Braq, radji Cradle ecologist.
Date [standardised human time]: June 4th, 2120
(16 years, 3 months before the invasion of the radji Cradle).
The rain fell around them, soaking through the fur. Braq’s ankle ached dully in the mid-morning chill. The infection had been terrible, the limb becoming black and near gangrenous. Though it had healed somewhat it was still weak and the pain could become chronic. It was better when he did not put as much weight on it, but today he needed to stand. He needed to feel it.
A sorry lot of radji had gathered on the Lowlies on the southeastern side of Bendara city. The small hills were considered unfavourable to urban development, many a dishevelled old coot complaining to one another on the mild terrain and persistent wind as they had made their ascent. Around them were burial mounds; mausoleums of families well-off and long gone. Low grasses littered the rolling landscape, the hill a raised plot of treeless green.
Whilst the moon had passed its perigee the effect was still pronounced on the tide, making it a wet spring. The tracks of the Tears were tumultuous and lengthy from this vantage, drab and grey beneath the clouded sky. Tiny ships struggled across the rivers, fighting tide and wind to tie down. To the northwest Bendara city rose up, the tallest towers lost in the clouds, their crystal-like metals having a dull and sombre lustre.
There had been a persistent throbbing in the side of Braq’s skull for the past few days. The investigation into Callio’s death had been gruelling, physically and psychologically. Every new group of ‘experts’ had to be led out into the woods, the area they had callously dubbed the ‘kill site’ being too remote for anything but ground cars. Most had seriously underestimated the difficulty of the terrain, bringing equipment too cumbersome or designed for lab conditions, and most had to reorganise to return at a different date. None of them understood the nature of the Brackwood, its remoteness, how demanding and feral the forest could become. And that was just the petal on the pile.
He and Turin had been subjected to psych screenings almost daily, as though each new dawn might finally make them slip. Braq had become so used to stating his name, title, profession, and licences that they had started to lose all meaning. Even when he reassured every group of newcomers that the various predators they kept were most definitely harmless, they had all treated him with scepticism and scorn. A few he had even caught arguing over the possible legality of seizing his animals there and then.
It only reinforced to Braq how impossible it would have been to keep Ki-yu on the property during such an investigation. They were fortunate that none of the teams had thoroughly examined the storage closet or sniffed out the girl’s hidden room within. Moving her into the lighthouse had been a stroke of genius from Turin and was only possible through Rylett. They were all under too much scrutiny to go see her, even if they all wanted nothing else. Living in that tower in isolation can’t be good for her. Unable to feed herself, unaware of if the next face would be someone she trusted or someone who had come to kill her. The thought made Braq’s stomach roil.
Even if they managed to establish a means by which to feed her more effectively, he would have to face the reality that it may be a long time before he saw his daughter again. At least I have a daughter to see…
The cold was sinking fresh teeth into his ankle, Turin glancing at him as he winced. She leaned against his shoulder, the feeling a mild balm. There was no shelter from the rain on this hill save within the tombs, and naught but the family could dwell there unless relatives invited them in. Imdi was getting drenched beside him, the boy a sodden ball of fur beneath a blanket. This’ll be over soon enough, Braq told himself, and then we can all wrap up nice and warm.
Teraka did not have much family left, Braq noticed. Most of the congregation was old, leaning on wizened neighbours or gnarled canes to support themselves. Braq did not know most of those gathered, save Rylett, Yotun’s family, and Irt, the school’s headmaster. The snowy elder stood at the top of the mound; the High-Priest draped in robes as white as his fur. He looked for all the world like some great flying creature, roosting over the open stone archway into the crypt beneath.
What little idle conversation was underway fell to a respectful hush as Teraka came up the hill, the man carrying Callio’s body in his arms. He was joined by another man, his cinnabar robes complementing his shiny, dark brindle coat. They were the last of the precession, as custom dictated, one priest leading the family of the departed. The body had been rewrapped since they had seen it last. It startled Braq how small she seemed. Traditionally, the living family would all link arms to deliver their dead to their graves, although Priests and Priestesses were also permitted if no relatives were able to. Braq had asked that an exception be made so that he could help, but Teraka had refused. No one but him would do this.
