“Not angry at him anymore? I thought you wanted this.”
Anguish pulled at her face. “I didn’t think . . . I didn’t expect . . .” She gave a frustrated sigh. “It’s the whole town. I thought it would just be him and Bounty. But it’s spread out to the whole town.”
Enid stared. “It always does. That’s how it’s supposed to work.” She marched on. “Philos needs to see this.”
He was there in the common room, sitting at the kitchen table, bent over his own hands. One of the household’s women—middle-aged, her frizzy gray hair cut short—was with him, hand on his shoulder, trying to impart some comfort. Lee had been right—Philos had aged. Whatever force of will had been holding him straight was gone now, and his hands were so bent, the fingers so twisted, they didn’t look like they could hold a cup of water. He still wore his gray sash, though.
Enid wasn’t about to let his appearance influence her.
When she entered, the woman flinched, and that made Philos look up. He seemed to need a moment to focus on her, and his frown deepened.
“I thought you were leaving.”
“Philos, I need you to come with me to Sero’s shed.”
He hunched back over his hands, his gaze turning inward. “I want nothing to do with you.”
“Can’t you leave him alone? Haven’t you done enough?” the woman hissed at Enid.
Enid’s anger became such a useful tool, times like this. She tempered it and honed it into a weapon.
“Hasn’t Philos done enough is the better question. Philos, you will come with me, or I will dissolve your household and scatter you all up and down the Coast Road. Don’t tempt me.”
Philos alone might have tried his luck. Might have pushed her to see how far she’d really go, and part of her desperately wanted him to try. But his companion spoke to him in a low voice.
“Maybe you’d better go. Just to get it over with.” Protecting the household rather than the man, which gave Enid some heart. Helped her make some decisions about what would happen next. She gave the woman a thin smile of thanks.
Ponderously, Philos rose from the chair, leaning on the table, and made his way to the door. Bent over, unwilling to look Enid in the eyes.
Back in the courtyard, she’d picked up observers: the committee, the rest of the household, a few other folk of the town, including Miran. Dak stood by, hands folded before him. Much like the usual stance of an enforcer—he knew how to play a part if he needed to.
Still no Kirk. Enid turned to his father. “Where’s Kirk?”
“I don’t know. If he’s gone, then good. You can’t touch him.” He glared defiantly.
She took a breath, managed her temper. Imagined Tomas standing nearby, whispering, calm. “Oh, I think I can. You think he needs to be present to be shunned? You’ll see he doesn’t.”
“I don’t know where he is.” He pressed his lips together, sealing his mouth. She’d get nothing more from him.
Enid could solve this. She looked around a moment, giving herself time to think. She needed a solution and needed to maintain her authority. She needed to appear omnipotent. Now, how to do that?
She didn’t believe Kirk would flee the town. He was close to his father, attached to his household, if he’d thought he was going to earn a banner there. More than either of those things, though, he wouldn’t leave Miran. He cared far more about Miran. So, that meant he was hiding.
Scanning the courtyard again, the gathered faces, she came to the building with the cellar, the carefully placed trellis, the perfectly hidden door. And why not?
“The cellar,” Enid said. “We’ll check there.”
It was a sickening moment of repetition, finding herself on the precise ground where Tomas had died, going through the same motions. She set the feelings aside for now, because she didn’t want to cry during this. Time for that later. Working by herself this time, she pulled back vines and uncovered the door. No one stepped forward to help her, and she didn’t ask. This was the job of the investigator, to be the outsider exposing what no one wanted to see.
Finally, she swung open the door. Didn’t go down the stairs, just in case. She hadn’t brought Tomas’s staff with her and began to wish she had. Never mind. She’d figure it out.
“Kirk?” she called into the dark space. Her voice echoed. “You mind coming out now?”
No one answered, but she listened and heard an intake of breath in the close space—sound carried there. She could wait for him all day if she had to. But he could wait all day as well.
So, they waited. A minute, another minute. The tension in the group behind her rose, people growing restless. Something would have to give, and she didn’t quite know what would do it. She’d go down there and drag him out, if she needed to.
But she had a secret weapon. “Dak?” she asked him.
The man came forward, standing at the edge of the doorway beside her, and called into in the cellar. “Kirk. Why don’t you come out?”
It took another minute of them standing there, but Kirk finally came to the stairs, looking even more slumped and despondent than his father. He’d been crying—his eyes were red, the skin around them puffy.
The sooner this was all done, the happier Enid would be. This wasn’t going to be easy.
“Come, Kirk,” Enid said. “I need you to see something. I need everyone to see something.”
Miran rushed forward, taking hold of Kirk’s arm as he emerged, whispering comforts to him. He didn’t seem to hear her. At least she’d get him to their destination—he couldn’t run away now.
“Right,” Enid announced. “If you’ll all come with me?” She had a real procession now, following her to Sero’s shed. She arranged it so she walked next to Dak. “Thanks.”
His look was wry, like he wasn’t sure helping her had been a good idea. “Aren’t you going to say something about what a good investigator I’d make?”
“I wouldn’t insult you like that.”
He opened his mouth, closed it, and she marveled at leaving him speechless.
