“It’s all right,” said Meia. “They want to return.”
Peris looked at her solemnly.
“I have to take the boys back as well,” he said.
“They’re under sentence of death.”
“Not anymore. With Sedulus and Gradus both dead, Governor Andrus is once again in control, at least for the present, and the Corps and the Securitats will be out of favor after this whole mess. The governor has already abolished the death penalty; he says that he’ll deal with the Council of Government himself if they object. And the medic who took DNA samples from the boys testified that he believes the same samples were used to contaminate the evidence from the explosions.”
“On whose orders?”
“He says on the orders of Sedulus, and Sedulus alone.”
“Always blame the dead,” said Meia. “The cover-up has already begun.”
“It’s easiest that way. But the boys remain guilty of membership in the Resistance.”
“After all this slaughter, and the death of Gradus, the Corps will press for them to be sent to the Punishment Battalions.”
“Yes.”
“Perhaps they’ll survive,” said Meia, but she sounded doubtful.
“I am aware that there is an escape tunnel in that room we’ve just left, you know.”
“For a simple soldier, you are unusually complicated,” said Meia. “But I suspect that those young men will want to return too. Paul will not abandon Syl, and Steven will follow his brother’s lead.”
She watched the reinforcements draw nearer, marching in double time toward the castle. They were only minutes away.
“I should have guessed that you were a Mech,” said Peris.
“Why is that?”
“You never fell for my charms.”
“I was aware of your reputation.”
“And I of yours,” said Peris. “I should tell you that a second order came through. Highest priority from Vena herself, who is now the ranking Securitat following the death of Sedulus. You are accused of treason and murder. You are to be arrested on sight and handed over to the Securitats. If you resist, you are to be shot.”
Meia turned to face him. His finger was already inside the trigger guard of his blast rifle, although the weapon was not yet pointing in her direction.
“Are you guilty of the offenses?” asked Peris.
“The treason I deny, but yes, I have killed.”
“Why?”
“Because there are forces at work here that you don’t understand. None of us do—not yet. But humanity is at risk, and I think the Illyri race is in danger too.”
“I’ve told you before, I’m just a simple soldier,” said Peris. “I merely follow orders.”
“So what will you do?” she asked.
“Follow my orders,” he said. The slightest of smiles softened his features. “But if I can’t see you, I can’t arrest you, and I certainly can’t shoot you.”
“I can’t leave them,” said Meia. “I have to help them. I have to help them all.”
“You can’t help them if you’re dead. Or decommissioned, if you prefer.”
Meia’s right hand reached out and touched Peris gently on the arm.
“These boys are important,” she said. “The older one in particular has grown close to Syl, and she to him. There are those who may try to hurt her by hurting him, but he has also seen things in this castle, things that, for now, I can’t share with you, but that will affect the future of our race. Believe me: the Kerr brothers must be protected. They must be kept alive. Do what you can for them, until I return. Please.”
“I will.”
He turned his back on her. When he looked again, she was gone.
•••
When Peris returned to the room in the keep, Fremd and the Resistance survivors were no longer there. Peris sighed. He was not sure how he was supposed to explain the fact that the entire Resistance force in the castle had disappeared from under his nose. There were those who would undoubtedly describe him as not just a simple soldier, but a simpleton.
Yet four faces still looked up at him. Syl and Ani had been crying. Peris thought the boys might have shed some tears too. They had all linked hands, like children presenting a united front.
Peris felt a rush of conflicting emotions, but not least of them was admiration.
“Time to go,” he said.
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
T
he message from Peris came through to Edinburgh Castle. Syl and Ani were safe, but Marshal Sedulus was missing, and a single surviving Securitat had given a disturbing description of his possible fate. Grand Consul Gradus, Peris reported, had been burned alive during Sedulus’s assault on the castle.
As Meia had noted, the dead made useful scapegoats.
•••
Syrene’s screams of loss echoed through the castle. Her handmaids flitted helplessly around her like moths drawn to the flame of her grief. Responding to the flood of emotions, the organism in her brain tightened its hold on her cerebral cortex, and the intensity of her shrieks increased.
•••
In the silence of her quarters, Vena mourned for the lost Sedulus, but she did not weep. The heat of her rage evaporated her tears before they could fall from her eyes.
I will watch as every creature on Earth is consumed.
I will continue my lover’s work.
CHAPTER SEVENTY
S
yl and Ani were returned to Edinburgh in the same shuttle as Paul and Steven, all under the watchful eye of Peris. The boys were cuffed, but the two Illyri were not. Peris kept them all separated for appearance’s sake, and they were silent throughout the journey, but it seemed to him that the older boy never took his gaze from the governor’s daughter, and the young Illyri held the human fast in her eyes.
Upon landing, Peris opened the shuttle door and peered out. He saw a platoon of Military to the right, and a line of Corps and Securitats to the left. For now, the scales favored those on the right, but it would shift again. The game was always being played, and the four youths were simply pawns on the board.
