“No.”
“Yes, she calls it, it turns to her, la, but she isn’t afraid in the slightest. She waves to one of the men on the wall and he falls immediately in love with her! Whiff of magic there, you ask me. The bird bear approaches her and she leads it into the trees.”
“That’s not magic,” came Prodon’s voice. “The bird bear was obviously her pet.”
“Which that would be magic too, idiot,” said Grampharic.
“This is witnessed and acclaimed by all who were present,” said the mail carrier. “Curse our Pollution, but who could even imagine something so odd?”
“You said the girl killed it. Did the family witness the fight?”
Caulie had wondered this herself. She put aside the mortifying details of the story—cleavage, magic, young men falling in love—and pressed her ear more firmly against the door.
“No witnesses,” the mail carrier said. “The family cannot see through the trees but they hear everything. The bird bear charges and its builder-birds squawk all at once. The sorceress goads the animal—she screams as if she’s in terror. Then another brain bird starts singing, and it is the stuff of nightmares! The brain bird’s song changes and then the magic is fully apparent: she has turned the brain bird inside out. The animal’s song flips over and runs upside down.”
“Cut my throat!”
“The family Phelaphalemsa hear it all from the walls. The part with the poor brain bird is the most terrifying, you ask me, because what kind of magic turns an animal inside out? The Phelaphalemsa men nearly wish the bird bear back upon themselves. But then the unnatural birdsong fades. Silence in the forest for just a moment. Then the girl laughs, and the Phelaphalemsa men piss themselves with fear. The sky above the trees fills with birds and the flock flies away.”
There was finally silence in the kitchen. The mail carrier, sounding gratified, finished his report. “The Phelaphalemsa men master their fears. They race into the forest to help the girl, but she is gone. Was she was sent by the ancestors through the fire? No. They find no fire or charring, just a brain bird smeared across the forest floor and some enormous footprints. They believe the young maid used more magic to change herself into a rock golem and walk away.”
Caulie’s door swung open in front of her face and she scrambled back. Shanter stared down at her, frowning.
“The rock golem is a complete fabrication,” she said.
He closed the door behind him and—of course he would—picked her up and set her on her feet. Caulie noted that the stiffness in his neck seemed to vanish whenever he wasn’t trying to capture her attention.
“You must leave this house, Caulie.”
Her heart clutched. She forced herself to meet his eyes. “I’ll—I’ll leave if you tell me.”
“I just told you.” He tore open the cabinet next to the door with a violence that seemed personal and pawed through the clothes inside. “Do you think we’re all stupid, Caulie? They’ll put it together in a minute, if they haven’t already. The strange woman, the metal monster in the forest, all of it. They already think you’re odd for a Haphan because nothing seemed to frighten you last night at dinner.”
“Because you said I wasn’t in danger.”
“Of course you were in danger, Caulie, I was just trying to be nice!” He shook a garment and held it up—her favorite bloodstained coat. “Why is everything folded like this? What’s wrong with you women?”
“Are you angry at me, Shanter?”
He hesitated, tremors playing over his body. “No. Never. I am angry at myself.”
He threaded her into the coat. Next were several pairs of men’s pants, three pairs of knitted socks, and then boots that only fit because of all the socks.
“I’ve graduated to trench boots?”
He wound the cloth straps up over her calves. “The straps keep your boots on your feet when you sink into mud and try to pull them out. It’s a trick from farming, but we have some mud on the eternal front too, so we use them there.” He glowered at her. “Is that explained to your satisfaction?”
She nodded.
“So you’ll stop staring at my boots all the time?”
She nodded again. “But Shanter, can I say good-bye to Maggey? To Uncle Goldros? To your mother?”
“You cannot.” He rocked back on his heels. “You must not be seen again. The man from the mail certainly can’t see your face. Do you understand what I’ve done? You are surrounded by death and destruction; when you’re not chasing it, it’s seeking you out. I didn’t mind that at first, but now the story will spread about the sorceress in the forest, the lucky Phelaphalemsa family, and the Goldros family who gave the sorceress a bed. You have to hide from other Haphans and you’re a Haphan yourself. What do you think they’ll do to one isolated Tachba household when they find out?”
