Chapter 10

ANDREW’S BARGAIN

The deep thumps of explosions sounded somewhere just outside his awareness. Andrew was conscious only of fleeing down the hallway, his throat constricting painfully as smoke enveloped him. He was already burning from the bomb that had come through the roof, but if he could reach his parents, he could get them out in time. When he reached their doorway, though, someone was blocking it. Mila, her long curls blowing in the inferno.

“Let me through!” he yelled.

She shrugged, smirking, and stepped aside. Beyond her, he saw only charred skeletons in the bed. He rushed inside and fell to his knees at the bedside.

“Don’t leave me!” he pleaded. “You’re all I have.”

From overhead, a weight descended. He looked up and saw not the gray-feathered form of Xeil, smiling in grace, but a man with fire burning on his head. The man cupped his hands, and Mother and Father’s spirits drifted up into them. Andrew struggled to his feet, holding out his hands. The sun god started to pass the spirits over, but then hesitated, and changed course toward Mila instead. Andrew turned in horror, seeing Mila waiting with a grin. She offered her own hand. But then the sun god took the spirits and rose, disappearing into the ceiling. Andrew stared after him. A vast emptiness consumed him, so immense he felt he would die. He turned toward Mila, but she was gone, too.

Alone. He was alone. He screamed, turning in a circle, looking for someone, anyone. But all he heard were explosions destroying his world.

There’s the brotherhood. The voice was distant, but it was there.

“Where?” he cried. “Tell me!”

All around you.

“I don’t see them! Please! Help me!” He ran back to the doorway, to face the continuous ball of fire roiling in the hallway. The explosions shook the house around him. But as he stood gasping for breath, he heard another voice at the other end of the hall.

“…Put some sort of power in my skin?”

Mila. The flames still roared between them. He couldn’t get through. He knew she would leave soon, but he couldn’t get through to stop her. He closed his eyes. He had to face the fire. He had to reach her, no matter what it took.

“…Something not of this world, anyway. Nobody knows where we were, ma’am. There’s no saying what sort of… magic, or science, or… or what they have in that realm. Maybe they…”

That voice. His eyes fluttered open again. It was her. The voice from the WiCorr. She’d taken something from him. What had she taken? The brotherhood. No. That didn’t make sense. He looked up again, toward the vanished sun god.

“But why give the power to me, when they’ve only ever killed us before? What’s changed? It couldn’t have been the dekatite.”

He had to reach them before they left. Andrew started to lunge from the doorway, but something held his arms tight. He pulled harder, straining. The flames were diminishing. He’d be able to reach her, if only…

“You’re saying you don’t feel anything at all?”

Other sensations were breaking through. Something hard directly behind him, like concrete. Cords biting into his wrists. Cords? He stopped struggling, noticing a new pain pulsing at his left cheekbone.

“The tingling, yes. It’s still there. Doesn’t sound as bad as what you describe, though.”

“I got hit by something different. Must have been. Yours was marked by what you were holding, whereas mine was…”

“Lightning thrown by a monster?”

Andrew frowned, his closed eyes twitching, and pain traveled in waves across the left side of his face. What on Mirrix are they talking about? The noise of the bombs still broke through, safely distant at the moment, and he realized for the first time they weren’t part of his dream. He started to push himself up. Something popped in his right shoulder blade when his hands refused to move, and he gasped. His hands were bound. His teeth ground together as memories sparked to life. Mila.

“Ssh! Andrew’s waking up.”

He opened his eyes, blinking in the erratically flickering light. He saw a long, narrow space lined with shelves. He sat on the hard floor at the back of it, his legs sprawled before him, his hands above him, wrists lashed to a pipe or some other fixture in the wall. There were two lanterns, one on each side of the space powered by kaullix grease and sinew. The air already carried a faint smokiness and odor from the flames.

Mila stood over him, arms crossed, just far enough away that he wouldn’t be able to reach her with a kick. Her companion stood farther back, leaning against a shelf filled with dusty glass jars, broken syringes, and pestles and mortars. The young man’s hands were in his pockets, his glance traveling between Andrew and the stairway at the other end. Three strips of medical tape held together a wound next to his right eye. His short hair was pure black, unnaturally straight strands sticking up in all directions. Andrew stared at him, trying to sort through the mess of his memories and dreams.

“Andrew.” Mila knelt down so she was level with him. Andrew slowly transferred his gaze to her. Despite the pain in his face, he refused to let any expression show.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

“You attacked me,” he said hoarsely. “And now you…”

“Andrew, it wasn’t like that. It’s not like that. I admit things got out of control back there, and that’s exactly why I secured you. So we could talk. Without you attacking me.”

He shook his head, and pain lanced through his cheek again. What had happened? Her face had contorted in anger, he’d tried to get away, and then… nothing. Had she hit him? Purposely knocked him out when he refused to leave? And now… now she’d tied him up in a cellar somewhere. Why not a bomb shelter? He tried to ignore the chill crawling up his spine.