A quartet of Military guards approached, ready to receive the prisoners. With a raised hand, Peris instructed them to wait. He turned back to the occupants of the shuttle, and with a curt nod he uncuffed the humans. He watched awkwardly as Paul embraced Syl, and they kissed deeply, hungrily. At a loss, Ani gave Steven a hug too, and an awkward pat on the back. It was clear from the look on his face that Steven would have liked more, but Ani did not have more to give him.
“I’m sorry,” said Peris. “I truly am.”
They separated, and Peris cuffed the boys once again. The members of his strike team surrounded the prisoners as they were led from the shuttle. Paul and Steven could feel the hatred directed toward them from the Securitats. Their numbers in Scotland had been decimated during the preceding days, and they had lost their leader on Earth. These two boys were the only ones left to blame. If they could, their enemies would have executed them in the square.
The brothers were taken to a pair of comfortable but secure Military cells, there to await their fate. Syl and Ani were brought to the governor’s office. They were both experiencing similar thoughts: that being locked in a cell might be preferable to the storm that was about to break over them.
Balen was seated in his usual place. He rose from his chair as the young Illyri entered the room. They looked filthy, he thought, and tired.
And older. These were not the same girls who had left the castle mere days before. They had been tested in fire, and changed by the experience. Balen was no longer looking at youths, but young adults.
“Welcome back,” he said.
“Are we?” asked Syl.
“You will always be welcome here,” Balen replied. “Both of you. Remember that, in the hour
s and days to come.”
Syl tried to smile at him, but she could not. Being back here made her aware of all that she had sacrificed, and all that she might yet have to sacrifce. Whatever happened, nothing would ever be the same again.
The door opened. Seated inside were Danis and his wife, Fian. As soon as the girls were led in, Fian ran to her daughter and embraced her, even as her husband tried to stop her. Andrus stood behind his desk, his face severe. He did not approach Syl. It was only as the door closed behind her that Syl saw why.
Syrene was waiting in the corner of the room. She had exchanged the red robes of the Sisterhood for the deep blue of a widow’s weeds. Her face was uncovered, and so pale that the tattoos of the Sisterhood were like wounds upon her skin.
“Fian,” said Andrus, and there was a warning in his voice. Reluctantly Fian released her hold on her daughter, and returned to her chair.
Andrus regarded the two Illyri. He loved them both, daughter and near daughter. There would be time later for him to take Syl in his arms and tell her how much he cared for her, and how glad he was that she was safely returned.
Time, but only a little.
For now, Syrene filled the room with the jagged edges of her grief. Her pain was a weapon waiting to be used. If they were not careful, she would tear them all apart with it.
“You are unhurt?” Andrus asked.
Syl and Ani nodded dumbly.
“Good,” he said, and he tried to fill that single syllable with all that could not be said. “Now, I want you to tell the Archmage of her husband. She has the right to know the manner of his death.”
Andrus and Danis had agreed upon this with Syrene. They could not deny her. She wanted to be there when the girls were brought to their fathers. She wanted there to be no secrets. She wanted to be told.
Syl and Ani had prepared their story. Peris had coached them while the boys listened. Fire from the troop carrier; damaged fuel stores; a leak.
Flames.
Syrene probed for the lie, both openly with her questions and insidiously with her mind. They experienced it as an itch in their skulls, a bug crawling on their brains, but Balen had been right: these were changed young people, and their control of their gifts was growing. Perhaps Syl’s, though newly recognized, were greater, for Syrene’s testing betrayed no sign of her abilities, while Ani’s brain twitched like a stimulated muscle. They, in turn, felt Syrene’s pain seeking an outlet. There was a part of Syrene that wanted to see them both burn, just as her husband had burned.
When she was done, she turned to face Andrus.
“They’re lying,” she said.
Syl opened her mouth to protest, but her father raised a finger in warning, and she stayed quiet.
“I heard no lie,” said Andrus. “Their story matches that of Peris, and he is an honorable man.”
“He is one of your lackeys,” said Syrene. “I do not trust him, or them. I do not even trust you, Lord Andrus. My understanding is that you harbored a Mech on your staff.”
Andrus’s face gave away nothing.
“I did not know of her true nature.”
“I don’t believe you. Even if I did, I wouldn’t care. She is a renegade and a killer. She will be found and terminated.”
“Regardless,” said Andrus, “I have requested more information from the Securitats about the crimes of which she is accused, and have received nothing in return. On a similar matter, we have reason to believe that the bombings in Edinburgh might have been the work of dissidents within the Illyri, possibly even the Corps itself.”
He knew that Syrene was on dangerous ground. To speak of Meia’s crimes was to speak of Eden, and Syrene did not wish to do that. Neither did she care to discuss the bombs on the Royal Mile. Andrus just wished that Meia could have reported her findings before she went to ground.
“None of this helps to avenge my husband, or eases my grief at his loss,” said Syrene.
“I do not know what more we can do,” said Andrus. “Your husband’s remains are being returned to Edinburgh. His death is a blow to us all. We will mourn with you.”
“I do not want your mourning!”
