by JD Byrne
She had hoped, based on Rurek’s comment about the various national factions getting into trouble, that the Hare would be a good place to experience such a dispute. But mornings at the Hare had proven just as boring as recent nights at the Pikti. When the management politely suggested, after she had spent several mornings there, that she might move on to another establishment, she was in no mood to argue.
Walking through the courtyard on a sunny afternoon was proving no more productive, but at least it was pleasant. It was better than going back to the Daily Sentinel office, to Tevis, confessing failure, and spending another afternoon trying to piece together something from her scrap file. As long as she produced something, Tevis wouldn’t care. With the Grand Council wrapping up its session for the week, he had plenty of material.
Strefer was lost in thought, having slowed down to enjoy the day without meaning to, when she was nearly run over by a pair of Sentinels. They gave no warning, nor any apology, as they slammed into her and shot past. They were not running, as most people would call it. But they moved quickly and with determination. Strefer knew what that meant.
She looked around the courtyard and saw that the Sentinels were not alone. There were more of them behind her, as well as some civilians, all moving in the same direction. It was not the way out of the compound, where Strefer was headed. Something, obviously, had happened. Strefer changed course and followed the crowd.
It took a moment for her to realize where the crowd was headed: the Grand Council building itself. The council session was something of an event, but not one that drew crowds. Aside from a privileged few like Tevis, the public was not allowed into the Grand Council chamber itself. Business with the other offices in the building was steady, but a trickle compared to places elsewhere in the city. There was no reason for all these people to go there at once.
Strefer did not know what was going on, but was certain there was a story in it. If it was in the Grand Council building, it was technically Tevis’s story to take. As she moved along with the crowd, she decided it belonged to her, whatever it was.
~~~~~
It took several minutes for the herd to reach its intended destination. When it arrived in front of the Grand Council building, the crowd began to sort itself out. The Sentinels pushed through the throng and joined their brothers already deployed at the bottom of the marble steps that led into the building. Buoyed by reinforcements, they made a formidable, if not impenetrable, barrier. The rest of the throng, made up mostly of those who worked in the compound in some capacity, milled about on the great lawn in front of the building. A buzz of indistinct voices hovered over them.
Strefer scanned the line of Sentinels, hoping to find a familiar face, a source who might be willing to tell her what was going on inside. Or, even better, to let her in. No such luck. She thought she recognized a couple of the Sentinels, but she could not pull the names from her memory. She would have to remember a name, at the very least, to have any hope of working a favor out of them.
On one side of the line, there was a small group of people talking to one of the Sentinels. As each one approached him, they displayed some kind of identification. The Sentinel allowed some of them to dash up the steps into the building, while others were turned away. Strefer dug into the bag on her hip, pressing past papers and pens, and found two cards in the bottom. One identified her as a member of the Guild of Writers. The other, as a reporter with the Daily Register. She clutched the cards tightly in her hand and began to wind her way through the crowd.
She tried to read the crowd as she passed through, but found it difficult. The crowd was not large enough to become an angry mob, spurred by the natural tendency of agitated people in tight spaces towards violence. Not yet, anyway. But there was a palpable uncertainty in the air, as if the people were trying to piece together what was going on from rumor and innuendo. Strefer could hear snatches of conversations around her as she walked.
“Someone was killed, right in the Grand Council chamber…”
“I heard one of the Arborians attacked one of the Telebrians…”
“A friend told me that he heard someone broke in and shot all of the Guilders on the council…”
Strefer doubted that any of that information was correct, at least in the details. There did seem to be a common thread, however: that someone related to the Grand Council was dead. That repetition made her think that much was true. Given the Sentinel presence outside and the fact that they were limiting access to the building, it made sense to her that whoever was dead had met a violent end. Murder in the Grand Council chamber would be a huge story.
By the time Strefer had crossed the lawn to the Sentinel who was controlling access, the line had dwindled to one, an older man with the deep-green skin of the Arbor. She slipped in behind him. The Sentinel turned the older man away, who then stomped off in a huff muttering something about how this is what a dictatorship felt like and he should know because he was from Vertidala. Strefer stepped up and looked the Sentinel in the eyes.
“Who are you?” he asked, his voice a mixture of vigilance and weariness. He was tall and forceful, with fine light-green skin, most likely a Guilder. That was a stroke of luck, Strefer thought. His pikti was slung loosely across his back. The way he carried himself suggested he had been here a while.
Strefer opened the hand in which she had clutched her identifications and handed them to him. “My name is Strefer Quants. I’m with the Daily Register.”
He took the cards, gave them a quick glance, and handed them back to her. “Why should I care? You don’t think I’m going to let you in just because you work for some newspaper, do you?”
“Why not?” Strefer asked, slipping the cards back into her pouch. “Is there something in there you don’t want people to know about?”
The Sentinel shot back at her with a wry smile. “I am afraid I cannot comment,” he said, with affected formality.
