Pathspace: The Space of Paths

by Matthew Kennedy

  He rode up alongside Brutus. “What is it you know that I don't? The way you're operating. You could provoke a retaliation from Rado before my father has the fuel he needs for his new army machines. Why stir up trouble this early?”

  Brutus barked a laugh at that. “Hah! Rado will be afraid to move against us. What you don't seem to know is their population is lower than ours. Their Governor is reluctant to risk her men until a full-scale battle is unavoidable.”

  Jeffrey scratched his chin. “How can you be so sure of that? That they have fewer people than us? You've hardly been there to count them, have you?”

  Brutus took his last drag on the cigarette and flicked it into the burning field as they rode back to the main road. “No,” he said, exhaling. “But I know someone who has, more or less.” He turned to grin at the Runt. “We have an informer in her Court,” he informed Jeffrey. “We know a lot more about them than they know about us.”

  Jeffrey halted in amazement. A traitor? What could the Honcho offer such a person that the Governor of Rado could not match? She had gold mines!

  I am here to learn, he thought. What can I learn from this? That to some people, there are things even more valuable than gold.

  The question remained, though: how had his father found and recruited such a person?

  He did not speak to Brutus again until they stopped for lunch.

  They rode off the main highway and into a stand of trees by a small lake. Jeffrey found he wasn't very hungry, and would have been content to lunch on jerky, but the other men did not share his lack of appetite. They tied their horses to the trees and set off downhill to the lake to shoot some ducks they had spotted from the road while he kindled a fire.

  While he chipped at the flint with a piece of steel, striking sparks into the tinder, he reflected on what he had witnessed so far. It was obvious that Brutus had an agenda other than simple scouting. Perhaps more than one. It might be that he was merely trying to provoke the locals into attacking them so that he would have an excuse to kill, but that seemed too simplistic. The commander was not a fool, to endanger his men simply for his own enjoyment.

  Was that crack about the Governor of Rado not being willing to risk her men casually a message to him? Was Brutus saying that he had to get used to thinking of the mission as more important then his men? Or was it something else? Finally the tinder caught, and he nursed the little flames with twigs and gradually larger sticks until he had a recent fire going.

  A deep humming startled him out of his reverie. He leaped to his feet and scanned the surrounding forest. He didn't see anything, but a gust of wind surprised him, because the day had been a calm one. He cupped a hand to his ear, but the humming was gone. Should he go and investigate the anomaly? It didn't sound like any animal he was familiar with. If it were some kind of predator, a fire should keep it from approaching, he reasoned, and fed more wood to the hungry flames.

  Soon he had a roaring fire going, and was running out of wood. While he was debating with himself whether he should gather more, the others returned with a brace of ducks.

  “Did you hear anything strange while you were hunting?” Jeffrey asked Brutus.

  The older man appeared amused. “No. Did something spook you?”

  “I wouldn't put it that way. But I did hear something, a deep sound. I would have thought it was an animal growl, except that it lasted so long before it stopped.”

  Brutus removed his hat. His red hair glinted in the morning light as he swatted a mosquito that had landed on his forehead, near a small scar over his left eyebrow. “Well, I wouldn't worry about it,” he said, after a while. “Things are going well, all things considered. We're getting fresh air, fresh food, and pissing off the locals.”

  Dead people don't get angry, he thought. But this was not his command. So he said nothing, just stared into the commander's grinning face and promised himself that he would take it up with his father when they returned to Dallas.

  While the others busied themselves plucking the duck feathers to set aside for arrow fletching and readying the birds for cooking, Jeffrey hiked a little ways through the trees toward the lake to answer a call of nature. He passed an odd little place where the grass was flattened, all lying down pointing away from a point in the center of a clearing. He'd never seen anything like it. That made two anomalies in one morning.

  At the lake's edge he sat on a rock and let his mind drift. The morning was still cool, and there was still hardly any wind. Among the weeds in the shallows, a spider scuttled about, walking on the surface of the still water. He wished he were the spider, with nothing to worry about except the occasional fish.

  There had been no need to burn that little farm, or kill the family. It was true, of course, that they might have starved, anyway, once their crops were gone and their horses confiscated. Stolen, you mean, he thought, correcting himself. You can't confiscate the livestock of people in a different country. And what Brutus's men had done to the women before they killed the farmer and his family sickened him. And all I did was watch. His eyes burned with the memory of it. The memory of the commander's cruel sneering face and the trembling in his own arms as he stood there powerless to stop it.

  He had been looking forward to ruling the Empire for the material benefits it would bring him, the wine, food, coaches and lands, and of course all the women who would be lining up for his favor, hoping to become the new Honchessa. But now he was seeing a better reason to be in charge: so that men like Brutus would not be.

  Wearily, he forced himself to rise and trudge back uphill to the trees.

