Three days later
Sitting in his desk chair, Callan stared into its beady, little eyes and watched as its nose twitched indignantly at him. Then, he spoke, drawing on the Serpent’s Tongue to create a Command.
“Jump.” His word washed over the dustbunny, delving deep into its mind. The animal didn’t understand the language of course, but his intent behind the word, the meaning of his Command wired itself into the creature’s mind and triggered its natural instincts. The dustbunny hopped impressively high, almost reaching the ceiling, then landed back on the desk with a muffled thump! “Good work.” Callan tried to scratch the animal behind the ears, but it bounded away from him as far as it could without falling off the flat top.
The dustbunny was solid gray with fur so thick and fine that it appeared solid, as if molded from wet clay. Its ears were so long they almost reached its rump and were colored charcoal black in the inner ear. If not for the needle-like fangs that Halari said they used to siphon blood when desperate, he would have considered it a good pet for a child.
Despite those deviant traits, it was a somewhat cute animal that resembled the rabbits he remembered from a better world. Halari had brought it back for him to test Commanding after the startling misfire with the gildgrown.
I just need a bit more power. Callan frowned, recalling the sensation of resistance in that thing’s mind. I should’ve been able to shatter any willpower, collective thought strength be damned.
The door to his office opened and Halari herself walked in with an embittered look on her face. She tickled the dustbunny on its nose, which it allowed her to do readily, then dropped into the chairvopposite him with a stress-laden huff.
“They didn’t find anything?” Callan surmised from her heavy bearing.
Halari shook her head sullenly. “It’s like Jora disappeared from the face of the earth. Of course, if she got lost in the wastes alone that’s probably exactly what happened.”
“And the only evidence we have is the guard testimony,” Callan said, leaning back in his chair. The dustbunny started cleaning its ears with its paws, a peculiar sight as its arms seemed to bend at unnatural angles to do so. “How is Jora’s brother?”
“Worried,” Halari sighed. She rolled her shoulders to relieve some tension he expected had built during her search and report-taking. “But weirdly close-lipped. Something else is going on here, Callan. I just don’t know what.”
“It sounds like we’ve hit our last resort,” Callan said. He tried again to pet the dustbunny, but it full out leaped into Halari’s lap to get away from him. “I need to talk to him, Halari.”
“Ughhh…” Halari tossed her head back to rest on the chair and scratched idly at the animal’s ears; Callan swore that the damned critter winked at him from her lap. “He’s not gonna talk to you, Callan. He barely talks to anybody at all. He hasn’t been to work in the mines for nearly two weeks.”
“I expect your father’s not exactly pleased about that,” Callan said, causing Halari to snort endearingly with a grim smile.
“Every time I walk in it’s a yelling match,” she said. “It’s like they’re competing to see who has the loudest voice and keep me awake the longest at night. And I’m telling you, he’s not gonna talk to you.”
“I imagine he’d be a bit more considerate,” Callan said, rising with a bemused glare to the mocking gaze of the dustbunny while it groomed, “seeing as how the missing person is one of his flock.”
“You can try,” Halari hummed. She stood and placed the dustbunny on the little bed he’d placed by the door to his quarters. A small plate loaded with ashbud chunks sat next to it. “All Tel’s gonna do is curse your name and ignore me.” He saw a little pain in her eyes at that, but she contained it well and put on a strong face.
“We’ll just make him aware,” Callan said, opening the door for her. “Maybe ask him some questions.”
At the landing , they found the missing Jora’s brother, Thime, standing nervously by the main gate, wringing his tough, calloused hands together. Callan pitied the man. His mouth was creased worry as it had been for the last couple days and he’d clearly been crying.
“Great one,” he greeted hoarsely, bowing his head. He was also one of Telero’s, so Callan knew there wasn’t much reverence to be found in the man, but he was impressed anyways at the man’s persistence in the face of his religious enemy. “Is there any word?”
“Nothing yet.” Callan grabbed the man by the shoulder, feeling him tense slightly at the contact. “Thime, are you certain you know nothing? Even the smallest detail, no matter its… nature, will help us find her.”
