Volume Two – Chapter 13

A Man & A Woman

Iogu’s ever-consistent knock ripped Rannek out of the middle of his signature. The first assistant entered and walked up to the desk framed between the two stacks of documents sitting on top of it.

Rannek massaged his wrist. “I did not miss this part on my travels, I tell you that. What is it? If you’re finished, go ahead and leave. I’m sure Kysryn’s already waiting for me outside.”

“He is. There is also someone else, or rather two. Gralinn. Census Commission, they say.”

“They say.” Rannek stretched his arms. “What’s your guess?”

“They mostly spoke Gralinn, sir.”

“So do you.”

Iogu seemed discomfited. “… The man referred to ‘orders from Ullston’ when he thought I wasn’t listening.”

Rannek shot up to look past Iogu and check whether the door was properly closed. “The Supreme General? And they’re both Gralinn?”

“Yes. They seem… unlike the Census people I’ve met.”

“Census came only last year.” Rannek nodded, and so did Iogu. “Let them in. And bring borvin.”

“Yes, prefect.”

Rannek stood up with an aching back and limped around the desk without taking his crutch. The day of his bureaucratic reckoning had come, and he had come prepared. Even Iogu he had drawn into his circle, at least enough to know what to do. Block off all other appointments. Stay ready to supply refreshments. Be prepared for extraction.

He waited by the book shelf with the Vohl Hirklen Dag opened to the only useful passage, ‘On Introspection and Humility’, and looked out the window to see the trees in the courtyard’s center lit up in a post-afternoon tangerine. They had chosen a good time. This wasn’t a conversation to have at the beginning of the day. He heard the door click and looked down at the thick tomb, reading the last line on the page: ‘with understanding, and never resentment.’

»Prefect Lorne,« a man said by the door.

Rannek looked up and smiled. »Census, is that you? I must have forgotten our appointment, I’m terribly sorry.« He put down the book and performed a pitiful limp across half of the room to greet his visitors. »Rannek Lorne. Pleased to meet you. Do you know Pharnin, from the colonial health subcommittee? She usually handles our prefecture—I certainly hope she’s well.«

The man looked at him with an intrigued expression before shaking his hand. It was a curt shake, punctuated by a not-quite painful moment of pressure. He was close to Rannek’s age, perhaps even in his fifties, but the similarities stopped there. This was a man whose appearance was meticulously crafted. His stubble was cut at precisely one height. His hair was white like Wellan’s, but with a few gray strands, and combed back to reveal a hairline without peaks. His face, though in itself unremarkable, looked distinguished amidst wrinkles that perpetually threatened a smile. It took him two words before delivering on that threat.

»Forgive us. We deceived you. My associate and I thought it best to keep our meeting between the three of us.«

»Is that so?« Rannek raised his hands, clumsily redistributing his weight. »Should I be worried?«

The man laughed heartily. »No, not at all. We’re here on the Supreme General’s orders to discuss the matter of your recent trip. My name is Arlon Muldane. This is Merrys Yngwen.«

Rannek shook the woman’s hand and was surprised when she held on longer than him. She was young, no older than thirty, a wispy figure wearing slim gloves up to her elbows. Her hair was bound back but for a single strand caught behind her ear. There was an intensity about her and the way she studied his eyes.

»Pleased to meet you,« Rannek said, before beckoning them to join him at his desk, and limping back to his chair. »So, about my trip.«

Arlon Muldane’s face smoothened. »Prefect Lorne, I would like to sincerely apologize on behalf of the Supreme General, as well as Chancellor Korush. From what we gathered from your account as well as colonel Syrkanan’s, the Empire made a mistake sending you and your men to Bitaab.«

»I… Thank you.« Rannek shook his head. »I must confess, I’m confused. Not to complain, but I expressed some rather harsh opinions on the colonel in my report. I assumed he did the same for me.«

»He did,« Muldane said. »Prefects and the military not getting along is business as usual. We know to read between the insults and accusations. You fell prey to a large-scale attack on the Empire’s mining facilities; considering the circumstances, you did the best you could.«

»I’d beg to differ, but… I suppose I shouldn’t.«

Muldane’s wrinkles returned. »You admonished yourself plenty in your report. We read between that, too. You’re fine.«

»About Syrkanan, though. What he did—«

»Guren H. Syrkanan has become the subject of an official Army investigation. Supreme General Ullston is holding meetings as we speak. Until they are concluded, you are kindly asked to not draw any attention to the matter.«

The matter. Muldane’s glibness talking about the burning of an entire village infuriated him for a breath, but he composed himself. An investigation was at least something. Rannek sighed and leaned back in his chair. The woman, miss Yngwen, had not once taken her eyes off him. She never looked at his eyes, though. »You wouldn’t be here if was just that,” Rannek said. “There is an old archetype in the Tahori theater called The Two Messengers. One always tells the good news, the other…« He talked directly to Yngwen. »… that would be you?«

