Fractures

by C S Vass

  To her surprise he burst out into loud voracious laughter. “That’s good, Fiona. I’m glad you can still make light of the situation.” He rubbed his eyes theatrically and took a step towards her. “Who doesn’t like a good joke from time to time?”

  His expression changed as quickly as an arrow flies from its bow.

  Scowling he took a long knife from inside his tunic into his hand and eyed it.

  “Tell me,” he said. “Do you know why we call ourselves the Forgotten?”

  Fiona looked at him nervously. “I have a feeling I’m about to find out.”

  “Smart girl. We call ourselves the Forgotten because of the old dead Duke Redfire. Our founder was a close ally to him during the rebellion you know. One of the very first lords who supported Duke Redfire when he decided to revolt against the Empire. A man who was most instrumental in convincing the rest of court to support the Duke and launch the most impressive insurgency the world has ever seen.”

  “Is that a fact?” Fiona asked. “I can’t say they taught us much about that at Clearwater.”

  Brandon laughed darkly. “No, Fiona. They wouldn’t have. They like their history in this city to be as fresh and clean as spring water. All of the muddy bits are carefully run off into the sewers so the good little boys and girls of the Leaf District don’t have to suffer the foul taste.

  “Be that as it may, all those years ago our founder was among the first to support the Duke, and was therefore promised a great deal in terms of riches and status should the rebellion succeed. Well it did succeed, as we all well know. But when it came time to give the rewards, Duke Redfire had other ideas.”

  Brandon’s eyes had a faraway look as though he wasn’t really speaking to Fiona. “The old dead Duke, soon to be named the Duchyless Duke for his failure to keep his provincial holdings in the Lordless Lands, was convinced at the last moment by a ragged Laquathi cutthroat that our founder had behaved without honor, and that rather than reward him for serving the cause of revolution he should be cheated of what was promised, and expelled from Haygarden.”

  “A Laquathi cutthroat?” Fiona asked. “What are you talking about? Why would Duke Redfire care what a Laquathi would have to say? He never gave them much concern.”

  “This Laquathi was no ordinary man. In fact, for his snake-like whisperings into the Duke’s ear he himself received riches and honors beyond what anyone could reasonably expect.”

  Understanding dawned on Fiona as Brandon watched her with hungry eyes.

  “Geoff Hightower,” she said.

  “Geoff Hightower,” Brandon agreed. “So surprised are you? Don’t try to hide it Fiona, I know that you were close with the old fool at one point. But Hightower has many secrets, and most of them aren’t so flattering. He only ever served the Duke because his own city banished him years before the revolution.”

  “That can’t…” Fiona didn’t know what to say. Maybe it could be true. She knew little enough of Geoff Hightower’s mysterious past.

  “So forgive me, Fiona, if I’m a little suspicious of bargaining, especially when those bargains are made with people close to Hightower. I was willing to overlook it because you are an unusual case, but all the same it won’t do for you to mock our name of origin. We are the Forgotten because we have been forgotten, by your Duchyless Duke and by the rest of Haygarden as well. So we made our own place for ourselves.”

  “The Forgotten have been in Haygarden all this time,” Fiona said. “You’re only acting now that things have gotten chaotic. But why? What’s the purpose? How did you founder get you all to agree to work in the shadows?”

  Brandon walked over to the door and peered out as though someone might be listening. When he turned around his face was full of rage. “I call him our founder out of habit, but I would more rightly say father.”

  “Father?” Fiona gasped. “That can’t be right. There’s too many of you.”

  Brandon approached her, the knife still in his hand. His eyes were twinkling with admiration. “My father knew the value of oaths that were built on such feeble concepts as gold or honor. He knew that to truly be surrounded by those who would do anything for him, blood was what truly mattered. He had many, many children. Despite having many different mothers we are united in that common cause of blood from our patriarch.”

  Fiona had to swallow a lump in her throat and almost gaged on it. What Brandon was saying…it was insane. “Your father…he spent his life fathering an entire criminal organization so that one day he could take revenge on the Duke?”