//////////////////////////////////////////////////
They couldn’t all fit in the shed, so Enid chose her witnesses to stand at the wide-open doors and look in: the three committee members, Kirk, Miran. Dak, because he’d hear about it one way or another. And if she could convince him, she’d be able to convince everyone.
She could still be wrong about this. Picked up the wrong clue, imagined the wrong thing. It could all be wrong. No—it was already wrong. She was just trying to explain the wrongness. Understand it. However this fell out, she would understand what had happened a little better and give the memory of Sero some little peace.
The open doors let afternoon sunlight pour into the place. An apt metaphor. She would have liked to point that out to someone. Tomas, ideally. She swallowed back the tightness in her throat. Grieve later. Plenty of time for it back in Haven, with the people who knew him. How terrible it was to mourn alone.
Her witnesses studied the interior of the place. As if she might have written the solution out in secret ink, if they only knew how to read it. And maybe it was a little like that.
No one had touched the scene, not in the handful of days she’d been here picking over the town. She’d told them exactly what her evidence was, the blood on the wall, and no one had interfered with it, for which she was grateful. She realized now Philos and the others were worried about her discovering so many other infractions in the town, they had been thinking little of Sero’s death in the end. That made her all the more angry.
“Someone was here when Sero died,” she said. “More than that, that person knows exactly what happened.”
She felt like she was putting on a play. Dak ought to appreciate that. Ariana clutched the musician’s arm. Her expression had gone taut and fearful. She was afraid of what Enid was going to say, whom Enid was going to accuse. She couldn’t trust Dak’s calm. All she knew was that Dak had found the body. And maybe she didn’t believe him when
he said he hadn’t killed the man.
Enid walked through the scuffed dirt to stand at the table. She put her hand on the pieces of broken hinges he’d been working on. “Sero was here, working like usual. Many of you had probably seen him working just like this, when you came to ask for his help on a job? Miran?”
The young woman’s eyes were round, but she nodded quickly. Yes. He stood just like this. So Enid did, in front of the table, hands clenched as if she held a tool.
“Someone came here and confronted him,” she said. “Someone who was angry at him.”
Ariana said, “What could he have possibly been doing to make anyone that angry?”
“Oh, refuse a request?” Enid said pointedly. “Refuse a job? Not do what someone else thought he ought to?”
The committeewoman ducked her gaze and pressed closer to Dak, who merely glanced at her, scowling.
“But no. He talked to Miran,” Enid said, matter-of-fact. “Miran was kind to him. He might have looked forward to her visits. Even if they were awkward. Even if she didn’t like coming here. Maybe she resented it. But she couldn’t say no to Fern. She couldn’t stop delivering meals, talking to the man. Unless Sero died?”
“No!” Kirk cried. “That isn’t what happened!”
“Be quiet,” Miran hissed at him, even as tears fell, streaking her cheeks. They stood shoulder to shoulder. Kirk had folded in on himself, arms crossed.
These two were protecting each other.
“Miran?” Enid prompted.
Her voice choked. “I didn’t mind bringing him food when we had extra. I really didn’t.” Her head shook slowly. “No one should have minded it.”
“Someone did, though.”
“But what harm—” Ariana started. Her voice fell, and she looked across at Kirk.
“So Sero was here, and someone came to confront him for spending too much time talking to Miran when he didn’t have a right to. At least that’s what he thought. He was determined to tell Sero to keep away from her. He looked at the shed and saw the doors wide open. Marched over to confront him. Do you remember, Kirk? Were the doors open when you got here?”
“I don’t know,” he said, sullen. He glared at her as if he could wish her away with the power of his will.
“Why don’t you show me where that person must have been standing? I think he was just where you are now. He would have come straight in, right for Sero, here. Come on.”
She coaxed him like he was a stray dog, step by step. Just a little farther.
“Sero would have been surprised. He liked to be alone, didn’t much like people coming at him, right? So he would have stepped back.” She did so, toward the spot on the two-by-four that still showed a stain of blood. “Maybe it happened even more quickly. Why would anyone be angry at him? He might have put up his hands. We all know Kirk has a bit of a temper. He might have taken advantage, maybe pushed—”
“No, it wasn’t like that, it wasn’t—”
He rounded on her, and right at the last, he saw it. They all saw it. He stepped in; she stepped back. He didn’t raise a fist, not this time. He stopped himself. And she was expecting it so was able to keep her balance, her awareness. Was ready to block him if he followed through. Sero wouldn’t have been ready. He wouldn’t have expected it, not from the son of a committee member, from a place like Bounty. Sero might even have been confused as to why Kirk came here to yell at him in the first place, and when Kirk lunged, he would have dropped whatever he held, thrown up his arms, stumbled back in confusion—
“A bad step. That was all. One chance in a hundred, that step threw him back against the one spot on the wall that would kill him.” Enid took that step back, but carefully. Still, everyone could see the trajectory she was on. If she had tripped, if her whole body had swung as if on a fulcrum, it would slam her skull against that piece of wood and crush it.