The men passed silently by the gathered radji, stopping before the opening to look up at the great white beast. The Priests nodded to one another.
“Father, do you speak for Kay-ut?” the younger priest asked, his voice raised over the rain.
“None speak for the All-mother,” Irt replied. “Only she may keep the note-taker’s council.”
“A truth,” the man in red replied. Ignoring the numb stabbing in his leg Braq leaned over to where Rylett stood beside them, the woman also draped in pale white robes.
“Who’s that?” he asked her as the two recited the oral tract.
“Champion Oryn,” she replied. “A respected member of the congregation.”
“I haven’t seen him around school,” Imdi mumbled.
“He’s not that kind of Priest,” she said, watching the man intone. “He works more with higher education. It’s said that the Dean of Riverbank College is quite fond of him, invites him to aid with difficult cases.”
“Difficult cases…” Turin murmured. Rylett nodded sombrely.
The Priests’ robes were slowly being soaked through by the rain, but their conversation continued.
“…I have come to ask for the last right.” Oryn was saying. Irt nodded solemnly.
“And who stands beside you?”
“Teraka,” Oryn replied. “Father of the dead.”
“What say you, Teraka, father of the dead?” This is cruel, Braq thought as he watched. Teraka swallowed hard, his voice sounded torn as he spoke.
“My girl is dead… I failed her. There is nothing else to say.”
There was a lull in the downpour, but the pounding in Braq’s head persisted. No one called out, no one said a thing. The rain continued its barrage. Irt nodded, raising his arms high.
“O wicked Death! Voiceless taker! Remaker! Ferry her, Callio, into the All-mothers herd! What’re we, if not borne from our mother’s cradle? Whilst in modern days many of us seek a life beyond it, we that are faithful know that the radji spirit lives on only here…” Irt gestured beckoningly. Teraka did not move. Oryn placed a reassuring paw on his shoulder, whispering something in his ear. Teraka nodded and, looking like a man with barely the will to stand, staggered into the sunken chamber.
“…and is returned, here, to our Mother’s Cradle.” A ripple seemed to pass through the throng. It was done. Irt looked around at the assembly, his pink eyes passing over all in turn. His shrewd expression lingered on Braq for a long moment before he sniffed.
“Gathered friends, we thank you for joining us on this most terrible of mornings. You will all be given a moment beside the body, should you wish it. For now, we leave Teraka to grieve. But he has stated that any who wish to speak now are welcome. Does anyone have anything to say?”
There was a long pause. Rylett stepped forward.
“Callio was a gifted young girl,” she said. “Brilliant. Curious. Brave. Being a teacher, you start to see similar kinds of children in your classroom. I can honestly say that I have never known another quite like her.” She lowered her head. “Her loss… is deeply felt.” The Priestess retreated.
Nearby, Laenar knelt down beside Yotun, asking him something. The boy was openly crying, peering out between his tears at those gathered. He shook his head. Braq had to steel himself at the sight of the mother trying to comfort her son.
The girl just wanted to spend some time with her friend, in the forest they both loved. It took… courage to go out there. There was something there, a secret profound and pitifully neglected. Braq wanted to speak it but found that he did not have the words.
Turin stepped forward awkwardly. Many of the strangers looked at her with hostile, contemptuous expressions. Protector Oryn tilted his head, clearly scrutinising her.
“I… uh…” His partner’s voice was small. Everyone was staring at her. “I d-don’t have anything to say… beyond wh- what… but I’d like to sing something. I-If that’d be okay?” Irt blinked at her, but then nodded with a thin smile. Turin meekly returned the gesture, looking down at her feet. She steadied herself, and when she sang there was no wobble in her voice. The melody was sung slowly, with a deep, regular beat.
“A fine young boy from the Barrownoi marched up the old town hill.
His father left six years ago, but he hears his proud voice still;
‘O listen lad, ye need not be sad,
‘I know I won’t linger long.
‘But what a joy it be, to live to see,
‘The babe of my own grow strong.’”
To Braq’s surprise, some other older radji started joining her. Those who did not know the words stamped along with the others so that the whole hill seemed to rattle the dead in their tombs. Imdi looked around wide-eyed at them all. The father leaned over and, picking the boy up, lent his voice to the chorus.
