by N E Riggs
Afterward, David fixed them both a cup of coffee, and they sat next to each other in bed. “Feel better?” David asked.
Saikee snorted. “Either you’re incredibly polite or a complete asshole, to ask a question like that right now.” David blinked and tried to sort out a good response, but Saikee leaned against him. “Don’t bother. You are that nice. I think.” She shook her head. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” David said. “Neither of us went into this with any illusions.” Her ran a hand down her bare arm. “Were you with Met?”
“For two years,” Saikee said softly. “We were married six months ago. Just before he was captured, we were talking about having children. Seth would be a great big brother. For the first time since I’d come here, I felt happy to be on Bantong.”
David hugged her tightly. “I’m sorry.”
Saikee shook her head. “It’s not your fault. I keep trying to move on, to get past him, but I can’t.” She wiped away a tear. “You might have been enough if I met you a little later, but I’m still in love with him. I’m sorry.”
“God, listen to us apologize,” David said. He took their cups and put them on the ground next to the bed, making a mental note to go to the pawn shop and find a table. “I didn’t want you to be in love with me. I’m not allowed to love.”
“Why not?”
David lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I met Sword Cardinal Cethon Jing just before she died. She told me I’m not allowed to fall in love.”
Saikee raised an eyebrow. “And you obeyed her?”
“She died because of me,” David said softly, looking away.
“So? The Eternist priesthood has already robbed you of so many things, David. Why let them take love from you too?”
He closed his eyes. Maybe Saikee was right. He really didn’t want to think about it now though. “We are both so fucked up.”
Saikee nodded. “Until we get our heads on straight, how about another distraction?”
“Sounds wonderful.” He smiled and pulled her close.
4
A Glimmer of Hope
David punched the last man in the jaw. The man fell to the ground, landing hard. David stepped back, barely winded as he surveyed the three unconscious men. They worked for a man called Haun Puc, a crime boss from the east side of Jigok. According to Pludes, he’d been trying to increase his area of influence for years. These three had fallen on David while he’d been making another delivery for Pludes.
Unlike the last few people who jumped him, these three had been serious. They’d come at him with clubs and bats. David hadn’t had to use his agitator, but it had been a near thing. He stared down at them, wondering how long he had before someone attacked him with a gun.
He left the thugs lying senseless in the alleyway and headed back to Pludes’s dance club. A few teens had watched the fight from the mouth of the alley, and they fell back in awe as David stalked past. He didn’t bother glaring at them. They were probably part of a gang, but they knew enough to keep away from him. He hoped they never attacked him. Beating up a bunch of kids didn’t appeal to him.
As he walked along, his com pad rang. He answered it with an impatient, “What now?” assuming it was Pludes.
“David?” came a soft, familiar voice.
He stiffened. “Brigid.” His voice sounded cold and stiff even to himself. “How did you get this number? Why are you calling me?”
“I’m sorry, David,” Brigid said, her voice weak. “I just heard what happened to you. Are you okay?”
He passed through a gateway, leaving the east side of Jigok, glaring at anyone who looked his way. “If you wanted me to be okay, you should have let me stay on Earth.” He griped the com pad tighter. “Do you know about a new gateway?”
She paused then said, “No.”
“Then why the fuck did you call me? You’ve already ruined my life! Unless you know how I can get home, leave me alone.” He hung up before she could say anything else. His strides lengthened, and people scattered before him. He soon reached the dance club and marched inside.
Pludes took one look at his face and stepped back. “Did you deliver the package?” he asked, voice neutral.
“Yeah,” David said, sticking his hands in his pockets. “It’s fine. Look, I’m in a bad mood right now. Do you have anyone you need beat up? Because I could use a good fight.”
Pludes pressed his fingers together and considered. He briefly consulted some of his notes. “Haun Puc recently took over a gateway to Angkor. We ship lots of goods through there, or we used to.” He drew David a map with clear, easy to follow directions. He knew David tended to get lost in Jigok. “I’m sure you could find a nice fight if you go there.”
