Viky sat munching and nursing the remaining pâtisseries while she was brought up to date on the current state of the world. The selection of Jiuliing delicacies available at closest canteen were not what they used to be. The manners of a Sisterhood encountered while at the canteen were not what they should be. And Sheeli’s latest fedora creations were beyond redemption, not enough lace or pink. A reply wasn't expected. Lady Maddiisa would never run out of things to talk about, Lady La’navikyya would finish eating and then Maddie would continue to monologue as they Strength trained together. It was a satisfying situation, both enjoying things they liked, so Viky was blindsided when Maddie segued into her next topic without preamble.

“After we warm up today, I want to get straight into some Speed training. You’re faster than me, so you must have had some training, what drills do you know?”

Viky’s chest constricted painfully and for a heartbeat she couldn’t breathe. Precious memories of training with her parent struggled to surfaced, she shoved them aside.

A glance at her friend confirmed Maddie was waiting for some sort of response. Viky pretended she was still chewing while she contemplated if a distraction or rebuttal would be the better response. Delaying a further few heartbeats while brushing imaginary crumbs from her tunic.

“Strength is by far your strongest talent, why exert yourself pursuing a skill set that you may not even possess? Weren’t we discussing adding extra weight to your dead-lift?”

“If we don’t explore other Talents how will we ever know if we have them? Just think of the untapped potential we may discover?”

Great. Most of the time Maddie’s lack of impulsive control made her easy to distract. But somehow she could now focus on the one topic Viky did not want to discuss. Even constructing a logical chain of reasoning.

“We may discover we have been blessed with mysterious hidden talents previously known only to the Ancients.” Maddie enthused.

Or not.

“Having esoteric talents is more likely to be a death sentence than a blessing.” Viky slipped back into the familiar mode as the voice of reason.

“What about Endurance then? Did your parent also have an orange fractal? My parent had Strength, Speed and Phasing, but plenty of Commanders have all three of the Physical Fractals.”

Viky didn’t bother to correct her.

Finding another person in her sisterhood had also been secretly trained was a surprise but the fact it was Maddie came as a shock. Most of the young women taken from The Rifts in the rotational contribution would have secrets. But they had been selectively distributed, never more than a single individual in any sisterhood, and strongly discouraged from forming close bonds outside the traditional nine-woman groups. Maddie was from Jiuliing, a bastion of Coalition convention. Rotations ago her people had forced the independent clans along The Rift into submitting to Coalition rule. Evidently keeping the rules you enforced on others had not been important to everyone.

Maddie had loved training. Wanted to exercise daily, begging until the continual entreaties bordered on embarrassing. Viky did train every day. And Strength training together was beneficial. But some things were private. Personal. Secret. A sacred trust passed from one generation to the next and not appropriate for general distribution.

Maddie didn’t understand. The product of Jiuliing First Family and had grown up in opulent comfort with indulgent parentals. As the only second daughter born to her mother’s Sisterhood, she was used to getting everything she wanted and had yet to learn the value of discretion. Viky, raised in a forgotten corner of the forbidding and unattractive cliff faces of The Rifts, had enjoyed neither prestige nor comfort. Her practical, strict but loving parentals considered hard work its own reward. Maddie liked to think there was not a trace of snobbery in her. Viky liked to think she didn’t have anything to prove but was honest enough to realise they were both wrong.

Lady Maddiisa flaunted rules with confidence. Viky’s clandestine training had been one of many subversive and treasonable secrets her mother and parent had taken with them to the grave. Keeping secrets was a deeply in-ground racial tradition. Viky was sure Maddie did not even know the definition of the word secret.

“It’s a lovely thought but,” Viky slid a hand over the small extension of her belly. “I’m not sure if now is a good time, maybe in a few months after my daughter is born.”

Maddie nodded, as though she understood and had anticipated the brush off. “Later then, we'll have plenty of time during the months of Assault.”

“Definitely,” Viky lied, without the slightest guilt.

“So, Endurance? My parent had an orange fractal, it's only logical that I've inherited some Endurance from him. You didn’t say, did your parent have an orange fractal?”

Viky decided the safest course was intentional misinterpretation. “I've never noticed any particular flair or extra ability along those lines.”

“What colour fractals did your parent have?”

Viky hid her frustration, why was Maddie being so pushy?

“My parent didn’t go around without his cowl.”