“Oh, as he makes his way,
He need not pray,
For he hears the man’s voice still.
On some far-off day,
We will all down lay,
In the rock of the old town hill.
“A mo-ther w… wept…” Turin’s voice faltered, and for a moment the song halted. Braq was at her side at once, pulling her close. Rylett stepped forward to lead the second verse as Turin leaned against his chest, the family huddling together. The Priestess’s baritone voice cracked too as she sang, but the group refrain soared.
“A mother wept but onward sped as she marched up the old town hill.
Her daughter fought, but alas were caught, in the teeth of a moonlight chill;
‘O daughter dear, I have no more tears,
‘My eyes and throat are raw.
‘But in your blanket be, the smell of thee,
‘The girl I still adore.’
Oh, as she makes her way,
She need not pray,
For she has that blanket still.
On some far-off day,
We will all down lay,
In the rock of the old town hill.”
Teraka re-emerged from the burial mound to find that most of the congregation was singing, stomping their feet to the rhythm. The man simply stood in the stone archway, tears running down his face as the people sang in unison. High-Priest Irt’s eyes were a shade pinker than usual as he led the last verse. For a moment, Braq thought, the rain let up just a little, and the world grew a tad warmer.
“Old man Ron had his apron on as he strode from the baker’s mill.
His bread may burn, but he’d never spurn a march up the old town hill;
‘O lover mine, it’s been a long, long time,
‘And I’ve grown old and grey.
‘But your smile I crave, and the thought I’ll save,
‘When I join you here someday.’
Oh, as he makes his way,
We all do say,
‘How strong their love grows still.’
For the sun doth shine,
Where our loves do lie,
On the top of the old town hill.
Oh, as we make our way,
We all do say,
‘Our love grows still!’
For the sun doth shine,
Where our loves do lie,
On the top… of the old town hill!”
The last of the chorus echoed off the Lowlies, tumbling down toward the city beyond. There were fewer hostile glares from the assembly as the rain began to slowly let up. The High-Priest sniffed at his post, nodding idly at them.
“Thank you Turin.” He cleared his throat. “I believe Teraka is ready for the permission.” He nodded to both Rylett and Oryn, the two folding out the creases in their robes.
“We’ll talk again later,” Rylett whispered to Braq and Turin. “Good luck.”
“And you,” Braq replied. Where Oryn ducked down into the crypt, Rylett stood opposite Teraka on the other side of the archway.
The assembly slowly disbanded, forming into small groups. Yotun and his parents were some of the first to disappear down into the crypt. Teraka and Rylett stood vigil, greeting, and thanking those who came to pay their respects. Turin pulled out of their embrace, wiping her tears with her knuckles as she took Imdi with her.
“Hey,” she cooed to the lad. “Do you want to see her in a bit?” He shook his head, his lips trembling. “Okay,” Turin whispered, “that’s okay.”
“I-I don’t want to cry…”
“That’s okay,” Braq said, stroking the boy’s head. “But you can cry too if want to.”
Yotun and his parents re-emerged from the tomb, Laenar holding her partner’s paw Braq noted. Yotun’s eyes were raw as he greeted them.
“Hey,” he sniffled, giving them an apprehensive smile. “I really liked your song Turin.”
“Thanks,” she said, patting Imdi absently. “My mother used to sing it to me when she put my sister and I to sleep.”
“I didn’t know you had a sister,” Laenar said. Braq repressed a scowl.
“She… doesn’t talk to us anymore,” Turin said awkwardly. Arrut coughed to himself.
“How’s your leg Braq?” he asked.
“Oh, much better,” Braq lied. “Hardly notice it.”
Sloshing steps through the mud announced Redan’s approach. Despite looking on the far side of middle-aged he was only a little older than Braq. Near half the height yet twice the waist, he was a portly, gruff-sounding man, who seemed to hide behind an everyman persona. Braq was not sure what to make of him. He was in turn antagonistic and judgemental, then sympathetic and warm, then suddenly indifferent. Still, there was always a twinkle in his eye, a bubbling boisterousness that begged to burst forth from every word. The ecologist thought he would have liked him immensely had he not also been their attorney.
So much information had been gathered by so many different agencies it had taken weeks to sift through. The fact that the inquest had been called was no surprise to Braq; this was the largest predator attack in decades.
