“Is that all of the name?”
“Dr. Caulie Alexandrian,” she clarified.
He gave her a shallow bow. “Acquaintance.”
She had, perforce, to curtsey in return. “Acquaintance.”
“So that’s done,” Shanter mused aloud. “How shall I get this Haphan moving back to HQ?”
Should I follow him? This wasn’t Fearan but some other man, unvetted and unknown.
In the entertainments, the heroic Haphans always complained about their Tachba sidekicks. It was a constant plot device: they died too frequently and the unreliability was a royal pain. If the video dramas could be trusted, the same thing had happened here. Fearan had died and Shanter was her new helpie. Perfectly commonplace. Caulie would be a worldly frontline scientist if she accepted this without qualm.
“Okay,” she finally said, but Shanter was no longer in front of her. He was back at the panther, investigating how its legs attached to the torso.
“Looks like a noisy machine,” he commented.
“You have no idea.” When he didn’t reply, she added, “Shall we go, then?”
He stepped around her and took the lead, showing her the easiest path through the scattered rocks. “You look cold, if I may impose a thought-meh.”
“Why yes, I am incredibly cold.”
“Let’s stab that eye first, then,” he said, which she hoped was a euphemism. He detoured off their course and paused at a lump between the rocks. The lump looked to Caulie like mud or earth of a slightly different color. It was not that.
Shanter grasped what turned out to be the collar of a jacket and lifted. A whole corpse rose off the ground.
Caulie instinctively took a step back. She cracked her heel against the boulder behind and nearly fell.
She was no stranger to bodies, not in her line of work. It was just that her bodies were polite lab bodies that stayed where they were meant to be. This body seemed too cast-off and unwilling compared to the ones she was used to. It wasn’t a research opportunity, it was just a dead human male . . . and Shanter was harvesting it as if he was picking berries from a bush.
He had its coat unbuttoned in a moment. The corpse was fresh enough to be soft, and its arms slid smoothly out of the sleeves. Shanter gave the coat a shake, releasing a cloud of dust.
“Actually rather nice, this,” he said. He held it out to her.
He can’t be serious.
When she didn’t take it, he smiled.
“Of course, forgive me, Caulie. Not a natural helpie. New to it.”
She filled with anxiety as he stepped behind her and slid the coat up her arm. He caught her other hand and guided it in, then lifted it onto her shoulders. It was heavy and it draped to her knees. At first she was too shocked to object, but, actually, it was quite warm . . .
Shanter continued to ignore prescribed distance, which was the law that kept Tachba from touching Haphans. He turned her like a child and closed the buttons up her front. She had nowhere to look but his face. His brow furrowed while he worked, then cleared.
“There,” he said, and patted her shoulders. “This is how you wear this garment, Caulie. On the eternal front, we call it a ‘coat.’ It will become one of your closest friends.”
Caulie’s mind, which had gone blank as he wrapped her in the corpse’s clothes, started spinning again. Maybe his assumption was understandable—after all, he’d found her in the Ed-homse mountains wearing sandals, shorts, and a smelly, wrinkled blouse.
When she glanced down at herself, her mind stopped again. She looked dumpy and dirty in the coat but, worse, she had a wet patch of blood on her chest and a gaping knife hole right where the Tachba’s heart would have been. On her, the hole was closer to her stomach.
She didn’t have to touch the blood to know it was fresh.
“Must keep moving or the toes will freeze off next. There’s a whole checklist for dying of exposure.” Shanter turned her toward the path and walked her forward. He guided her with his hand on her shoulder.
Caulie obeyed woodenly. She would have normally found the physical contact helpful, after a preliminary hour or so of nervousness, because the footing was treacherous and their path didn’t really exist as such. However, Shanter’s guidance wasn’t reassuring. It felt almost threatening—and not the kind of threatening she could do something about by speaking it out loud. It was more the kind of threat she had to overlook as long as possible, because acknowledgment would force the next thing to happen. She hoped she was not being overly suspicious—then she hoped she was. She hoped this was all perfectly innocent, and she was overreacting because she didn’t know better. Someone pulls a blood-soaked coat off a fresh stabbing victim, she mused, and my imagination starts to run wild.