David smiled. “Perfect.” He took the map and headed out, fingering his agitator. It took him an hour to find the gateway to Angkor, but he only made one wrong turn. The gateway stood off to the side of a large square that was surrounded by trucks and warehouses. David checked that his agitator was on stun and strolled out casually. “Hey!” he called to a group of men taking a smoke break. “You work for Haun Puc?”
“What’s it to you?” asked one of the men, who had to be at least twice David’s size. The man sitting beside him gaped at David then whispered urgently to the first man. “You’re kidding!” said the first.
“I work for Pludes Hato,” David said, smiling broadly. “He tells me this area used to belong to him. He wants it back, and I’m here to make that happen. I’m in a bad mood today, so if you don’t like pain I suggest you leave now.” He raised his agitator pointedly, flipping off the safety.
Three men on the edge of the group shared a cautious look before slinking away. The others stood, flexing their muscles and scowling at David. “I don’t care what you used to be,” said the big man. “Or what fancy weapons you have. We ain’t going nowhere.”
“I’m so glad you feel that way.” David shot the big man first. His eyes crossed, and he fell over in a gentle slump. David didn’t watch him hit the ground. He leapt into action, diving to the side and quickly shooting two other men. By the time the first man reached him, he’d already stunned five of them.
The closest man roared as he threw a punch at David’s head. David ducked, his hair blowing from the strength of the punch. He kicked the man behind the knee then punched him in the back of the head as he fell over.
The next two tried to sandwich him between them. David ducked and twisted aside, and they hit each other. He snapped off a few more shots then moved on to the next man. He grabbed his arm and flipped him over his shoulder. The last man was smart enough to try to run, but David shot him in the back before he got more than a few feet.
“Is that all?” he asked, looking around. His blood had only just begun to pump. There had been a few other workers scattered about the area, but he saw no sign of them. “Shitty fight.” He called Pludes. “Hi. I got you your gateway back. Can you find me a better fight?”
Pludes laughed. “Oh, David, you’re a gem. Why don’t you play bouncer for me at the night club tonight? It’s a weekend; all the kids will try to get in.”
He didn’t really want to stand around intimidating teenagers, but David grunted, “Sure,” anyway. He hung around the area until some of Pludes’s people showed up to take control. As he walked away, one of the men he’d beaten up stirred. David kicked him in the side, and the man rolled over, unconscious again. He grinned darkly at the sight, imagining Brigid in the same position. Part of him shuddered at that thought, but David had learned to ignore that part of himself. Brigid had cost him everything. It would serve her right to end up in traction.
*
Patos took a long gulp of coffee as he flipped to the next record. His eyes traveled down the piece of paper to the sentence, ignoring everything else. Twenty years hard labor for throwing stones at a Sword Priest during a protest in Jod. He couldn’t stop the groan even as he signed the bottom of the paper.
“Another bad one, Your Excellency?” Mine
rva asked, looking up from her com pad.
“Sometimes I don’t know why I bother,” Patos said, rubbing his eyes.
Minerva smiled sadly but didn’t say anything. She’d been his assistant now for almost a year and knew him well. She returned to her com pad, typing rapidly. Before the desolation, she’d have never been allowed to become his assistant. She wasn’t a Beloved Priest, wasn’t a priest of any sect. Now, all the sects were desperate for help, the Beloved most of all. Minerva was polite, efficient, intelligent, and the fastest typist Patos had ever seen. She was better than the Brother who’d been his assistant before her. He’d make her an honorary Sister if she’d wanted, but Minerva was perfectly content as an assistant and a layperson.
He flipped to the next report and nearly snapped his pen in two. Five years hard labor for yelling insults at Heart Priests. By Aeons, who didn’t like Heart Priests? Even still, five years was far too much. He didn’t sign his name at the bottom, putting it in the pile of rejected reports. It would make little difference. For a Law Priest’s sentence to be overruled, a Beloved Priest had to be present. Patos didn’t have enough priests to spare one for a retrial.