“That's not an answer, or at least not an answer to my question. Does your inability to answer questions come because you were by yourself a lot as a child, or did your lack of conversational skills make others stay away from you?”

It was possibly a little of both, but Viky wasn’t going to admit it. “It’s a cultural thing.”

“Don’t think so, Jieleem’s from the Rifts, he can answer questions candidly. My Aunt Liliaan is also from The Rifts, and no one could shut her up. So why do you always do it? Or not do it, I’m not sure, but you know what I mean.” Maddie insisted.

Viky brushed crumbs from my fingers. “You, Gabreel and Rowaan are all from Jiuliing, and are all different, no culture is a monolith.”

Maddie frowned. “Yes, well I know that, but,”

Viky could see where the conversation was heading. “Your question caught me when I was thinking about something else. It’s been worrying me for some time, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

“What’s the matter?”

Maddie was so easily distracted.

“It’s Tushii. We should do something for her, to help her family out.”

“Yes, it would be great to help, but she’s awfully proud, in the nicest possible way of course. I've offered sequin, but she won't take any. And I've bought marionettes for myself and both my girls, I asked for another, and she just looked down her nose at me. You know, in that superior way of hers to let you know, she knows, what you are doing.” Maddie shrugged. “Sheeli and Shaar are helping, they offer her marionettes to all their customers.”

“Her marionettes are good, aren't they?”

“Oh yes superb quality, and is carvings so intricate. I could never make anything like that. But marionettes are not something everybody wants, even though they do look very nice on a shelf. I was surprised you brought one. Oh, but I guess you did that to help her out, although the shelves in your reception room do need more decoration, they are practically empty.”

“She needs to find something that people need. Use the skill she had already mastered making the dolls to produce something people will find advantageous to possess.”

“The problem is Ladies don’t need useful things; we just need beautiful things.”

Viky could have pointed out Ladies didn’t need beautiful things, and they were only nice to have if you didn’t mind dusting or had a slave or servant to clean for you. Otherwise, they were just more work and of no practical value.

Viky shot her friend a quick look and resisted giving voice to the sarcastic comment that had come to mind. “Then we need to find something Tushii can make, that women will think is beautiful and important to have.”

Viky fingered the handle of the Grip-rope she wore as a belt. No man, woman or child of The Rifts would leave home without one and securing your tunic was its least important function. Of course, in the capital a Lady seldom needed venture outside the confines of the city and tunics were seldom worn by people of cultures other than the Rifts. So apart from decorating the band of a skirt or securing a wrap they had little practical value. But the Ladies of Chruciaal loved to decorate themselves. In theory one in nine had originated in the Rifts, so making belts, decorated with Tushii’s beautiful carvings, had the potential to generate sequin.

Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

“That sounds impossible, and suspiciously like work. Ladies aren’t supposed to work. That’s what slaves are for.”

Viky laughed, keeping her voice light. “I'm a Lady, and I’d never spent an idle day in my life. Even during the months of Fire, we worked, built up a surplus supply of belts, ropes and whips.”

“Yes, but, well, that’s because your people don’t have slaves.” Maddie was dismissive.

“Why should someone else do something for you when you can do it yourself? Also, it didn’t feel like work, it was fun and challenging. And then we had goods to trade for things we couldn’t make or were not available in our area.”

This required some thought, Viky stood and prepared herself for training.

“I was surprised how much Sheeli and Shaar are making from their crafting hobbies. Although I find weaving and spinning boring, but everyone needs beautiful cloths.” Maddie spent some time sidetracked describing how her Aunt Mirrobeel had despaired over her lack of talent with needle work and how much more fun candle making was. Maddie finally noticed Viky was fiddling with her belt. “Did you make your belt? I bet Sheeli and Shaar would sell them for you.”

“Yes, they have told me they would, but I don’t need sequin, Tushii does.”

Viky waited for Maddie to connect the dots. It came halfway through drills for building upper body strength and a monologue about how well her toddler was walking.

“Do you think you could teach Tushii to make them? I mean it’s basically just platting, and anyone can do that can’t they?”

There was a bit more than ‘just platting’ but Maddie’s mind was moving in the right direction and Viky didn’t want to waste the momentum.

“I think I could teach Tushii, that wouldn’t be a problem. The difficulty is getting the raw materials. You need at least two people. Two strong people who are not afraid to venture into the forest. If you want to harvest a lot of vines we will need more people because at this time of the rotation, the vines retain water and are heavy.”

