An array of small bells tinkled, and Viky lost focus. Annoyed, she stopped stretching and assumed a passive meditation stance. At least the interruption had come at the conclusion of her training session. The heartbeat lapse in concentration had not caused grievous bodily harm.
Bells jingled again; the second trip wire triggered. Her early warning systems were working well. But Storm-blast it was becoming more difficult to sneak away from the Sisterhood and harder to find private places to continue training. And as her girth increased, centre of gravity shifted, and range of motion decreased, finding excuses not to practice was effortless. Viky riveted thoughts back on controlling breathing and heart rate. Ladies, at least real Ladies, did not engage in strenuous or disquieting activities. The women of her sisterhood did not need additional fuel for questions, nor derision.
Hesitant footfall crunched on strategically placed loose gravel. Within a few heartbeats Lady Jessaraay poked her head around the corner and on sighting Viky, slipped from the adjoining tunnel into the isolated domed room. The timid young woman was only a rotation her senior and not an endorsement for the supposed happiness and security the Coalition promised second daughters who came to Chruciaal and bonded Commanders.
“Oh, hi. How are you going? I am so glad to have found you. Are you okay? What are you doing?”
Viky cracked open one eye. “Thank you, I am well. I’m meditating.”
Jess didn’t take the hint. “Oh, that’s interesting, can I join you?”
Viky wasn’t aware people from other regions or cities practiced meditation. She shrugged, and a lock of unruly red hair escaped, falling across her eyes. Jess assuming consent, adopting a similar, but unpracticed, body position.
“What do I do now?” Jess asked.
“You silently focus.” Emphasis on the word silent.
It lasted all of nine heartbeats.
“You have been spending a lot of time alone. We hope there is nothing we have done to offend you.”
Viky wasn’t sure if the sentence was a statement or a question, but a reply was evidently required. She brushed at the rebellious hair.
“No one in the Sisterhood has offended me. I like being alone. I’m a private person.”
Jess raced into a prepared spiel. “I found it hard, leaving all my family and friends. Coming to a new City. And the Rifts are so different from regular cities. It was overwhelming meeting so many different people with strange customs, I couldn’t even understand some of the accents. Then selecting a life partner and motherhood. Not a lot of time to adjust. But we are your family now, you can depend on us. Everyone needs friends and we all want you to know we are concerned about you.”
“Thank you for your concern, but it’s unnecessary. I am fine,” Viky knew what happened when you depend on ‘friends.’
Jess wasn’t convinced. This was not unusual, insecure expressions were often plastered across her anxious features. She was beautiful, in an insipid, washed out, sort of way, or at least when she smiled. Bonded to the Team Leader she was the Speaker for the Sisterhood, but preferred to abdicate the responsibility. The fact she had been corralled into this conversation was an indication of the disdain the rest of the Sisterhood felt for the task.
“Yesterday, when you were at Isobeel’s place we mentioned tomorrow is the anniversary of Maddie’s Parents death.” Jess paused, as if Viky was supposed to know this. She didn’t, and didn’t care, had enough of her own unresolved grief to cope with. “After you left, we realized that we had probably overlooked inviting you to the memorial, but everyone’s coming and it would mean a lot to all of us, and especially Maddie if you could come.”
A bad day just got worse. The only response available was “Thank you, it will be an honour.”
“Around midday, tomorrow, and we will be sharing refreshments after. So if you could bring something, that would be great.”
Viky’s heart rate skyrocketed. Jess should know shocks weren’t good for pregnant women.
“Of course, I will bring something.” Viky muttered. Meditation now out of the question.
“Excellent. Well, I must run, Hanna’s teething, again, or still, but it was great chatting to you. See you then, love you.” Jess gave her a friendly version of the hand signal and fled.
Viky nodded, realising too late that she should have returned the throw-away acknowledgment. But the words were trite, often repeated and without true meaning. Message delivered Jess hadn’t waited a heartbeat before racing away. For all her words offering friendship, the action of fleeing back to the safety of the Sisterhoods enclave of suites, told another, more convincing story.
What exactly did sharing refreshments refer too? Viky didn’t like the idea of communal drinking vessels. And she was to bring……. Something? What? A Memorial? An anniversary for Maddie’s Parent? How or why would anyone ever want to celebrate or even commemorate a family members death? Viky didn’t need reminders of death. Losses tainted memories. The burdensome companionship of dull grief still arose to stalk her at unexpected moments.