Thime went white and his wringing hands picked up the pace.
He know something. Ever so slightly, Callan tightened his grip on the miner’s shoulder and flared his eyes gently. With the superstition Telero’d accidentally built up around him, the sorrowful man probably figured Callan was reading his mind already. “Speak, man. You cannot hide your thoughts from the Great Dragon.”
“Uh-uhmm…” Thime stammered for a second, then took a deep breath. “I’m not, I’m not supposed to say, but, uh…” His red-rimmed eyes flicked to Halari, then back to his fingers. “I just… uh, Jora, uh she went to talk with Telero at your home the day before she vanished. She must’ve missed you.”
Callan turned to look at Halari, whose jaw worked as she processed the revelation. This was obviously not what she’d wanted to hear.
“Thank you for telling us, Thime,” she said stiffly through bared teeth. “I promise, my scouts and I will find your sister. I’ve gotta squad in the city and another in the wastes.”
Thime nodded, then, sensing his dismissal, drifted off without another word.
“If I’d maybe stopped her—” Halari began, but Callan cut that line quickly.
“Do not think that way,” he said firmly. “This is not your fault.”
“And if it’s my brother’s somehow?” she asked, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“We don’t know that,” Callan said softly, “but now we definitely have to ask him some questions.”
Halari nodded ruefully, then took the lead guiding him toward her home. Callan followed behind at a short distance, studying the progress of the main square around the Temple. To his pride, he saw a lot of Silvers being exchanged between stalls and patrons. It’d taken a bit longer than expected, but the currency was really getting around these days.
Militiamen were also getting a lot more attention. Plenty of children or young men often walked up to some of the soldiers and tried their best to salute, which usually was met with a proud smile and a sharp, professional salute from the men. He also caught sight of Captain Dalvo on an interior patrol with Old Bear, but it looked like their path was regularly stopped by random citizens who wanted to shake the officers’ hands. A couple of attractive women even called and waved to Dalvo, who…
Oh Melokon, he just saluted them. Callan reminded himself to help get the young captain a life outside the First Company; good soldiers needed a reason to live other than just being a soldier.
“We’re here,” Halari said after a couple more minutes of navigating the streets. Callan decided to knock since they were technically on official business and didn’t want to use Halari to gain unwelcome access.
Halari’s mother opened the door. She was a shorter woman, a few inches less than Halari, and was the source of the dark blue and red hair that was split between her daughters. Her own blue strands were silvering at the roots with age, but she still carried a younger energy and insistent attitude that brought Halari’s personality into a much clearer light.
“Hello, Glorida,” Callan said with a warm grin. She was a pleasant woman to talk to and an exceptional cook, which was even more impressive considering what she had to work with when it came to food. Additionally, she was- according to Trademaster Norio- a fantastic asset to the half-baked Finance Department in town and had single-handedly saved them from some cataclysmic error early in their development. “Is your eldest in?”
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“Great Flame,” Glorida greeted with a bright smile of her own; he’d insisted a while ago that she never bow to him, but in turn she now always made some religious motion with her hand when in his presence. “Is something the matter?”
“Somebody’s missing, mada,” Halari said, hugging the woman tightly in greeting. “You remember Jora that I used to play with? She was reported missing yesterday.”
“Oh no!” Glorida gasped, putting her hand up to her mouth. “Has anything been found?”
“Nothing.” Halari shook her head and frowned. “But her brother said she talked to Tel the day before she vanished. And since he’s…” She pointed awkwardly towards what Callan figured was Telero’s quarters. “We want to let him know and maybe see if he can tell us anything.”
“That man…” Glorida sighed, moving away from the door and waving them in. “My boy’s always getting himself in trouble lately. He won’t even talk to his own mother.”
“I’m afraid the trouble is partially my fault,” Callan said. “Your son’s piety is admirable, but it does put him at odds with me sometimes.”
“He’s always been such a practical man,” Glorida said. “I don’t know why he refuses to see how much you’ve done for the Quarry. Unlike him, really.”
“Having been a young person once,” Callan said with a light chuckle, “I can tell you from experience that we don’t often make sense. It’s a timeless trait, truly.”