“Sero wouldn’t have taken that step if Kirk hadn’t pushed him,” Enid said. “And then Kirk carefully closed the doors, so no one would see. If it had truly been an accident, the doors would have stayed open.”
Kirk wore a look of despair. He knew and was sorry. His father—Philos showed no surprise at the image she presented. He’d known all along. Kirk had told him. The two of them together had hoped it would all just . . . go away.
Enid nodded at him. “Is that what happened, Kirk?” She didn’t mean to sound gentle. She meant to be furious at him. He’d been angry, but had this really been worth any anger at all? The boy was clearly broken.
Miran—she was crying, but she wasn’t looking at the tableau Enid had presented. She hadn’t been surprised, either. She’d known, and she hadn’t been able to protect him.
Kirk put his hands over his face, which muffled his words. “I just wanted to scare him a little so he wouldn’t get any ideas. It was an accident. How could I have meant for that to happen? I didn’t mean it! I didn’t!”
Enid believed him. Still, she couldn’t absolve him, assure him that of course they all understood, that it was all right, that there’d be no consequences—
“It was an accident that never should have happened,” she said. “That was only the first infraction committed here. The second was not telling what happened straight off. If only you had done that—”
Philos was furious. “How could you expect us to, knowing how he’d be treated by you—”
“You don’t know how he’d have been treated if he’d just told us straight off, do you? But you’ll know how you’ll all be treated now, hindering my investigation for three days. All of you.” She pointed this last at Miran, who Enid really thought would have known better.
Kirk still tried to argue. “But Sero—”
“Sero was yours. He was part of Pasadan; he helped build this place, no matter what anyone thought of him. You should have cared for him. Accidents happen, yes. But you should have cared. All of you!”
At least no one was arguing with her assessment of the events. At least no one tried to tell her this wasn’t what had happened. She was at least satisfied with that part of it: she’d learned what had really happened. I solved it, Tomas. She thought she might have heard a response, an echo in the back of her mind: Never doubted you would.
She moved to the door, pushing past the gathered witnesses to get out of the shed. “I’ll have my judgment for you in an hour.”
Marching up the hill, she waited until she was out of sight before brushing away her tears. All that, for a bit of jealousy and misguided anger. Jealousy was a nebulous thing until you were the one feeling it, she knew that well enough. But they were supposed to be better than that. Better than the old world.
Leave it to Dak to follow her. He caught up with her when she reached the committee house. She only wanted to go inside and pack, to get out of here as soon as she could. But she waited for him to say what he wanted to say. She planned to just let it wash over her, because she was tired of being the voice of authority.
They stared at each other for what seemed a long time.
“Well?” she asked finally.
“You proved it,” Dak said. “The rest of us might have suspected, but you proved it.”
Was he praising her? Accusing her? She couldn’t tell. She wasn’t sure she’d ever been able to read him. “What do you want, Dak?”
“Would it have hurt anything to just let it go?”
“It would have hurt everything,” she said. “You really think Sero wasn’t worth defending? You think Philos gets to flout quotas just because he thinks he deserves it? Maybe it won’t hurt anything now, but what about five years from now? What about when the next big storm comes? Or when the next person who dies because of an accident that isn’t an accident is someone you love? And the whole town tries to cover it up? The plan has to be for everyone or it fails; we all fail.”
She waited for the argument, for his insistence that investigators did more damage than good. But it didn’t come. His smile seemed amused, and she wanted to slap him.
“I’ve missed you, Enid,” he said finally. “I’ve been lonely these years.”
“No. You have folk in every town happy to see you. You’re never lonely.”
“You’re the only one who was ever willing to travel with me.”
He still had the charm. The gentle, wheedling, bardic charm. He simply showed up, and people fed him and cheered for him. And all she could think was how much she didn’t miss him. It seemed cruel to say it out loud, however much he likely deserved to hear it. But the silence stretched, and that was answer enough. He heard the words she didn’t say, and ducking his head, he chuckled.
He hadn’t changed, and she didn’t care.
“I’ve got to get home. If you’ll excuse me.” She went inside to pack. Soon now, she would tell all this to Sam.
He wouldn’t laugh.
//////////////////////////////////////////////////
The hoard of grain wouldn’t be wasted. It would be passed along to the regional committee, and from there it would go to households that needed it, places with blight or a bad harvest that had put them behind quota.
As Pasadan had shown it could not care for its people, there’d be no banners. Not for some years at least. Kirk and his household would never get one, not as long as Philos and Kirk were there. And Miran . . . that was a harder question. She had known; she had lied. Did Enid punish her whole household, then? Was the punishment for the rest of the town enough? Maybe it would have to be.
But whatever Kirk had wanted, he’d lost. That seemed a more apt punishment than locking him away in some dark room, like in the prisons the world had built before the Fall.
Kirk could run, but she’d send messages and inside a month there’d be nowhere he could go on the Coast Road where folk wouldn’t hear of who he was and what he’d done. What they’d all done. All the investigators and all the folk of the surrounding towns, households, and markets would know if Pasadan tried to duck out of their shame. They wouldn’t need an enforcer standing over them to keep watch. The wider community would do that themselves. That was the real punishment, the real consequence.