Zenn Scarlett

by Christian Schoon

  “You won’t regret this, Scarlett. See you in an hour. Two hours tops.”

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Later, after she and Hamish had returned to the calefactory hall, Zenn made several foolish mistakes. The first was her decision to wait for Liam’s return up in her dorm room. The second was sitting down on her bed, and then lying back, to rest her aching, bleeding, exhausted body, just for a moment.

  She woke the next morning to the sound of Hild’s voice calling her name from down the hall. She instantly realized her third error: letting Liam Tucker out of her sight.

  “Zenn. Are you up, child?” She heard the sister’s footsteps rapidly descending the stairs. “Otha is waiting for you at the infirmary. The Kiran emissary will be at the south gate soon. I’ve sent Hamish to let her in. I’m going now to meet her. Zenn!”

  “I’m awake,” Zenn yelled, her voice hoarse. She sat up, unleashing a cascade of pain from her lacerated hands. She slid off the bed and reached the top of the landing in time to see the door in the hall below slam shut behind Hild.

  She stood in the hall, gathering her thoughts.

  Liam. Where are you? How could you…

  There was no time to dwell on the fact he’d betrayed her yet again. And this time, she’d allowed him to do it.

  You won’t regret this, Scarlett…

  She strained to force her gyrating thoughts into some sort of meaningful pattern.

  Otha, infirmary, waiting… for what? Kiran emissary…

  The sunkiller! This was the morning for the sunkiller’s bandages to come off. Otha had made a point of inviting the Kiran emissary to come down from the Helen of Troy to witness the procedure. Otha had also stressed that he was trusting Zenn to remove the sutures. She couldn’t let him down, not in front of the emissary.

  I’ll just do my part, get it over with. Soon as it’s done, I’ll tell him about Liam and Graad.

  But it wasn’t just the prospect of performing a tricky surgical procedure on the priceless royal sunkiller that made Zenn’s stomach twist like a wrung-out rag. This was also the day the town council would vote on the cloister’s lease.

  Not bothering to change out of the clothes she’d fallen asleep in last night, she bounded down the stairs and grabbed her tool belt from its hook on the wall. Fortunately, she’d prepped the belt yesterday morning, knowing she’d need it today. It now held a maser-scalpel, a mini protein stitchgun and a few assorted hand-tools.

  Outside, Zenn strapped the belt around her as she jogged down the rock path. The morning air was fresh and cold, and helped to clear her head as she ran. She licked the dried blood off her knuckles as she went, then wiped them on her pants.

  Zenn shuddered at the thought of the bloodcarn freed from his cage. Certainly, she, Hamish and Liam would have all died within the first few seconds. She still couldn’t take in the idea… that it was Liam behind all that had happened. And she’d been blind to it. How? How had she closed her mind to what was so painfully, obviously clear? He’d been nearby for every incident. Every single one. And she’d missed it, missed the signs… no. Not true. She’d made herself ignore the signs, willfully shut out any possibility of Liam’s involvement. Because, she knew know with bitter certainty, she’d thought she could safely disregard the Rule. And now, she was paying the Price.

  Reaching the infirmary, she hurried directly into the huge main room, telling herself to put Liam Tucker out of her mind. Permanently, if possible. She looked up at the tethered sunkiller and stopped dead in her tracks, thoughts of Liam and his multiple betrayals no longer a priority.

  She couldn’t believe her eyes. But there they were. Towners! A teeming mass of them. At least ten or eleven men and women, arranged around the catwalk.

  “Ah.” Otha turned to her from where he stood in the center of the room. “Here’s our novice now.” Ten or eleven pairs of eyes turned to stare down at her. The majority of the towners wore white, surgical masks over their lower faces. “Zenn, I think you know most of the folks on the town council.”

  Her mouth was hanging open. She shut it.

  “Yes… um… hello.” She could feel her face glowing red.

  “The novice will be handling the dressing removal and post-op exam of our Kiran sunkiller,” Otha said. As he spoke, he went to the rusting old scissor-lift that squatted on the floor beneath the wide canopy of the sunkiller’s wings. Zenn would ride up on this until she was in position. From there, she could reach the bandages swathing the repaired methane plexus at the point where the tail joined the animal’s back. Despite the activity in the room, for now the sunkiller appeared to be sleeping soundly, the two huge heads tucked up under its wings.

