Chapter 18

KLARA YANA’S INTERROGATION

Cu Zanthus led Klara Yana into a room with garish red walls, now faded and chipped. A long table against the back wall had two tall built-in mirrors lined with round bulbs, but many of the bulbs were broken and the mirrors had been covered in white sheets. A crooked chandelier hung overhead, two bulbs in it burning with galvanized power. A cloth mannequin in the back corner had Lyanirus’s uniform jacket draped over it. The man himself was in a gray button-down and braces, sleeves pushed to his elbows. He stood in front of a map, which was fastened to one of the sheets. Pins were scattered across it in every country. The same man that had been present for Klara Yana’s first meeting was there too, sitting on one of the two plush chairs in the room. Both men turned their heads at the sound of Cu Zanthus shutting the door. Klara Yana pushed her shoulders back, tapping clasped hands to her eyes, mouth, and chest.

Lyanirus gestured and the other man stood up, then passed behind Cu Zanthus and Klara Yana to stand directly in front of the door, arms crossed over his chest. There were no other doors in the room; his intentions couldn’t have been clearer. Klara Yana held her salute.

“Sir,” she said. “May I speak?”

Lyanirus picked up something from the desk – a hoop of metal, it looked like. An attached chain trailed up behind it. He approached her, and before she could so much as open her mouth to ask, he’d opened the collar and snapped it shut around her neck. She flinched at the sudden chill against her skin. Lyanirus held the other end of the chain, wrapping it around his wrist.

Fear flooded Klara Yana’s body, threatening to spill onto her face. She fought with all she had to hold it back. Behind her, Cu Zanthus said,

“Sir, is that really nec–”

“Did I ask you, Ayaterossi?” Lyanirus interrupted. “I don’t know which is worse: that you were responsible for training this unprofessional scum, or that thanks to you, our only lead on Blackwood now is a seventeen cycle-old lowlife who may or may not be a sympathizer.”

“He’ll come through, sir,” said Cu Zanthus in a low voice.

Klara Yana started to turn her head, hoping to catch Cu Zanthus’s eye, but Lyanirus yanked the chain he held, jerking her attention back to him. She met his gaze stonily. Whatever you do, don’t show fear.

“Sir,” she said, “what is the point of collaring me?”

“It’s a precaution,” he said evenly. “If you try to strike me with your lightning, the surge will travel through the metal and back to you. That close to your brain, it will surely kill you.”

“I wasn’t going to strike you. I don’t even have that power! Sir–”

“Show me the mark,” he broke in. “The one Ayaterossi heard Chief Blackwood talk about.”

“Sir, the reason I never told you about the marks was because we had no idea they were special. They didn’t seem worth mentioning. If I’d known–”

He hit her, much harder than he had the first time she’d seen him. Pain exploded through the whole left side of her face. He hauled her back up by the chain just before she went down, and the metal bit brutally into her jawbone before she regained her balance. She struggled to slow her breathing, struggled to keep tears of pain and fear back. Her throat burned with the effort. Don’t freeze. Don’t cry. Don’t scream.

“Show me the mark,” he repeated.

Klara Yana yanked the gloves from her hands, then held out her left one with the palm up. She heard Cu Zanthus draw in his breath. Lyanirus narrowed his eyes, returning his gaze to her face.

“Is that the Broken Eye?” he said softly.

“Sir, I… I don’t know. It does resemble it, I admit, but the how and why of it is beyond me.”

“Are you a Vo Hina worshipper, Hollanelea?”

“No, sir!”

“Tell me the truth.”

“That is the truth, sir. I worship Shon Aha.”

He smiled then, as if seeing something that amused only him. It made her skin crawl. “We’ll come back to that,” he said. “For now, tell me about your Chief Blackwood. What mark does she have?”

“Like a lightning bolt, sir, on her arm.”

“A lightning bolt. How appropriate. When did she first use it to cause lightning?”

“It must have been the night of the invasion, sir, but neither one of us knew it at the time.”

“You claimed last night that you were working with a team to discover more about the lightning attack. That implies she knew before the invasion.”

“Sir. I… I mentioned they had an unnatural lightning attack during their early testing. No one yet had made the association between that and the marks. I still don’t…”

“Have you tried to use yours yet? To do what she did?”

“No, sir.”

“Why not? From what Ayaterossi told me, she wanted you to.”