  “Brilliant, isn’t it?” Brandon said with admiration. He gave her a cruel smile. “Who else can be trusted in this cold world besides family, Fiona?”

  She struck at his face with a closed fist. If it had connected she would have broken his jaw, but Brandon had anticipated her and in the tired state that she was in he was able to grapple her arms and placed his knife to the back of her neck.

  “That’s why I like working with you, Fiona,” Brandon sneered in her ear from behind her. He yanked her arm painfully upwards and she let out a cry of pain. “You don’t stab people in the back. You’re not smart enough to. You wear your heart like a broach on the front of your tunic for all the world to see. So even when you do something stupid like that, it’s easy to see it coming.”

  “Let me go!”

  He laughed, but to her surprise he also released her. “I’ll forgive you that this once, Fiona. Don’t provoke me again. I promise you, there’s more to the Forgotten than there are to any Tellosian agents, or those nimrods in the Vaentysh Boys.”

  As he mentioned the Vaentysh Boys Fiona had a terrible thought. “The Forgotten…you hate the Duke just as the Vaentysh Boys did. Were you helping them?”

  “Those imbeciles?” Brandon said. “No, Fiona. The Vaentysh Boys are far too dumb to be trusted with any real work. Like hungry dogs they leapt on the first opportunity that presented itself without thinking any of it through, and now they’re reduced to setting off rune-bombs and robbing caravans in the dessert. So don’t get any ideas about painting us with the same brush you do them. We are not the same.”

  Fiona eyed him suspiciously, unsure if she could believe him. The mention of the rune-bombs made her think of Aureno, and the thought made her chest feel heavy with sorrow.

  “They are in the city,” Brandon went on. “They have been, but we believe Rodrick has joined them. You don’t look surprised, so clearly you’ve found that out on your own by now. You should know Fiona that despite what I’ve said, the Forgotten do hold you in a higher esteem. We also hate the Vaentysh Boys, and that’s what we have in common.”

  “Why?” Fiona asked. “They have the same goals as you don’t they?”

  “In as far as seeing the old Duke dead, perhaps. But as an organization they’re essentially worthless, and now that they’re back in the shadows we find ourselves competing with them over control of underground markets more often than not. The Vaentysh Boys and the Forgotten cannot both exist in Haygarden. And therein lies the common goal you and I share.”

  “Very well,” Fiona said. “So we continue to work together. We—”

  “Unfortunately,” Brandon interrupted. “As I’m sure you can understand, because of our history we’re a little sensitive about working with deal-breakers.”

  “I haven’t broken any deals!” Fiona growled. “I’m doing my best to find out what Donyo is working on, but I need more time.”

  “It’s out of my hands, Fiona. This is bigger than me. My older sister requires a meeting with you.”

  “Older sister?”

  “Aiyana. She ranks above me, and she wants to speak with you.”

  Immediately upon hearing Aiyana’s name Fiona thought of Smiley. If she could meet Aiyana, if she could kill her, then perhaps she had an opportunity to be rid of the Tellosian agents once and for all. But could she do it?

  “Fine,” Fiona said. “Then let’s go.”

  “Not now. She’s attending to other matters. But w
hen the time is right I will come for you. Just try not to get yourself in any kind of trouble until then. Aiyana would just kill me if something happened to you.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Fiona turned over everything that had just happened with Brandon in her mind as soon as he left. She was grateful that she didn’t have to decide to assassinate Aiyana immediately, but the choice would still need to be made one way or another.

  Then there was the business about Geoff Hightower. Perhaps she should have pressed Brandon harder to find out who his father was and how Geoff had betrayed him, but Brandon had acted so unpredictably and with so much rage that she didn’t want to provoke him unnecessarily. She sighed. Perhaps it didn’t matter. She should focus on the task at hand.

  Fiona stared at the cracked wall of her living room. Its fragmented surface spiderwebbed in various shapes, making it look as if it were some ancient map that hadn’t been completely filled in. What should she do? She was having such a tough time making the decision, and she realized it was because she lacked information.