His eyes slid back to the other soldier. “You. Who are you?”

“Me?” The soldier raised his eyebrows, glancing at Mila. He waited for her curt nod before answering, “Apprentice Deckman Kyle Holland. I work with CSO Blackwood.”

Holland. It wasn’t just the name. It was the voice. Unmistakable. He’d only heard that one phrase spoken – Cu Zanthus? – but it had the same resonance to it. A careful consideration before speaking; a low pitch that sounded almost practiced. He couldn’t shake his first impression of it. It sounds like a girl. If he hadn’t heard it on the WiCorr first, it would never have occurred to him. Nothing about it made sense. Why under the moons would Cu Zanthus be in contact with a Belzene submariner?

“Andrew. Look at me.”

He turned his attention back to Mila.

“Tell me about Cu Zanthus. When did he come back? Have you stayed in contact with him for the last three years?”

“How dare you treat me like an enemy!” he said.

“You have jeopardized our country,” she said evenly. “You better believe that makes you an enemy.”

Andrew didn’t know what he’d expected her to say, but it wasn’t that. A sliver of fear ran through him. “I told you, Cu Zanthus is hiding from his draft! There’s nothing criminal about it.”

“Come on. You don’t believe that. Do you?”

“I’ve known him since we were kids, Mila! He wouldn’t do that to me!”

He was in contact with a Belzene submariner. A pale-skinned one at that. Andrew glanced at Holland again. The young man was rubbing his gloved palms together looking up at the ceiling. Toward the sound of the bombs and the spattering sound of gunfire. That was a serious attack going on out there. He tried to push himself straighter, to test his bonds – what had they used? Some sort of tape? – but the angle was bad, and he only succeeded in sending another pang through his shoulder.

“His government could have recruited him any time during the last three years,” Mila insisted. “They might have even chosen him because of the connection with our parents! Have you stayed in touch with him ever since he left? Did you happen to tell him when you got our parents’ notes out of the counting firm, and brought them home?”

He was in contact with… Andrew shook his head, shutting his eyes against the pulsing pain at his cheek. “You’re wrong!”

“He seduced you, didn’t he?”

“Shut up, Mila. Just shut up!”

“For Xeil’s sake, Andrew, I’m just trying to–”

Andrew’s eyes shot open. “I want to talk to your partner. Alone.”

Mila halted mid-word. Her eyebrows drew down and she looked toward Holland. The other soldier straightened, frowning.

“Why?” Mila said.

“Because I trust he won’t try to kill me, that’s why.”

Mila’s hands tightened into fists at her sides. “That is not what happened! If you would just talk to me–”

“No. I’m done talking to you.” He closed his eyes again, wishing he were anywhere but here. The lies. The talks. The kiss. He clung to the memories, desperate.

The picture. He saw it again, fluttering to the couch in front of him. Andrew had drawn it four years ago, and given it to Cu Zanthus before he moved back to Dhavnakir. Mila had just signed her contract with the Belzene Naval Academy. Investigations into Onosylvani’s assassination were still ongoing, but warplanes already peppered the sky, and the official declaration of war was imminent. Andrew remembered the fear, the despair of knowing Mila would be leaving, the anger when he tried to talk to her and she brushed him off. He also remembered the small ray of hope he’d held when he’d drawn that picture. It had been the simple hope that Cu Zanthus would remember him. But the realization that Cu Zanthus had actually carried it around with him for all these years… Andrew felt short of breath even thinking about it. I mattered to someone. I mattered to him.

“See what he wants,” he heard Mila mutter. “I’ll try to see what’s going on out there. Don’t untie him, no matter what he says. His current situation aside, he’s an uncannily smart kid, and he may get some ideas.”

“Understood, CSO,” Holland said. “No… funny business up there. Right?”

“Not planning on it,” said Mila.

Just what did that mean? He kept his eyes shut, waiting for Mila to be gone. He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten the extent of her anger issues; they’d flared up bad after their parents died. Slammed doors, holes punched in walls, screaming. Very rarely had she come after him – but she’d never really had reason to. If she’d decided to see him as an enemy now rather than a family member, that would change everything. Maybe we’ve always been headed here. It should have felt like a loss, but it had been so long now, he could hardly remember what they’d had. The whole thing just felt… inevitable.

“Hey, kid.”

He opened his eyes. Holland had lowered himself to a crouch, closer than Mila had. The young soldier attempted a reassuring smile.

“Listen,” he said, “I don’t know anything about this, but I know you’re scared. It’s OK. We all are.”

