by K. M. Fahy
As the vowel chorus came back stronger this time, the shimmer of Rulka’s dark waves caught Kitieri’s eye. She was shaking her head, Kitieri realized.
“Amadora,” the woman started, “I don’t…”
Before Kitieri’s eyes, the Chief Advisor appeared to grow exponentially in height as she towered over Rulka.
“I agree to the imprisonment,” Rulka assured her quickly, “but… I think her training should continue.”
“It’s all or nothing, Rulka, and you’ve heard the other votes.”
Rulka deliberated a moment longer under Amadora’s dark glare.
“Aye, then,” she muttered.
“That’s a unanimous Board,” Amadora announced triumphantly, “leaving no reason for the Baliant’s vote.”
“Amadora.” Catarva stood abruptly. “I will not tolerate this tyranny. I wish to hear a sound reasoning from every one of my Advisors on this decision.”
The old woman spun on the Baliant, baring her yellowing teeth. “You dare question me, girl?” she hissed.
Kitieri jerked her head back, astounded at the demeaning nature of the Chief Advisor’s address. Girl?
Amadora stepped closer to Catarva, lowering her voice so that Kitieri could hardly hear her words. “I built this Church,” she seethed in a rasping whisper. “I dedicated my life to this institution to make it what it is, and believe me, Catarva, I can take it all back. I can ruin everything you so proudly stand on. The Board stands behind me, and I will keep this position until the day I die. So is this really the battle you want to choose?”
Catarva’s nostrils flared and her eyes flashed as she glanced to Kitieri, but she did not respond.
“Kitieri Manon.” Amadora twisted back to her. “You are sentenced to imprisonment until your lightning is no longer a threat.”
Kitieri’s pounding heart thrummed in her ears as the room threatened to spin. Until she went back into lock? But that was… she couldn’t just…
“This is completely unethical, and all of you know it,” Haldin shouted. “She did nothing wrong except cross paths with you.”
“Save it, Commander,” Amadora snapped. “The Board’s decision is final, and you’re lucky you’re not going with her for your poor judgement. Now, call in the posted officer and have the prisoner escorted to her new quarters on the lowest floor. I want her wristbands replaced, and the servants instructed not to open her door for meals. No visitors. Is that clear?”
“Indefinite solitary?” Haldin asked, hoarse. “That’s cruel even by your standards.”
“Those measures are completely unnecessary, Amadora,” Catarva added.
Kitieri looked between the three of them as the Chief Advisor hissed and spat like a cat, screeching about the reaches of her power. The ringing in Kitieri’s ears drowned out her words.
This couldn’t be happening. It wasn’t real. She was going to wake up any second, and Jera would still be curled against her in a deep sleep. No one would be dead, her life wouldn’t be over…
“Get her out of here.” Amadora flipped a hand in Kitieri’s direction before gathering up her long black robes to storm out. Haldin released a long breath and rested a hand on Kitieri's arm, nodding for her to move for the door.
“Haldin?” Her voice came out a whimper, and she tried to clear her throat.
“I am going to do everything in my power to overturn this,” he said in her ear.
Kitieri’s hands started to shake as the implications of Amadora’s sentence sank in, and questions flooded her mind. “How do I prove it to them if I manage to lock my lightning again?”
Haldin looked at her as he reached for the door handle, and Kitieri withered under the profound pain and sorrow in his eyes. “You don’t.”
“But—”
“I promise I will not rest until you see daylight again, but I need you to promise something, too.”
“What?”
“That you’ll hang on down there.”
Kitieri blinked as he pulled the door open, and Officer Raden turned with a nod to Haldin. Just as the Commander started to speak, Kitieri felt a heavy presence behind her and looked over her shoulder to see Ghentrin hovering over them.
“Just making sure the Commander gives all the instructions,” he said with a wide grin. Leaning closer, his face came inches from hers even as Kitieri pulled back in disgust. “Thought you were untouchable with the Baliant on your side, didn’t you?” he sneered. “This is what happens when you cross us. I hope you like the dark.”