“Do you see a notebook in my hand?” Strefer said, keeping the game going. It was one she would surely win. “I’m not asking you for any comment. I’m just asking if there is something going on up there that you’re trying to keep from the public.” She gestured towards the doors at the top of the marble steps.
“Perhaps I wasn’t clear, missus,” he said, the smile replaced by a glower as he stared down at her. “I have nothing to say about whether anything is happening inside here. Much less to the likes of you, notebook in hand or not.”
“Fair enough,” Strefer said in concession. She decided to try another approach. “But you’ll let me by so I can make my appointment, at least.”
“Appointment?” he asked, confusion sliding across his face like the shadow of clouds moving across the sky. “Appointment with who? And don’t say one of the Grand Council members. They would be in session now. And, at any rate, they don’t greet visitors.”
Score one for her, Strefer thought. She knew from talking with Tevis that interviews with members of the Grand Council were possible. Cutting them off completely meant something important had happened inside. “Of course it’s not with one of the Council members, who do I look like? No, it’s with,” she paused for a moment, grasping for a name. “Keretki,” she finally said, forced to pull a name out of thin air.
“Who?”
“Keretki,” Strefer said, knowing this was her hook. “You know, the policy coordinator for the Arborians? I have an appointment to meet with him to discuss some trade matters he has been dealing with during the session. I’m sure you’ve seen him around here.” She threw the last line in to dig a little at her adversary.
“No, missus, I don’t know him,” the Sentinel said. “But this isn’t my regular patrol.” Another useful bit of information. “Regardless, I can’t let you into the building right now.”
Strefer turned from amused to angry in a flash. “Now look here. My boss spent weeks setting up this interview, all right? The publisher back in Sermont even had to get involved. This interview will be the centerpiece of
our coverage of the Council session for the next week or so. It’s very important. Not just to me, either, but Keretki, too. You know the Arborians, always sniping at each other over the smallest things. He has them all together on the same page for once and wants the public to know about it. Do you really want to be responsible for pissing off all those people?”
The Sentinel stood in silence, reaching for an answer that was not coming.
“It’ll be worth your trouble, I promise,” Strefer said. “Have you ever heard of Olrey, the publisher of the Daily Register? He has a reputation for airing his feuds in the press. He could make things very difficult for the Sentinels, the Grand Council, the…”
Exasperated, the Sentinel put up his hands. “All right, all right, fine. You win.”
“Thank you,” Strefer said, suddenly buoyant. “You’re a very reasonable man.”
But before Strefer could make it up the stairs, he put his hand on her chest to stop her. “Hold on a second. You get to go in, but there are two conditions. First, none of this conversation we’ve had here is going to show up in your paper, all right? I don’t…”
“Agreed,” she said, cutting him off. “Say no more. What’s the other one?”
“Second, the Grand Council chamber is off limits. Got it?”
“Absolutely,” she said. “Kerekti’s office is on the other side of the building, I think. I won’t be anywhere near the Grand Council chamber.”
With that, the Sentinel stood aside and let Strefer proceed up the stairs. There were another pair of Sentinels stationed by the front door, but they did nothing to halt her progress. Once inside, she made sure that neither of them were watching her, then she went to look for the Grand Council chamber.
~~~~~
Strefer racked her brain to try and remember which end of the building housed the Grand Council chamber. It had been months, if not years, since she had been here. Even Tevis did most of his work in other buildings in the compound. Journalists were present during council sessions only with the permission of the full Grand Council. Many times, Tevis arrived only to be told that someone objected. Strefer was out of her element. It would be impossible to ask for directions.
She looked left and right down the long marbled hallway. To the left there was a series of very ordinary-looking doors. At the end of the hall was a marble staircase. To the right there were more doors, but where the staircase was on the other end was just a marble wall. Strefer assumed that the Grand Council chamber was behind that wall. From what Tevis had told her, the chamber was several stories tall and took up a large part of one side of the building. She could see no way into the chamber on this floor. Even if there was, it would be heavily guarded. She decided to see what was on the other floors and walked towards the staircase.
The grand marble staircase spiraled slowly, twice around for each floor Strefer passed as she walked up. She arrived on the fifth floor, at the top of the staircase, and turned into the hallway. At once she realized that she would not be able to get into the chamber here. The fifth floor was where the main doors, the public doors, into the chamber were located. They were at the other end of the hall, ornately carved thick wooden doors with slim, high windows. There were people milling around in front of the doors, including at least a few Sentinels. Regardless of what was going on, there was no chance Strefer could slip past them. She returned to the stairs and slipped away silently to the fourth floor.
There she found more of the same. There were no doors into the chamber on this level, but there were still a group of Sentinels and other people at the end of the hall. She could not explore for any alternative entrances here. She moved down to the third floor, but found the same situation there, as well.
