The Reaping Season

by Sarah Stirling

  Like flipping over the hourglass, time flowed back to normal. “Thief!” screeched the owner of the inn at the same time as Viktor scrambled to his feet and bolted for the door. He was fast on his feet or he might have been in trouble, but before the customer could even react, the door swung open and he skidded into a wide, bustling street, kicking up dirt from the road. In a daze, he spun around to take in his surroundings – the open streets with rows of low-level terraces in a pale sandy coloured stone, contrasted with strange, horned roofs in a charcoal grey – only for his eyes to land on a startlingly familiar face. Janus.

  A moment’s hesitation had them staring at one another in much the same way as he and the inn owner had, until the man shot out the door on his stubby legs with a red face and clenched fist. Viktor spun the other way and launched himself into a dash, crashing through the throng of people in the street. He had to throw his body out of the way of an oncoming laisok carriage, the beast barely blinking as his feet pounded the hard packed earth.

  Viktor didn’t allow himself to look back. He ran and he ran and he ran but he never looked back.

  *

  “Do you know this place?”

  Kilai tilted her head, considering. “I know of it, simply because there was an extension to the train line built out here a few years ago to make use of a nearby mine.”

  “Oh, really? It’s bigger than I had expected.”

  “I imagine the better access to the cities in the south helped the people here to keep building.”

  By most standards it was still a tiny little town, barely more than a smattering of buildings in a tight knot of concentric circles on the flat plain of the valley they had been traversing for several days now. Nevertheless, it had a quaint look, all rows of connected straw-coloured homes built in rings around a central square area, and the horned roofs were a style distinctive to the Myrliks, no longer considered fashionable but still a cornerstone of most towns and cities built before both periods of Sonlin occupation. The town could at least boast a bustling lifeblood, carts rattling past with laisok ears twitching in the sweltering heat of midday. Wide streets left plenty of room for foot traffic, people of all sizes and shapes coasting the streets.

  “Are there soldiers here?” asked Rook, craning her neck to look all around her.

  “In a town as small as this? No. It’ll merely be a few officers of the Watch.”

  Rook seemed to loosen up at this news but Kilai could still feel her restless energy. Since they had drawn near enough to spot the settlement in their view the woman had been bubbling with excitement at the prospect of catching up to Viktor. She had kept them to a brutal pace in an effort to maintain the hint of the trail she could sense, much like a hunting hound after its prey. As a result Kilai was exhausted. So sore and achy was her body that Kilai was simply pleased to have reached a place of civilisation, Viktor and Janus the last thoughts on her mind. What she wouldn’t give for a hot tub to wipe off too many days worth of dirt and grime coating her skin.

  “He’s so close, Ki-ka. I can feel his signature here.”

  Kilai nodded wearily. “Even so, perhaps we should find beds for the night before we go running off again.”

  “But what if we miss him again? I don’t want to – are you all right?” Rook blinked pale eyes as she drew closer. Her head was wrapped in a strip of cloth but her face still bore the evidence of their trek, skin pink and freckled. “You don’t look so good.”

  “I think we could both use the rest if we are to sort everything out. No?”

  Rook slumped with a sigh. “You’re right. Let’s check in somewhere and then we can search later.”

  “We haven’t come all this way not to find him now.”

  Grey eyes slid back to hers. “We were going this way anyway.”

  Kilai resisted the urge to snap. They were both too tired for this. “Look,” she said, pointing to one wedge in a long row of near identical terraced buildings, “this one is an inn. Should we try here?”

  Rook shuffled forward. “I’m sure it’s as good as any.”

  Except when they entered the hovel of an inn – and Kilai knew she had certainly changed, to be relieved at the sight of such a primitive establishment – they found two men in black uniforms at the desk attempting to calm a very frantic, short man. He waved his arms around as he spoke, growing increasingly red in the face as he did so. She winced when spittle flew from his lips, listening as he complained about a thief.

