by John Walker
“Shush!” Maurda nudged him. “They’re not going to risk their lives.”
“The Prophet demands that we do something.” That was a strange turn of phrase. Maurda hadn’t heard anyone talk about such religious things before that day. Not since he’d been put in the prison camp. None of the men there seemed to pray. They weren’t looking for divine guidance.
Primarily because they felt as if they’d been forsaken.
“What are you talking about?” Maurda asked. “What prophet?”
“The Prophet!” The boy insisted. “The salvation of the Kahl. Of the galaxy from their tyranny for that matter. Not one of you serves the cause?” He looked around at the various faces. “Not one? Are you all cowards? I know some of you have heard of what I speak! Why do you stand there like dumb animals? This is our time!”
No, Maurda thought. No, it really isn’t. He knew better than to give in to nonsense. When spouted from a newcomer, a young one at that, he couldn’t trust it. Not for anything. He was simply scared and men afeared said foolish things. I have to believe that. I can’t allow his passion to stir me up.
The beating stopped. The man was lowered to the ground. Two of the Rhulin prisoners were summoned to bring him back to the camp… to rest in the tent until he could work. The feisty Prytin was brought to the pole. He struggled mightily, thrashing about. Maurda dreaded the torment he might endure…
And then one of the guards shot him in the head. His body jerked then went still. All the fight fled, the passion, the determination… gone in an instant. They murdered him. He had no doubt about their disdain for any sort of prison conventions but witnessing an execution drove it home all the more powerfully.
I shouldn’t be shocked. That much was true. The young man beside him stared then tried to get at the gate. Maurda held him, nodding to another man nearby. They clung to the lad, keeping him in place as his wounded companion was brought through.
“They will kill you too,” Maurda rasped. “You can’t serve your prophet from the grave!”
“I… have to…” The young man stopped, slumping. “Why didn’t they beat me?”
“Don’t ask,” an anonymous voice replied, “you don’t want them to.”
“But they did my commander then murdered… why not me? This isn’t fair! Why give me preferential treatment?”
“To make you feel guilty,” Maurda said. “Now go tend your friend. He’ll need a friendly face.” He watched as the Prytin shoved his way through the crowd.
Mareth seemed to appear beside him. “I’ll keep him safe. But you were unusually quiet throughout that.”
“It was my first time.”
“You should come speak to this man soon. He’s a commander with some Prytin unit. Someone I think you might collaborate with.”
Maurda kept his fatalistic feelings to himself. He hadn’t revealed his own acceptance of fate. Not after all the times he promised the others he would find a way out. The notion of escape seemed beyond impossible. As much as summoning a starship from nothing. He merely nodded to his companion, staring at the pole.
That’s all any of us can look forward to. A final beating. Or collapsing in the mine dead. Perhaps execution. Every solution ends in an untimely death. Even for our religious friends. They’ll have the worst of it. Their divine nonsense will make it take longer to embrace the horror of their situation.
And perhaps that’s why they were brought there. To torture the entire group with their delusion of hope.
If they live long enough to deliver it. The men here barely contain their rage. They might take it out on newcomers. That young man is particularly mouthy. He’s going to have a rougher time here than I did. Both of them will. And that filled him with sadness. Another emotion he could not afford. I’m sick of feeling. I want to go back to work.
***
Lord Marshal Severan Divol found himself in a dilemma. His assistant-turned-lover Cirilla Anfer fascinated him; gave him something to look forward to at night. Her presence fended off the loneliness he felt since his wife passed. And her youth made her a passionate if clumsy lover.
Two problems came from his attention to her. The first being what it might look like to others when the rumors began. And they would certainly fly if they hadn’t already. Favoritism wouldn’t impact Severan in any meaningful way, but Cirilla would have a great deal to live down from her peers.
Even if he had elevated her status to be in charge. Though that certainly wouldn’t help her in the long run. Should they dissolve their arrangement, she would find herself in a difficult position. One that would require her to leave her position for sure, and where would she go afterward?
Thinking like that bothered him. He hated to be pessimistic, especially when she made him feel so alive… so positive. His mind always went to the end of a thing, no matter how good or bad. His thoughts rested on resolution. How many people involved will land on their feet and how will those who do not handle their situation?
This led him to the second problem with Cirilla. He wanted to trust her. The desire to do so made his heartache. But he struggled. A day removed, he wondered about her wandering around near his office. Part of him believed she might be working for intelligence. But was she a good enough actress to feign affection?
Because when they were together, she pressed herself against him, settling in. Her muscles relaxed, her body warmed at his touch, her cheeks flushed… he simply could not believe her capable of such profound control over herself. And that led to more questions. Was enough of it real only to get close to him?
They were in bed as all these thoughts danced about his head. He stared out the window as she slumbered, head resting on his shoulder. His fingers absently pet her shoulder, forcing himself to think about the fact that this young woman was naked against him. Youth gave her an ideal body, something he’d noticed the day she interviewed for her job.