“Back off, Ghentrin,” Haldin growled, pulling Kitieri out into the hall by her elbow. He slammed the door closed in the Advisor’s face, and Kitieri heard a muffled grunt from the other side. “Raden, you have your orders,” he said, releasing Kitieri’s arm.
As the officer moved to steer her toward the stairs, Haldin turned his back, touching his forehead.
“Wait,” Kitieri said. “Wait, please.” She resisted Raden’s guiding hand, and his grip tightened.
“You heard the Commander,” he said, raising his eyebrows in warning.
“Haldin,” she called. The man remained still, shoulders hunched. “What will happen to Taff and Jera?”
Haldin broke the tension in his stance and looked back at her. “They still have a home here,” he said. “I’ll make sure they’re taken care of.”
A sob burst from Kitieri’s throat, unexpected, as Raden pushed her closer to the stairs. “Tell them I love them.”
Haldin shut his eyes. “I will.”
Raden forced her down the first step, and Kitieri tore her eyes from the Commander to watch her feet.
“I’m sorry.” Haldin’s voice, raw and trembling, followed her down the stairwell. When she looked back, he was gone.
Chapter 14
The flickering lamplight danced on the dark walls of the cell, casting long shadows across the room that played tricks on Kitieri’s eyes. She shifted on the hard mattress, relieving pressure on her numb, tingling arm, and rolled onto her back to watch the warm glow twitch across the ceiling.
You should save the oil if you’re not using it.
“I know,” she whispered back to herself. Yet she did not move. Shapes appeared in the flame’s exaggerated shadows, displayed across the stone ceiling, and she let her mind wander through the twisted story they told. “I am using it, though.”
Staring at shadows doesn’t count.
Kitieri released a deep sigh, turning her head to stare directly into the lamp’s flame. It wasn’t her love of the light itself that kept the wick burning. It was that cold, dreaded emptiness that came when the light went out; the fear that threatened to consume her when the black silence pressed in around her. When the oil ran dry, the demons of her darkest thoughts came out to play.
A metallic click rang off the walls, and Kitieri jumped as light spilled across the floor through a narrow opening in the bottom of the cell’s door. A thin metal tray slid into the room and the flap slammed closed, leaving the small space lit only by the flickering flame once more.
Kitieri stared at the tray, contemplating her hunger in proportion to the expenditure of effort required to retrieve the thing. Her stomach reacted with a gurgle as the scent reached her nose, and she pushed off the bed apathetically. A hunger strike wasn’t going to get her anywhere down here. No one cared if she lived or died anymore. It was all the same to them.
She crouched next to the tray, examining its contents. A biscuit, two pieces of ham, a slice of cheese, and a cup of chopped fruit.
Breakfast.
It was morning, then—not that the time of day meant anything anymore. How many breakfasts had it been now? Seven? Eight?
Kitieri picked up the tray and walked it to the desk where the lamp rested, pushing a pile of crumpled papers onto the floor to make room. The metal feet of the chair screeched against stone as she dragged it from its place, sitting hard on its cold, unforgiving seat. As usual, no cutlery graced the tray.
Because think of all the damage I might do with
a stray knife, she thought. I might carve my name into the wall or something.
She swallowed the dry biscuit, chasing it with a juicy apple slice while pointedly ignoring the imagery of what she might truly do with a knife if they gave her one.
“I need you to promise something, too.” Haldin’s voice rang in her memory as she picked up a piece of the ham, dangling it in the flickering light. “Hang on down there…”
Kitieri’s appetite fled, and she dropped the ham back to the tray.
“Well, you’re going to need to get me more oil if I’m going to have any chance of that,” she mumbled with a sour glance at the lamp. She pushed the tray aside, revealing the wide, clothbound book she’d found in one of the desk’s drawers upon her imprisonment. Its pages were empty, except those she’d torn out that now lay scattered on the floor. Kitieri touched the blank paper, wondering if the books were rationed like the oil, or if, when she’d covered its last free corner, it would be gone forever.
