Authors: Ed Gentry
“Then what did? Are there any clues?” he asked.
Adeenya was puzzled by his question, his lack of accusation. “I didn’t have a chance to look for them,” she said, looking to Initqin.
Jhoqo nodded. “Well, rest assured we will come to the bottom of this. When is the last time you saw Loraica?” he asked.
“Last evening atop the wall,” Adeenya said.
“To what end? What did you discuss?” he asked.
“The situation with the invaders,” Adeenya said, seeing no reason to tell the entire truth. “And the possibility of the formians’ involvement. She was concerned, the same as I am, that there could be a traitor among us.”
“I see,” Jhoqo said. “Please find some different quarters for the time being. Take a few of your essentials and move them there. We’ll need to thoroughly investigate this place.”
“I am to go, sir?” Adeenya asked.
Jhoqo shrugged as he stood. “If I were to hold you over this incident, I would have riotous soldiersnamely yourson my hands. Also, truth be told, Orir… I’m inclined to believe you.”
Adeenya stood and nodded, too stunned to speak.
“If I am wrong, we will soon find out.” Jhoqo smiled nastily. “Besides, my dear, look where we are. If you were guilty and wanted to run, where would you go? The wilds of the Aerilpar? That’s a death sentence, and I know you’re well aware of it.”
+ + + + +
“Where is he?” Jhoqo asked, as he strode away from Adeenya’s quarters through the courtyard.
The Durpari woman he spoke to said, “The durir, sir? I saw him near the big tower, sir.”
Jhoqo quickened his pace, turned a corner around the central tower at a jog, and spotted Taennen walking toward him, a puzzled look on the younger man’s face. Jhoqo stopped and waved the durir to him.
“Sir? What’s wrong?” Taennen said, the confusion clear on his face. He had not heard yet. That was fortunate, Jhoqo thought.
“Son, come with me,” Jhoqo said and walked to the door of the largest tower. He pushed the door open and stepped inside. There were many windows in the tower, unlike most of the buildings in the citadel, so the interior was bright with morning light. Jhoqo pointed to the steps and asked Taennen to take a seat.
“Sir, please, what’s the matter?” Taennen asked. “You look disturbed. What’s happened?”
“Taennen, we’re losing this citadel,” the urir said. Taennen’s body went rigid, and he shook his head. “It’s true, boy. The men are furious and helpless but have nowhere to direct their anger. That’s a horrible combination, one that always begs for trouble.”
“Sir, we’ll figure this out,” Taennen said. “All isn’t lost.”
Jhoqo shook his head. “This is a critical time, son. We must be strong for our troops. We have to rally them and point them in the right direction.”
Taennen nodded and narrowed his eyes. “Why do you say these things to me now? What’s happened?”
Jhoqo stared hard at the man he considered his son. He looked into Taennen’s dark eyes, watched as the younger man’s cheek twitched in anticipation. He saw the boy he had raised as much as he saw his second in command.
“We have to remain strong, Durir. Remember that,” Jhoqo said. “The men will look to us.”
Taennen nodded as he rose to his feet and said, “Tell me.”
Jhoqo sighed and lowered his head before saying, “Loraica was found dead this morning.”
All color fled Taennen’s face. His muscles gave out all at once, and he toppled to the steps, his hands flailing out behind him for purchase.
Many moments passed as Taennen stared out the doorway
and Jhoqo watched him. The urir never imagined feeling someone else’s pain so strongly.
“How?” Taennen asked, his lips quivering.
“Murdered,” Jhoqo said.
Taennen fixed him with a hard stare. “How was she murdered, sir?”
“It does not matter,” the urir replied.
Taennen stood, fierceness fueling his voice. “How was she murdered?”
“Her throat was slit.” Jhoqo said.
“Who?” Taennen asked, his voice tremulous.
“We don’t know,” Jhoqo said.
“Who found her?”
“The Durpari orir.”
“Adeenya?” the younger man said.
“I’m afraid so,” the urir replied.
“Where was she?” Taennen asked.
Jhoqo sighed. “In the orir’s quarters.”
Taennen shook his head and said, “Surely she could not…”
“I hope she could not, too, son,” Jhoqo said. “We’ll need to question her further, but I decided it would be bad for morale if I threw her in a cell. It’s not as though she can go anywhere.”