Glorida laughed softly and shook her head. “Well, in any case, he’s in his room as you’d expect. I’ll leave you to discuss with him.” With a gentle wave and a nice smile, the woman floated away to her and Fedro’s quarters.
“Let’s get this over with,” Halari said, grabbing Callan by the elbow and pulling him toward her brother’s room.
She’s anxious, Callan realized, patting her hand comfortingly. First the gildgrown, now this. It might be best to talk with her and see how she’s doing. As if reading his mind, Halari sighed, then smiled at him tightly.
“Sorry,” she murmured. “It’s just been a hell of a few days. One thing after another.”
“It’s alright, I understand,” Callan said. “Lots to worry about. We’ll do this quickly.”
“I’ll need to get back out there after I…. question that gildgrown,” she said, gripping his elbow tighter for a second before releasing him. Then, she knocked on the door. “Tel, it’s Halari. You awake?”
“Go away,” came the muffled reply from behind the door. “I have nothing to say to you.”
“Open up!” Halari called back. “It’s important. Jora’s missing, Tel. One of your people!”
Only silence emanated from the room for an extended moment, then the door slid open with a soft hiss. Telero looked ragged and worn down, paler than the average Quarrymen, and a margin thinner. His eyes widened in shock at seeing Callan and he backpedaled away in terror, allowing them to slip inside.
Telero’s room was a disaster. He’d pinned pages of the Book of Jomens to the walls and clipped them to the windows. Some were scattered on his desk. Other grey sheets with what looked to be his own writings were strewn on the floor and bed. There were plates of food remains on various surfaces. It was not a living space that reflected somebody in an organized state of mind.
“You liar!” Telero yelled as Callan closed the door behind him. “You brought him to… to—”
“Oh, shut up, Tel,” Halari said. “Jora really is missing, idiot, and we just have some questions. Pull yourself together!”
Telero sat down onto his bed, stunned by the force of his sister’s words. He stared at Callan like a frightened animal, but behind that fear was a dark rage. It was well-hidden, but hate like that was hard to conceal entirely.
“Jora’s missing?” Telero asked. “How long?”
“A couple days,” Halari said. “Her brother Thime said you were the last person she spoke to before vanishing.”
“What did you discuss, Telero?” Callan asked. The man glared venom at him, so in that moment he knew it was a useless question.
“Nothing for the ears of the Storm Devil,” Telero growled. He moved his anger towards Halari with razors in his eyes. “Or those of treasonous family.”
“Look here, you!” Halari jerked a finger up. “One of our people is—!” She cut off, shaking her head in irritation, then breathed in and out deeply while turning to Callan. “I need air already. You deal with him.” She stormed out, leaving Callan alone with the man who hated him most in the whole world.
“Telero,” Callan said. There wasn’t a point in trying to be gentle. “what do you know? Perhaps something of a deal can be struck between us.”
“My original demand stands, Betrayer,” Telero spat, finding his feet and coming nose to nose with Callan. “Leave these lands. Leave this world. Leave my sister.”
“You would endanger one of your people just to spite me?” Callan stared the man down, flaring his irises. “Are you so really so petulant?”
“Petty?” Telero narrowed his eyes and balled his fists, and Callan knew that this discussion was entirely lost. It probably had been as soon as Halari opened the door. This was a complete waste of time. “I know nothing about Jora’s absence. I know nothing of where she went to in the city.”
“Nobody mentioned the city,” Callan said. “In fact, no evidence has been found at all of her path.”
Telero’s mouth clenched shut and he glowered. “Leave this place, Tyrant. I know nothing.”
“Shame, Telero,” Callan sighed, but he turned away and left the disastrous quarters without another word. He stopped just outside the door and massaged his temples. What to do with her brother’s blatant lies? Halari was an objective woman, but she did love Telero to the point where her judgement might be compromised. He’d positioned himself against Callan quite well as her family.
Fedro, maybe? No… Callan thought. He could no more force Telero to spill any more than he could the gildgrown due to the vow he made Halari. Her brother was a dead end with with bright, neon signs pointing to the hidden, correct path. What was his goal in this? What did Jora do for him in the city?