“Shanter, can I ask you something?”
“Of course! I’ll pretend you already asked. Except, I don’t think I was listening closely enough, because I didn’t hear.”
“Yes. Right. Who was that man, and how did he die?”
“Didn’t I already say?” Shanter wondered. “Maybe I only thought it in my head. Fearan got underfoot, I said, or I thought I said. Got under my foot I mean, and we had a disagreement. Tempers got the best of us, I’m sorry to relate. Pollution on us all! I killed him and gave the world an extra coat.”
Yes, it was precisely what she thought it was.
“Am I speaking aloud right now?” he asked.
“Yes.” Caulie wished she was back in the panther. She was sad to have left Falling Mountain, to have left her lab at all. She forced herself to be calm, to not panic, even though a mentally ill murderer had his hand resting on her shoulder—which was itself a law being broken, if anybody was interested. She concentrated on not tripping or otherwise making any unexpected movements.
They walked in silence. Occasionally, one of Shanter’s thoughts would bubble to the surface.
“She doesn’t talk much for a Haphan, such a relief,” he said. Her distraction caused her to stumble on a sliding rock, and he nearly lost his own footing as he stepped around her.
He added, “Though she’s a little underfoot.”
Chapter 9
Shanter led Caulie out of the sacred grove and onto a cleared roadway edged with rocks. It was the floor of a ravine, with steep high walls on both sides, and had been graded to make travel easier. Shanter’s hand finally left her shoulder.
A funnel of wind chewed at Caulie’s bare legs. Finally, the passage opened out onto a broad clearing. Caulie looked up. They were in a deep natural shelf on the side of the mountain, its open edge presenting a commanding view of a narrow, gorge-like valley filled with roiling fog and the mountains on the far side.
“Which that’s the trench line,” Shanter said when he noticed her interest, “down at the foot of the mountains. A bit murky at the moment, la, but the sun will burn off the haze soon and let them get to work.”
The eternal front! Caulie stopped, craning her neck. This was the battlefield that crossed the entire continent, more than a thousand miles of trenches full of suffering and death, and all to keep the colony safe from the wild Southern Tachba. She had never pictured it like this, as a chasm between two lines of mountains, but it stood to reason. In mountainous Ed-homse, the trenches would obviously wind through the mountains.
Her glimpse of the front was frustratingly brief and vague, with haze obscuring most details. Just as Shanter drew her back, the fog flared for a moment with a silent explosion. It filled the chasm with flickering light, and Caulie imagined looking down on a lightning storm. After the explosion, a roll of thunder rose up from the earth. Caulie shuddered.
Shanter led her to a flimsy canvas structure with sandbag walls. A wooden sign with “HQ” stenciled upon it stood by the main door. Caulie felt a touch of relief—she had survived all the dangers of the front and would soon be back among Haphans again. This man, Shanter, had done what he was supposed to do after all.
The Tachba guard at the door stopped them. “You, boy. Tachba aren�
�t allowed inside unless they’re accompanied by officers.”
Caulie glanced at Shanter to see how he would receive this, and he received it well. His gaze danced past the guard and into the interior of the building; then it seemed captured by the canvas walls that rattled in the wind. If you had enough fallbacks for your short attention span, you could be well nigh unflappable, Caulie decided. She stepped forward by herself.
The guard shifted in a blink and loomed in front of her. “Which part of you didn’t hear, ye scrag?”
“Wait,” she said. “You mean me? But he’s a Tachba too! I mean, he’s Tachba and I am Haphan.”
The soldier studied her at length, and a shudder twitched through his body. “Apologies, sir.” He stepped aside, turning to hide his hand, which had started to tremble. “I did not look closely enough, if you please.”
Shanter followed close on Caulie’s heels, presumably unchallenged because he was in her company.