“All sorted,” Redan said, puffing from the climb up the hill. Over one shoulder he had hauled a large black satchel that slapped against him with each step. “Final checks and all that.” He looked around the group. “How was the service?”
“Good,” Arrut murmured. “Yeah, it was good.” The rest nodded amongst themselves. The attorney looked between the boys.
“Must’ve been a rough day, huh?” he said gruffly.
“The rain wasn’t exactly ideal,” Yotun sniffed, looking down at his feet. Redan made a harrumphing sound, reaching about to examine his pack.
“Yeah, soaked right through,” he mumbled as he dug his arm in up to the elbow. “Right to the inner layer… Aha!” With a dramatic flourish he produced a surprisingly dry paper bag, offering it out to Yotun. The boy blinked at it, the strange round man rattling its contents before him. Redan tipped some brightly coloured sweets from the packet into Yotun’s paw. The attorney smirked when Imdi made a little gasp, handing him some too. Imdi took the offering greedily.
The last of the assembly filed out from the crypt. Rylett said something quietly to Teraka, placing a paw on his shoulder before joining Oryn within. The man stood at the door for a moment longer. His well-kept claws pressed against the stone, dipping his head as he whispered something to himself. The weakness seemed to ebb away, and when he turned around Braq could read no sign of grief or distress on his countenance. He did not smile as he approached, nor was he chipper, but it seemed like all the feeling had been stolen from the man, leaving a stone-faced golem.
“I am ready,” he said as he passed them, heading downhill. The group gathered themselves and set off after him.
Their transport was a spacious business-class shuttle, able to comfortably seat a dozen people. Stepping into the car’s interior was like resting beside a cosy fire, Braq feeling the chill drain from his limbs. They passed around towels, heated warm from the cupboard beside the airlock. Imdi and Yotun were given a thorough drying off, the two laughing weakly at their resultingly fuzzy fur. The sight filled Braq with a sad warmth.
As the radji settled in, the craft sped up into the sky, needling for the tall towers of the overcity. The view outside became one of pale misty clouds, water racing across the vehicles slipstream. Braq was glad to be off his leg; the descent down the hill had it screaming at him. Turin looked morosely out of the window as Braq sat beside her, his beloved chewing at her lip in that anxious way she had.
“I haven’t heard you sing that song in a long time,” he murmured to her, trying to rub the gnawing ache from his frigid ankle. Turin turned to look at him, rubbing the spines on her head absently.
“No,” she said softly. “Not exactly a crowd pleaser.”
“I think it went down quite well,” he grunted. “Especially considering the crowd.” Turin glanced over at the other passengers, keeping her voice low.
“We can’t necessarily say we have much in the way of allies.” She nodded at Teraka. “We’re putting a lot of trust in him.” Sitting back, Braq scrutinised Teraka for a long moment. He was leaning on his paw with a faraway expression, staring without seeing out of the window.
“I do worry if this is the right approach,” he admitted. “But what other choice do we have? Move away?” Turin tossed a brow begrudgingly.
“I’ve considered it,” she admitted. “But we can’t move away… Putting aside the years of work, the fact that we’re the only people who bloody care… that wood is the only thing protecting her right now.”
“And us,” he said. He took her paw in his own, feeling its comparatively smooth pads with his thumb. Turin smiled at him, even if her brow remained furrowed. Braq put his head back, looking around the cabin. Arrut and Laenar had their backs to them. Redan was examining a tablet, feigning ignorance of the two boys trying to reach into his satchel. Without looking away from his work, he reached in and passed the bag of sweets around to the children. Braq’s gaze returned to the broken man.
“We should talk to him,” he murmured.
“Yeah,” Turin replied, nodding to him. She glanced from Braq to Teraka to Braq again. “Go on then,” she said. Her sly smile was short-lived, but welcome. Rolling his eyes, he pushed her shoulder playfully and shifted to the seat opposite Teraka.
“How’re you doing?” he asked. Teraka gave the window a look so withering Braq was surprised it did not shatter. “Sorry… Protector, what a stupid question.” The ecologist rubbed his snout with a claw. “Wh-what I mean to say is, is there anything we can do to help you?”