  Otha opened the gate bar on the lift and gestured for Zenn to step onto the lift’s small platform.

  “I can also now reveal to you and the novice,” Otha said loudly, holding the bar open for her, “that this procedure constitutes the third and final phase in Zenn’s end of term testing.”

  This is it? The mystery test? Zenn’s initial shock quickly shifted to bewilderment, then gratitude.

  “Otha,” she said, keeping her voice low. “I knew this was coming up. I was able to study for it… you weren’t supposed to tell.”

  He bent down to speak in her ear.

  “I just told you it was on the schedule,” he said. “I never told you it would be the third test. Entirely by the book.”

  “Otha,” Vic LeClerc called down to them. She was one of the few who’d opted not to put on a mask. “Are you telling us this girl has never done this before? Is that prudent?”

  “She’ll be under my direct supervision the entire time, Vic. There’s nothing to worry about.”

  Vic didn’t look satisfied, but said nothing else.

  “Why are they here?” Zenn whispered as she went by him and climbed onto the lift platform. He ignored her. “Otha,” she said insistently. “We need to talk.”

  He bent close, pretending to help her secure the gate bar.

  “Can it wait?” His tone said he thought it should wait.

  “It’s about the animals, getting out, everything that’s happened. It was Graad. Graad and Liam, they…”

  “Zenn, not this again.” His whisper was razor-edged, but he kept his smile visible for those on the catwalk.

  “Otha, they were…”

  “Not. Now. We’ll talk later, novice.”

  He stepped back from her, and raised his voice:

  “I’d like to thank you all once more for coming out to the cloister this morning. As I’m sure you understand, all of us here at the clinic are passionate about the work we do. But we know this work can be something of an enigma for those of you unfamiliar with exoveterinarian practices. Well, we’re very excited to be able to share our enthusiasm with you today. It’s our hope that this demonstration will be the first of many. And that it will open a new chapter of greater understanding between the Ciscan cloister and the people of Arsia City.”

  He gave Zenn a piercing look, as if to say “That’s why they’re here. Now do your job.” She had no choice. She would just have to bear down, and, somehow, get through this.

  The councilors gave Otha a polite smattering of applause as Vic stepped away from the crowd and put her hands on the catwalk railing.

  “Well now, Otha, most of us know all we need to know about you and your creatures. But, I’m sure everyone…” she gestured at the others, “…is eager to see for themselves exactly how you’re utilizing the land out here.” She smiled a cold smile down at Zenn and Otha. “And all of us are keenly aware that it’s our responsibility, our duty, to decide if that use… is the best use. Best for everyone. That’s what our vote today will determine.”

  Zenn saw that Ren was also among the faces on the catwalk, his left wrist encased in a bright, white plaster cast. He had also opted not to wear a mask.

  “Well, I hope your visit today will help you arrive at the right decision,” Otha said.

  “I’m sure it will,” Vic told him
, still smiling, sounding very certain.

  “So,” Otha gestured at the sunkiller, “I’ve explained the surgical procedure we employed to correct the defect in the sunkiller’s gas-mixing organ, the methane plexus. As soon as our Kiran envoy from the starship arrives, we’ll be able to…” The sound of a door opening came from the opposite wall, and everyone in the room turned toward it. “This must be her now.”

  Sister Hild stepped into the infirmary and held the door open. A second later a very tall figure entered, bowing low in order to pass through. The Kiran was cloaked from head to foot in long, flowing robes of mustard-yellow and vermillion. The face was hidden behind the customary layers of veils, revealing only a small patch of gray-brown spotted facial fur and a pair of slanting, wolfish eyes blue as polished turquoise.

  Just behind the emissary came a human in a tunic and boots, hair worn long on one side. It was Fane Fanesson.