It was complete garbage that life experiences leave you wiser. You could understand more and still end up with less. Much less.
Viky packed up slowly, struggling to think of a list of excuses or ways to avoid attending the memorial. Following the training program her parents had instilled from childhood usually left her feeling refreshed, mentally focused and if not happy, at least content. Viky's mind skipped about, unsettled and increasingly irritated. Several plans came to mind, and were dismissed.
Further research was needed, but first food. She had found an out of the way canteen that was nearly always deserted, she would eat and then spend the rest of the morning in the library investigating mourning customs. She wasn’t sure of Maddie’s city/state of origin, or religious sensibilities, but with so many manuscripts the answer, and an excuse, had to be there.
***
Dereniik awoke from the re-occurring nightmare drenched in sweat, his raw throat indicating he’d been screaming. At the pace of a creeping shadow, panic receded as breathing techniques and mindful thoughts battled for dominance. Rational thought became possible and Dereniik commenced stretching to negate stiffness brought on by the night’s inactivity. The expectation of further complications resulting from yesterday’s fall failed to materialize.
Shifted his shoulders Dereniic gave a soft grunt. No movement was ever completely pain free, but a tolerable level of discomfort came as an unexpected and welcome surprise.
Was it because of Flagsteen’s Healing? What had the kid done?
By the time he had visited the personal room Dereniik’s mind focused, and a haze of lethargy lifted. Growing up in Hunnaal, situated on the edge of the Great Lake, swimming had featured prominently throughout his childhood. He was reminded of how it felt to breach the surface and see clearly again after swimming under water.
If a Commanders injury could be brought to the attention of a competent Healer within a few days, full recovery was often possible. In the course of duty, Dereniik, and all the members of his former team, had been the recipients of such Power assisted Healing. He’d once been stabbed with a throwing knife in Xiaan, flown to First City the following day, and not even a scar remained to remind him of the ordeal. His Team leader and best friend Val had tripped the wire of an acid bomb, it had taken a few days, and several Healer’s working consecutively, but he was walking again within the nine-days. It was disturbing to realise how much his declining physical health had impacted his mind. Even more worrying was the fact he hadn’t noticed.
How much trouble was Flagsteen in for wasting Powered Healing on him?
Over 200 rotations ago the Power Wars had been fought to control the last of the world's green fractals. They had never existed in sufficient quantities for families to develop strong hereditary lines, so Powered Healing had become a limited and diminishing resource. Healers used herbal or physical remedies on regular Commanders and the general population. Dereniik believed nothing could be done about his situation and he understood why he was not a priority. The logic was sound, why prolong a disabled, dying mans life when the same power could be used to benefit another with better long-term prospects?
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Nothing in Dereniik’s experience equipped him with a precedent for knowing the correct procedure in this situation. Had a crime taken place? Was action required? It wasn’t like Flagsteen could take his power back. Guilt and indecision warred, Dereniik hated not knowing the appropriate response.
After consideration Dereniik decided all he could do was make this reprieve count and although it was not a Commission he had been given a suggestion by a member of the High Council. Legally he was obligated to follow through.
***
Dereniik noted with regret the Suteen bun drop from his cowl and roll across the canteen floor. He clicked his way back to an empty table where crumbs and crumpled napkins were all that remained to indicate his previous visits to the buffet. His crutch clunked against the bench leg and sitting heavily he began the messy process of extricating the remaining buns from his cowl.
“Do you want me to get you another?”
He looked up in surprise. Dereniik had noted the young woman arrive, but as a stranger to him conversation was not expected. The canteen was small and intimate, specializing in pastries from Jiuliing and soups from the larger Elimelek region. Closer to the suite he inhabited than any other canteen, Dereniik had no choice but to eat here, but its location meant that not many of the newly bonded Commanders or their life partners frequented the place.
He hadn’t heard the young woman approach, or known his facial features were betraying his thoughts.
“My Lady,” Dereniik fumbled for his crutch and began the intricate process of standing.
“Storm-blast, don’t bother standing, you’ll lose the rest of your breakfast, and you’ve only just sat down.” The young woman frowned.
Dereniik hesitated, it was protocol. A display of respect.
She rolled her eyes and sat on the bench opposite. “There, is that better? Can I get you another bun, or anything else. In fact,” she eyed his heavy crutches. “How do you hold a mug and manage your crutches at the same time?”