Chewing the inside of her cheek, she glanced at the discarded wads at her feet. She’d wasted a lot of good paper already, but maybe some of it was salvageable. She leaned down to grab one of the crumpled balls and stretched it flat on the desk.
Dear Taff and—
Kitieri instantly returned the sheet to its wadded form, clutching it so tightly in her hands that her knuckles turned white.
Not that one. Not ready for that one.
She lobbed the paper ball across the cell to keep from picking it up again by accident, but the damage was done. She turned back to rest her elbows on the desk, cradling her head in her hands.
Though she pulled out every mental defense she had, images of Taff and Jera seeped into her thoughts. She saw Jera piling forkfuls of food into her mouth, laughing at her brother. She saw Taff curled up in the corner chair back at home, reading one of Mother’s books—the one about Shirasette’s history and the formation of the Churches. He’d been convinced the gods were real for weeks after reading it, and Father had finally taken him out for a walk to discuss the matter. Kitieri had often wondered what Father had said to Taff for him to return home so pale, but he’d never spoken of the gods again…
The pillar, Kitieri realized with a sharp breath. Father had shown him the pillar, and that was how he’d found her so easily.
She squeezed her eyes closed, rocking her head back and forth in an attempt to drown out the thoughts. Every smiling face from her memories had twisted into the expressions of anguish and despair she’d seen when their parents had never come home. So much abandonment and loneliness had they endured, only to face it all over again at her hands.
It’s for their own good. It’s better this way.
Is it?
You can’t hurt them this way.
I already have. Tears stung her eyes, forcing their way out at the corners to trickle down her face.
No. Keep it together.
Why? What’s the point?
Her inner dialogue went quiet, and Kitieri leaned back in the chair. What was there to hold on to? The hope that Haldin would make good on his promise to get her out of here? She greatly respected the man, but that outcome was far from likely. Amadora had trampled him and everyone else in that room, brushing off every argument like the annoyance of a buzzing fly. Even if Haldin did manage a miracle, it wouldn’t come until Amadora died and a new Chief Advisor was appointed. She’d declared that much at the trial.
Kitieri’s shoulders drooped, and her soul shriveled at the thought. Even just another eight days seemed insurmountable, unsurvivable… let alone years.
“Hang on down there.”
Kitieri shook her head. “How?”
Silence answered her, broken only by the soft purring of the burning wick. She stared into the flame again, biting hard on her bottom lip, and pounded both fists on the desk.
“Tell me, damn it, and I would try!”
The remains of the biscuit flipped onto the floor, and the light flickered as the force jostled the lamp. Kitieri pushed back from the desk in a rage, swiping the breakfast tray off its surface with a deafening crash as the metal struck stone. She whirled away, clasping her hands behind her head to keep from upending the entire desk, and her wordless scream filled the cell.
When her lungs emptied and the scream died, lingering only in the echoes still bouncing from wall to wall, Kitieri found herself on her knees. She bent forward, touching her forehead to the cold floor as she wrapped her arms around her body. The loose gray clothing did little against the chill, and a shiver ran down her spine. In the wake of her violent outburst, realization crept in with a deathly calm.
I’m going to die down here. Alone. And forgotten.
Not forgotten, her own thoughts answered. Taff and Jera won’t forget you.
Kitieri lifted her head, resting back on her heels. I hope they do. Another shiver racked her body. I hope they move on from me, and live the happy lives they both deserve.
From the dark recesses of the back of her mind, a thought she could hardly bear to put to words crept forward. I hope they realize how much safer and better off they are without me.
Stillness weighed heavily on her shoulders, holding her body in its hunched, wilted form. No tears fell as she remained on the floor, unseeing eyes fixed on the cell’s metal door in front of her. Her mind went numb, shutting out the voices of both reason and chaos.