  “Welcome to the Ciscan cloister, Emissary Luruk,” Otha said, raising one hand to the Kiran. “Ladies and gentleman, this is Consan Luruk, aid to the Kire’s princeling Sool. And I believe this is the ship’s under-sacrist with her.” The Kiran inclined her head to the crowd on the catwalk. Fane just crossed his arms and, Zenn thought, tried to look disinterested in the proceedings. “The emissary will be taking the sunkiller back up to the Helen of Troy when we’re finished here. Emissary Luruk,” he raised his other hand up to indicate the crowd on the catwalk, “May I present the members of our Arsia City town council?”

  The emissary and Fane followed Hild up onto the catwalk, where the Kiran towered a good two feet over the head of the tallest human there.

  “Now then,” Otha said. “Before we begin, are there any questions?”

  “Yeah. I got one.” It was the quarry owner Pelik Shandin, one of the council members Zenn knew by name. He was a tall, burly, bear of a man in patched, goat-leather overalls. His sleeveless shirt exposed massive, densely tattooed arms. Tufts of his black beard protruded here and there from the surgical mask he wore. He pointed up at the sunkiller. “What’s that thing hangin’ underneath the beast?”

  “It’s the gondola,” Otha said. “A training device the Kirans use to acclimate their sunkillers to having structures attached to them. It’s the first of many that will be added as they become full-grown adults.”

  “So, you really trust these behemoths?” Pelik leaned forward on the catwalk railing to address the emissary. “You really live on top of them?”

  “In times past, the surface of our world was a perilous place.” The Kiran spoke without a Transvox, her voice a breathy, lilting growl. “Over time, the sunkillers became our allies, and our sanctuaries. To this day we are pleased to live in union with them, in the safety of the skies.”

  “Really?” Pelik said, eyeing the sunkiller. “Well that just sounds a tad risky, wouldn’t you say, Ren?”

  “Not my idea of prime real estate,” Ren said, craning his head up at the sunkiller, then down at Otha. “Just don’t make me sorry for talking these folks into coming out here, alright Scarlett?”

  “You won’t be sorry. You have my word.”

  “You are fearful?” The Kiran emissary addressed them all, sounding almost hurt. “I assume that is why you wear the coverings.” She lifted a hand-like paw to indicate her own mouth. Zenn assumed Otha had handed out the surgical masks to sooth the anxiety of those towners who’d never been this close to an alien animal before. Apparently, Ren and Vic had been inside the walls frequently enough to know they didn’t need the protection.

  “This fear arises because you are unfamiliar,” the emissary continued. “You know little of our sunkillers. Of our longstanding and beneficial relationship with them. There is no danger, I assure you. Here, I will demonstrate.”

  She went down the stairs. Fane followed her, and they approached the gondola. Reaching up, she pulled a strap, releasing a rope ladder that unrolled down the gondola’s side. A moment later, she and Fane were standing on the woven-reed deck.

  “As you see,” she gestured at the animal above her, which had taken no notice. “We are in no danger. This young sunkiller is well accustomed to the gondola and to our presence. Come, join me and see this for yourselves. She can easily bear all of you without difficulty. You are curious, surely. Come.” A nervous murmur rose from the council. No one moved. “Unless,” the Kiran continued, “your human fear overmasters your curiosity.” Fane allowed himself a grin at this.

  It was too much for Pelik. He pushed his way past the others and stomped down the stairs. Zenn heard him mutter under his breath as he brushed by her: “No talking-dog off-wa calls Pel Shandin yellow.”

  Zenn tugged at her uncle’s sleeve as the rest of council began to descend the stairs, following Pelik. “Otha,” she whispered. “Is this a good idea? To let them do this? Now?”

  He bent down to speak quietly to her. “This is perfect. They’ll see a sunkiller up close, see it’s no threat. Wish I’d thought of it myself.” Then, in a louder voice, he said, “Novice, why don’t you go on up there and help everyone get aboard?”

  A minute later, the council members and Ren had all joined Zenn in the gondola – all except Vic LeClerc, who remained on the catwalk.

  “Vic?” Otha said, looking up at her. “You don’t get a chance like this every day.”

  “I should hope not,” she said. “Really, Otha, it doesn’t look safe.”

  “You afraid to be a few feet off the ground?”