Andrew scanned the small room and made sure Mila had really stepped out. Then he took a moment just to study Holland, now that he was closer. If he hadn’t been looking, would he have noticed the smoothness of Holland’s cheeks? The prominence of his cheekbones? The delicacy of his eyebrows over his striking olive-colored eyes? Maybe. Male or female, he was definitely attractive.

“Is it true?” he said, looking Holland straight in the eye. “About Cu Zanthus?”

The smile slowly faded from the young soldier’s face. “How would I–”

“I answered the WiCorr when you called. Don’t you remember?”

His eyes widened, just slightly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do.”

“You’re crazy.” Holland started to stand.

“What would your government do if they found out you were a woman?”

If Holland had been pale before, she went absolutely white now. Her hand found a shelf and she lowered herself back to her former position, as if her legs wouldn’t support her.

“Why would you say that?” she hissed.

“I could have said something when Mila was here,” Andrew said. “I didn’t. I just want answers, OK?”

“But to accuse me of…”

“I thought you were a woman when you called. I never would have thought it otherwise. Is that what you’re asking?”

“Not just that. No.” Holland put her hands over her knees, digging in her fingers. “You… you’re saying you think your friend Cu Zanthus…”

“Is your partner? Seems likely. He targeted me, you targeted my sister. I get it.”

“Well, I don’t!” Holland whispered harshly. “Why did you send out the CSO? Are you trying to blackmail me? Frame me?”

“I want answers,” he repeated.

“Seems like you’ve already come up with your own. Doesn’t matter what I say.”

“Mila will be back before long,” Andrew said. “If you don’t tell me everything, I’ll tell her you’re a woman. I can’t prove you’re Dhavnak, but she’ll know you wouldn’t have dressed like a man for our military.”

“You can’t prove I’m female, either!”

“Don’t you think once she starts looking, she’ll see it for herself?”

Holland reached behind her, and the next thing Andrew knew, she had a pistol leveled at his face. His heart seized but he breathed through it, forcing his face and muscles to betray nothing.

“Don’t do it,” he said. “Mila hears a gunshot, and you’ll never get out of here alive.”

“You don’t think so? She’d barely hear it over everything else.”

“But you’d be forced to kill her too. That can’t be what your superiors want.”

“What exactly did you expect to happen here? That you would force my hand? You know full well I can’t let you live. Not with what you know.”

“I do know that.” Andrew’s voice stayed amazingly steady. Maybe it was the result of giving up years ago, but his heartbeat had already slowed. Everything came back into focus, clear as glass. “And you know I would never have sent Mila from the room if I wasn’t willing to take that risk.”

She lowered the gun, just enough so he could see her eyes, narrowed and hard.

“Kill me if you have to,” said Andrew. “But talk to me first.”

Holland’s expression didn’t change but the gun lowered another handspan.

“Just tell me,” he said. “How long? How long have I been… a project to him?”

Holland’s jaw slowly unclenched. After what felt like an eternity, she shook her head. “You’re not a project to him.”

“Tell me the truth. I can handle it.”

“No. I’m serious.” The gun finally came all the way down, to rest in her lap. “You want to know what he says to me, before missions? ‘I have a mark in Jasterus.’ ‘I’m shadowing a target in Descar.’ ‘Got an objective in Criesuce.’ But when he told me about this assignment? ‘I have an old friend in Ellemko. It’s been too long.’” She brushed a hand over her eyes, then her lips. Andrew recognized the gesture from the Synivistic Oaths. “By the gods. His exact words.”

“You’re probably trained to say stuff like that,” Andrew said after a few moments.

“No, I’m trained to shoot anyone who asks this many questions.”

“Right,” said Andrew. “So, um. How long?”

“All I know is he was recruited young. At the age of fourteen, is what I’ve heard.”

He’d been fifteen when they’d met. A slow wave of nausea churned through Andrew’s stomach.

“And it was always about the notes? Our parents?”

“I don’t know, Andrew. I never knew about the notes till Blackwood brought it up on the way over.”

“Mila was right. I mentioned bringing them home. In a letter I wrote him, about four months ago. I can’t believe…” He slumped in his bonds, looking up toward the sounds of war above. “What would have happened if I hadn’t let him stay? Would he have killed me?”

“We don’t make it a habit to kill kids,” Holland said, a slight growl to her words. “He would have found another way. Especially when it came to you. I firmly believe that.”

Andrew took a long shuddering breath, letting her words sink in. “How long have you worked with him?”

“A couple cycles now. Why?”

“Does he know about you?”

“Are you threatening me?” said Holland, her voice cold.

“No,” said Andrew hastily. “I’m just curious. Why do this for them, when they… treat women like they do?”

A look of disgust crossed her face. “That’s all any of you see when you look at Dhavnakir. You assume all women are helpless victims, imprisoned in our homes and powerless to do anything on our own. But look how lonely your country is! Your community is fractured, your families broken, your children abandoned. It’s because of our women that we’re not like that.”