  There was only one thing to do, she realized. Martin Lightwing was Captain of the Guard, and if anybody had any information on Aiyana and the Forgotten it would be him.

  Within five minutes she was outside and walking down the road. It was late afternoon, and the streets were lined with snow. Ten more minutes later she was at his front door knocking.

  When nobody answered Fiona let herself inside. Martin and Donyo were seated at a table playing cards.

  “Drunk again,” she scoffed. “The both of you.”

  “Nice to see you to,” Martin said without looking up.

  “Come join” Donyo said in a slurred voice. “We were just discussing plans to leave.”

  “Leave?” Fiona asked. “Leave what?”

  Martin scowled at Donyo, but the Master Architect simply shrugged. Scratching his chin he said, “Leave Haygarden. What else is there for me to do here, other than drink myself dead or wait for one of the many warring factions to come slit my throat in my sleep.”

  “And you?” Fiona asked to Martin. “What about the city guard?”

  “Fuck the city guard,” Martin said, still without looking at her. “And fuck Haygarden too. This city is shit.” She opened her mouth to say something but realized there was nothing she could say. How could she possibly tell them not to leave after she had just been gone for two years.

  “I resigned. I’m done.”

  Fiona looked at him uncertainly. Perhaps Martin had changed more than anyone else. It was a sad thought, but maybe he was right. What had Haygarden done to earn Martin’s loyalty?

  “Why?” Fiona asked.

  “I’m tired.” She waited for him to elaborate, but Martin said nothing else. There was a glossy look in his eyes.

  “Sit,” Donyo said.

  Begrudgingly she pulled up next to them. Donyo smiled broadly at her. “We said if I won five games in a row then the Captain here has to hop on a horse in naught but his boots and ride around the block.” He grinned and placed his cards on the table.

  “Shit!” Martin swore.

  “That makes four,” Donyo laughed. “Don’t be mad, lad. Some nice young lady might see your pride and glory and think to take you out of the cold.”

  “I’m not doing it,” Martin said, his face furiously red.

  Donyo shrugged. “It’s bad luck to break a deal.”

  Fiona rolled her eyes. “And where exactly are the two of you going to go? I doubt you’d make it to the city gates before passing out drunk at the rate that your going.”

  “Don’t be a prude,” Donyo complained, and he shoved a cup towards her. She sniffed at it. The smell was strong and sour.

  “Fine,” she said as she took a swig. “But you still haven’t answered my question.”

  Donyo shuffled the deck. “Maybe if Martin here proves his worth on his horse-ride we can make some money off him in the Lordless Lands.”

  Martin blushed more brightly than ever. “Just deal the damn cards, Donyo. You’re not going to win again.” Donyo grinned widely and obliged.

  While Fiona watched them drinking and playing she suddenly had a thought. She needed information from each of them, and they were both right there alone with her and drinking quite heavily. She felt a small pang of guilt, especially at the thought of betraying Donyo. But it didn’t really matter if he was going to leave Haygarden, did it? Plus having the information wouldn’t necessarily mean that she had to give it away to anyone. It was just a way of being prepared, really.

  “Drink up!” she exclaimed as she raised her cup. “If I’m going to have to see Martin’s junk then I’m going to need a little help.”

  Martin shot her a dirty look but held his silence. They raised their cups and the next round of the game began.

  “So are you two really going to leave?” Fiona asked. “Or is that all just what you say when you’ve a drink in your hand?”

  “I can’t imagine why I would stay,” Donyo said. He placed down two cards and shot Martin a triumphant look.

  “What about Hightower? Will you wait for him?”

  “Perhaps,” Donyo said. “But he can’t do anything to help me. We’re on our own as far as I can tell. He’ll be busy enough as it is. Not to mention there’s no telling when he actually will come back. No, I think it’s better we get out.”

  “Well, surely this is the time to tell some old war stories then, isn’t it? Fiona grinned. “Martin, as Captain of the Guard you must have had some skirmishes over the last two years. With the Forgotten, perhaps?”