  “It’s not the ground that concerns me,” she said, looking at the sunkiller. “Are you certain it’s alright?”

  “Seriously,” Otha turned to reassure the councilors, “I’ve worked hands-on with this animal for days now. There’s absolutely nothing to worry about.”

  Vic stayed put.

  “I’ll just watch. From here,” she said.

  In the gondola, most of the council members stood gripping the side rails apprehensively as the structure swung gently beneath the sunkiller. The animal had come awake now, the two necks waving gracefully in front of it, heads bobbing to and fro in the air.

  Fane came over to where Zenn stood at one of the deck railings.

  “Greetings, novice,” he said, then turned to the group of councilors. “I hope your people understand what an honor this is, to be allowed so near the royals’ beast.”

  “I’m sure they appreciate it,” Zenn told him. “But frankly, I just want to get on with the procedure.”

  “The procedure?”

  “I’m going to be removing the sutures.” She patted her tool belt.

  “You?” He gave her a crooked, white-toothed smile, and leaned closer. “We must hope sunkillers are unlike yotes. Two heads would be worse than one, vomiting.”

  “Very funny,” she said. She’d expected something like this from the boy, and he didn’t disappoint her.

  “Alright then,” Otha said from his place below them on the infirmary floor, “Now that you’ve all had a good, close-up look, I think we’ll have you disembark so our novice can get to work. Time to take the bandages off and see if this little beauty is air-worthy again.”

  This, Zenn knew, was a bit of showmanship. Otha would have already run a deep scan to make sure the tissues had fully healed before they removed the bandages and cut the sutures. It wouldn’t do for the royal emissary, or the town council, to see anything less than a successful result.

  “Wait!” The harsh shout came from below. Zenn leaned over the gondola railing to see Liam rushing in through the infirmary door. When he saw Zenn and the council members, he sprinted toward the gondola, waving his hands. “No! You shouldn’t be up there!”

  “What is it, boy?” Otha said, going to Liam, resting a hand on his shoulder.

  “They need to get down.” He ducked away from Otha’s hand, ran to the gondola and pulled himself up the rope ladder, then bounded onto the deck, pushing past Fane.

  “Zenn, get off, now!” Liam took hold of her arm and shoved her toward the ladder. “All of you, you hav
e to get down.”

  “Liam,” Vic shouted at her nephew. “Liam, you need to…”

  A loud “crack” cut through the infirmary then and the gondola pitched violently, throwing everyone to one side. Something long and thin whipped past Zenn’s head as she held onto the railing to keep from falling. Amid the shouts of the crowd, another loud crack, and then another. Zenn realized what it was – the restraining cables had snapped. She looked over the edge of the railing, and saw the ground receding as the entire sixty-foot expanse of lighter-than-air sunkiller floated up, taking the gondola with it. They rose slowly at first, then faster, heading toward the infirmary ceiling. The sunkiller was fully alert now, the twin heads darting about on their lithe necks.

  “Otha,” she yelled down. “Otha, what do I do?”

  “Hold on,” he yelled back. “Everyone stay calm. I’ll get a line up to you.”

  Something jolted the gondola hard, and there was the horrific sound of synthwood rafters splitting. The basket swung wildly back and forth, throwing several of the councilors, screaming, to their hands and knees. Now red clay roof tiles cascaded down to smash on the floor fifty feet below, and she saw Otha, Hild and Vic running to avoid the barrage. The sunkiller’s double cry filled the air with deafening screeches.

  Then the light abruptly brightened. A fresh wind blew in Zenn’s face. They were outside, in the open air. They’d gone through the infirmary roof. They were floating up into the sky!

  TWENTY-NINE

  As the sunkiller rose through the air, its two heads called out again, the sounds echoing off the red cliff walls on either side of the compound. Below them, the buildings of the cloister shrank as the ground dropped away. The wind was blowing hard above the cloister, and it blew harder the higher they went.

  The council members had drawn into a frightened knot in the very center of the cane-and-bone gondola, retreating as far from the outer edges as possible. The emissary stood near the bow. Ren detached himself from the huddled councilors and staggered to the stern, where Zenn, Fane and Liam clung to the hand railing.