She stared at him. “I’m sorry, Shanter. I wasn’t thinking.”
“Don’t grab my blame,” he said. “I was the one who brought you here. Now cover your face and we’ll—”
Her computer tablet chimed.
They hesitated, eyes meeting. It wasn’t Jephia’s specific chime, which even Shanter knew by now.
Caulie was afraid to look at it. “Should I answer?”
“At this point,” he said, “that could be the eternal front calling for our blood, and I’d say answer it. Every tomb is better with a candle. I’ll tell Grampharic to get the squad ready for another mountain hike.”
As he stepped back through the door, Caulie lifted the tablet and read the screen. The caller ID read: Lieutenant Luscetian.
Chapter 33
“Hello at last, Dr. Alexandrian, you’re looking . . .” Lieutenant Luscetian frowned up at her from the screen. “What happened to you?”
He might have meant her Tachba peasant garb, her stained jacket, the forager cap, or all of it together. Her clothes, along with the new lines of strain she’d noticed on her face, were the most visible differences, but there were even greater differences below the surface.
She said, simply, “The eternal front.”
“Yes. Well. It impacts everyone in different ways. Have you been working on your assignment?”
“No,” Caulie said. “I mean, yes, I have. But I also mean, no you can’t do that. You can’t pretend you don’t owe me an explanation. You were disappeared by the secret police.”
“Ah?” He seemed embarrassed. “Who told you that?”
“Jephia told me,” Caulie said. Luscetian hesitated just long enough for her thoughts to turn sour—Had Jephia lied?
“She didn’t lie,” he said, smirking. “But I hope you took my warning to heart. Everything that passes her lips should be confirmed by other sources. Doesn’t matter if you like her or need her, these aristocrats can’t help double-dealing. They’ll betray you without even knowing they’re doing it. At least the secret police are aware they are monsters.”
“I’m guessing this is a secure connection.”
Luscetian’s smirk turned bitter. “Not at all. I’m merely beyond giving a fuck.”
If he’d expected to shock Caulie, he was disappointed. She had no reply and no desire to construct one. She was about to conduct another midnight escape into more freezing mountains, and she had no patience for . . . for froufrou conversational gambits from Falling Mountain.
When he realized she wasn’t going to answer, he sighed again. “I apologize. I’ve had an adventure and I shouldn’t take it out on you. Yes, the secret police detained me. Yes, I was questioned. Rigorously questioned. Yes, I have been set free again. And yes, you are on a legitimate assignment for Military Intelligence—I heard about that nonsense with the warrant for your arrest.”
“Your records were removed, Luscetian. That’s a disappearance, not a detention. So if you were disappeared, how are you still able to call me?”
“To be blunt,” he said, “my status changed because you keep failing at your assignment. Since your fiasco with the Forty-First Field Artillery, our situation
in the trenches has only worsened. When you disappeared four days ago, the Gray House security service realized it was in trouble. They ordered the panther to share your location, and when it refused, they needed someone who could convince the panther to cooperate. They wanted my override codes. They permitted me to call my superiors, who pulled strings, and then the Tawarna family got me released.”
“So everybody knows where I am?”
“No, I told the panther to lie. The Gray House is having a collective aneurism because Front East is collapsing and it’s their fault. You are the empire’s only expert and you were present on the scene—and now they’ve been caught red-handed trying to arrest you, the one person who might preserve the eternal front. You wouldn’t believe the fireworks. Jephesandra is having a field day, running all over Falling Mountain and drinking cocktails. She’s friends with the local empress again. Jephesandra’s father, the general, wrangled a promotion to sector command. He’s now commanding the trenches in Sessera province near the capitol. It’s the most critical post on the entire front.”