I should wake her, Severan thought, ignore my worries. Make love to her again. Enjoy myself as long as I can before something takes this away. Living in the moment did not fit with his nature. Not since he was a young man working toward taking over the Kahl government. He always knew he would lead them to higher glory.
So frivolity didn’t factor into anything he did. Even courting his wife had been a calculated endeavor. She’d represented the perfect social climbing adornment for his arm. A woman with a powerful family that might back him long enough for it not to matter. Once he attained the status of Lord Marshal, he could’ve let her go.
They developed affection for one another. Enough that he genuinely felt a bond between them. He missed her. Cirilla filled a gap, though, in her own way. Young, feisty, even silly, she had nothing in common with his late spouse. Which was good. He did not compare her at all.
Which led to his feelings building for her. If I fall in love with this woman… Severan let out a sigh. I can’t imagine what people will say if I marry this girl. She could be my son’s child if he’d made some mistakes in school. Maybe I don’t care. Maybe she’s worth the risk. I could elevate her more than even her illustrious father’s position might.
General Anfer had been a loyal military man. He’d retired due to age. His memory slipped, and then he’d passed six months later. Cirilla had been born when he was nearly seventy years old. The life expectancy of an average Kahl sat around a hundred and twenty. Providing they didn’t die at war.
Or suffer some debilitating injury.
Cirilla’s mother remained alive, enjoying her twilight years on the pension of her husband. Severan ensured she received special care. How would she feel about he and Cirilla? He knew what the general would say. The man would not think it appropriate. He had been a traditionalist.
Which meant he didn’t believe anyone should sleep with a person who was more than five years separated from their own age. That seemed particularly harsh in Severan’s perspective. He’d seen many happy unions between couples a decade or more apart. Age didn’t matter. Attachment was the important
thing.
Did the person provide some level of comfort? Was there an intangible connection? Those were the points he cared about. At least, that’s how he advised those closest to him. Mostly soldiers who happened to spend time with him. Younger officers that felt comfortable coming to him with such concerns.
Kivda and Renz might’ve done the same, but they kept their own counsel when it came to their private lives. Severan thought it odd his son never brought such things up. Other men talked about their children asking questions. Maybe his boy figured it wasn’t appropriate. They had a different relationship.
One of expectation and barely contained malice.
Renz’s mother would not be happy to see what’s become of us. Severan held her on her death bed. She asked him to find a way to be closer to their child, to be a mentor to him. The request made sense, but it wasn’t as simple as changing some behavior. They had grown apart in a major way. Rekindling a positive relationship seemed impossible.
Severan had no idea how to go about it. And bringing Cirilla into his life would certainly set his son off. Renz loved his mother and made it quite clear he felt his father should be in mourning for the rest of his days. Fair or not, he made his opinion well known to others. The rumors came back around.
And Severan had done his best to adhere to them. But he couldn’t do it. Not forever. Especially not when he had an opportunity to embrace another who brought him joy. Something real. Emotions that felt incredible. He thought he’d never experience such passion again.
“You okay?” Cirilla’s voice made him tense for a moment.
“Did I wake you?” Severan asked. “I didn’t mean to if so.”
“No,” Cirilla replied. “I don’t think so, at least.” Her fingers traced lines across his stomach under the covers, moving down to his waist. “Why are you awake? Did I not tire you out?” Her fingers teased him. He tensed. “I can try again if you’d like. Seems like you’re interested too.”
“You always make me interested. I’m thoughtful about something.”
“Oh.” Cirilla quit touching him. She sat up, propping on her elbow. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Severan turned to look in her eyes. He had to make a decision. Let her in or push her away. If he said there was nothing to discuss, then he indulged a dalliance. Nothing more. Which might lead to her ruin when the inevitable conclusion to their relationship occurred. How long that would take, he couldn’t say.
Or… he could put it on the table. Let her know his concerns. Find out more and trust that they were meant to be together. That she could be a real partner. Someone he trusted. Someone he might love, cherish, and treat as a confidante. How much ambition did this woman nurse?
He needed to find out.
“I have a concern.” Severan chewed the inside of his cheek before going on. “About you.”
“Me?” Cirilla frowned. “How so?”
“What do you want out of this? Out of us?”
“I haven’t planned anything if that’s what you’re asking. I’m not crazy.”
“Say you could,” Severan pressed. “What would you want? And know that any answer is fine. If you’re here because you want a lover and nothing more, I’ll understand. However, I do want to know your mind.”
Cirilla didn’t answer right away. Which gave Severan pause. What’re you weighing in your mind right now? What exactly are you worried about happening? If she came clean about something, discussed the fact she had been a plant, he wouldn’t have been surprised. The delay in and of itself was telling.
“I’m not sure how to answer.”
“With your heart,” Severan smiled, “preferably.”
“I think we have to go beyond that, don’t we?” Cirilla moved, shifting to sit up. She leaned on her knees, staring at the floor. “You must know there are dozens, probably hundreds of people interested in getting information about you. What you’re thinking… any plans you might have… how you feel about certain events.”