  The ducks were roasting on sticks over the coals of the fire when he got there. Brutus was rolling a cigarette, looking as if he were the kind of guy who could kill a family before breakfast and sleep soundly at night. How can I take much more of this, without calling him out in front of his men? He was sure that the man would do his best to keep his own men alive. But maybe Brutus wanted a confrontation, wanted it all nice and legal so he could kill Jeffrey and claim the justification of self-defense. It might be difficult for the Honcho to do anything about it if his own son had started the fight that led to his unfortunate demise. He'd have his suspicions, but a legal duel in front of witnesses? He'd look weak if he did nothing and unjust if he did anything.

  And with the Heir gone, who would be next in line for the throne? Might it not be his most senior Commander? Suddenly Jeffrey was recalled the words of Cardinal Esperanza: things change.

  None of them noticed the stranger until he was on the edge of the clearing.

  “Good morning, gentlemen. Are you enjoying Raul's ducks?”

  Jeffrey jerked his head up,m as startled as the rest of them. The man was not tall, and he was old, in clothes as gray as his beard. He walked with a staff that was a good two feet taller than him.

  Brutus stood and flicked his cigarette into the fire. “Maybe we are,” he said.

  The old man regarded him. “I wasn't aware Raul had friends over the border in Texas,” he said. He glanced at the men, sitting around the fire in their uniforms. “But I suppose one can't have too many friends these days, after what happened to the Ferreros down the road. I couldn't help noticing the smoke. Looks like their farm burned down. Would you happen to know anything about that?”

  Brutus smiled. It was not a pretty sight. “I might,” he said, “but what business is it of yours?”

  You're a spider on the lake, old man, thought Jeffrey. If I were you I wouldn't make waves or draw attention to yourself. The fish are watching you.

  The old man didn't seem to hear the threat in Brutus's voice. “Well, now,” he said. “Gus Ferrero and his folks are citizens of Rado.” His eyes narrowed. “Or were. So am I, and I must admit I'm fast becoming a concerned citizen. If their bodies are in that fire, as I suspect, then I'm afraid you, sir, might be in serious trouble.”

  Brutus laughed at that and picked up his crossbow. “You're the one in trouble, old man, if you're not gone in five seconds. Beat it w
hile I'm still amused.”

  “I'm not amused,” said the stranger.

  Things began happening all at once.

  The old man had been standing there with his left hand grasping his staff. He turned to his left as the bolt from Brutus's crossbow flashed past him, reached up with his right hand, and whipped the staff around in a circle to his right, felling the man nearest him who was still in the process of standing up. Then he whipped it back to the left, knocking another man off his feet, jammed one end of the staff into the fire then pulled the fire end out and behind him, aiming the other end at Brutus, who was reloading. A jet of ashes and coals erupted from the staff and flew at the commander, who cursed and stumbled back, dropping the crossbow. Then the stranger pulled the business end up toward him, whipping the back up to catch a third man across the neck.

  “Get that asshole!” Brutus snarled, batting at his burning uniform.

  Back the staff went into the fire as the fellow reloaded it for another blazing volley at the commander, keeping him off-balance and unable to retrieve his crossbow. Then the staff whipped around and felled two more men in sickening thuds that hurt Jeffrey to even hear. The man vaulted over the fire, using his staff for leverage and simultaneously loading it yet again with coals and ash, then swung it at Brutus again.

  To his credit, Brutus managed to duck the first swing. But the staff reversed and cracked him alongside his head on the back swing, then belched fire at the man to Brutus's left, who yelped and backpedaled. Brutus fell heavily to the ground and lay there groaning while the stranger finished off two more men, leaving only himself and Jeffrey still standing.

  The man jammed the base of his staff in the fire again and pointed the business end at Jeffrey. “Unless you're stupid too,” he said, “I'd advise you to get some rope from their saddlebags and tie these men up. Might be a while before the Governor's men arrive.”

  Chapter 24

  Aria: “the conscience of a blackened street”

  Aria scooted backwards down the ventilation duct. The conversation she'd just heard was still echoing in her ears.

  “We have a bit of a situation,” Xander had said. “I managed to capture the scouting party. In a couple of hours they should be be here.”

  “How did you get back before them?” the Governor asked.

  “I have my little ways,” said Xander. “But we still have a problem. Before I encountered them, they burned Gus Ferrero's farm and killed his family. There was probably rape involved.” He paused. “By the time I arrived, the farmhouse was on fire, and beginning to collapse. So they was no opportunity to examine the remains to ascertain the particulars. None of the family survived, so the only witnesses are the soldiers themselves.”

  “I see,” said the Governor. Her tone was not pleasant. “So what then is the problem?”

  “Their officer is one of the Honcho's senior commanders,” said Xander. “A large and dangerous man. I don't see how he could be innocent, given that he was in charge. He claims to have been fired upon, but we both know he probably provoked that by killing farm animals or preparing to fire the fields.. It is possible, however, that not all of them men agreed with his orders, but felt powerless to stop what was done.”

  “That is no excuse,” she said. “I fail to see the problem.”

  Given that we are not, as yet, at war with Texas,” said Xander, “the Honcho will certainly press for extradition. He can hardly be expected to stand by and let us execute one of his senior staff.”

  “On the other hand,” said the Governor, “I can hardly be expected to hand him over, knowing full well he could be given nothing more than a token reprimand. My citizens would be justifiably angry, were I to even suggest it. I see the problem.”