Caulie found the building no warmer than outside. Wind flapped through the untethered edges of the canvas and whipped around the sandbags. For such a large and loosely constructed building, it still managed to be dim inside. Haphans and Tachba officers huddled in groups, or leaned over tables bearing paper maps weighted down with stones.
Caulie had no idea where to begin, who to speak to, or even what to say when she cornered someone. Luckily, Shanter needed only a few seconds to grow terminally bored.
“I found this woman,” he shouted into the buzzing activity. “She was wandering around the top-secret grove, dressed in hardly anything and likely to freeze to death! Except luckily I killed her helpie, Fearan, and gave her his coat.”
Every Tachba in the room turned to them, attention captured. The Haphan weren’t so easy to distract. Only a few glanced over.
Shanter ushered Caulie farther into HQ, and she went unwillingly until she saw the glowing brazier in the middle of the space. Then she forged her own path. The heat washed over her like the world’s most expensive whiskey, and she luxuriated so closely that the flame singed the arms of her coat.
“She rode in on this astonishing four-legged vehicle,” Shanter continued, in his loudest outdoor voice. “Probably a closely guarded imperial secret itself! Who knew the Haphans still had such contrivances working behind the scenes?”
“That’s quite enough, boot.” One of the Haphans, a slim older woman, broke away from her cluster of officers and strode over. “You’ll kindly stop shouting about imperial secrets.”
“Apologies, ma’am,” Shanter said, waving a loose salute. “I didn’t mean to make you hurry over to us, not my intention at all.”
The Haphan officer shot him a dour look. Caulie could see by her medals and insignia that she was a full general. A high general, in fact, a flag officer. The mountain flower medal at her throat, with the ring of diamonds in the middle, marked her as a personal appointee of the local empress herself.
“Ma’am,” Caulie said nervously. She had gone from receiving no attention to too much attention, and much too quickly. She almost attempted a salute, but caught herself. “My name is—”
The general didn’t look at her. “So Fearan left service, you say, boot?”
“I regret to report it, ma’am. Met with an accident with a knife. Or shall I say, a series of accidents with the same knife. It boils down to a kind of accident with a progression to it—”
“Don’t start.” The general waved him to silence, then jerked her head at Caulie. “This woman is your problem now, boot. You are tasked as her helpie until she returns to the capitol. You don’t belong to anyone, do you?”
“You’re saying you don’t even know this man?” Caulie blurted, and blushed when the general turned to her. “I’m sorry to be so direct. I only mean to ask, general, what kind of lazy operation are you running? Why are random Tachba stabbing each other and then meeting me? Do you have any idea why I’m here?”
The general’s tone turned cold. “Miss, you may have an inflated opinion of your importance.”
“That was a serious question,” Caulie said. “Do you have any idea why I’m here? Because I certainly don’t. If anything, my opinion regarding my importance is completely deflated.”
The general watched in silence for a long moment. Caulie tried not to cringe. “Well, that’s just perfect,” the woman finally said. “Standard procedure, I see. Another teetering pile of incompetence. You are completely unprepared for your task.”
“As are you, apparently,” Caulie said. She was glad they had so quickly arrived at an understanding, though she wasn’t sure why the general’s demeanor seemed to turn colder every time she spoke. “Do you even know this man’s name? He met me at the grove.”
The general didn’t glance at him. “He’s a helpie.”
“And you haven’t seen him before today?” Caulie pressed.
“That’s not how it works down here. You never see helpies ‘before today.’ Fearan was with us for two weeks and he was a veritable institution.” The general turned to Shanter. “You, boot. Tell me: do you have a name?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She swiveled back to Caulie. “I hope you are now satisfied.”
She stalked back to her group of officers at the table.
Caulie was astonished. She glanced around the HQ. Every face turned discreetly turned away.
“Sticklers for security as you can see,” Shanter said cheerfully. “Don’t worry, I won’t let you out of my sight, Caulie. I’ve always wanted to work on the inside.”
