Beneath Ceaseless Skies #179
Page 5
The murmur rose again. Ieyeran’s right hand had curled into a fist.
“Courtesy to the petitioner,” the Speaker cautioned the chamber. “Permission granted, Aster.”
I played them the memory as I had seen it, slowed down. I pointed out the vanishing vase shards, how the altered memory showed Osera calling Tien by his sixth-name when he’d called her to me by her seventh.
“If the memory were truly hers, whole and unchanged, she would have called him by seventh-name,” I said. “However, if a shift in relationship had only just occurred, others would not yet know of it. Whoever altered the memory altered it according to the most recent name she had called him publicly.”
The murmurings had stopped; the entire chamber was now deathly silent. I had to keep myself from jumping when the Speaker cleared his throat.
“It is curious, to be sure,” he said, “but it is not conclusive. We do not even know if altering memories is possible. Your concerns are valid, Aster, but they are suspicions only.”
I looked up at Father, who had frozen in his seat. His hands—unconsciously, I thought—had formed Hope.
“If I may direct the Council’s attention to the end of the memory,” I said. I stopped it at the moment the hand took the fan from Osera’s belt. I did not look at Ward Chief Satia to see her reaction. This was the part of my discovery I had not shared with her.
“Previously, we saw this fan placed on the dressing table,” I said. “That is the part of the memory that has been altered. This part, I believe, is the original; it has not been tampered with because no one realized it was visible. It shows someone taking her fan from her belt. Her killer.” I looked straight at Ieyeran. “If you would turn your attention to the new Jieha heir, you will see the one he wears at his.”
Ieyeran darted out a hand to cover the fan, but it was too late. The entire chamber had turned to stare at him.
His father, seated next to him, had gone statue-still. His throat worked once as he swallowed, staring at Ieyeran, almost visibly pleading.
“Father,” Ieyeran said, reaching out a hand.
“Ieyeran?” The word cracked through the air like a whip; Ieyeran recoiled. First-name, the name of a near-stranger. Not a name used with family, ever, unless you meant to irrevocably cast them off.
“Attention,” the Speaker called. The guards at the far doors had moved to Ieyeran’s row, standing on either side of him.
“You have made quite the discovery, Aster,” the Speaker went on, as the representatives subsided. “I wonder, however, that you did not choose to share it with your Ward Chief.”
I closed my eyes for a moment, no more than the space of a breath, and took the other stone out of my pocket. A sound-capture stone, purchased from a Topaz-rank mage of a family linked to none of the parties involved. My final precaution.
“I did, Honored Speaker,” I said, and activated the spell.
* * *
After, Ward Chief Satia stared at me while the guards bound her hands, shock actually showing—if faintly—on her face.
“I thought we had an agreement,” she said, her tone chipped ice.
“I did not promise that,” I told her. Father had risen to his feet. He was speaking in quiet tones with the Jieha representative, who had not so much as looked in Ieyeran’s direction as he was taken away. Finding Tien, if it were still possible, would have to wait until the charges were formally overturned, which would take the support of everyone on the Council. Somehow, I didn’t think the Jieha representative would argue.
“The Quiet’s shame is on your head.” Her bound hands were free just enough for her to gesture Contempt. “You must possess an overabundance of family loyalty after all; it certainly can’t be due to any good opinion of your brother.”
“You’re right,” I said. “He is feckless. But he is not a murderer.” I gestured Devotion to Duty. “I swore an oath to set aside personal considerations. My opinion of my brother is irrelevant to the question of his guilt.”
“I hope you’re happy,” she spat. “The damage to this City’s peace may be irreparable.”
“Perhaps,” I said, adding Polite Disagreement. “But I believe that damage gone unseen is worse.”
From the way some of the guards avoided my eyes as they led her off, not everyone agreed.
* * *
Commissioner Nazarui looked up as I entered her office. I motioned Apology For Intrusion, even though she’d invited me in, and stood at attention. I’d never been called to meet with the Commissioner herself before. I’d never imagined I would be.
“You’ve caused quite a stir, Aster Jiae,” she said, using my first-name.
“I apologize,” I said, resisting the urge to shift my feet like a child.
“You should.” She replaced her pen in its inkwell, the snap of her wrist more akin to someone throwing a dart. “Six challenges to resolved cases have crossed my desk already this morning. The university mages have been clamoring to speak with the Carnelian-rank who altered the memory—they want to do further research, if you can believe that. And I have a formal order from the Council to examine whether anyone else in our ranks has been...unruly.”
I was silent.
“Are you prepared to bear responsibility for your actions?”
I looked up, meeting her eyes. If the loss of my position was the price I had to pay, then I would pay it.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good.” She stood up, setting an insignia on her desk. “The Quiet will need to put more effort into investigations from now on. Since it was your discovery that caused this, it seems fitting that you receive a caseload of your own.”
I stared down at the insignia in front of me: a small gold rose. A detective. She was making me a detective. My work would not be that of a respectable guard of the City but that of one who was obliged to trespass into others’ affairs.
“As you’ve proven yourself so adept at noticing memory incongruities,” she added, a trace of wryness in her voice. “Warranted or not, your actions have damaged the peace of this City. You can accept responsibility and dedicate yourself to repairing it, or you can leave the Quiet. Which is it?”
Her words were stern, but her hands were forming Respect for Task Accomplished. I tore my gaze away from the insignia and bowed my head. She was correct. This was my responsibility. If shouldering it would help safeguard the City, then I would do it.
“I accept,” I said, and picked up the rose.
You never do anything halfway, do you? Tien’s voice, rueful and amused, came to me as clearly as if he were standing in the room.
He was not, of course. There was nothing there but memory, the sort that can’t be captured in a stone.
Copyright © 2015 Kendra Leigh Speedling
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Kendra Leigh Speedling is a writer and copyeditor with a master’s in library science from City University London. Her fiction has appeared in Vitality Magazine and Penumbra and earned an honorable mention in the 2011 Dell Awards. She will soon be moving to Boston with her partner and their extremely large cat. Follow her Twitter, @KendraLS, for general musings, tales of tabletop gaming shenanigans, and the occasional burst of wit.
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COVER ART
“Kodran Migrant Fleet,” by Tyler Edlin
Tyler Edlin is a freelance illustrator and concept artist for the entertainment industry, creating epic fantasy and science fiction worlds. He gives back to the community providing regular classes and tutorials on such popular subjects as the fundamentals of character and environment design. View more of his work online at tyleredlinart.com.
Beneath Ceaseless Skies
ISSN: 1946-1076
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