Dereniik schooled his features, God’s Light he was hungry.
“My Lady it is most kind that you would think of me and offer this service. I am Commander Dereniik, and your gracious offer is modestly accepted.”
“Oh, yeah well, Viky, La’navikyya. Er, Lady La’navikyya, and it’s not a big deal, I am going to the buffet anyway.” She shrugged.
Dereniik glanced at the overloaded sideboard. So much food, almost all unattainable. He made sure to mask his longing. He couldn’t hold a plate, bowl or mug while manipulating his crutches, so he had been limited to lining his cowl with a napkin and only selecting food that could be transported by this method.
“My Lady, if it is no trouble a bowl of the Hiraan stew would be greatly appreciated.” His salivary glands already working.
“No worries.”
She returned with a couple of bowls. He initially thought she may sit, but after placing them before him she returned to the buffet, selected a plate of hearty food for herself and retired to another table, where she pulled out parchment and started jotting down notes as she ate.
With one hand it was just possible to lift the bowl to appreciative lips. Dereniik made the robust vegetable soup linger in his mouth. Closed his eyes savouring the textures, aroma and flavours. Luxury. It had been many months since he had enjoyed the indulgence of hot food.
She was watching him, surreptitiously from beneath wayward locks of red hair. The lilting accent and hair colour identified her as from The Rifts. Some of his fellows judged them as a simple, unsophisticated people. That was far from the truth, the harsh environment taught them to value economy, and generally made them practical, down to earth and compassionate. His team leader and best friend had been from The Rifts. She wore the double knuckle ring of a bonded woman but didn’t have a child or baby so must have been from this rotation’s contribution. Could be with child now, but it was difficult to tell. The people of The Rifts were most often of solid build.
Kindness. It wasn’t that people were unkind, but everyone was busy, and didn’t have time to think of him. And why should they? He had never thought of the limitations of disability, until being inflicted himself.
Sooner than he would have liked the bowls were empty and the buns finished. Dereniik mentally prepared to rise.
“So, how do you go about getting a drink?” Lady La’navikyya asked flinging one leg over the bench opposite and sitting.
Dereniik contemplated the answer. “My Lady, thank you for your concern. The Healers send me around an ewer of beverage with medication added.” He drank from the ewer, but wasn’t going to tell her that.
Lady La’navikyya pulled a face. “Bet it’s revolting.”
Dereniik forced a smile. “Yes My Lady, that it is.”
“Are you allowed Caraaf? Do you like it?”
“Yes, My Lady.” Was she offering to get him a mug? He tried to keep the excitement from his voice.
Returning with two mugs the woman hesitated before deciding to sit at his table and slid a mug across. The smell alone was intoxicating. Dereniik didn't even want to think of how long it had been since he had last enjoyed a mug.
“I didn’t think of this when I offered to help you, but you may be able to give me some advice. Commander Dereniik, are you a Deputised Operative Commander?”
Dereniik sipped at the piping hot drink. His heart missed a beat. Advice. He wasn’t even sure of all the questions, let alone the answers, but no reasonable request from a woman could ever be refused.
“My Lady I was a Deputised Operative Commander but have not been recommissioned since my arrival back at the Capital. I would count it a privilege to be able to render any assistance.”
“Good, I mean, maybe not for you, that you are no longer a Deputised Operative Commander but, my sisters don’t want Commanders or Godmothers to interfere. I don’t want Commanders to interfere. Do you promise not to interfere?”
Dereniik grinned, she was such an intense little person.
“My Lady, my physical limitations guarantee interference is almost impossible, even if this was my heart’s desire. I do not know what advice you require, but I am not able to insist, or even to know, if you chose to implement anything I may suggest.”
Lady La’navikyya fiddled with the mug in her hands. Weighing his words before coming to a decision and nodding.
“Fair enough. One of my sisters has lost a piece of jewellery, personally I don’t think she’s that bright, and I haven’t ruled out the possibility of it being misplaced rather than stolen. Another couple in the sisterhood had the same idea, but searched her home all yesterday morning with no luck. It does seem to be missing. If it has been stolen, what would your first questions be, and who would you ask?”
Dereniik grinned. Appetite sated for the first time in months, a manageable level of pain and with a mug of Caraaf in his hands this simple little puzzle spoken in earnest by a beautiful young woman had instant appeal.