“Yes, but… but I still didn’t really believe she could. Like I told you, sir, I was never withholding anything! It wasn’t until we were ambushed in the lab that I knew for sure she could do it.”

“But you must have suspected. Especially after what happened right before I last saw you.”

“Sir, the very idea of it… If I’d said something, you would have laughed at me. I would have sounded crazy–”

“Intelligence operatives report anything and everything they see, and let their superiors worry about what to make of it. To do differently is actively withholding information, Hollanelea. It is not your place to decide what we do or don’t need to hear. Is that understood?”

“Sir. I understand completely.”

Lyanirus gestured to the other side of the room. “I want you to try the power. Aim it at the floor over there, far from anyone. Just a small strike.”

So that’s what this was about. He was hoping to use her as a weapon. To use her against Blackwood, no doubt. Klara Yana looked at the palm she still held out. As always, she felt that crawling sensation right beneath the mark, but it had never bothered her to the extent Blackwood said hers had. Nevertheless, she closed her eyes, blew her breath out slowly, and forced all her concentration onto those tiny prickles. Lightning beneath the skin. How did Blackwood do it, anyway? She pictured the lightning bolt – coming from her hand, from the lit bulbs, from the sky. Nothing. Not so much as an increase in the tingling. She blinked her eyes open.

“Nothing’s happening, sir,” she said.

“You’re not trying hard enough.”

“Sir, I’m doing exactly what Blackwood said. Concentrating on the tingling. But there’s nothing. When we were marked, on the Desert Crab, she was hit much harder than I was. She was thrown. She passed out. She didn’t wake up until the next morning. I never even fell. I’m sure whatever happened, it made her stronger than me.”

Irritation crept across Lyanirus’s face. “So Ayaterossi pulled you out of the field for nothing?”

A spike of alarm flashed through Klara Yana. “Sir, I still have CSO Blackwood’s trust. If–”

“Let’s go back to the Vo Hina issue. Shall we?”

“Sir?”

“If your so-called mark has no power, how can you prove it’s not a tattoo?”

“A tattoo? Sir? Why would I have a tattoo of–”

“The rioting back home, the men sympathizing with the women, the Broken Eye symbol? You claim you’re not part of that movement?”

“No, sir! I don’t even… I came straight from a mission in Criesuce. I haven’t been home in half a cycle. I don’t know anything about–”

“Maybe that’s where I’ve seen you.” He bent his head until his face was level with her own. He was so close, she could see every hair peppering his jawline. “We arrested a whole bunch of you scuzbangers a few seasons back. Were you part of that?”

“No, sir–”

“Is that why you took this job? Access to some records, maybe? Some of your arrested comrades? Is this an inside job for you?”

“No, sir–”

His violent backhand came as a shock. Her whole body went numb from the force of it; her muscles abruptly ceased to function. He let her hit the floor this time, but she hadn’t even drawn breath before his foot connected with her ribs. She doubled over, pain ripping through her side. The second kick landed right on her gunshot wound, and the only reason she didn’t let out a howl was because she didn’t have the air to do so. Another blow landed, and another. She had to do something. He’d kill her. But she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, she was paralyzed with terror…

“Hey, go easy, sir!” someone yelled. “We might need him!”

Another kick caught her in the chin, and pain shot through her jaw, along with the metallic taste of blood. Lyanirus wasn’t listening. Her palm… no. Nothing in that mark to help. Her gun had been taken when she was captured. A weapon. A plan…

Somehow, drowning in pain, she remembered her training with the Noncombatant Intelligence Corp. What is a spy’s greatest weapon? Not firearms. Not explosives. Not even anonymity. Information.

Through pure willpower, she managed to force the words between her teeth. “Blackwood’s scientists think I can shroud unprotected now. Without a vehicle.”

The next impact didn’t come. Klara Yana lay wrapped around herself, her jaw aching with the effort not to whimper or cry out. Pain shot through her, spiking with every breath. She couldn’t have moved if she wanted to. A second later, Lyanirus knelt and grabbed her bruised chin, forcing her to look at him. Her lips curled back from her teeth. Despite her desperation, she met his gaze through a mask of anger.

“Are you saying you’ve been withholding more information?” growled Lyanirus.

“I’m saying that I’m not at my best when I’m treated like an animal. Important details may have slipped my mind.”

“You really are a little shit, aren’t you? You aren’t a Vo Hina-cursed contractor. You work for your government, and whatever’s in your head belongs to us. It is not yours to bargain with. Do you understand me!”