  “There’s blood in the streets every damn night,” Martin complained. “The city guard is only allowed to react, but we can never get to the root of the problem. Most of my superiors are paid off, and there’s naught to be done about that.”

  “What of their leadership? I’ve heard the name Aiyana a couple of times. Can you tell me anything about her?”

  “Shit,” Martin mumbled as soon as he put down a card. “Can I pick that back up?”

  Donyo smirked. “You know the rules. Fiona, get the saddle ready, would you?”

  “Aiyana. Why would you want to know about her?” Martin eyed her suspiciously. “I’m not dumb you know. You can be straight-forward Fiona. Whatever deal you’ve made with the Forgotten is nothing to me. But if you’re in bad with Aiyana then you’re already dead, and there’s nothing that I can do to help.”

  His coldness at the matter wounded her. “What makes you say that?”

  “She’s a ruthless killer. She owns the underground, and is unforgiving in her leadership of the Forgotten.”

  “Fiona,” Donyo said with a paternal drawl. “Do you need to tell us something?”

  “Everything is fine,” Fiona said quickly.

  “If your brother was in the city then I would have heard something,” Martin said bluntly. “Listen, I don’t care what you’re doing Fiona. But here’s some friendly advice. There’s nothing here for you. Rodrick is gone. That is, unless you’ve learned something that you’re not telling us.”

  They met each other’s eyes. Fiona saw so much pain behind them. Martin Lightwing had had a difficult two years. She felt another stab of guilt. It seemed every day she had another reason to hate what Rodrick had turned them all into.

  “That’s game!” Donyo yelled triumphantly, slapping his final card onto the table. He rose abruptly, sloshing his drink down the front of his shirt. “Come on. I’ll get the horse.”

  “Eat shit.” Martin said.

  “The honorable Captain of the Guard going back on a deal? I never would have thought it of you Martin.”

  “I don’t care what simple thoughts float through your fat head. I’m not getting on the horse. It’s freezing outside.”

  “Should have thought of that when the wager was made.”

  “I said no.”

  “It won’t be so bad. I said you can wear your boots so you won’t be completely—”

  Martin picked up a jug full of
ale and smashed it against the wall, causing it to shatter into a thousand frothy shards. “Do you understand no?” Their were veins bulging from his neck and a furious rage in his eyes.

  Fiona and Donyo glanced at each other, unsettled by how quickly the atmosphere in the room had changed.

  “Fine, fine,” Donyo said with his hands in the air. “You really need to learn how to take a jest though.”

  Martin was huffing furiously. Fiona bent down to pick up some of the pieces in order to give herself something to do.

  “Leave that,” Martin snapped at her. “We’re leaving here soon anyway. It doesn’t matter. Let the next person to settle into this rat’s nest worry about it.”

  Donyo produced another jug from a back room. “Truce?” he asked, filling Martin’s cup. Martin sighed, and accepted it.

  The afternoon faded with the three of them discussing things of little importance. There was a heaviness in the room, but it seemed that nobody quite wanted to acknowledge it. Several times she tried to find a way to ask Donyo if he had been working on anything important recently, but each time the moment wasn’t quite right.

  When evening turned to night Fiona found herself sitting frustrated in a room with two sleeping men who she was fairly certain had just wasted an entire day for her. Tired, she stood to leave when she found herself at the front door face to face with Sasha Rains.

  * * *

  “Sasha…” It was the last thing Fiona anticipated. She found herself unexpectedly embarrassed. “You’re here for Martin or Donyo I take it?”

  “Actually I came here hoping to find you.”

  “Well, here I am.” Fiona blushed when she realized she was playing with a strand of her own hair. She couldn’t even remember the last time she had caught herself doing that.

  “Fiona we need to talk about the way we left things.”

  She was sure she would have responded more quickly but spending the afternoon with those two damn drunks had had its consequences. She found herself wanting very much to evaporate on the spot.