He left the area before Tel’s room to find Halari and Glorida sitting comfortably together on the couch, talking softly.
“…just try it, my dear,” Glorida was saying. “I have a feeling it’ll work.” She saw Callan approach and waved with an intriguing smile on her lightly creased face. Halari, however, snapped her head towards him and flushed deeply, which caused him some worry.
“Everything alright?” he asked.
“Mm-hm,” Halari chirped quickly, nodding far too energetically to be natural, which was saying something. She stood and brushed herself off. “Did you get anything from him?”
“Not much, if anything,” Callan said. “Although you might want to task all your squads to focus their efforts on the city. Within reason, of course. We don’t need people getting eaten by mantiles.”
“Yeah, for sure,” Halari said. Why did she look so out of sorts? “Anyways, let’s get to the stockade. I had a thought that maybe the gildgrown has some answers since they were in the area around the same time.”
“That’s definitely worth investigating,” Callan said, moving to the door. “Lady Glorida, a pleasure, as always. Let me know if you need anything.”
“Thank you, Great Flame,” she said with another interesting grin. “Don’t be a stranger.”
Callan waited until they were at the front door of the detainment building to ask Halari about her new plan. “Do you want to question the gildgrown, or interrogate the gildgrown?”
“Given the situation,” Halari said, “I grabbed the paint.”
“Very well,” Callan said. “You don’t have to do this, if you truly don’t want to.”
“It’s not about what I want right now.” Halari pulled a little, flat tin out of her satchel and held it out to him. “Can you apply it?” She popped the lid open with her thumb. Inside was runny, blood-colored grease paint. “I’m thinking three lines down my face. Maybe a little from my eyes.”
“Sure, I can do that,” Callan said, taking the little tin from her and applying a generous amount to his thumb. Halari stepped closer to him, very close, so he didn’t have to reach far.
Is this what she and her mother were talking about? Callan wondered as he gently drew a line of dark red down from the bottom lids of both her eyes, which were locked to his. It could be worse timing, I suppose. He traced another bloody line from her hairline to her left jaw, then a shorter one on the right side. She was very close to him now; her aura pulled on him.
‘Go ahead, Cal,’ the skull in the dark whispered, ruining this moment alone with Halari almost totally. ‘Go ahead and make your promises to her. How long will you be able to keep them?’
“Are you alright?” Halari asked. Callan realized his thumb had frozen halfway down her right cheek and that she was only inches away from him now, close enough he could feel her breath. “You’ve got that lost look in your eyes again.”
“Sorry,” Callan said, pulling back a bit. He regretted it instantly when Halari’s mouth twitched to a frown for just a moment. “Got lost for a second.” He finished the last line on her face and realized that she did look quite intimidating like this.
“You can tell me what’s in that head of yours, you know?” Halari assured.
“I will,” Callan said, “when I don’t think it’s just me going insane sometimes.”
Halari nodded and he knew she understood. Like always.
“How do I look?” she asked seriously, stepping back. The dark red lines that dripped down her face would look convincing, especially when they lowered the lights. “Am I fitting of a bloodthirsty maniac?”
“If I were human, I definitely wouldn’t want to meet you in a dark alley,” Callan said. “Although, maybe a real pattern, true war-paint style, might be good in the future. Especially in a fight.”
“I’ll think of one,” she said. “Now, after you this time.” She held out an arm to the stockade door as a gesture for him to go in first. “I’ll follow in after you for dramatic effect. Remember to introduce me.”
Callan scoffed, but smiled and stepped into the stockade. He nodded at the stationed guards to leave, then reached for the light panel on the wall and dimmed the building’s illumination as soon as they were outside.
“Prisoner,” he said to the gildgrown. Its fluttering wheeze was loud in the dark, but heavier and faster than the regular, even rattle it normally was. “You have information that we need. Since you have refused me, and since I cannot Command you, a much worse alternative is all that is available to us. You will now speak with the Blood-Witch. May Melokon the Great Dragon grant you mercy… because she will not.”