When she arrived on the second floor, Strefer was surprised to find that it was nearly deserted. At the other end of the hall there was a single Sentinel standing by a door. That appeared to be her only chance to get closer to the chamber. She knew that there were other offices in the building, some of which were connected to the chamber itself. Perhaps that was why there was only one Sentinel on this level. A more obvious presence might lead someone to believe that the door was more important than it actually was. Strefer hoped that whoever was running things was thinking along those lines, anyway.
Strefer took a deep breath to calm her nerves and began walking slowly down the hallway. Each step on the marble floor rang out more than she expected, drawing the attention of the Sentinel. The nerves that were building inside her by that point were calmed greatly when she finally saw his face. It was Yaron, one of her most reliable sources. Strefer knew she would have to make the most of this stroke of luck.
When Yaron saw her, he moved swiftly from his post to intercept her. “Strefer!” he yelled under his breath. “What are you doing here?”
She stopped in the middle of the hallway as he approached. “I could ask you the same thing,” she said in the same hushed tones. “What’s going on?”
“Look, you really shouldn’t be here,” Yaron said insistently. “How did you get in here, anyway?”
“I’m a reporter, Yaron. I do have certain skills, you know,” she said, flashing a grin. “I talked my way past one of your brothers down there at the bottom of the stairs. What are they all doing here? What’s going on?”
“Strefer, really,” he said, putting up his hands to block her way, “you need to get out of here right now.”
“Why? What’s so important that there’s a line of Sentinels outside to keep anyone else from getting in? The building is crawling with them, too. And none of them, not even you, will tell me what’s going on. Come on, Yaron, tell me what’s happening.” The request lingered for a moment while Yaron was thinking. Sensing that his resolve might be wavering, Strefer pushed on. “I thought we had a relationship, you and me. An understanding, at the very least. Have you ever gotten hurt because of something you told me?”
“No, of course not,” he said, almost as if he was ashamed.
“So why are you holding out on me now? Whatever this is won’t be kept silent for long. You know that,” she said. “I promise you our paper won’t print anything about this before the powers that be decide to make it public, all right? I just want to get the information first, so I can write the best story.” There was another pause while Yaron considered her offer, long enough for Strefer to note the sign beside the door that said “Office of the Clerk, Grand Council of the Triumvirate.” She jumped in before Yaron could tell her no. “Besides, I’m already here, so I’ll have to sneak my way out, right? What’s the harm?”
Yaron continued to stand there in silence, trying to come up with an answer. He opened his mouth twice to begin to say something, but nothing ever came out.
Strefer knew he was on her side now. “So what’s behind the door, Yaron?”
Yaron sighed and hung his head in defeat. “The clerk of the Grand Council, Alban,” he said. “He was murdered this afternoon.”
“Wow,” Strefer muttered, truly stunned. Next to the Grand Council members themselves, Alban was probably the most important person in the city. “Where did it happen?”
“In there,” Yaron said, gesturing over his shoulder at the door behind him. “In his office, after the Council adjourned for the day.”
“What happened?”
Yaron shrugged. “Hard to tell right now. It looks like he was beaten with a pikti. He used to be a Sentinel, you know.”
“Right,” Strefer said, although she had not known that bit of background. “Who would do such a thing?”
“Nobody knows,” Yaron said, turning and walking back down the hallway towards the door. Strefer followed. “The pikti was left behind. His assistant, some halfbreed girl, is missing. Maybe she did it. Or maybe she saw something and ran off, scared. That’s why I’m down here by myself. Everyone else is out looking for her.”
They reached the door. “So everything’s been happening pretty quickly, huh?”
Yaron nodded.
“Does t
hat mean that the body is…”
He cut her off. “No, Strefer, the body has already been removed, if that’s what you’re after. But that’s irrelevant, because I still can’t let you go back there, for any reason.”
“But if the body’s gone, there’s no reason I couldn’t go in and take a look around, right?”
Yaron chuckled slightly at her persistence. “It’s still a crime scene, Strefer. Between the initial rush of activity and the search for this halfbreed, no one has really gone over it yet. I have to keep it from being tampered with.”
“Who said anything about tampering?” Strefer asked. “All I’m asking for is a couple of minutes in there to look around and get a firm grasp of the scene for myself. Soak in a few details. It will really make the story pop when I write it.”
“No,” Yaron said, trying to be firm but not quite pulling it off. “This has already gone too far, Strefer. Now you have to get out of here.”
Strefer sighed. “Look, you need me to leave, right?”
Yaron nodded, fatigue in his eyes.
“But you’re the only person guarding this doorway beyond which lays the crime scene, right?”
Another nod.
“So you can’t actually escort me from the building, because that would mean leaving the door unguarded, right?”
“Yes, I suppose that is true, but…” he began to say.
“So if I decided to stand here for ten minutes more, or an hour, or the rest of the day, you can’t do anything about it, can you?”
