Feargus

  Rhian’s account about what happened when we returned to Oskari in the middle of the night was accurate. Except we were still flying a bit high when we got there. See, there’s really no way of knowing whether the Ambiance trip contributed to Lidia’s ambush, or whether we’d have been manipulated either way. What’s important is: it all happened exactly as she said. We were skirting the village, I saw a lass (Lidia, though I couldn’t tell anyone her name) walking alone in the night, that was the last thing I remembered.

  By dawn, I woke up in some bushes. I had a look around where people poured out of their homes to see what all the fuss was about, and the riffraff guard rushed over.

  Across the way, Rhian was passed out, still breathing, beside an unknown Amali man. He was absolutely dead, looked to have bled out from the flanks. I slinked further back into the bushes, and then my eyes locked on to Rhian’s weapons.

  Her knives were covered in blood, then all of the sudden it hit me:

  

  The Memory

  “Gus, he’s not dead.”

  The young lady and the young man peered around the corner.

  Their victim lay, moaning and twitching in an ally.

  “What happened?” the young man asked.

  “I missed. The bleeding’s too slow.”

  “…He’ll die eventually, right?”

  “Aye, but…”

  “All right, come on,” the young man said. “Let’s do it together.”

  The duo crept up to their victim.

  Their victim gurgled and spit, pleading, reaching out.

  The young lady and the young man crouched.

  She pulled the victim's head back by the hair, gently, but—

  Their hands collided around the knife,

  around each other.

  Already stained deep red, the metal didn’t reflect their faces in the moonlight.

  They pressed the blade to their victim’s neck,

  they held their breaths,

  they closed their eyes.

  Together: a swipe across, and soon, their victim was still.

  I hadn’t thought about that night for years—probably not since it happened. It was our first assassination job. It was an easy mark, but we were fifteen and obviously inexperienced. My stomach heaved, and then again, and I don’t know if it was the Hocks, the Ambiance, or the memory, but I emptied my gut into the bush.

  Ever since that nap with Zacharias, and that dream, I’d been feeling so—

  I snapped out of it when one of the riffraff guard kicked Rhian in the side. I wanted to end him. I reached for my crossbow. I could easily shoot him between the eyes and make a break for it, if only I could trust my legs.

  Rhian woke up and punched him in the side of the calf.

  A few of them grabbed for her then.

  She was still too disoriented to make a run for it, so I watched as they hauled her off to the makeshift garrison across the way. They wouldn’t kill her. That would be virtual suicide, see. A Barren doesn’t just kill a Partisan without Faust swooping in and breaking some necks. They might hurt her, but she’d absorb it and probably spit in their faces, and what I needed to do, once I stopped shaking, was check on Michael and Strauss.

  The remaining guards debated about who should bring the corpse to the mortuary, and while everyone was distracted, I slipped out of the bush and made my way toward the church. Positioning myself favourably, I pressed my back against the stone, and watched as one of the guardsmen rushed across the courtyard to notify Michael and Strauss about Rhian’s arrest. Then, through the hatch on the roof, I hurried to the mortuary before the guards arrived.

  Once there, I laid myself down on the empty slab, covering myself with one of the off-white sheets they used for the dead folk. Not long after that, the guards filed in with the body. There was a struggle getting him up, but once they did, they dallied around for ages, talking about everything but the murder. They had their culprit, and apparently the dead man was a jerk. Their job was done.

  They stayed for a while longer, none of them eager to deal with the anticipated chaos at the garrison, and when they eventually left, I heard them tag Strauss in. There wasn’t much I could do but it wait, and wait, and wait…

  I counted the footsteps as he circled the slab, pacing, and pacing. I wondered what he was thinking. We’d worked with Strauss before, but he’d never seen it—really seen it. That One Time in Delphia, he wasn’t there when Rhian plunged a blade through the terrorist defect in front of hundreds of people.

  I remained perfectly still, slowing my breathing and my heart rate as we Strachan do. But then the sheet slipped. Strauss wandered over and fixed it.

  One of the tasks Councilwoman Faust had given me was to test Strauss’s growth and control of his power. I really hadn’t been testing his limits in that regard, so—

  I tugged the sheet so it slipped again, and when Strauss came over to fix it, I sprung into an upright position and yelled, “Boo!”

  We all know he passed out cold, but at least he didn’t set anything on fire.

  Progress.

  After the mortuary shenanigans, Rhian was released from the cage thanks to Michael’s negotiations. But that meant I had to double-time on getting permissions for us to to travel to Delphia, all so we could remove Rhian from Oskari while the locals simmered down. They all three promised to lay low until I could get things sorted, which I anticipated would take about a day. Besides that, I had my usual rounds to do, and I had to ask Tanis for some time off. I liked my job at the brothel. I wasn’t sure how I’d juggle it all realistically, but the thought of letting go...