“That’s not a problem, I’m not afraid, I'll go with you. We should probably start off small, just you and me. Bring back a few vines. We can ask Tushii for help platting them. Make her feel like she's doing us a favour and helping us out.” Maddie voice betrayed excitement.

Viky led them into the next section of the work out. Maddie continued to fire off numerous suggestions, some impractical, others unrealistic or naïve, but a couple quite good.

Viky grinned. It had taken her a while to make friends, after her clans’ betrayal. Even with the unfortunate habit of bringing up uncomfortable subject Maddie was good value. Jess was alright too, and a trio was always handy. Jess could watch out for Maddie, because she was fearless and in the forest that was not always a positive attribute.

While Maddie worked out what she would wear during the venture, Viky contemplated how to get her to suggest including Jess.

***

“Good afternoon Deputized Operative Commander Dereniik. What knowledge is it my pleasure to share with you today.” Senior Commander Rwakabuub wore an apathetic smile and an elaborate swept up hairstyle. “Please be seated.”

Dereniik offered a modified version of the hand signal for respect, and a half-bow.

Several men employed in the Education Department owed him favours and held sufficient rank to know the information he sought. His old Team leader Val had a smooth tongue and plenty of charisma, and the twins had also possessed razor sharp wits. Dereniik possessed no such skills. He weathered the wave of nostalgia and loss as he hobbled to the indicated couch. Senior Commander Rwakabuub would never stand if he could lounge, and his spacious office was decorated with subdues tones and luxuriant couches. Custom dictated if you were reclining, a visitor needed to be offered a seat, and the long trek to the Education Department Headquarters had depleted Dereniik’s limited energy reserves.

A servant bustled in bearing a gilded tray, a small delicate pottery mug and an ewer shaped like cluster of fruit. Dereniik caught the slightest whiff spices.

“Right,” Rwakabuub said with an awkward frown. “I ordered Tea before I knew you were coming; will you join me?”

To not do so would be churlish and Dereniik needed to make the interview continue long enough gather his strength. However, accepting would necessitate small talk and Dereniik didn’t feel up to the exchanging barbs and battle of wits such conversations often elicited.

“Thank you for your generous offer, actually I am a bit,”

“Too busy?” Rwakabuub offered with a trace of an undeniable hope in his tone.

“I was going to say thirsty?” Dereniik enjoyed watching his expression falter. “Of course, if you are unable?”

“No. No. Never let it be said I would refuse a friend hospitality.”

It was traditional for men of Elimelech to offer tea to guests, but Dereniik thought the man needed to consult a dictionary on the meaning of the word for ‘friend’. The last time they had seen each other was over twenty months ago when Dereniik’s team had been commissioned to investigate fraud in the Education Department. Although praised for resolving the scam, and later being proclaimed a hero for surviving the attack leading to the demise of the rest of his team, Rwakabuub had never visited to offered comfort or consolation.

“No, my Lord, I don't think any would say that. I am here however on official business and trust in your compliance.”

“And the pleasure is all the greater for dealing with you Commander Deranick. What do you need to know?” He gestured for the servant to fetch another mug.

“My Lord, has anyone been reported missing from the Education Department?” Dereniik gave a description of the man in the morgue but reframed from mentioning a time frame. The victim may have been held, or lost, before sustaining his injuries.

“No, not lately. You do know Commander Dereniik that it’s not just men in the Education Department that have blue fractals?” The voice was condescending.

“I am aware my Lord. I have a blue fractal,” Dereniik noted Rwakabuub’s slight intake of breath. “But all investigations must start somewhere. I understand your department rotates staff through the three Commanders training facilities with all members spending some time each rotation back at the capital. How long would it take until you to received notification if someone went missing from one of the training facilities?”

“Almost immediately, lecturers get sick or must attend to family matters at times. We have auxiliary and substitutes lecturers available for those situations. Depending on the subject being taught, sometimes a man's teammates may fill in for him.” His gaze slid away towards the door, eager for the servant to return.

“What do you mean by depending on the subject?” Dereniik asked.

“Junior lectures teach the first rotation students. But if the man was a lecturer, and the age you have indicated, he would have become adept at teaching a specialized subject. Some of his teammates would have possibly vied for the same position and would have knowledge of that subject as well, and be able to step into the teaching position if necessary.”

Dereniik nodded, he was only familiar with the training facilities from the perspective of a student.

