by A J Witt
“Oh, right.”
“Track them!”
Pluto nodded. “Give us a minute.” The two performers walked into the destroyed village until they were out of Rex Ruga’s sight. “Any ideas?” Stroking his mustache, Joss shrugged, then held up two fingers. “Yes, we can do that,” said Pluto, “but this stunt is ending soon. The woman’s absolutely crazy. Gods, we should have never accepted this job.”
Right on cue, Rex Ruga hollered out for them. “What’s taking so long?”
“Let’s just hope we somehow find these dread Adepts,” whispered a wide-eyed Pluto. He waved at the commandant. “Yes, coming!” The two performers walked back and rejoined the group. “Our initial inclination was correct, as usual. The Adepts were definitely in this village.”
“I sure hope so,” Rex Ruga replied. “Otherwise, why did you bring us here?”
“Umm … right, exactly.”
“So what now?” asked Gorgios.
“Watch and learn, friends.” Pluto sifted through the cinders and tossed a handful into the open. The black ashes scattered in the wind. “Yes, it all makes sense,” he said. Joss took five wide and exaggerated paces to the right, coming to a hard stop in front of a dilapidated wall. Eyes closed, he flattened the palm of his hand against it and stood perfectly still. Next to him, Pluto thrummed words no one understood, pivoted, and bent to the knee. “There!” Joss advanced straight to where his associate was pointing, crouched, and put his ear to the ground. He looked to the east. “They traveled that way,” concluded Pluto.
Rex Ruga was dumbfounded. “What in the Gods was that? How could you possibly—”
“Did you not hire us to find the Adepts? We’re doing our job here.”
“Fine. We go east.”
The group returned to the caravan of SPCs parked nearby. Before the commandant could climb in a vehicle, Gorgios pulled her aside. “Ruga, listen to me. You should go back to the Temple and let me deal with this.”
“Are you out of your mind?”
“You’re wasting your time out here, and Najara needs you.”
“Gorgios, I already told you, Najara needs no one.”
“All I’m saying is that it doesn’t seem very wise for the Temple’s leader to be barreling through villages when there are more important matters.”
“Like what? There’s nothing more urgent than finding these Adepts, as far as I’m concerned.”
“And we’ll find them. Let me take care of it.”
Rex Ruga was livid. “Do you think I got where I am from being a diplomat?”
“I don’t—”
“I rose through the ranks as a soldier.”
“There haven’t been any wars since the Dread Days, Ruga.” Perhaps the only Overseer who dared to call the commandant by her real name, Gorgios looked at his love interest, but the answer was not what he sought.
“There are wars being waged every day, you don’t see them.” And with that, she lifted herself into the vehicle. “Onward!”
The Temple caravan rumbled through a barren countryside, save a growing number of tepuis dotting the landscape. That they were driving SPCs, Rex Ruga cared little. Hypocrisy only matters for people who depend on others.
Another village came into view. This one was intact, though when drawing nearer, they realized it stood as a haunting shell of a previous self. Formerly housing a few hundred families, the community now amounted to less than a handful. Residents had abandoned their homes and fled to the safety of Phaidros, leaving unopened packages on their doorsteps, blinds half shut, and the once-bustling square deserted.
“At least we won’t have trouble parking,” quipped Pluto as the caravan made its way down the main street.
The commandant jumped out and barked her orders to the Overseers who had already gathered around. “Search the village for the Adepts. And don’t leave a single stone unturned.”
They formed smaller units.
“Gorgios, I’m going to the tavern. Meet me there if you so wish.” Rex Ruga then gestured to Pluto and Joss. “Make yourselves useful.”
When the angry commandant disappeared from sight, the two performers braced themselves for the oncoming slaughter. “I know you’re full of rubbish,” said the blunt Master of Arms.
“Huh?”
“You two think I’m an idiot? It was obvious after the first village that you have no clue how to track something.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Cut it out, I don’t have time for this. In case you didn’t realize it, I’m an actual tracker, the best in the Dominion.”
Pluto knew there was no tricking the giant. “Why are you protecting us, then?”
“You assisted my squad in Fermantis. And anyway, we’re moving in the right direction.”
“How do you know?”
“Did I not just tell you I’m a real tracker?”
“They went east?” Pluto asked.
“Yes,” answered Gorgios, “I picked up several trails outside Portown and have been on top of them ever since.”
“So isn’t this a big waste of your time?”
“No, not if it means she goes back to the Temple.” The senator paused. “You didn’t hear me say that.”
“Hear what?”
“Very good,” said Gorgios. “I’m heading to the tavern.”
After several hours, the search units reconvened by the SPCs.
“We’ve looked everywhere,” reported an Overseer. “They’re not here.”
“All right, I’ve had en—enough.” A slightly inebriated Rex Ruga turned toward Pluto and Joss. “I’m losing my patience, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“It’s not our fault that, umm …” Pluto glanced at Gorgios, “… they’re good at hiding.”
“Well, I will not hunt through every corner of this dread Dominion,” replied the commandant. “I’m giving you one last chance.”