  “Look at the mess! He just rifled through all my wares, probably robbed me dry. He even went through my personal letters! I am disgusted by the manners of some people. I want this rogue strewn up by his bootlaces!” He continued to rant, voice rising higher and higher. Kilai could see that the town watchmen bore matching dull expressions.

  “If I may, Jallsar-wei, could you describe the thief to me?”

  “Why, this fellow here saw him well, did you not?”

  A larger, moustached man blinked as all eyes in the room swivelled too him. He twisted the newspaper in his hands. “Well, he was a young man, as far as I could tell. His clothes were a mess and he looked like he’d been banged about.” He waggled his fingers over his face as he spoke. “I’m sure he would be quite easy to spot.”

  Kilai felt Rook stiffen next to her and then turn in question.

  “You don’t know.”

  Her words fell on deaf ears, for Rook plucked open the door and raced away. She caught a glimpse of straw-like hair streaming out behind her as the scarf flew from her head and then the door slammed closed again. Four heads all turned to stare at her.

  “Excuse me, Weishei.”

  Kilai scrambled after her companion, even if the action was futile. She had no hope of catching Rook but she could at least try to stop her from doing something stupid. Only when she jogged out into the open road she found no signs of the woman at all, already swallowed up by the bustling people in the streets and crowding around rows of market stalls. Which way had she gone? There was no way for her to tell.

  Frustrated, Kilai picked one direction and marched along, turning her head this way and that to seek any sign of movement in the dark alleys between buildings. There was no trail to follow. She didn’t possess powers that could allow her to sense others out; she had no idea where anyone could be and no way of contacting them. With the hot sun bearing down on her, she was considering just walking back to the inn and waiting for Rook to return but experience had long taught her that if she didn’t do something herself, generally it would not be done right. And too often did Rook have an attraction to trouble. Or perhaps more accurately, she attracted it.

  Her journey took her towards the train station on the edge of town – little more than a long wooden shelter next to the track that rolled out towards a horizon melting with the heat. Taking refuge on a green painted bench was a dozing watchman, head lolling onto his chest as he snored softly. How she envied him. Everything was so bright in this forsaken town that she had to shield her eyes with her hands, squinting as she spotted movement out of the corner of her eye. A figure was hurtling towards her.

  As he came close enough to discern his features her eyes widened in shock, scarcely believing what she was seeing. She couldn’t get her limbs to move, standing right in the target of his flailing limbs. It was Viktor. He was here. They had found him.

  He was also about to ram right into her, too busy craning his neck behind him.”

  “Viktor!” she called. “Viktor, it’s me!”

  Viktor nearly stumbled when his head whipped around to take her in, eyes going round. Dirt plumed in clouds of red dust as he skidded in place, mouth dropping open. “What – what are you doing here?”

  “We’ve been searching for you ever since you disappeared. Where did you go?”

  His hand latched onto her arm, fingers burrowing into her flesh. “He’s coming. He’ll find me.” His eyes stared off into the distance as he pulled her into the alcove of the station.

  “Who’s coming? W
ho’s after you?” She attempted to prise her arm from his grasp.

  “What do you mean who? Janus!”

  “Janus? Why would Janus –”

  “There he is!”

  Kilai didn’t have time to consider everything; she could feel the tightening of his grip on her arm and hear the small gasp from his mouth as a dark figure grew from the shimmering red dust. As the man drew nearer she found she recognised the tall, reedy figure, remembering the steady gait that had his long coat billowing out around him. From a different perspective – as the one being hunted – Kilai could see why others had kept their eye on him when he entered the room. Janus’ pace never changed. He simply stalked the length of the street down the middle as if all would wait until he had passed. With the aura of a man on the warpath, she wouldn’t be surprised if it were the truth.

  She had a decision to make. There was no way of knowing why Janus had suddenly turned on Viktor, or what Viktor had done to have him running from a man they had both called ally. There was no time to question whether she was making the right decision, she simply had to act. Her mind was made in the glint of sunlight off Janus’ revolver, ducking her head back into the shadow of the station roof.