“Thank you but this inquest is all I need,” he murmured.
“You still haven’t told us what you intend to say.”
“The truth,” he said quickly, sparing Braq a glance. “As much as I can.” Is he… still holding secrets? Braq fidgeted in his seat.
“I thought the point was to get everything out there, get it all off your chest.” Teraka gave Braq his full attention.
“You know the old myth?” he asked. “The one about bones vanishing from their graves?”
“Yeah…” Braq said slowly.
“Mela has been there an awfully long time now, and her bones are right were we left them. And now… Callio will lay next to her mother on that cold slab of stone for eternity. Those bones won’t ever move again. Don’t doubt me, I have nothing left but this.” Braq swallowed dryly, unsure of what to say.
“I… never said… how sorry I was…”
“Oh, it’s quite alright Braq,” he purred. “When this is all said and done, I will face judgement, and you will be the hero who fought the beast and saved the boy.” It was deathly quiet in the cabin. Braq could hear Redan leaning closer in the neighbouring seats.
“I’m no hero,” Braq said as he stood. “Just a damn fool who got lucky.” Teraka almost chuckled.
“Well… perhaps we all get what we deserve.”
“Yikes,” Turin said as he sat back down beside her.
Trying to ignore the rising headache, Braq looked out of the window. The vast rounded dome of the judiciary had been raised in the heart of the landing platforms and business districts of the overcity. Around it the peaks of far taller towers loomed, the zenith of the senate house rising like a pale pillar tipped with glass to the west. Small craft zipped about in long curving lines, diving below or spinning around spires of metal. The judiciary itself had been painted a rather boring dark grey, save a ring of lavender around its circumference. A small rectangular sector had been cut out of the dome about half its radius, and there stairs had been carved from the landing pad up to the building’s entrance. As the craft settled down Braq saw that a motley group of various races had gathered on those steps. Most brandished recording equipment in their paws, claws, or talons, and all were looking up at the approaching craft with eager, almost ravenous expressions. Turin saw them at the same moment, cursing under her breath.
Redan whistled across from his own seat, peering out of his window.
“Most I’ve seen in some time,” he grunted. “And here I was hoping for a quiet trial.”
The vehicle slowly meandered down to a stop, the craft rocking slightly as it settled onto its struts. Redan stood and looked around at them all.
“All right, this ain’t my first cave in, no need to look so scared.” He grinned sardonically at them. “First things first, we stick together. One big group makes it harder for them to swamp you, trust me they’ll try.” The rotund man curled his claws in front of him, wrinkling his snout as he strangled some phantom reporter. “Oh-ho these people… you think you’ve got them penned in when they wriggle out again. They’re slippery, like an awlet.” Braq and Turin shared a confused glance.
“Don’t awlets have feathers?” Imdi whispered to Yotun. The thin boy pulled a face.
“All they want,” Redan continued, “is their five seconds of you showing them your ass so they can plaster it on every screen from here to the equator. It’s best, if you can, to say nothin’ at all, but they’ll say absolutely anything to get you talkin’. So suddup and point to me, okay? Okay!”
Laenar had a vice-like grip on her son’s paw Braq saw as he bent down to pick up Imdi. The adults all shared a glance to steel themselves. Redan shouldered his pack, a degree of grit in his eyes and sallow jaw as he looked around at them. He released the latch, and the door slid up with a hiss.
They were greeted by a wall of people, clamouring for their attention. They were all of different sizes, shapes, and colours. There were many radji, but also iridians, v’rstatin, and a pair of smooth-skinned auora. Some were speaking in formal Rūtgōj, as opposed to the conventional Kejdar, the northern dialect’s flowing form clashing with the southernspeak’s throatier sound. Behind the cacophony was the whirring of mechanised cameras, and in looking up Braq found that tiny drones were whizzing about them. So overwhelming and sudden was the shift in volume that the overall effect was as if fifty or so radji —plus a handful of aliens— had come marching into their room and started shattering plates. The group stood there, petrified by the bedlam.
Redan at least still had his wits about him, grabbing Braq by the elbow and shouldering a path through the throng. The people jabbered and jostled around them, but slowly parted as the group pressed forward. The reporters were making noises, calling their names, but Braq just focused on the steps, holding his boy closer to himself as he went.