Taennen swayed as he stood. His forehead wrinkled as though he might cry.
“You understand what I said about the troops?” Jhoqo asked.
Taennen nodded, but his eyes were unfocused.
“Very well, then. You’re dismissedjust remember what I said,” Jhoqo said.
Jhoqo stepped out of the way as Taennen strode past him without a word. Loraica and Taennen had worked together
and been friends for as long as Taennen had been in the Maquar. Nothing Jhoqo could say would soothe the boy.
Jhoqo recalled the first time he had seen the two together and smiled. Loraica had been large even then, twice the bulk of Taennen at the same age. She had taught Taennen how to fight. Jhoqo had watched them many times as they figured out new maneuvers to try on one another. Even full days of training with the troops had not exhausted them enough to skip their own training sessions.
Jhoqo sighed and walked toward his quarters. It would be a long day, he knew. He went over what he would say to the troops in his mind and found nothing adequate. Nothing that seemed worthy of Loraica, nothing that would transform grief into enough motivation and morale to turn things around. But as commander of the fortress, it was his duty to make the best of the situation. Loraica had served the Maquar well in her life, and if he had anything to say about it, her death would prove just as useful.
+ + + + +
Adeenya paced back and forth outside Taennen’s quarters. The image of Loraica’s pallid corpse was etched on her mind’s eye, and she could see little else, no matter how hard she tried to think other thoughts. She had rushed to Taennen’s quarters and waited for him to return instead of searching the entire citadel for him. She had wanted to be the one to tell the man about his friend, but he had already gone by the time she arrived.
“I saw you talking to her yesterday evening on the wall,” Taennen said from behind her.
Adeenya spun to face the man. His shoulders were slumped, his head cast down. His hands hung at his side,
and his cheeks and nose were red. Adeenya could think of nothing to say, so she nodded. “Yes.”
“Both of you were tense. I could see it,” he said. “You were arguing? She was angry with you?”
“Angry? No. What are you saying?” Adeenya asked.
“What did you tell her?”
“Did Jhoqo send you?” she asked.
“What did you tell her?”
“My plan to lure out the traitor,” Adeenya said. His closest friend was gone, but Adeenya hoped he could not think her responsible.
Taennen’s face wrinkled. “What plan?” he said.
Several of the soldiers had gathered nearby, likely attracted by the tension that leaked from Taennen. Adeenya waved them off as did Taennen when he noticed them. The warriors moved away.
“Let’s talk inside, shall we, Durir?” she said.
Taennen nodded and followed her into his quarters. The room was like most of the others in the citadel, plain and unadorned with small, high windows that let very little light into the room. Taennen closed the door and stood before it, his arms across his chest, and he said, “Tell me, now.”
“Durir, I would remind you of your place,” she said.
Taennen stiffened and stood at attention. He trembled, looking like nothing so much as a scarecrow being tousled by the wind. Adeenya sighed and motioned toward a chair as she raised an eyebrow. When Taennen nodded, she sat. All the muscles in her body seemed to coil and tighten at once before releasing, leaving her feeling like a puddle of mud.
“I tried to tell you about my plan,” she said. “When you were not responsive, I approached Loraica instead because I knew I would need help to find the traitor.”
“How, sir?” he asked, punctuating the honorific.
She told him of her plan and every detail of her conversation with Loraica. Adeenya watched his eyes harden and his face sour from his tight lips to his wrinkled brow. His response was not unexpected.
“It violates every principle that the Maquar hold dear,” he said, looking as though his personal honor had been insulted. “Loraica turned you away when she heard it.”
“I see no alternative,” she said. “And she disliked it for the same reason you do, but she agreed to it in the end when I told her about my pendant.
“I had a magical device to contact my superiors. It was my only way to reach the outside world, to get us help here, to do anything. It was stolen, deliberately, in the attack. They came straight for me and took it,” Adeenya said.
“So?” Taennen said.
“Khatib and a few of my soldiers are the only ones who knew about it,” she said.
“Khatib?” Taennen said. He stared at her a moment longer before nodding. “That’s a lot of evidence.”
Taennen crumpled to his bed where he sat, head in his hands. He loosened the straps of his leather armor with a sigh. He ran his fingers through his short hair for several moments. Neither of them spoke.