“How often would teammates fill in for each other without your knowledge?” Dereniik remembering back to his rotations of training and thought it may have been more often than the bureaucracy would have liked to acknowledge.

“We may not always initially know, but we always find out,” was the smug reply.

Dereniik nodded. The department was responsible for the exchange of all sorts of information. Education, propaganda, and indoctrination. He hadn't been explicitly told but was sure they were also responsible for the management of the state-run Traditionalist religion in its various incarnations.

“Do you consider the death suspicious?” Rwakabuub asked.

“My Lord, it is too early to jump to any conclusions. My first task is to establish identity. How many of the lecturers are in the capital at any given time?”

“About half. Most of the younger men will do a block of three months teaching, then three months back at the capital with their families preparing for the next three months. We do have some men permanently stationed at all three facilities. But not everyone that works for the Education department is a lecture, there's significant support staff necessary to run the Department.”

The D’char servant knocked at the door, was waved inside and gestured to serve.

With considerable skill the servant set about pouring their beverages. With one arm outstretched overhead there was perhaps half a body length between the ewer and cup. Cool air surrounding the hot liquid as it flowed from one receptacle to the other. The servant performed the action with a sense of theatre, enjoying the moment. Dereniik could tell Rwakabuub was exerting a huge amount of effort to remain patient.

“Thank you Vix.” Dereniik rested his left crutch against the couch and took the offered mug. His hand hardly shaking at all.

“Vix? You know this D’char?”

“Vix served me tea last time I was here.” Dereniik answered.

“And you remembered? Or do you know all the D’char’s names?” The words sounded like an accusation.

“The tea and service were of exceptional quality, and no, my Lord, I do not know everyone’s name in the capital.” If he did he would not be needing to make inquiries.

Dereniik took a sip and let the golden liquid slide over his throat, enjoying a moment of self-indulgent luxury. Hot drinks were hard to come by; the canteens always had ample, but negotiating a mug while making his way back to a seat with crutches was not worth the humiliation and mess.

Sweetened and spiced, the undeniable quality of a superb Elimelech blend was a delight. He nodded his appreciation and approval.

Rwakabuub closed his eyes to savour the pleasure. “This is just in, fresh from Elimelech.”

“It is superb, it thought it would have been a little late in the season to be fresh but in this case am happy to be proved wrong.” Dereniik smiled.

“Ah, this blend is produced from a late picking. Only the waxy tips of serrated edged leaves that have benefited from the effect of a specific small flying creature are picked. The small creatures arrive a few nine-days before the harvesters, feed on the leaves, sucking moisture from them. The leaf shrivels and becomes stunted, this intensifies the flavour.” Rwakabuub explained.

Fascinating, with some reluctance Dereniik brought his thought back to the topic at hand.

“Earlier you mentioned that nobody had gone missing lately. How long ago did someone go missing?”

Rwakabuub raised an eyebrow. “I don't see how it can be relative to your investigation it would have been a good six months ago now.”

“My Lord, please give me the details pertaining to this missing person.”

“I'd prefer not to,” he looked away.

“Can you give me a reason for your lack of cooperation?”

Rwakabuub drummed his fingers on the side of his mug.

“It's not a lack of cooperation with your case, I don't see the need to sate your curiosity. Tell me how the deaths are related, and I may consider giving you more information.”

“I'm not sure the deaths are related; they may not be but eliminating that possibility will be of assistance moving forward.”

“Why?” He replied in a flat droll voice.

“It may give me insight that could be pertinent to the case.” Dereniik held the man’s gaze.

Rwakabuub sipped his tea with indifferent elegant poise. Dereniik wasn’t sure he was going to get an answer but remained silent, enjoying his own tea, waiting for Rwakabuub to speak.

“A group of eleven went out hunting. It was a regular occurrence and there had been a Widewing sighted. Such activity is not encouraged of course, but no laws were broken. The animal attacked, the men became separated, only ten men made it back home. It was all very sad, and the correct paperwork has been filed with your department.”

“My Lord, may I please have the man’s name?” Dereniik didn’t think it relevant, but Rwakabuub’s callous attitude was irritating.

“Commander Trakeidy.”

“Is there any other information you can share?”

“No.”

“Please yourself,” Dereniik said with forced nonchalant.

“I always do.”

And that was a problem. Most Commanders did please themselves, often to the exclusion of justice and everybody else.