  “Thief! My bag!” she cried, grasping her chest.

  Viktor stared at her in horror.

  Kilai continued. “Officer! Officer!” she cried, running to the startled watchman. “This man just stole my bag. Look at him, officer! He has a gun!”

  Her act wasn’t going to be nearly as effective when she looked as bedraggled as she did, for she hardly looked the snooty noblewoman she liked to portray, but with a still half-awake watchman blinking into the strip of sunlight for the culprit, she figured it was worth a try. The man’s body seemed to have reacted before his mind, weapon drawn on Janus even as he looked between them with a look as if to say, why isn’t he running away?

  “He’s going to hurt us!”

  Kilai felt her feet give out as a hand grabbed her arm and yanked her back. Her vision flashed and she flinched in preparation of crashing to the ground but was surprised when arms held her up. She glanced up at Viktor, whose hazel eyes were stuck on the stand-off between Viktor and the watchman.

  “What’s happening? Viktor?”

  “Shhh.”

  “Lower your weapon, villain.”

  The watchman was too hesitant; Kilai could read it in the agitated rocking of his feet. Her muscles tensed in expectation, breath coming quick, but she couldn’t stop the startled squeak from her lips as a shot pierced the air, planting itself into the wood near the watchman’s head. The man ducked behind his bench, his own gun clattering to the ground. Kilai wanted to shoot him herself.

  “Go, go!” she yelled, shoving at Viktor. They stampeded down the line of the train tracks, footsteps kicking up dirt.

  Another shot rang out and she felt her heart leap. There was no reason she could scramble up that would make him shoot at either of them, save that he had been playing them all along. She didn’t have time to think about it. As they turned the corner of the station she noticed a door and she yanked it open. “In. Come on!” She latched onto Viktor’s shirt and propelled them both inside, locking them into darkness with a flick of the bolt.

  “What are you doing? He’ll find us in here.”

  “Quiet, will you,” she gasped over her panting breath. “We need to find another way out.” After the bright light of day she could barely see in the windowless room, stumbling over some kind of broom and hurting her shin. With a curse, she jumped over it and felt along the wall with her hands, feeling for the groove of a door.

  “What does he want with me? I don’t get it.”

  Kilai ignored Viktor’s babbling, the pads of her fingers sliding across smooth wood. Deeper and deeper she moved into the room, searching low and wide for an exit. It might have been her frantic imagination but she thought she could hear footsteps outside, a staccato beat that resounded through her. “Don’t just stand there.”

  “I don’t know what to do. I just got away from him. I don’t even know how he manages to find me.”

  “Can’t you do your magic thing? Call out to Rook.”

  “I… what?”

  “She’s here, you imbecile! Do your magic thing. Ah, ha!” she cried as her fingers hit the ledge of a pronounced piece of wood. She found the handle and tugged on it, hearing it groan and crack, dust clouding in her face. Coughing, she gasped, “Help me, Viktor! Var Kunir curse you.”

  She could feel the heat from him as green flame erupted from his palm, illuminating them in that strange, flickering light. His other hand followed hers and together they tore the door open. The small door led into more darkness. With a shared look, they both glanced into the depths of the gloom with hesitation, each waiting for an offer from the other to go first.

  Then the door on their other side began to rumble and creak. Gunshots echoed in quick succession, small beams of light dappling the floor with golden sunshine, and then they were both racing one another to squeeze into the tunnel. On her hands and knees Kilai scrabbled through the dirt, wondering how in the world she had managed to get herself in yet another one of these situations.

  “Why is he doing this?” she called, pushing past the bite of fear.

  “I don’t know. He just shot me, Ki. I don’t know why.”