“I’m sorry, Luscetian,” Caulie said, shaking her head. “I can’t tell whether I’m supposed to be happy or sad for all of you.”
“I suppose it doesn’t matter either way. It doesn’t matter that the Gray House has lost face. It doesn’t matter if the Tawarnas are winning or losing their influence games. The only thing that matters is the eternal front. When the front falls, Caulie, we all die, and Haphan civilization is wiped from Grigory IV. This is how it all ends. We’re about to join every other colony that was killed on this sorry world.”
“In that case, you should get to the point.”
“You have changed, Caulie.” He regarded her, his face sad. “I’ll be brief, then. The Ed-homse front is bleeding us dry, specifically the valley of that dead battalion. We can’t leave those trenches empty, but every unit we send in there is either killed en masse only hours later or they desert out of fear. The Tacchies think the trench is haunted, and no sane Haphan officer wants the assignment. We’re getting close to a mutiny. If HQ can’t keep bodies in those trenches, the South will break through. Our problem is that the bodies keep running away or turning into corpses.”
“He’s getting faster,” Caulie murmured.
“I’ve been asked by everybody with a shred wisdom to beg you to return to the trenches. Your artillery gambit was the closest we’ve had to a success. So you destroyed the unit—well, water under the bridge. Please tell me you know what to do. Please tell me you can fight what the South is doing.”
Caulie bit her lip, thinking hard. Luscetian watched, and for a moment something pierced his exterior. He was frightened. He was as frightened as she was.
“I know what to do,” she said. “I can fix this.”
Did I really just say that? Out loud?
Luscetian didn’t seem relieved. “I hope you’re right, Caulie. What can I do to help you?”
“Since this whole thing began, you’re the first person to ask that question.”
“For future reference, all it takes is the potential collapse of Haphan civilization on Grigory IV. So what do you need?”
“I need the military to listen to me and to do what I say.”
“Of course.”
“I need my helpie exonerated for whatever he did to get hanged. I need his family absolved of wrongdoing too, if they turn up on any reports. Not that I’m hiding with his family.”
“You’re wasting time on some Tacchies when—”
“I want it done, Luscetian.”
His head bobbed. “Then it will be done.”
“I want the panther to obey my orders. All of my orders without fail. It’s been behaving atrociously.”
“That was my fault,” he said. “I kept the panther under my control and made it watch you as insurance. Which worked: it got me out of the Gray House cellar. I’ll give you full authority now. The panther will obey all of your orders until it considers the front safe again.”
That sounded suspicious to Caulie, but she was ready for it. “My last demand, Luscetian, is that you answer my next question honestly and transparently, without trying to confuse me.”
His face on the screen turned guarded. “I have nothing to hide, I hope.”
“Luscetian,” she started, and then pretended to cough. Stupid tears in her eyes. “Luscetian, even if I fix this emergency, they’re still going to kill me, aren’t they?”
He hesitated only a fraction of a second. “Yes, Caulie. The Gray House is going to kill you, because if you’re successful, it means you can control the Pollution like one of the Antecessors. That is petrifying by itself, but what if you teach it to someone else? What if the knowledge spreads? The panther has been ordered to kill you when your work is done. I cannot override that order. That will be your reward if you can keep the empire safe.”
She stared at him and he simply waited. She worked her mouth, and slowly found her voice. “You couldn’t have lied about that?”
“Maybe to the girl in the lab,” he said. “But I’m looking at you right now and I can tell you’ve seen it. There are big things and small things, and your life is just another small thing. The sky is trivial, the ground has no meaning. The eternal front has you, now, and the empire must survive.”
“There is only service,” she said softly. “I guess I’ll get to work.”
Chapter 34
The “Bomb Heads” were the 188th Field Artillery Battalion, Front East, and had taken over the mountain terrace from the demolished Forty-First. The soldiers of the 188th informed Caulie and her group that not many of the previous battalion had survived—perhaps one in five, most of them maddened by guilt and failure, the rest complaining about foul play—and while their guns were still in position, most of them were damaged beyond repair. The 188th was strenuously maneuvering their own equipment across the stony plain with every sign of haste.