“One last chance?”
“That’s right. They’d better be in the next village we visit.”
“And if not?”
“You’re taking their place on the pyre.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
“It’s always the remote ones that get hit.”
Neeta frowned. “There must be a reason.”
“Oh, I’m sure there is,” said Ruan. “And I plan on finding out precisely what that might be. Don’t you ladies worry, I’ll tell you all about it after the next attack.”
“Gods, you’re cocky. How can you be so confident?”
“I spent an inordinate amount of time studying the maps.”
“Well, good thing the Nobles have the best maps available,” muttered Criss, one of her rare contributions to the conversation.
Ruan scowled at the agent.
“And the most time on their hands,” piled on Neeta, and both women laughed at the driver’s expense.
“In case you might have forgotten, I’m not a lord.”
Criss was quick to chime in. “You might as well be one. I’ve heard about the lifestyle of you personal attendants.”
“Maps, huh?” Neeta interjected, in a hastened effort to change the subject. “Why don’t you tell us a bit more about them?”
“Yeah, sure.” Ruan was also eager to avoid quarreling with the intimidating agent. “I marked the villages that were struck. On the surface, there were no logical connections. But when I dug a little deeper, patterns emerged.”
“Patterns?”
“That’s right. They all meet a certain set of criteria. First off, villages that have been destroyed are never neighboring. Second, their populations top at five-hundred. Third, the—”
“Okay, okay, I get the gist,” cut in the impatient Adept. “You gathered your little data points and picked the most obvious site for the next attack.”
“Correct.”
“And it was Tuka?”
“Gods, no.” Ruan rolled his eyes. “You think I want to die? No, the village closest to Tuka, you know, Jasper.”
Neeta was unimpressed. “Ah. So you’re going to wait in Tuka to discover what happens to the victims next door?”
“Is there a problem with that?”
“Don’t get me started,” intervened Criss. “All I can hope for is that your deductive skills are on par with your empathy.”
Ruan laughed. “Do I want to see an attack? I’m trying to identify the offender here. More likely, someone of interest passes through Tuka, or they’ve planted the weapon in the area. And in any case, I’m on assignment, might I point out.”
“Oh, so it’s not your responsibility?”
“My responsibility? Why are we talking like I’ve done something wrong?”
“Who’s they, anyway?” Criss asked.
“What?”
“You said that they may have planted the weapon.”
Ruan shot a sideways glance at Neeta. “It’s pretty clear what’s going on here.”
“Watch it,” warned the Adept. “I don’t respond well to Temple propaganda.”
Criss could not hold back her inflammatory comment. “Propaganda and accuracy aren’t mutually exclusive.”
Tuka came into view against the windy horizon, drawing a merciful end to what would have descended into an even more toxic debate. Like the other villages they had crossed, this one was partly abandoned, its residual population too scared to escape. Ruan drove up to the largest building, a three-story wooden inn.
“Are you staying the night?” he asked Neeta and Criss as they hopped out of the rental SPC.
The agent paused. “Maybe. Give us a second to talk it over.”
“Very well. I’ll get my room in the meantime.”
“So?” asked Criss.
Neeta was unhappy. “So, your little plan was a complete failure. And now, I’m stuck in some dread-forsaken village in the middle of nowhere.”
“I meant are we leaving now or in the morning?”
“Do you know how much time we’ve wasted?” pursued the relentless Adept. “And it’s not like you were exactly pleasant during the ride.”
“Will you answer my question?”
“And if you believe we’ll find them now, then—”
Criss walked away.
“Hey!” shouted Neeta.
“When you figure it out, let me know,” the agent responded, “I’m going to the tavern.”
Kicking up dirt in frustration, Neeta went looking for Ruan. She found him arguing with a caretaker by the name of Stakel.
“You said the place is empty.”
“Irrelevant. You want the better room, you pay the higher rate.”
“You’re going to let it sit, unused?”
“Yes.” Stakel’s voice was piercing, and the heavy Tukan accent did not make it any less annoying. Her white hair was curled up into little buns at the top, and she wore small glasses in front of her dull eyes. “Do you want the upgrade or not?”
Ruan slammed his fists on the counter. “Here, you Dread Shepherd,” he said, handing her an additional pouch of coins. “This better be worth it.”
Stakel held back the room key. “What did you just call me?”
“Umm … a Dread Shepherd, perhaps?”
“I expect an apology.”
Ruan shook his head. “Seriously?”
“You’re not getting a room in my inn until you apologize.”
“Okay, I’m sorry.”
“That wasn’t heartfelt.”
“I apologize,” said the personal attendant, gritting his teeth.
“For what?”
“For calling you a Dread Shepherd. What else?”
“Say it all at once.”
“Okay, you’re about to lose my business.”
“You’ll sleep outside because we both know this is the only inn here in Tuka.”
A prolonged standstill followed until Ruan forced the sounds from his lips. “I apologize for calling you a Dread Shepherd.”
Neeta burst out laughing when Ruan snatched the room key from Stakel.