  It was hard to believe that Janus would turn just like that. Then again, he had always been a strange, distant figure, prone to shadows and secrets. But no, she had spoken with him, and while she had found him an odd creature, she had never sensed any real malice in him. Certainly he was not one for mindless violence. There had to be a reason for this, although what that might be she could not fathom with her heartbeat in the fingertips that pulled her towards the light spilling from a doorway ahead.

  “We’re nearly there. Get ready to run.”

  Behind her Viktor grunted an affirmation. She could hear his laboured breathing as he followed her.

  “Are you all right?”

  “It’s a bit dark. Can’t really breathe.”

  “Hold on. I can see the exit.”

  The heat was overbearing. Her clothes were damp with sweat and she lamented yet another chance for a bath that had passed her by, so close and yet so far. She wriggled the last few exhausting inches until she could meet the sun’s embrace, fingers of light caressing her face. Tugging herself out into open space was a sigh of relief and she stretched out her cramped limbs, raising her face to the faint breeze. She reached a hand out to Viktor as his mud-streaked face poked out of the tunnel like a stray mouse, examining the narrower street it had pushed them out into.

  “Let’s keep moving. We’re going to need to find somewhere to hide.”

  Viktor staggered after her, drunk in the light. “There’s no escaping him. Not once he’s got the scent.”

  Kilai just gripped his hand tighter and ran. “You don’t make things easy, Viktor.”

  “This – this isn’t my – my fault.”

  “Where can we go?”

  The town was a maze of mirrored buildings, all the same sandy stone that made them virtually indistinguishable. Each ring looked the same as the last and she had no idea of a place they could hide that Janus would not find. Her footsteps pounded against the street, giving her away. As she ran past another row of houses, she thought, I’ve been here before, with an air of desperation. But everything looked the same.

  She stopped short when the familiar green paint of the train station shone in the sun, vibrant against the red ground. Kilai swore. “How are we here again?”

  Viktor’s hand swatted her arm. “He’s coming. He’s coming!”

  Kilai yanked him into the shade of the shelter, trying to collect her stray breath. It felt like she was stuck in an endless loop of running around and around the town, with no escape. They could keep running but she didn’t see a way in which that ended well for them. She had to find a way to reason with Janus.

  “Why are you doing this?” she
called out.

  The footsteps continued, each making her heart jump. “You don’t know who he is. What he is.”

  “Excuse me?” exclaimed Viktor. Kilai pushed his head back from the wall.

  “Enlighten me, then.”

  “Time for that later. Hand him over, Kilai, and no one shall come to any harm.”

  She didn’t believe him. Not after all they had been through. Gathering up her resolve, she stepped from the alcove and faced him down; the unflappable expression on his pale face, and the dark eyes sunken into his sockets. They drank her in in a way that made her feel exposed, even more so than she already was in the open street. His hands hovered over the holster at his belt but she still didn’t think he would hurt her. Not when she was challenging him like this.

  “I won’t move until you tell me what you’re doing, Janus.”

  “Doing the job I started in Nirket.”

  She raised a brow. “I don’t believe harming your own party was part of that deal.”

  “Not that job. Another one.”

  “On whose orders?”

  “Can’t tell you that.”

  Viktor dashed out from the station shelter and she had to push him behind her, hissing at him to duck because she was nearly a head shorter. “Did you plan this all along? Was I part of your plan? Var Kunir take you, you –”

  The high-pitched whistle of a train cut through the tension, all heads turning towards the tracks on the other side of the wooden structure. The train would arrive at any moment and with it would come people to witness this exchange. Janus would not want this exchange drawn out any longer. If he was going to make a move, he would do it now. Her hand gripped tight on Viktor’s torn shirt sleeve as she took a step back.

  “Don’t want to hurt you, Kilai.”

  “And what about me, huh? You Locker-damned piece of –”

  There was a shadow encroaching upon Janus’ form. Squinting in the blinding sunlight, Kilai could barely make out what it was until the last moment. Janus’ eyes swivelled as if he was about to turn his head and she yelled out, “I won’t let you take him!”