“You know,” she told him, “that is exactly what a spy would say in this situation. Maybe not the best of spies, but still.”
“A spy!” He seemed surprised, even pleased. “Yes, I’ve heard of spies. That would be quite a lot to keep straight in the head, wouldn’t it? Rule of thumb for the eternal front, Caulie: if you see a Tachba, he’s on your side. The Tachba you don’t see, those are the guaranteed enemy, and watch them closely. There is not much mixing back-and-forth, not in the polite sense. The concept of spying don’t fly here.”
But Caulie was too annoyed to parse through all of that. “Spy, spy, spy, that’s all I hear. Stuff a spy would say. I’m sorry if this is offensive—I don’t really know what to worry about yet.”
Shanter’s sharp gray eyes touched hers briefly. “No, Caulie. It’s flattering to be considered so deceitful. Not the usual feedback.”
“Yes, well . . .” She sighed, glancing around again. The general had dismissed Caulie from existence, apparently, and no one else seemed keen to leap forward to fill the gap. This is worse than the panther, even. Certainly not what I expected in a war zone.
Her irritation flared. In normal day-to-day life at the university, she would retreat to some quiet corner until it passed, because her temper rarely improved the misunderstandings that dogged her every conversation. This time, before her doubts could undercut her, she strode to the general’s table and broke into their conversation. “If you please.”
Every Haphan turned to her.
“I’m sorry to interrupt your important whispering,” Caulie said, keeping her voice level, “but we seem to have left manners behind today. You will kindly find someone who knows what is going on, if that is in your range of ability, and tell them to produce answers for me. Otherwise I’ll consider my assignment completed and return to the capitol.”
To her chagrin, the general merely smiled. “You’re an idiot if you haven’t already figured it out,” the woman said. “A moment of observation would give you every answer you need.”
Caulie did not let herself become distracted. “Where am I quartered? Where can I find food? Where is the dead battalion?”
“Exactly,” the general replied.
“A woman wonders what the general means by that.”
“Add it to your other questions, Dr. Alexandrian. All of you civilians seem to think we’re organized down here on the line. Have you not met today’s helpie and received an inkling of the shitshow we’re running?
It’s a short walk from the sacred grove, but it’s long enough for most people to grasp that they’re walking into a madhouse.”
“We Tacchies are a disruptive influence,” Shanter said. He was at her shoulder again.
“That’s putting it mildly,” the general said. “Imagine trying to carry a bucket of eels, but without the bucket, and the eels can share their thoughts with you. Our Tacchies spend more time killing each other than the enemy. Do you really believe we’re organized enough to answer questions like where you’re quartered?”
“I’m supposed to put it all together myself?” Caulie snapped. Then it hit her. “I’m supposed to put it all together myself.”
“If you’re a proper little overlord, you’ll rule by fiat. Say what you want, take what you need, and get yourself out of Ed-homse as fast as you damn well can. I’d follow you out if I could. Light would bend in my wake as I pelted back to civilization.”
As solutions went, it was astonishingly uncomplicated: just do things. How far had the eternal front fallen out of the Haphan Empire if everybody was running around simply getting things done?
“What about rules?” Caulie said slowly. “I’m not certain I can work like this.”
“You’ll succeed or you’ll fail,” the general agreed. “A tired old woman hopes we’re done here?”
“We certainly are not!” Caulie snapped, before wincing. “Sorry general, that was my first overlord thing. Please let me ask, where are the bodies of the dead battalion? At least point me up or down the mountain.”
“I assume they’re right where they’ve fallen. They’re no secret. Your helpie can lead you there, but you may want to change clothes—which you will do by telling him what you want. Just don’t tell me.”
Was that more deflection? Why did everybody keep telling her things she hadn’t asked? “Their bodies, general. I was told they are dead without visible wounds.”
“You were told correctly.” The general’s voice slowed, as if she was confused by Caulie’s interest.
“Do you, at least, know how long it took them to die? Was it immediate, or did they slow down and collapse?”
What the Thunder Said Page 7