“Yes, I’m sure that was entertaining. Glad I could provide you with some comic relief. So what’s the deal, anyway? You leaving?” he asked.
“What do you care?”
“Well … if you stay the night, you’re more than welcome to share my room.”
Neeta poked the grinning personal attendant in the ribs. “You got lucky that one time on Ocean Star,” she cautioned. “Don’t you go thinking that was normal or something.”
The wind had waned to a faint breeze. The Adept gasped in ecstasy, until Ruan collapsed from exhaustion. He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. “Lucky, huh?”
Turning onto a side and resting her head on Ruan’s chest, Neeta smiled. “People can get lucky more than once,” she said, pulling herself a little closer.
“You always have an answer to everything.”
“And you don’t?”
“All I’m worried about is that dread caretaker finding out I have an extra guest in my room.”
Neeta giggled. “Oh, she’ll definitely charge you double.”
“What a nasty woman. Chances are she’s right there, listening to us.”
“I hope so. Looks like the poor thing could use some warmth in her life.”
The two-time lovers remained silent. Ruan took the officer by surprise. “How’s it like at the Academy?”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know, I’m curious what it’s like.”
“You want to be an Adept or something?”
“Who doesn’t?”
“Overseers, for one, and—”
“Oh please, spare me the lecture,” objected Ruan. “The Book of Provenance was written by people jealous they couldn’t manipulate the Source.”
“You think so?”
“Of course, that’s why there’s more of them than there are of you.”
Though Neeta accepted the truth of the personal attendant’s reflection, she changed the subject to avoid having to speak of the Academy. “So, who do you suspect is behind the attacks? Like, actually?”
“I’d put my money on you Adepts, with all the best—” The personal attendant picked up a smack across the chest. “Ouch!”
“Don’t you dare say that again,” said Neeta.
“I’m joking.”
“Whatever.” She sat up and scratched her thigh. “I wonder what happened to Criss.”
“Why does it matter to you? By the sounds of it, you didn’t care much for each other.”
“I don’t know, I kind of feel bad for her.”
“So you have feelings?”
“No, I don’t.”
“By all the Gods, you do!” Ruan was delighted. “You might not recognize it yet, but you definitely do.”
“How could you possibly know?”
“You’re too narrow-minded, Neeta. We can have feelings for lots of different people.”
“Oh, is that so?”
“Absolutely. And that’s what makes this tolerable. When you love many, you can turn a blind eye to individual flaws.
“You’re insane.” Neeta stood up. “The faults you’re so eager to avoid only enrich the beauty of a relationship, not the other way around.”
Marrek’s wisdom had influenced a generation of Adepts, if only it had forced its way to more minds in the general populace. Not that the citizens of Phaidros were uneducated, by any means. Mandatory schooling up to the age of twenty had been in place for several decades and offered various educational tracks. Some went directly to vocational school where they could learn a trade, while others pursued higher courses. Test results determined placement, with only so many open slots available at the next level. Those who made it to the top earned the most prestigious jobs in the metropolis. Urban architect, surgeon, mathematical historian. Battalion agent. Criss took another swig of ale. Being angry makes me even more … angry! Because people only get mad when they recognize they’re wrong. A lesson she had taught herself long ago. The agent shook her head and walked to
ward the other end of the tavern where villagers were playing a game of Saryn.
“Place your bet,” said one.
Another put down three coins.
“Okay, marble.”
The gambler reached for a little glass ball. He hovered his hand over a flat plate with a coiled track that spiraled on itself. “I’ll place it here.” The villager put the marble onto the carved track, on the third coil to the inside.
“Okay, countdown.” His opponent pointed at another part of the track. “Three … two … one … shoot!”
The shooter hit the marble in the allotted time with nothing more than a gentle push of the fingertip, sending it circling around the coil. The marble stopped short of the mark.
“Not within a thumb’s length, so I’ll be taking those.” The pointer scooped the three coins from the table.
“I’m up,” said Criss.
The villagers scanned her from top to bottom and up again.
“You want to be shooter or pointer?”
“Shooter.”
The agent tossed five coins onto the table. A villager agreed to cover the bet, and once Criss had positioned her marble on the track, he started the countdown. “Didn’t even need all three seconds,” mumbled Criss. The marble froze right on the villager’s mark, and she waved at him.
“That’ll be ten coins.”
The men pushed one another, demanding to be next.
“I want a try.”
“Will you play again?”
“Once more?”
Criss chugged down the rest of her ale and snapped her head toward the villagers.
They hushed.
“I’ll be playing through the night.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
When he was just a boy, Edvon often skipped down to the baqua courts in West Phaidros after school. There were always competitive games to watch and an occasional appearance from a professional or semi-professional player. He remembered wanting to throw curves like they did or make the incredible diving catches often witnessed by the small crowds. Edvon recalled one particular amateur who would show up on a nightly basis with his group of friends. He had long blond hair and a chiseled body that made everyone around him look unfit. The man was loud and cocky, often talking trash. He also rarely lost.