Less than one hundred priests were left in his order. As Beloved Cardinal, Patos shouldn’t have to spend most evenings going through Law reports. He only had three Bishop left, and they spent most nights in their office too. There was always too much work in Avon and not enough help.
It would have been easier if the Law Priests hadn’t chosen this time to give out heavier sentences to criminals. They could get carried away even before the desolation, but this was really too much. Their desire to keep to the letter of the law had passed dedication, paused briefly at obsessive, and now hovered at smug. An improper farce, in Patos’s opinion. A good Law Priest shouldn’t revel in sending down harsh sentences.
Patos had many an argument with Law Cardinal Yun Tong before she died. She’d believed that, with Aeons gone and the priesthood weakened, a higher standard should be upheld. Patos never managed to convince her otherwise. He’d only spoken once with her successor but already knew he’d have no better luck with Stee.
Just thinking of Stee Tonda made him clench his teeth and grip his pen till his knuckles hurt. Stee would be officially invested as Law Cardinal in the morning. Patos would have to be present at the ceremony. He glanced up at the clock and felt surprised to see 2:08 am. He should go to sleep soon. If he fell asleep during the ceremony, now only a few hours away, Stee would never forgive him. He was almost to the bottom of his stack though.
Patos looked down at the next report and couldn’t hold back a swear. “Bloody Yesterlords, what nonsense is this?” He tried not to swear. Bad enough coming from normal priests, it was shameful from a Cardinal. He couldn’t help his temper sometimes.
“Is something wrong, Your Excellency?” Minerva asked, standing.
“Yes!” he cried, waving the report and nearly knocking over his coffee. “This is wrong! This is a travesty of justice! How could the Law Priests let this go through!”
Minerva plucked the report from his fingers. “Keri and Kemi Fandrel of world 1247,” she read. “Found guilty of genocide, dealing with Nephilim, and smuggling weapons out of Kumarkan. Sentenced to Jahan.” She turned pale.
“And no Beloved Priests at their trial,” Patos added, breathing heavily and struggling to keep his anger under control. Sentencing people to years of hard labor was bad enough. A Law Priest who wished to give out a capital punishment, which included exile to Jahan, was required to have a Beloved Priest. “Who was the priest?”
“Steward Diket Varun,” Minerva read off. Patos nodded and pulled out a blank sheet of paper. He wrote quickly, holding the pen tightly. Minerva leaned over his desk. “A formal censure, Your Excellency?”
Patos angrily signed his name at the bottom, which added extra flourishes. “Law Steward Diket Varun should be grateful I don’t demand that he be immediately stripped of his position and gift. He’s a Steward. He should know the law better than anyone.”
“Then why only send out a formal censure?” Minerva asked. With a censure on his record, the steward would not be allowed to hold trials for a month. When he was allowed to return to duty, he would be observed by Beloved Priests for his first few trials and prevented from handing out capital punishments for the next year.
The anger left Patos in a rush. He put his pen down and handed the censure to Minerva so she could process it. “They’ve already been exiled,” he said softly. “No matter how we punish Steward Varun, that won’t change.” He quickly swallowed the rest of his coffee, wishing it was something stronger.
Minerva gripped the censure tightly, wrinkling it. “Shouldn’t you do more than a censure? Since he’s already destroyed two lives?” Patos scowled, and she jumped, her brown braids swinging around her face. “Forgive me, Your Excellency, for speaking so rudely.”
“No.” Patos shook his head. “I’m not angry at you. You’re right, I should do more than censure him, but I can’t.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. While nowhere near as reduced as the Beloved sect, the Law sect had also lost many of their priests since the desolation. Tong had allowed ungifted Brothers and Sisters to hear trials for minor offenses since they no longer had enough Vicars and higher. Even that might not have been enough to stop Patos from having Diket stripped of his rank, but later today he’d see Stee invested as the new Law Cardinal. He didn’t need an incident like this right now. An issue like that on his first day, and Stee would never forgive him. “This is all I can do.”