Syrene’s body coiled in fury. Spittle shot from her mouth and flecked the pink of her lips and the blue of her gown. She drew a breath, calming herself. She repeated the words, this time more calmly. “I do not want your mourning.”
“What do you want?”
“A punishment to fit the crime. Your daughters are guilty of treason. They helped the humans to escape.”
“The boys were innocent.”
“Perhaps, but only of the bombings. They are members of the Resistance. They have killed Illyri. Your daughters colluded with them.”
“They were foolish. They are young.”
“Not so young. Had they not acted as they did, my husband would still be alive. I invoke the Widow’s Wish.”
The tension in the room increased. The Widow’s Wish was a relic of older times, an age when Illyri females had less power and were dependent upon their husbands for their wealth and security. A crime against the husband was viewed also as a crime against the wife, and a husband’s murder was the worst crime of all. Before the death penalty had been eliminated on Illyr, the Widow’s Wish allowed a woman to decide whether those responsible for the death of her husband should be imprisoned or executed. In later years, it could be used to increase or reduce the severity of a penalty, but it was mainly a weapon of the poor and was rarely used by the privileged. It remained enshrined in law, though, and could not be ignored.
“And what is your wish?”
“That my husband’s final decision on the fate of these two traitorous Illyri should remain in force.”
From the pocket of her dress, Syrene produced a note. She unfolded it carefully, and handed it to Andrus. He read it silently. When he was finished, some of his confidence was gone.
“The Punishment Battalions,” he said, and Danis tensed in his chair at his words.
Syl wavered on her feet. That was a death sentence.
“They have not yet been tried,” said Andrus.
“Then let them be tried,” said Syrene. “The evidence against them is overwhelming. It was my husband’s recommended sentence, and it is mine. No court will stand against it. If you try to deprive me of it, if you try to take these daughters of Illyr from here and hide them away, I will bring down the wrath of the Sisterhood and the Corps upon you. There will be civil war, I guarantee it.”
Fian stood. She seemed ready to spring at Syrene, but Danis held on firmly to his wife.
“Then let there be war,” he said. “I will not doom these children to the Battalions.”
“I warn you—” said Syrene.
“Wait,” said Syl. “Wait.”
And though she spoke the word softly, so softly, there was still something in her voice, in the certainty of it, that quieted them all.
“We wish to give ourselves to the Sisterhood,” she said.
“What?” shouted Andrus. “No! I will not permit it!”
Now Danis was roaring, and his wife was crying.
Syl looked at Ani, and Ani understood. She swallowed hard before she spoke, but when she did, it was with almost as much confidence as Syl had managed.
“We wish to give ourselves to the Sisterhood,” she said, then added, so that only Syl could hear, “I think.”
All shouting ceased. The room was quiet. If the Widow’s Wish was an old law, rarely invoked, the pledge to the Sisterhood was older yet, and even more serious. It could not be refused, not by the family of the one making the pledge or by the Sisterhood itself. If the novice did not prove worthy, an alternative solution could be found, but any Illyri female who was prepared to offer herself as a Nairene had to be given a place in the Marque.
“I accept,” said Syrene. All grief was gone from her f
ace, and in its place there was only triumph.
And in Syrene’s words, Syl heard the sound of the trap snapping shut.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
C
onsternation reigned. The shouts even drew Balen from his desk, and caused a pair of the governor’s guards to come running with their weapons at the ready. Andrus dismissed them, assuring them that he was safe, but the debate raged on. It was all for nothing, though. Even in her grief, Syrene had played them all expertly. She had Ani, whose powers she believed she could turn to the Sisterhood’s benefit, and she had avenged the Sisterhood for the loss of the Lady Orianne to her husband, Andrus. If they could not have the mother, they now had the daughter instead.
But Syl had her own secrets. As the arguments raged around her, she saw again a man silhouetted against the Highland dawn, a bayonet buried deep in his chest. Syrene was not the only one who could play vicious games.
“What of Paul and Steven?” Syl asked, her voice again silencing the adults. “They helped us after the crash. They kept us safe.”
“For their own ends,” said Syrene, and her tone made it clear that she was aware of the feelings at work between the humans and the young Illyri.
“They kept us safe,” Syl repeated, and she held Syrene’s gaze for so long that it was the Nairene sister who was forced to look away first.
“Have them brought here,” ordered Andrus. He was glad of the distraction. It would give him time to think. He did not want his daughter in the hands of the Sisterhood. He wanted her to remain close to him. There had to be a way.
Eventually Paul and Steven appeared, accompanied by Peris. They no longer wore their own clothes, but had been given gray prison overalls. Steven’s were too big for him, and he had been forced to roll up the sleeves and cuffs. It made him appear very small, and very young. The two boys barely glanced at Syl and Ani. It hurt Syl at first, until she realized that they wanted to do nothing that might get the Illyri into more trouble by exposing their true feelings.
Too late, thought Syl. Syrene knew, and she believed that her father might have some suspicions too. He was watching Paul as though he didn’t trust him a single inch. Syrene no longer looked triumphant, but simply vindictive. These boys were among those who had taken her husband captive. Had they not done so, he would still be alive.