  “There might be a third way,” said the wizard. “if we could exonerate any of them, then those could be repatriated without interfering with swift and sure justice for the guilty.”

  “How could we do that? To exonerate any of them we'd have to try them all separately. We both know we might not have that much time until the Honcho moves against us.”

  By that time she'd heard enough. Scuttling backward , she reached the fan room and plunged into the shaft to her own room. Moments later she dove down onto her bed and reached up to re-close the shaft vent, then hurried out the door and ran to the stairwell.

  “Where are you off to in such unseemly haste?”

  She skidded to a stop, trying not to show the scowl she felt. Ludlow! “I'm late for a tutorial.” she lied.

  “Ah, but since you are the Governor's daughter, I'm sure your tutor will give you some latitude,” he said. “I wanted to discuss something with you. “It seems to me that we – “

  “Not now!” she snapped. “Whatever it is can wait for a better time.”

  “Haven't you heard there is no better time than the present?”

  “Not my present,” she said. “Go bother someone else.” She ignored the momentary flash of anger that her words evoked on his face as she wrenched open the stairwell door and hurried down the stairs.

  How are they going to decide if any of them are innocent? she wondered. Simple questioning wasn't the answer. would her mother let herself be talked into allowing torture? Her lips compressed. She could imagine the rationalization that would be given by some advisors, once they heard of the murders: if our soldiers had done this, do you imagine the Honcho would hesitate to use pain to obtain confessions?

  As she descended, she found herself exiting the stairwell at the level of the thirtieth floor, where Xander and his apprentice were quartered. Maybe there was some magic of the Ancients that could tell truth from lies. It was worth investigating.

  The two guards jerked to attention as she strode forward. She didn't know these two by name, and vice versa, which explained their nervousness. She shook her head, wondering when someone would worry about something more important than military bearing. “I'm here to speak to the apprentice,” she told them. “The Governor sent me to ask him something.” It was a flimsy lie, she realized, but she counted on them to underestimate her like everyone else did. Everyone, that is, except her mother.

  “Do you want us to come in with you?” one of them asked.

  She forced herself to smile in amusement. “Oh come now, soldier. You don't think I'm in any danger from our own apprentice, do you?”

  “No, ma'am. But we'll be right outside here if you need us.”

  She rolled her eyes. “So reassuring” she told him as she unbolted the door and slipped inside.

  Lester stood in front of a mirror. Aria rolled her eyes again. His rough clothes had not led her to think of him as vain. Apparently, she had been fooled by first impressions. Again.

  Abruptly, he vanished. Her eyes widened for a moment. Then the door shut behind her and he rematerialized, turning toward the sound.

  “I'm glad to see you're making some progress.”

  “Oh, hello again. Is it time for lunch already? This is hungry work.”

  “I'm not here to feed you,” she said. “Does Xander have anything here that can tell truth from lies? It's important.”

  “Why? Is something up?”

  Briefly, she explained. “So I'm afraid my mother will feel pressed for time, and allow them to resort to torture. Is there another way, one he might have mentioned to you?”

  He appeared confused. “Does your mother work for the Governor? Is she some kind of magistrate or something?”

  “My mother is the Governor, fool!” She stooped and made herself take breath. “Sorry, I was just hoping I could find her another way. From what I've read, once a government starts using torture, they generally find it easier to do the next time.”

  He stroked his stubble. “Xander hasn't mentioned anything from the Tourists that would help with questioning. But there might be another way,” he said. “If you could get me in there, I could listen to them when they think no one's around.”

  She considered it. “Worth a try,” she muttered. “But we
might not have much time. The men Xander captured were scouts. She's probably afraid there might be an army not far behind them, so it's important she questions them as soon as they get here. How fast can you move when you're invisible?”

  “Hold on,” he said. “They're not here yet? Then how do you know about them?”

  “Xander came back to report before them. I just heard him talking to the Governor about it.”

  “What?” He seemed surprised. “How did he get back before them?”

  She shrugged. “How should I know? He is a wizard. Maybe you should ask him. Anyway, your plan might work even better if you're in place before they get to the holding cell. They might be on their guard if I visit them first.”

  “How do you even know where they'll be held? Or that they'll even make it to Denver, considering what you say happened.”

  Our men aren't savages,” she snapped. “And they know Xander knows they have the prisoners. They won't risk a wizard's wrath for the fleeting joy of revenge. Or my mother's.”

  “Wow,” he said, “I almost forgot that. What's it like, being the Governor's daughter?”

  “Be thankful you'll never know,” she said. “I'm, expected to take her place someday, but in the meantime no one seems to think I can do it. Endless classes and training, and all the men see me as a pampered kid. I have no friends at all.”

  “Sorry to hear that. I know what that's like,” he said. “I've been here a couple of weeks and you're the only person near my age I've even seen. Don't your mother's men have families?”

  “Probably, but they must be in another building.” She met his eyes. “Can you do anything besides disappear?”

  “Not yet,” he admitted. “he said learning that was the first step, so I could survive long enough to learn the rest.”