  Aye, I’d probably have to.

  First stop, Alexander’s. There’d been so many developments since I’d last seen Faust, I was hoping she’d hopped an embark and followed Rhian and Michael back to Amalia. I was right. When I arrived at the estate, she was in the library with Alexander where the portrait of his sister above the mantle had been replaced by the portrait of Zacharias Vonsinfonie in the purple suit. It was a surprisingly warm feeling seeing that painting again, now that we’d become such close, personal friends.

  I did have a bone to pick with him, though—but later.

  “What did Andrei find in Leberecht?” Faust asked.

  I looked between her and Alexander.

  “Full disclosure?” I asked.

  Faust nodded.

  I wasn’t about to confess that I’d lost track of him, but there was something I wanted to confirm: “I met some nice ladies who said you wanted me to find St—,” aye, that wasn’t going to work. I gestured to the painting over the fireplace.

  “I do. Have you made any progress?”

  “I wanted to wait to hear it from you first, to be honest. I don’t answer to the whims of random women I meet in strange new cities.”

  Councilwoman Faust arched a brow. “That’s not what your history nor your psychological profile suggests, mister Finlay.”

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  “I don’t answer to the official, work-related whims of random ladies,” I corrected, while I imagined how great it would feel to get my hands on my files and burn them.

  For now, I told Faust about Strauss meeting Marta in Leberecht, eventually making it into the keyhole in the mountain, and retrieving the book in Symphonic. I described what was in the room using Marta’s intel instead of my own because I didn’t want them knowing about the secret entrance I’d found. I left out the detail about the strange shackles, too. That said, the whole affair was challenging, trying to explain everything without using specifics or names, due to my food-related problem. I didn’t want Alexander or Faust knowing about that, either. I was counting on the trip to Delphia we were about to take, and a chat with Vincent Delestade, to cure me.

  So, here’s a thought: I was entirely aware that Faust may have been using Alexander to spy on me while I spied on everyone else. It was entirely possible that I, Feargus Alistair Finlay, was being tested as well. What would Alexander tell her? Well, he’d tell her I’d been a naughty, naughty boy—nothing new—but that I’d been doing my job. I wasn’t worried. Besides, Alexander and I had bonded on a level that promised a certain solidarity.

  I knew what he sounded like while being flogged.

  He knew what I sounded like while I—aye, good egg, Alexander.

  “I’ll have to travel to Delphia soon,” I said. “With Strauss and Rhian.”

  “Unfortunately, I can’t provide the travel clearance. Councilwoman Blanchett is upset with me over not siding with her at Rhian’s latest trial. Delphia’s not accepting any Partisan deployed by my orders, currently.”

  “Is Kelly banned?”

  “Isn’t this an urgent matter?”

  “Aye, it’s urgent, but—”

  I didn’t have to finish my sentence. A couple years ago, see, Kelly had given me permission to forge orders and her signature as needed. She couldn’t protect me from the rest of the Assembly at a trial if things were to go sideways, but they never did. I tried to use this leniency sparingly, but if ever there was a time—

  Faust nodded. “Davina isn’t banned. That should be fine then. But why Delphia?”

  “We’re looking for Vincent Delestade.”

  “The defector?”

  “Recall That One Time in Delphia?" I asked. "We helped the peaceful defectors escape the underground.”

  “The ‘Animals’—I remember.”

  Alexander raised an eyebrow.

  “One of them was Vincent Delestade, the defector.” Certainly not Vincent Delestade, the Sebastian Vonsinfonie. “Incidentally, the crew learned he’d been sent to Amalia not long before he defected, to investigate a similar missing persons case in Jaska.”

  Faust nodded slowly. “Yes, true.”

  “They can’t get the case files because they’re tied up in Leberecht, and Strauss has been remarkably discreet about his special quest. I’m not sure if he knows he can talk about it or not. Either way, I’m impressed, actually.”

  “Very good,” Faust replied.

  “Right, and now they want to travel to Delphia to interview Delestade.”

  “A reasonable course. I expect that’ll take about a week, give or take?”

  I nodded. “Michael’s staying behind. They made that decision strategically so he could get to know the locals, and he’d be the one best equipped to defend the village. They still don’t know about the Anima, but I’m reasonably sure we were attacked by Lidia early this morning. There are questions.”

  Alexander turned his head toward me.

  “I think she may have manipulated Rhian into killing a man, or constructed a scene to make it look like Rhian killed a man—whatever the case, Oskari thinks she did it. Another reason why we have to leave as quickly as possible so Michael can do damage control.”

  Faust tipped her wine glass toward Alexander who just shook his head.

  “Oh, and by the by,” I added, turning to Alex. “Rhian got your letter. But mate, she can’t even read. And you know who can read? Me. And you know who had to read it to her? That’s right—this man.”