Patos closed his eyes as the reminder of his own impotence washed over him. He was the Beloved Cardinal, second most powerful person on Bantong. He should be able to protect people who needed him. But the Beloved sect wasn’t what it had once been. Since the desolation, their influence and power had waned by the day. Patos himself had become Cardinal at the beginning of the desolation when his predecessor was overcome with despair and resigned. Patos never blamed his predecessor – all Bantong had mourned when Aeons lost his Beloved, the Beloved Priests most of all.
He wondered sometimes how much longer the Beloved sect would exist. He had only ninety-three priests left in his order, with no new acolytes in over four months. Even if his order survived, the name would surely be changed. They’d once been called Mercy Priests. He supposed he should hope that his sect survived at all, but the thought of losing their name made him want to weep. The Immortal Beloved had been killed by Nephilim, Aeons had left them, and no hope remained. If Patos had to change the name of his sect back to Mercy, he didn’t know how he’d resist the desolation.
“I’ll get this processed right away,” Minerva said, returning with the censure to her desk.
“Thank you,” Patos said. He looked down at the report one more time, staring at the picture of Kemi and Keri Fandrel. They looked painfully young. He had to hope that they’d carved out some sort of life for themselves on Jahan. They had each other at least. He didn’t sign the report, putting it in the stack of rejects. His refusal would do Keri and Kemi little good but perhaps he could prevent their story from happening to anyone else. That had to be worth something.
He rubbed his temple. He really wanted to go to sleep, but he’d just drunk a cup of coffee. Might as well go through a few more reports until he collapsed. He flipped quickly through a few more, barely paying them any attention. He was mostly relieved to see minor crimes with minor punishments. He signed his name and moved on. Despite the coffee, his vision blurred, and his attention wandered.
When he reached the next report, he thought at first that he’d fallen asleep and was dreaming. Very slowly, he reached up and pinched his cheek. The picture on the top of the report didn’t change. “Minerva,” he said, his voice sounding strange to his own ears, “am I still awake?”
Minerva looked up, fingers poised above the screen of her com pad. “Yes, Your Excellency.” She glanced at the clock. “We should probably call it a night, though.”
Patos barely h
eard her. The picture with the report was grainy and poorly copied; it was probably just his imagination, plus a lack of sleep and too much coffee. He typed the name into his com pad, holding his breath. A picture of David Kemp appeared on his screen, clear and high resolution. Patos felt tears run down his face as he stared at features he’d memorized years ago, features he could never forget. The angle of the picture was different, but looked so close.
“Your Excellency?” Minerva said. Patos jerked, surprised to find her standing beside him. Immediately, his eyes returned to the picture. He didn’t think he could ever look away from that picture. “What’s wrong?”
“Wrong?” he echoed. His hands shook. “Nothing is wrong.” He had the com pad print two copies of all the information on David Kemp. He’d been a Sword Priest in the sixth traditional division until a month ago, when he’d been stripped of his title. His address was still listed as Valal; Patos doubted he could still be found in Valal, since he’d been exiled from Pardis. Maybe someone in Valal knew where he’d gone. He had to try. He grabbed the papers from the printer, including the picture from his official file. “I have to go now.”
Minerva followed him out of the office. “You’re finally going to bed?”
Patos laughed. “How could I possibly sleep at a time like this?”
“But Your Excellency, the ceremony for the new Law Cardinal—”
“I will be there,” Patos said, hurrying to the gateway floor. “I have more important things to do first. You can take off for the rest of the night.” He gave her a brilliant smile and stepped through the gateway to Castle Eternal. Whatever tiredness he’d felt before had vanished. How could he possibly sleep now, when he finally had hope again?
*
“What do you think?” Saikee asked. She handed him the device then hopped back in bed beside him.
David studied it for a moment, turning it around. “Looks like a remote control for a TV,” he said. It was around the same size, but it only had one button. The buttoned wasn’t labeled, but it was large and painted red. “Is that for power?”
