bother me in the least, but I could see that it did disturb Harper.
"The abbot had committed more than enough crimes to deserve what he got. I think the same could be said for Lord Cedric and Captain Brandson. We both know that there was no other way they would be punished," I told Harper.
"Brandson was just an idiot." Harper sipped a little more wine.
"Harper," I said, "he deserved it. I can't believe you think he didn't."
"I know he deserved it," Harper replied calmly.
"Then what is this all about?" I demanded.
Harper smiled slightly.
"I'm telling you why I resigned," he said.
"Oh." I shuffled the cards again. "So, why?"
"I knew Abbot Greeley had been protecting Lord Cedric because the man was a friend of his, but it never struck me until today that I might have done the same thing. It was the same with Scott-Beck. Abbot Greeley protected and helped him because the man was a friend of his."
"He was a bastard. They all were," I said. It was still too easy to remember Scott-Beck's pleased face as he leaned over me, cutting my body open.
"Yes, but they thought they were right in doing what they did-"
"They weren't," I stated flatly.
"Let me finish, will you?" Harper asked.
"All right, fine. Go on. They thought they were right..."
"Just like I believe I am right—"
"But you are right," I put in quickly.
"Belimai."
"Fine, go on. I won't interrupt anymore." I leaned back in the chair and crossed my arms over my chest.
"All I'm saying is that I realized that I had the same potential to willfully break the law that the abbot did." Harper took a quick drink of wine. "Let's face it, Belimai: I'm not much of a priest to begin with, and when it comes to being an Inquisitor. . .Well, the letter of the law isn't my strong point. If I became an abbot, that wouldn't change. In my own way, I'd be as bad as Abbot Greeley."
"So you resigned?" I asked.
"I turned down the position as abbot because of that. I resigned because I just don't want to do this anymore. I'm tired of it." Harper shook his head.
"So, what now?" I asked
"Now? I just want to be happy. I want to enjoy my life."
"To be happy," I said suspiciously. It was such a deceptively simple-sounding thing to say. It could mean anything. "How do you plan on being happy?"
"How do you?" Harper returned the question.
"I'm not the sort to make plans," I said. "You are."
"True," Harper admitted.
"So, what is this plan of yours?" I picked up my discarded hand of cards. They were as hopeless as ever, but it gave me some-thing to do.
"I'm going back to the Foster Estate. It's mine, and it's about time I took care of it."
"So, the simple life of a rural landlord for you, then?" I gave up on the cards I had and pulled three new ones from the deck. Harper was free to go as he pleased. He was free to find his happiness wherever he wished. I smacked my hand of cards back down next to the deck in frustration.
"Wouldn't you want to get away from here if you could?" Harper asked.
"What, and leave all the smog and Inquisitors behind?" Of course I wanted to leave. Every Prodigal I knew wanted to get away from the city, but there were laws and guards to stop us.
"You'd be leaving your home, your friends—everything," Harper said. "I know it's a hard thing for me to ask you to do. But I have to ask."
"You're serious?" I stared at Harper. "You want me to come with you?"
"You wouldn't leave the bell tower at White Chapel without me," Harper said. "Why should I leave you here?"
"That was hardly the same thing," I said.
"We can leave tonight while my name is still on the active lists of Inquisitors. All we need to do is trade coats. The clerks at the Green-Hill carriage house already think you're me."
"Harper, what if we get out to your estate and we..."
"We're found out? We're attacked by locusts?" Harper shrugged. "Who knows what will happen, but I want to find out. Don't you, Belimai?"
"What if we find out that we can't stand each other?" I asked.
"It's a big house. I'm sure we could work something out."
"I'm serious," I said.
"You're too serious." Harper pulled off his Inquisition jacket and tossed it at me.
"People are going to know—" I told him.
"Not if we're careful."
"It's not that simple, Harper."
"It is. Just come with me."
I stared at him, trying to think of what I would do if I chose not to join him. I wasn't such a delicate creature that I would simply wither and die of sorrow. I could survive losing him; I just wouldn't want to.
At last, I pulled on the jacket. It was still warm from Harper's body, and the familiar scent of his skin lingered on it. I buttoned the front and straightened the collar. It fit me well enough.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would like to thank Nicole Kimberling and Melissa Miller for all their support, nagging and patience. I'm also grateful to Marjorie M. Liu who was kind enough to read an early draft and who offered amazing encouragement.
And, of course, I have to thank Sharon McMorrow who taught me that literature could contain spicy sex scenes as well as proper grammar.
Hale, Ginn Page 20