Behind her, the lamp sputtered and popped, gasping its final breaths as the oil ran out, and Kitieri closed her eyes. Better to greet the darkness on her own terms…
Voices sounded in the hallway outside, and Kitieri opened her eyes again just as the flame was extinguished completely. Though she could not see her own hands in front of her face, she leaned forward to listen through the thick door. She could just make out the murmur of male voices on the other side, followed by the sharp jingle of keys. The door jerked and its hinges screeched for the first time since it had closed behind her eight days prior, and Kitieri scrambled backwards on her palms.
The light pouring in stabbed at her eyes. She twisted away, throwing her elbow over her face.
“What in the hells is the matter with her?” one voice asked.
“I don’t know,” another replied. “Maybe she’s scared.”
“She’s scared?” the first voice mumbled.
“Come on, let’s get this over with. Manon?”
Kitieri blinked furiously, lowering her elbow enough to see two blurry figures standing in the doorway. “Yeah?” she croaked.
“Your presence is required in the Sanctuary.”
Kitieri squinted at the bright doorway. “What?”
“You heard me. Now, come on. Commander’s orders.”
Kitieri wiped a tear from her sensitive eyes and got to her feet.
“Put this on.” The second speaker, the man with the deeper voice, shoved a Gadget into Kitieri’s arms.
“I thought you said the Sanctu—”
“Just do it,” he demanded. “I’m not taking any risks with you.”
Kitieri slipped her arms through the leather straps and felt the weight of the Gadget settle against her back. With the five oran bands already in place, the cintra’s limited effect only cast its familiar hazy cloud over her senses.
“And these,” the first voice said. The smaller figure stepped into the cell, and Kitieri noticed the silvery flash of oran cuffs in the light from the hallway.
Gods—it’s buried already. Still, she offered her wrists. She was not about to jeopardize any chance she had of leaving this hole.
Though the hallway was lit only by occasional lamps spaced along the walls, Kitieri basked in their warm glow. The officers walked on either side of her, one guiding her with a hand on her upper arm. Only when the cell door was out of sight did Kitieri dare hazard a question.
“What’s going on?”
The officers exchanged a glance over her head, and the bigger one sighed. “Some woman showed up yesterday morning, demanding to see Officer Kitieri Manon,” h
e said. “Won’t budge, no matter what we say.”
“Since the Sanctuary is technically open to the public, we can’t exactly throw her out,” the other said.
Kitieri frowned as they took on another set of stairs. Who in the hells…?
“What I don’t get,” Deep Voice said, “is why the Chief Advisor didn’t just tell her the truth up front. ‘Sorry, she’s in prison forever’ probably would have sent her on her way.”
“I don’t understand most of what that woman does,” High Voice conceded, “but I do know that we are in deep shit if she finds out we did this.”
“Hey,” Deep Voice said with a shrug, “it’s our job to follow orders, and the only direct order I heard came from the Commander. He’s probably right, anyways. If we just give the woman what she wants and get this one back to her cell, no one will ever have to know.”
“I still don’t like it,” High Voice whined. He looked Kitieri up and down, inching as far away from her as the narrow staircase would allow.
On the sixth landing, Kitieri looked up the next flight to see bright morning light streaming through the window. Sunlight!
She rushed toward the window, and the officers hurried after her.
“Hey! Where…”
High Voice trailed off as Kitieri stopped at the window, planting her cuffed hands against the glass. The trees greeted her with a gentle wave in the breeze, and a wide smile spread across her face as she soaked up the warmth.
“All right.” Deep Voice tugged at her arm, though the coarse edge in his tone had softened. “Come on, now, no dallying.”
He pulled her from the window, forcing her away from the beautiful sight, and the shadow of the Church interior cooled her face once more. Around the next corner waited the Sanctuary.
As they approached the door, High Voice stopped them. “Wait. The cuffs.”
“Oh, yeah.” Deep Voice reached around the back of his belt for his keys, and held them up in front of Kitieri’s face. “I’m going to take these off you,” he said. “As far as this woman is concerned, you are still an officer who’s just not been feeling well—got it?”
Kitieri nodded.