“Then why the disguise?” he asked.

Her face tightened again. “I don’t know what you’re expecting to do here. Change my mind? Get me to want to escape and live in Belzen?”

“Are you trying to escape?” he said hesitantly.

“No! I just bent the rules a little to get information that women can’t get. Yet. But things have been changing for a long time, and it’s not… it’s not the place you all seem to think it is. I couldn’t expect you to understand that, though.” She gritted her teeth and pushed herself to her feet, raising the gun again. “I wish you’d kept your mouth shut.”

“If it makes any difference,” said Andrew quietly, “that’s not what I think when I look at Dhavnakir.”

She looked back at him, her eyebrows drawn in suspicion. “No?”

“No. And just so you know, I wouldn’t have said anything about you. To either Mila or Cu Zanthus.”

“Why should I believe that?”

He let out a short, harsh laugh. “You saw what Mila did to me! The only thing that could make my situation any worse is telling her she’s right! She’s let me live only because there’s a slight chance she’s wrong.”

“She wouldn’t really kill you–” Holland began.

“She has anger issues. Always has. She won’t mean to, but… No. I have nothing to gain by telling her. Trust me.”

“Then what? You just stay quiet? Keep lying to her?”

He looked up, feeling that tiny spark of hope ignite again deep inside. “Help me escape.”

Holland looked taken aback. “I – I can’t! I’d lose any amount of trust Blackwood has left in me. I’d lose the assignment! And if that happens…” She winced, cursing. “I’m dead anyway, if I don’t…”

“Don’t what?”

She stared down at him, her lips thinning. “I have a meeting,” she said reluctantly.

“When? Where?”

“Tonight. L.T. Karlan Theater.” She looked behind her, toward the exit. For the first time, Andrew saw real fear in her eyes. No wonder she’d looked so distracted from the second he woke. “I’m probably already too late,” she muttered, half to herself.

“Will Cu Zanthus be there?” Andrew said.

“Most likely.”

“Then you have to go! You have to tell him where I am! Then it won’t be on your head if he comes for me.”

“But…” She turned back to him, her eyes wide. “Andrew, do you realize what you’re…”

“Let’s just say I feel safer with him than my sister.”

“You’re sure?”

Andrew nodded.

“Where is the theater?” Holland asked. “Do you know?”

“Ninety-fourth and Sterlington.”

“OK.” Holland swallowed, glancing toward the narrow stairs as she tucked the gun back in her waistband, behind her coat. Then she reached down and grabbed a handful of his fine hair. Andrew gasped in surprise as she wrenched his head back. “Scream,” she said. “Loud as you can.”

Andrew did. It was strangely liberating to let his anger and despair out in one long cry instead of holding it in. Holland pulled her other fist back. But just before she let the blow fall, Mila came running down the stairs, yelling,

“Holland, for Xeil’s sake, stop!”

Andrew let his head remain pushed to the side, breathing the short, scared breaths of anyone bound and unable to protect himself.

“He won’t talk, CSO,” he heard Holland say, her voice rough. “Just insists his precious Zanthus ain’t like other Dhavvies. When you and I both know he’s prob’ly out there beatin’ some Belzene woman to death right this second. Your brother’s helping, if only by letting him stay. I will not let him get away with it.” She jerked Andrew’s head to the side so he was forced to look at her. He had no trouble feigning the flash of fear on his face. Her out-of-control fury was convincing, right down to the slipping of her perfect speech patterns.

“Step away, Holland.”

“I can make him talk. I know I can!”

“That’s my brother you’re talking about! Get your hands off him!”

Holland finally released him with a hard shove. “Thought you’d be OK with this, CSO,” she bit out. “Seeing as how you–”

“No, I’m not OK with it! This isn’t – we’re not–” She took a deep breath, glaring at both of them in turn. “Holland. Go up top. Take a few minutes to get ahold of yourself. As long as you need. It was recommended to me when…” Her cheek twitched as she stopped herself. “It helps. And Andrew… you need a second to breathe. This was never meant to be a… you know. An interrogation. I apologize.”

Holland turned and stormed out, slamming a shelf with her fist on the way up the stairs. Right before she disappeared, she clasped her hands together behind her, looking back just long enough to catch Andrew’s eye. Andrew dipped his chin in a barely discernible nod, his heart pounding. The clenched fists. The sign of the Synivistic brotherhood.

What am I doing? he thought.

The answer came easily. I’m giving myself a future. Belzen would be conquered with or without his help, but Cu Zanthus and Holland represented a change to his hated life. They’d both listened to him. They needed him. They might someday be real friends. He could take the chance or he could throw it away. He already knew what a future with Mila held. Loneliness. Uselessness. Fading away. When he looked at it like that, it wasn’t even worth thinking about.

Maybe we’ve always been headed here.