“She agreed willingly after hearing all of that, Taennen.”
“I would have, too,” he said after a long moment. “You found her in your quarters?”
“Yes.” She studied his face, but found it unreadable. “You came looking for me believing that I killed her?” Adeenya asked. “Taennen, forgive me for being blunt, but there was almost no blood in my quarters. She couldn’t have been killed there.”
“So she was moved,” he said softly. “You could have moved her, the same as anyone.”
“No,” Adeenya said. “Loraica could have moved me with no trouble, but I couldn’t have moved her without help. And after all that trouble, why would any killer put the corpse in her own quarters? I’d have to be a fool to do that.”
Lifting his head with what appeared to be great effort, Taennen locked eyes with her and said, “You’re not a fool.”
“So you believe me?”
Taennen shrugged and offered a small nod. “What now?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he said, lowering his head into his hands again.
“The plan Loraica and I discussed is already in motion. There’s nothing to stop it now,” she said.
Adeenya stood, facing the door. “You may not like it, but could you just keep your eyes open? Watch the cell building where the formians are kept as much as you can without looking too obvious,” she said. “It’s not a great plan, but it’s what we have.”
“Loraica died for that plan,” Taennen said, looking up at her. His eyes were red-ringed moons of sorrow in the dim light of the room. “Her pyre will burn this night,” Taennen said.
“Rest until then. I’ll watch for the traitor,” Adeenya said, moving to the door to leave.
“Does Jhoqo know about this plan?” Taennen asked.
Adeenya shook her head. She wanted to ask him not to share it but knew Taennen would do what he would, regardless of her requests. Her only choice was to hope that he didn’t choose to share it.
Out in the courtyard, several soldiers of both armies watched her, curiosity plain on their faces. She strode past them, each step a declaration of her innocence.
+ + + + +
Taennen shambled across the courtyard toward the funeral services. The shadows were just beginning to disappear with the dwindling light of the evening. In a short while, the torches would be lit and new shadows would be brought to life. Taennen’s neck was jelly, unable to hold his head up. His arms dangled at his side as his stiff legs stepped, pushed, lifted, and stepped again, moving him forward. Taennen did not want to see his friend’s body. He didn’t want to hear people talk about her in the past tense. Taennen did not want to do anything at all. He wasn’t sure that he even wanted to be at all.
He had spent most of the day in his quarters staring at a wall, the eastern one, he thought, but could not be sure. Memories of his time with Loraica had replayed in his mind during that time, but mostly he stared. He stared and focused on not thinking, not feeling, not being. If he didn’t think or feel or exist, then Loraica wasn’t dead. If Loraica was not dead, then he would see his friend again.
As he approached the pyre where her body rested, the crowd parted, letting him pass. Only because of her honored rank was Loraica to be burned inside the citadel itself. Taennen did not look at her, casting his eyes aside to rest on Jhoqo instead. The short man stood atop a pyramid of crates, holding a torch. He wore his dress uniform. The white silk reflected the light of the torch in his hand. Jhoqo motioned for Taennen to join him. The durir’s legs seemed to move of their own accord. He climbed atop the crates and stared at the face of his commander.
“You have words, I assume?” Jhoqo said.
“I can’t… sir,” Taennen answered, the look on his face never changing.
Jhoqo nodded toward the men and took Taennen in an embrace, placing his mouth close to Taennen’s ear and saying, “Gather yourself, son. Remember what we talked about earlier. These people need your words.”
Jhoqo released the embrace and faced the gathering again. Taennen turned and scanned the crowd. He realized that only Maquar were present. Across the courtyard he saw some of the Durpari looking on from a distance. Taennen knew Loraica had made friends among the Durpari, and he wondered why they did not come forward to mourn her.
Jhoqo stomped on the crate, jarring Taennen’s bones and rattling his teeth. The urir waved his arms to get the attention of those gathered at the pyre. He lifted his palms to the sky and then fanned them out before bringing them together in a tight clasp. The mourners mimicked the gesture, which symbolized the spirit of a loved one dispersing and returning to the oneness of the Adama where all souls belonged.
Jhoqo waited for the crowd to focus on him again and said, “Friends, brothers, sisters, we have a sad duty today, but one that must be done. One, I must say, that she whom we are here to honor would not shirk from if it fell to her.”