She smiled. »No,« Yngwen said. »He does that, as well.«

Muldane clapped his hands together. »Two minor issues. First off: Kirhonen.«

»Yes.« Rannek didn’t have to act to appear discomfited. »I wish I could tell you I don’t consider him a danger. But his fall, the time between then and when he found us… something happened to him, I think.«

»Not quite. Your ‘pet Gifted’, as the colonel’s report refers to him, killed at least 73 Liberation soldiers in the woods around Bitaab. Nothing happened to him, he happened. Galenthor Kirhonen always had an instability. He is another risk the Empire failed to assess correctly.«

»So did I.«

»You requested his entrance into God’s Army to keep his powers off the books, but it was Ullston who granted it. Cunning move, I have to say. I’d never heard of a Gifted joining the Army. Gave you three years of good service before he snapped, so maybe you should count your blessings. We will take charge of his retrieval.«

»You won’t kill him?«

»Only if absolutely necessary. He did us a favor clearing out the jungle, and hasn’t as of yet killed any of ours. We’ll have an operator for himarrive shortly. The best person for the job, rest assured.«

Operator. Rannek nodded to hide his anxiety at the word. It was common code for a lower-tier Gifted. Glane had been in the Third Order, so their operator would be at least that. They wouldn’t dare send one of the First Order, Rannek reckoned. He suddenly noticed Merrys Yngwen staring at him intently.

»A problem?« Muldane asked.

Rannek sighed. »No. I simply… Glane is difficult. I can’t tell you what he’ll do, but his end goal is clear.«

»Penroe Kyetana.« Muldane nodded. »Which brings us to our second issue.«

»I cannot overstate her importance for the people of Koeiji. Walk around the city and find a street without a jinoa of her father. You won’t. I know from a good source that people are getting anxious about her absence. They want—«

»Penroe Kyetana is dead,« Muldane said, matter-of-factly. »She is not the issue. The wildling who killed her is.«

»What?« Rannek felt like he had been punched in the gut. »No no no, she is not. I remember him taking Pen, as does Kysryn. He inflicted no harm on her.«

»We are talking about the savage caveman who killed your head of the guard before beating a Gifted expelled from the Third Order to, and I quote you here, ‘a pulp’.« Muldane paused, and shrugged with crushing matter-of-factness. »From your report, we assumed her death a merciful conclusion. What do you think happened, prefect?«

»She…« Rannek sighed, and shook his head. »She can’t be dead. She can’t.«

Muldane frowned. »Her death was politically unfortunate, but it seems you got attached beyond that. My condolences.«

»How was I not to? Her father abandoned her to free Koeiji of Elehi Rai, the monster we created. She had every reason to hate us. And yet she taught me to speak her language properly, and learned ours in two years. She cared about her people, about people in general. Pen could have…« Rannek took off his glasses to wipe his eyes. »She could have done great things for Tahor.«

When he glanced up, he saw Yngwen sitting with her elbows on her knees, following his every move. »You cared about her,« she said. In her voice rang genuine surprise.

Rannek furrowed his brows at her. »That’s… what I said.«

»Don’t mind Merrys, she has an emotional disposition,« Muldane said. »Let’s stay on point. In short, you will not address the matter of Penroe Kyetana’s death in public before an alternate scenario has been decided on. You will keep matters concerning Bitaab, the TLA, and what you saw in those caves confidential. Have you done anything that might work against us? Told anyone?«

»I… Of course not.«

Muldane seemed to wait for something, but it didn’t come. He broke into a delighted smile. »Then you need not worry. Just make sure to keep the story you tell straight and simple. Perhaps she’s with relatives.«

»The only relatives she has, she hates.«

»You will think of something.«

Their departure came sudden, too sudden for him. He still had questions. But Rannek knew better than to keep people like them from their business. He accompanied them to the door and held it open, beckoning Iogu to scram instead of ogling the visitors. Muldane shook his hand. There was that same short pressure.

»You live up to your reputation,« the dapper messenger said. »The good parts, that is.«

Rannek forced a smile. »For the negative, go visit the colonel.«

»We did,« Muldane said. »Oh, and before I forget. I have a personal message from the High Chancellor Korush to relay to you.«

»You do?« Rannek was wary.

»He wishes you to know that your continued efforts are appreciated. It hasn’t gone unnoticed how well you’ve performed the past years, considering the singular circumstances of your assignment. The Chancellor hopes you may put your retirement off as long as you can. A safe Koeiji is in the best interest of both Grale and Tahor.« Muldane pulled a folded piece of paper from his shirt pocket. »Hence, he has decided to reward your work so far. Five parcels of twenty square kilobirks each, adjoining your family estate back home.«

»I…« Rannek stared at the sparse words on the document. Korush’s signature was nothing but a curved line with a twist at the beginning. He hadn’t dictated any message, he likely didn’t even know Rannek’s name. He had advisors for that. Land. They had given him land he didn’t need adjoining an estate he avoided like the gray plague. It was likely worth more than all his savings combined. And yet, for some reason, it made him feel immensely, embarrassingly cheap. »I don’t know what to say.«

Muldane smirked at him. »Say nothing. Silence is appreciated, too.« The messenger left, and it was only in that moment that Rannek realized he’d never asked his rank or job.