“How could I not? You’ve made your opinion very clear. Sir.”

“When I’m through with you, there won’t be a single thing left in your head for you to hide.”

“It’s not what’s in my head that you need,” she answered. “It’s me. The scientists’ next experiment was to send us in without a vehicle, and see if we were attacked. It’s a repeat of something they tried with Onosylvani.” Lyanirus would already know about that, of course, from the notes Cu Zanthus had read and reported.

“Onosylvani!” Lyanirus spat. “Gods! It goes back to her?”

She blinked, taken aback by his reaction.

“It shouldn’t come as a surprise, sir,” said Cu Zanthus from behind her. His voice was carefully controlled now, though she was sure he’d been the one to call out while she was being beaten. “We know now what they were doing in that factory.”

“We know now that they were experimenting with this ‘shrouding’, yes, obviously,” said Lyanirus, scowling up at him, “but that doesn’t mean we have any clue why they wanted that woman. Hollanelea, explain what you mean about a connection between her and your marks. And don’t even think about talking back or lying.” He pulled a knife from his belt and opened it with a snap of his wrist, then yanked her hand up. The next thing she knew, the sharp blade bit into the back of her forefinger just above the knuckle, deep enough to hit bone. Warm blood streamed over her hand, and the pain pierced sharp and hot. Klara Yana screamed.

“Answer me,” Lyanirus said, “or I’ll sever it.”

“All I know,” she said, fighting to keep her voice from breaking into hysteria, “is that the lightning storm back then was a direct result of having a Dhavnak in the lab. That’s what the scientist told Blackwood. She mentioned the monsters, too. It’s all connected.”

“So they didn’t need just anyone for their experiments,” said Lyanirus. “They needed someone from Dhavnakir. And then you… the first Dhavnak we know of to enter shrouding… also ends up marked rather than killed. Isn’t that interesting?” He sat back, narrowing his eyes. Klara Yana almost sobbed when he pulled the knife away. “But where does Blackwood come into that?”

“N- No idea, sir.”

“So any Dhavnak might go in safely. Might even come out again with special powers.”

She almost choked. “Wouldn’t count on it. We were almost killed.”

“But you weren’t, were you? Not yet. No.” She didn’t like the way he was looking at her. Like he was taking in every detail of her face… Vo Hina, help me. Why did I have to scream?

There was a loud knock on the door. Lyanirus’s officer opened it. Someone stepped in behind her, and she heard the rustle of his jacket as he saluted. If the sight of a collared, beaten soldier lying on the floor with blood pooling under his hand phased him, it didn’t show in his voice.

“Sir, we think we’ve found them. The Blackwoods.”

Lyanirus stood and stepped over her. The second he was out of sight, the tears Klara Yana had been fighting spilled from her eyes.

“Where?” said Lyanirus. “Where are they?”

“The crew at Kheppra Isle, sir, that just loaded up the captured submariners to take back to our Marine Internment Camp. They claimed to have seen a flash of light on the eastern cliffs. We believe the soldier may have been attempting to signal someone, with a mirror or some other reflective device.”

Lyanirus was silent for several moments. “Is it possible?” he finally said. “Ayaterossi’s boy?”

“Sir,” said Cu Zanthus slowly, “I gave him a tin – a little snack tin he stuck in his pocket. Right before we left to find Blackwood. I’d say it’s entirely possible.”

“Well then,” said Lyanirus, blowing his breath out. “Time to find out if you’re right. Corporant, you’re dismissed.”

Klara Yana was surprised at the relief that flooded her at the thought of Blackwood being alive. But it was quickly followed by a stab of dread. If Lyanirus gets ahold of her, she’ll wish she wasn’t.

“We control the dekatite mine between here and the eastern border now,” said Lyanirus. “Right, Telchimaris?”

“Sir.”

“That would be quickest, now that we have arphanium.”

“But, sir, we don’t have a vehicle,” protested Cu Zanthus. “Hollanelea specifically said we shouldn’t shroud unless we–”

“Hollanelea brought us new information,” Lyanirus cut in. “Hollanelea can test it for us. Telchimaris. Let’s get ready to head out. Ayaterossi. Clean your associate up. And keep him out of my damn way until we need him again.” The door opened and closed again, and Lyanirus was gone.