Caulie, Shanter, Grampharic, and the rest of the squad strode into the small HQ building. Where earlier the main room had been sleepy and filled with desks and papers, it now bustled with activity. There was even a dedicated telegraph station spread across two desks. The new commanding officer waited in the middle, flanked by subordinates, while behind them glowered Colonel Bessawra. Caulie assumed they had kept him around for his prior experience with the enemy thunder.
Before Caulie could speak, the colonel of the 188th stepped forward with a stiff bow. That was nice, because Caulie hadn’t known what she was going to say—but a bow?
“Madame doctor,” the colonel said, his demeanor reserved and his voice unreadable, “forgive our lack of introduction. I am your Colonel Sinha, commanding officer of the 188th Artillery Battalion. May I present my Major Ramsawra, executive officer, who will work closely with you to rectify this little hiccup on the front.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Caulie said. “Allow me to introduce my Shanter, a helpie, and my Grampharic, a squad leader.”
The colonel’s eyes flickered over the Tachba and back to her. “Yes, well. Dr. Alexandrian, I have the honor of delivering this message.”
Even Caulie sensed that this part was off-script. She waited, but instead the colonel produced a rolled parchment and placed it in her hand. What on Earth? She fumbled the unrolling, viewing it first backward and then upside-down. After the first few words, she checked the seal. It confirmed everything.
Let it be known of Dr. Caulie Dempsei Alexandrian that she is my special friend and confidant, and that she has captured my deepest affection this week. Her Haphan soul shines with manifold virtues, but brightest in my eyes are her modesty and service; that and other things. My devout wish is that she may have friends wherever she travels, and that her personal eccentricities will be embraced or assiduously overlooked.
From the desk of her serene majesty, etc. etc., Lady Damjana Juniper Ceti, by Lady Jephesandra Liu Tawarna // DBNR
“Well, this seems rather decisive,” Caulie murmured, raising her eyes to the colonel. “I am
a special friend of the local empress.”
Shanter yanked the parchment from her hand, scanning through the text. “Am I seeing this right?” he asked. “Did the harpy write this?”
To their credit, none of the expressions of the Haphan officers shifted by even a micrometer, though their faces turned dark red.
“Don’t mind Shanter,” Caulie said quickly. “He only means Lady Tawarna.”
“That would make the insult only a hanging offense then,” Major Ramsawra said.
Shanter grinned at him. “I’ve been hanged and didn’t like it. I withdraw my question about the harpy. But how did a personal message come all the way from Falling Mountain? Wasn’t Caulie pardoned only last night for all her numerous crimes?”
The parchment was flown down, Caulie realized. These days nearly nothing flew . . . but if some vehicle or artifact would fly simply to move a piece of parchment, it would be at the desire of the local empress.
“My helpie is one of my beloved eccentricities.” Caulie stared hard at Shanter, willing him to close his mouth. “I hope you will tolerate this eccentricity as I have come to tolerate it: barely.”
“Right,” the colonel said stiffly. “As long as we are standing around blurting things . . . I was warned about your methods and how . . . unorthodox you are. I have no patience for unorthodoxy, but it seems that honorable diligence, abnegation, and perseverance are no longer sufficient for the eternal front and we must resort to trickery. So, bygones and all that. Let’s roll up our sleeves and get back to work.”
The group fractured, with the colonel’s officers returning to their maps on the walls and Grampharic’s squad fading to the edges of the room where they would be out of the way. Shanter stayed beside Caulie, studying the activity with alert eyes.
Caulie addressed the colonel. “To this unorthodox woman, it looks like the 188th is still setting up.”
“We are limbering. But we still have some of the guns of the Forty-First. We can fire when called upon, with near full effect.”
What the Thunder Said Page 28