  Alexander chuckled.

  “It’s not funny,” I said.

  “It’s a little bit funny.”

  “I agree,” Faust added, followed by a sip of wine.

  But I bit my tongue, agreed it was hilarious, and before leaving, I updated Faust on Strauss’s power progress, and I asked her to write a letter to Tanis.

  Second stop, V. It was a quick visit where I apologized for acting so strangely the other day when I’d barged in looking for Rhian. She wasn’t fussed, was glad that I found her, and and then she confided in me that the nearby murder was turning out to be good for business. We had a quick cookie, which always made me feel better after a rough day. And on the other hand, V admitted that it made her feel better after a boring day. I told her I’d see her in about a week, and then I left.

  Third stop, the Gander where I had to have an honest conversation with Tanis.

  We sat in the corner chairs, and it went like this:

  “Short story: I still work for Palisade but I also don’t,” I said. “I also work for you—which I’ve really enjoyed. But my responsibilities keep me busy, and it isn’t fair to you.”

  I handed over the letter from Councilwoman Faust.

  She peered over her spectacles when she read. Fun fact: Tanis could see near but not far. “So, not a messenger, then.”

  “No.”

  “That explains a lot.”

  “Aye, thought it might.”

  “Well, as far as I’m concerned, Jack—or, wait—” she scanned the letter, looking for an indication of my real name, which Faust had actually included.

  “Let’s stick with Jack,” I said. “Keep it simple.”

  Tanis chuckled and nodded. She then made her way over to the fireplace, tossed the letter from Faust down, and followed it with a match she struck against the brick. “Well, as as far as I’m concerned, Jack, this is your home. You have a job whenever you need or want it. If you’re in town, the bar’s yours. Replacing you will be a challenge, though.”

  True, and I really hoped it wouldn't have to be for long.

  Fourth stop, the Tragers’ townhouse. The knocker on their door was in the shape of a decorative heart—not the actual organ, but a bronzed, stylized representation of love. I hadn’t noticed it on the night of the debauchery party.

  I knocked twice. I hadn’t been invited over, so I hoped it would be fine.

  Della opened the door. Despite having to shield her eyes from the sun, her face broke out into a smile when she saw me, and she scooped me inside.

  “Jack, it’s so good to see you—,” she paused mid-hug and turned her head, directing her voice toward the corridor. “Derek!” She didn’t shout, she was just rather emphatic.

  “I can’t stay too long,” I said, considering my next words. “I have—”

  Just about then, Derek rounded the corner. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, which was quite all right, and he smiled when he saw me. I smiled, too. He stepped in beside his wife, giving her a kiss and an affectionate squeeze. The welcome I received was a fair bit more intense, but it wasn’t loaded—just nice. Della seemed thrilled by the whole affair.

  We chatted for a while about Everleigh Gloom. I was told they were all able to get on the same page relatively easily, that they’d managed to finalize the Jaskar negotiations, and that they were looking forward to working with her. They meant it, too.

  “I have to go somewhere for about a week,” I said.

  “Oh, how mysterious,” Della answered, and Derek rubbed her back while we spoke.

  That was me: Mister Mysterious. But, actually, did I really need to be mysterious in the moment? I’d grown so comfortable always withholding or lying, but what did it matter if they knew where I was going?

  “Either of you want anything from Delphia?” I asked.

  The pair shared a conspiratorial smile before rattling off a list of requests. It was an exciting offer. As you know, imports from other territories were highly regulated and even the wealthiest Barrens—or Anima—couldn’t easily get around that. They stuffed me full of notes, and before I left, they took their turns kissing me goodbye. Not loaded, just nice.

  

  A Day in the Life With Zack - Entry Log #9

  “I think your dream broke me.”

  “My dream did no such thing, Feargus Finlay.”

  “Ever since that nap, I can’t stop thinking about things I’d rather not think about. And I let my guard down with Derek—admitted to being a complete mess. Which obviously I am. Then I took drugs with my sister, which, actually, was a lot of fun. But then I think I had a panic episode in a bush, and then I deliberately chose not to lie about something I otherwise would have easily lied about and—aye, like I said: broken.”

  “You are not broken, and I certainly didn’t break you. You asked to dream of your sister, and so you did. What then unraveled is a consequence, not a fault.”

  “Well, it’s going to get me killed.”

  “Looking inward through your suffering will resurrect you.”

  “And how’s that been going for you so far? You’ve been looking inward for four hundred years and you still can’t bring yourself to leave this room.”

  “…”

  “…”

  “Yes. You are quite right—”

  “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—please don’t…”

  “We will speak again tomorrow, Feargus Finlay.”

  “Actually, I’m leaving Amalia for about a week.”

  “I see. And where are you going?”

  “If you really must know, I’m going to enjoy a lemon meringue pie by the seaside.”