She was still lying on the floor, tears running down her face. She had to get up. What would Cu Zanthus think? But Vo Hina’s mercy, the pain…

A few seconds later, Cu Zanthus knelt in front of her. He leaned forward, working the collar from her neck.

“What is wrong with you, Keiller Yano?” he said, his voice hard. “What were you thinking?”

“You stood up for me,” she managed. “Twice.”

“Which is exactly why you owe me some answers!” Cu Zanthus sat back, setting the collar off to the side. His face, which had been tight with anger, softened into something closer to alarm. “Your neck’s rubbed raw. He was really digging this thing into you, wasn’t he?”

Klara Yana didn’t answer. Cu Zanthus took off his Belzene uniform jacket and bunched it up under her head, so the soft folds held her injured neck from the hard floor. Then he looked to her hand. He sucked in a breath between his teeth.

“This one’ll need stitches. I’ll get Dela Savene. She’s gonna get sick of fixing you up, at this rate.” He started to get up, then paused. “If you’re a sympathizer or a rebel mole, just tell me now, Keiller Yano. You’re making me look really bad here, and I can’t take much more.”

“I’m not,” she said. “I never had plans to betray our government or country. I never participated in any sort of riot or rebellion. I have no friends among those who do. Spying is my life, and everything I’ve done has been for the good of our citizens.”

He frowned at her words, clearly uncomfortable. And why shouldn’t he be? Men didn’t talk like that. They’d get it down to three words, then tell you to piss off. But Klara Yana was so tired and in so much pain, she almost didn’t care anymore.

“Did you intentionally withhold all that information?” Cu Zanthus said.

“I shared what seemed necessary. I never thought of it as intentional. Just… irrelevant.” She hesitated. “Holding stuff back isn’t always a bad thing, you know.”

“Better rethink that attitude right now, or I’m through with you.”

“For example, I know about you and Andrew.”

“What?” Cu Zanthus said sharply. “What about me and Andrew?”

“I saw you kiss him.”

His face went still. Several moments passed before he answered. “The leuftkernel is right. You really do store everything until the perfect moment, don’t you?”

“This is not blackmail,” she said. “This is me asking for help. And offering mine in return.”

“Well, it’s out of the question. What you saw was part of my job. None of it was real. You do understand that, right?”

“Collaborator or not, you know there’s a good chance they’ll kill him. He’s too close to Blackwood. Too easy to compromise. Too young.”

“He’s three cycles older than me when I was recruited,” Cu Zanthus argued.

“And he’s Belzene. If you think that makes your pasts comparable, you’re out of your mind.”

He stared at her for a long time. “I told you,” he finally said, “it doesn’t matter. He’s nothing to me.”

“I believe you.”

“I’m not throwing away everything I live for. Not for him, not for you, not for anyone.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

“What are you asking me for, then?”

“Not to give up on me. That’s all.”

“I’ll do what I can, Keiller Yano, but you brought it on yourself. I can only go so far before I’ll be right down there with you. I will not betray my country for you.” He stood. “Take a moment to collect yourself while I get Dela Savene. If you clean up your attitude, you might get through this. If you don’t…” He shook his head and walked out of the room, leaving the thought unfinished. The door shut with a click behind him.

The second he was gone, Klara Yana slid his coat out from under her head. Her ribs sent waves of pain through her with even that small movement. So as not to leave bloody handprints behind, she used her good hand – the same one with the dekatite mark on the palm – to pat the folds, looking for any sort of weapon she might secret away for next time. If she didn’t freeze. If she was willing to throw away any chance of claiming innocence. But if Lyanirus found out she was a woman – which was beginning to seem terrifyingly likely – then there’d be no turning back anyway. Might as well kill him.

She found something. A hard lump. She turned the cloth until she found the opening for the pocket, then put her hand in. As soon as she grabbed it, she knew it wasn’t a gun or a knife. It was cool, smooth, with jagged breaks on both top and bottom. The piece of arphanium pipe Cu Zanthus had taken from the lab.

But she never had the chance to consider what she might do with it. The second her dekatite mark pressed against the arphanium, her palm sparked, as if by a shock. The small, underground room went dark. Cold air pressed into her skin. She lay suddenly on rocky ground, a harsh wind whipping around her. Klara Yana dropped the pipe with a cry. She had no idea what had happened… but there was really only one place this could be.

Far from a dekatite source, with only her marked palm and a shard of arphanium… she had shrouded.