Merrys Yngwen took off her right glove before shaking his hand. »I’m sorry for your loss,« she said.

Rannek nodded. Whatever was off-putting about her, she did not strike him as deceitful. No, it seemed that Merrys was simply an earnest woman. It spoke badly of Muldane to call her emotional. Rannek wondered whether she was happy with her job, with him. He wondered whether it was his place to ask. He had his own shortcomings.

So many things went wrong recently, he often stayed fell asleep trying to count them. The permit debacle of the Sunyear Festival. The interrogation of his lying assassins. Syrkanan’s inhumanity at Bitaab. Wellan’s death. Pen’s…

He couldn’t but think back to that day on the cracked road, seeing the smoke tendrils rising into the sky. Feeling the pain in his jaw where the colonel had struck him. Smelling the burnt earth, rock, the burnt everything. He hadn’t cried about what another man had done. He had cried about his part in it. A prefect of the Empire. A man of Grale.

He could almost sense the cold metal in his fingers again, the scalpel, as he wiped the blood off it, whatever it was. Gralinn or Union. Red or red. He could have drawn blood himself, that moment. He could have run after the colonel.

But he didn’t. He had made a different choice. Went back to camp alone, and found Kysryn. The boy, when he spoke up, it was as if Rannek could see the eyes of his dead village all staring at him, asking. Imploring. If they only knew what he would do to—

»Prefect Lorne!«

Rannek flinched back, ripping his hand out of Merrys’s. She smiled mildly and left the office before he could quite find himself. The voice. It had ripped him out of something, something he could not for the life of him assign meaning to. He’d gotten lost in thought.

But if he knew anything, it were his flaws. His mind had been smoothened by abstraction and science. The details of his memories were rarely ever that vivid. They were a clutter of relations, causalities, and side notes, nodes leading to other nodes. The something he’d experienced had driven him down a certain path. That feeling… He knew about his mind’s eye, but he wondered if there was a mind’s shoulder that someone could look over.

»You alright?« That voice again. Wellan. For a breath, Rannek expected the intact, unbruised, unexploded Wellan to enter his office, but it was only Kysryn. »Vohl, what happened?« the private asked.

»I only shook her hand,« Rannek said. »The woman, Merrys, she wasn’t—«

Kysryn shut the door and locked it before turning to Rannek with a face part serious, and part terrified. »That’s not just any woman. One of the guards came to me after they went into your office. He’s seen her before. Army crush. His first tour, on the border between Spor and Halyuk. She assisted them with a series of interrogations, but when he looked up her credentials afterward, he only—«

»An operator,« Rannek said. He went back to the desk and dropped into his chair, clammy with sweat. Kysryn stopped by the visitor’s chairs to inspect them suspiciously. “She’s a Gifted. Intelligence gathering, most likely Fourth Order. I think she tried to make me show her something, a—« He winced from the sudden pain in his occipital lobe. It softened, but stayed, like a giant wasp had lodged its stinger inside the back of his skull. »… Vohl almighty!«

»What is it?« Kysryn asked, alarmed.

Rannek moved his head carefully, fearing that any sudden jerks could set off the pain again, but they didn’t.He looked at the two even stacks of documents to his right and left. »I’m hardly going to finish these. Get the van, will you?«

Kysryn had turned out a decent chauffeur, both understanding and silent when it was needed. Now, however, he crossed his arms. »You should stay supervised. Who knows what side effects one of them could have?«

There wasn’t enough patience left in Rannek to choose a friendly tone. »Then get Iogu in here. Make him bring water. Cold water. Scram!«

Kysryn disappeared, and Iogu stormed in with the jug already in his hand, and an assortment of fruit and chocolates in the other. Rannek drank half a gallon without stopping before ordering Iogu to fill the jug again. He then tried the chocolates and found that they eased the pain much more.

He should have known. The colonel had warned him, but he had never assumed the Empire would follow up that quickly. Gifted on Tahori soil. Gifted still under the Four Order’s employ. Glane had a single purpose. They had a thousand, especially the Fourth. He couldn’t remember remembering his faux fight, or when he gave Ibiko the scalpel, but who could tell for sure? There was no telling what ways she may have kneaded his mind.

As he waited, Rannek turned to the window and the trees outside, lilahiems, branches covering the inner western wing of the municipal building. Rannek Lorne, rebel against the Fourth. In the end, it had been Kysryn to break the woman’s spell, but keeping him around had been Rannek’s idea. In his situation, he had to take what little merit he could find.

If only there was a way to warn Glane and Ibiko.

As he gazed at the limbs of the lilahiems reaching for the sky like a ten-fingered hand, he thought of the charcoal stumps lining the road to base Klinngen. He thought of the faint odor of Orefire. Just to convince himself his mind’s shoulder was free of strangers peeking in, he also thought of well-done uguae steak, a poisoned pheasant, and that hound race he’d taken that nice Andisian woman to that one time. Perhaps he should have called her again. Rannek began to think of the telephone shortage in the western districts, telephone numbers, and soon of telephones themselves.

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