“What’re you saying?”
“Just…”
“Have you been approached?” Severan asked. Her hesitation answered the question.
“I don’t know if I can be honest with you.”
“There are no bugs in this building,” Severan replied. “I have it swept by a… well, someone unaffiliated with any of our standard security contractors. And I know you haven’t tried to plan any. So you can speak your mind, Cirilla. What do you want? And what has happened?”
“Okay.” Cirilla stood. She turned, meeting his gaze. “I want to be your companion. Along with everything that means. I can help you; be a bridge to a younger generation while offering you thoughts and ideas. Advice even. I’ve paid close attention while working in the office. I know many of the players you contend with and—”
“Stop.” Severan held up his hand. “You’ve made your point. I… appreciate it. Though, I suspect there’s more to our situation than what you’ve said thus far. Before we get into it, I’d like to say I welcome the opportunity. I think we can make a difference together. Considering many will underestimate you, it’ll be to our advantage. However…”
“What’s that mean?”
“Does anyone know about us?”
Cirilla’s cheeks turned red.
“If we’re going to do as you’ve described, we have to be completely honest with one another.”
“Intelligence.” Cirilla averted her gaze. “They want me to report on you. To spy around the house.”
“Is that why you went down the hall for the washroom?”
Cirilla nodded.
“Okay. And did you find anything?”
“I did not. I didn’t push as hard as they probably wanted me to either.”
“Very good.” Severan hummed. “So they’re keeping tabs on me through you.”
“They hoped to, yes.”
“What else do they know?”
“That I genuinely have feelings for you,” Cirilla replied, “and that I want to elevate my status.”
“I see. We need to understand their game. To do that, we need to know what it is they want from me. This is going to take some finesse.”
“Do you think they’ll be aware I told you?”
Severan smiled. “If they know you care about me then they’ll have to assume you will eventually. The question is when they think it’ll happen. But we’re not going to second or triple guess them. We’ll play the game our way. First, you need to give them some information. And I think I’ve got just the thing.”
“I don’t like having to deal with them,” Cirilla said. “My contact is creepy. He’s kind of a scum.”
“Yes, those who turn assets are brutal. I want you to tell them about my search for the Prophet.”
“The… weird religious zealot?” Cirilla tilted her head. “I thought he was some upstart revolutionary. Is he a threat?”
“A grave one, I’m afraid. He and his followers have caused considerable damage. And I fear they’ll only get worse. I have an agent working on the situation, but you can’t tell them that part. Tell them I’m looking for the right agency to address the Prophet before he gets worse. Make it clear I need a proposal I can get behind.”
“You want them to start looking into the Prophet?”
“I want them to waste their time on something else,” Severan replied, “and devoting themselves to a cause. There are traitors in our midst. Those working with the Prophet. Why, I don’t know. Maybe they believe. Perhaps he’s promised them something or it could be they simply want more control. Whatever the case, if the intelligence people dive into that, it might free you from their grasp for a while. They’ll know what I’m working on.”
“Aren’t they going to keep pushing? They have plenty of people to continue making trouble while doing what you want.”
“While it’s true they can be unpredictable. Which is good for their work.” Severan smiled. He considered Milna’s actions. Separate from intelligence, part of a special branch repo
rting only to him. Even her peers had no idea what she was up to. That’s how they operated. Teamwork tended to be secondary.
I would love it if she’d check in. Severan wondered if Cirilla might be a good choice for acting as an intermediary. Intelligence will be monitoring her communications. She’d have to come up with something clever. Perhaps this is more advanced than she’s ready for. The future may require her to step up, though.
“Anyway,” Severan said, “we’ll deal with surprises as they come up. One thing you’ll learn about intrigue is you cannot plan for every contingency. All things are fluid, as they say. Remember that and you’ll do well.”
“When intelligence contacts me, how do I broach the subject? How do I tell them without sounding…” Cirilla frowned. “I don’t know. Too… excited? Eager?”
“They’ll want to know things. Bring it up as you’ve learned it. They may not even care how you know. And if they do, you can tell them whatever you want as long as you remain consistent. Tell me what you said later if it requires corroboration. Otherwise, it’s up to your discretion.”
“I’m… I’m not sure…”
“You’ve come this far.” Severan swept his hand over the bed. “Slept with me. I think you’re better off than you think.”
“You… you’re… you’re right.” Cirilla nodded emphatically. “So… what will we do if they back off? What shall we start with? If you have a plan, that is. I don’t want to rush or seem like I feel like we need to know exactly what we’re doing every second—”
“Shh,” Severan smiled as he extended his hand. “We will pursue the things you talked about, of course.”
Cirilla took his hand, slipping into bed beside him. She pressed her lips to his.
Yes, this will work out nicely. Severan doubted she would tell intelligence she confessed. Making her promise not to seemed like setting her up for failure. Either way, I’ve made progress tonight. Severan’s blood ran hot as she handled him, teasing with her fingers. In more ways than one.