“The first questions would be directed to those who know her best and have regular interaction with the victim. These questions would not be accusatory. You could start with asking the person if they have heard the jewellery is missing. Ask what they think has happened to it. If they think it was stolen ask how they think the crime could have been committed. Do they think the jewellery has been stolen to sell or for personal beautification? If it is to be sold, how would they accomplish that gaol? You are looking to establish motive and opportunity.”
“Wait up, hold on a heartbeat. This is great. I need to write it down.”
Lady La’navikyya scrambled in her backpack to retrieve parchment and charcoal. Dereniik sipped at his Caraff, he couldn’t decide if he wanted to finish it quickly, and hope another would be delivered, or to savour each mouthful, making the unexpected delight last as long as possible. After an interval of scratching Dereniik was encouraged to continue.
“Do you have a time frame established?” Dereniik asked.
“Only vaguely. The last time my sister wore it was New Rotations celebration.”
“Eleven months. That’s unfortunate, it leaves a large window of opportunity for the item to have gone missing. Do you know how many people knew of the item?”
“Well, all the sisterhood, Except me, until yesterday. But possibly others as well.”
Dereniik raised an eyebrow. “Except you?”
“I wasn’t at the capital until the end of Calm Winds. I’m a replacement,” Lady La’navikyya shrugged. “My life partner’s first partner died in childbirth last rotation. So moving on,”
“Make a list of everyone who knew of the jewellery. However people talk, so it may not be a definite list of suspects.” Dereniik answered. Poor kid. Joining an established Sisterhood or Team was never easy. “Establishing motive or lack of motive will be important in eliminating suspects. Most people presume the motive for theft is financial, and although that is most often true, do not eliminate other reasons.”
Lady La’navikyya pursed her lips and continued to scribe. Precise glyphs from a practiced hand emerged effortlessly. He had missed female companionship this last eleven months. Not just that of his own beautiful life partner, he had got on well with all the women of her Sisterhood, counting many of them among his friends. Wearing her sentiments openly on her face melted the shield he had built up around his emotions to get through long, solitary days, nightmare filled nights and relentless pain. She threatened his ability to remain distant from life. Rift accent’s varied, as was prone to happen where an area’s population was geographically isolated from one another, but this little Lady spoke with Val’s accent. Gods Light he missed his best friend, he missed them all of course, but her cadence touched so many beautiful near-forgotten memories.
“My Lady, please let me compliment you on your impressive script work.” Dereniik sort to distract himself.
“Oh, thanks. My mother was a professional scribe.”
A series of strong emotions raced over her features. Pride, love, longing, sadness.
Was, past tense. Poor kid, Dereniik pretended he hadn't noticed.
“You have more chance of picking up clues from casual conversation than most people realize. A lot of people love to talk about themselves, often they are pleased with themselves, sooner or later a criminal may say something and trip themselves up. If your thief is a silent or quieter person, it is more difficult to gather information, but you can encourage others to talk about them. You will have to sift through a lot of useless data so look for inconsistencies.”
Dereniik found his mug empty. The young woman noticed, and without a word went to refill it.
“Thank you, My Lady this is much appreciated.”
“Not a problem. But there is one other thing. What would you recommend that I take for refreshments to a gathering with my sisters tomorrow?” She didn’t sit again and Dereniik was disappointed.
“Ah, I had wondered why I hadn't seen you before. You've come to this canteen because it offers a different selection of food than the one you regularly visit with your sisters. Do you know the city of origin of the sister hosting the party?”
“I believe Maddie is from Jiuliing.”
Derrick nodded. “Then My Lady, I imagine the Desiree wraps would be entirely appropriate.”
“Which ones are they?”
“The ones on the jade green Jiuliing pottery platter.”
“Will they keep overnight?”
“Yes, they store well for two or three days. My Lady, it is my heart's desire that this information will be useful. Your humble servant will be more than willing to assist you with any inquiries.”
Viky smiled and made the hand signal for respect when leaving, packed the satchel with his suggestion and filled a flask with Caraff. Then she was gone.
Dereniik made his way to the library. He had missed helping people.
He knew he would possibly never speak to her again. That was fine. The way it should be. He had loved his previous work. A life of leisure felt hollow, bordering on pointless. It was wonderful to feel somewhat useful again. Orator had made a good point, he needed to hobby, a purpose, something that used his mind and would be of benefit to others.