A v’rstatin came soaring down over the crowd, her talons skittering across the stone as she landed directly in front of them.
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“Dr Braq, J’lin for the Southern Sign,” she squawked. “Is it true that you raised the predator that mauled you and killed a child?!” Braq barely had time to process the question when he noticed a rodent crawl over the v’rstatin’s wing and sat squarely on the reporter’s recording device and extend his own comically small imitation.
“Girit, Riverbank reporter,” the carmet squeaked. “What do you say to claims tha- Woah!!” Without warning J’lin began shaking her microphone, trying to dislodge the galaxy’s smallest scrivener. Redan caught the woman’s wing as he passed, drawing the reporter’s attention and allowing the minuscule mammal to cling on.
“I’m this family’s representative,” he said assertively, “and I’d remind you of our statement.” Several heads turned his way, drones sweeping around to get a good shot. The man beckoned behind his back for the others to keep moving. Braq edged around them, trying to continue up the steps. “Without Braq’s heroic intervention in a wild predator attack we would have been attending two funerals this morning! I’d remind you that my clients were severely injured and traumatised in the attack, and that harassing them to circulate these wild rumours is an insult to your station, and to the public!” Braq’s mouth twisted down at the mention of his ‘heroics’. There was no heroism, only blind dumb luck. The squared archway and doors of the judiciary were in sight as a something low to the ground scurried forward on far too many legs. Braq had worked with the iridian Dirk before, and so had overcome the native xenophobic reaction their form tended to draw. Still, they were unusual to look at with their three pairs of short legs, and short buzz of fur over their long, flattened, segmented bodies. The head was most disturbing, with its scoop-like mandibles that opened side-to-side, and wide whiskers. This one had at the very least covered its sensitive, cup-like eyes in the brighter days than it was used to on their homeworld of Ourd. The iridian stuck a stubby arm out in front of Braq, looking at him side-on.
A translator on its person squealed into life, as the alien started clicking in his direction. “Some have reported you were ousted from your position in Newport after you failed a predator disease test?!” it asked, his whiskers twitching about blindly. “Any thoughts?!” The strange inflection of the alien translator affixed most iridians with an upbeat, almost jovial voice, irrespective of what they were saying.
“I-I wasn’t ousted,” Braq stammered. “I was reassigned, and I am proud to have worked in Caiyu, to use its actual name!” The alien chittered and shook on the spot, a gesture he took for a wry laugh.
“So, no comment on the disease screenings?” There was a paw on his elbow, Braq turning to see Redan leading the others behind him.
“Just a minute,” he muttered to Braq, pushing them on ahead. The attorney quickly rounded on the well-groomed iridian that had blurted the insult and/or question. “Oh, please La’ree! You wouldn’t know PD if it bit you on your fuzzy stones!” Loud jeers went up as Braq quickly led the group inside as quickly as he could, hoping Imdi had not heard too much.
Braq faltered as they passed into the antechamber. If the exterior of the judiciary had been drab, the interior was ostentatious to a fault. The room was immense and roughly semi-circular in shape, the floor paved in pale polished wood. The glass above let in the pale day’s meagre light; on a brighter day this room would no doubt glitter. Two centurions stood at attention either side of the door, their gaze unwavering as the group passed. The ceremonial guards were indistinguishable pristine specimens, their strong androgenous bodies affixed with a tasselled mauve half-tunic that accentuated their physical conditioning. Braq did not stare long; one soldier’s cool eyes met his gaze as he ushered the others forward. A plasma rifle was held casually across their broad bodies, and beneath their tunics would be military grade armour. His eyes were drawn to the walls. Large multicoloured tapestries hung there, deftly embroidered scenes of people, animals, and forest landscapes of various sizes. The adornments looked unblemished by rot, yet they must have been ancient.
Nearby other radji meandered before their summons, some talking casually with one another, others engaged in frantic calls. Redan joined them a moment later. The attorney did not halt his pace, striding past them.
“This way,” he grunted. “They’ll be expecting us.” The attorney led them deeper into the monolith, passing another pair of centurions as they turned down a corridor. They seemed identical to the two they had seen on the way in.
The wooden floor gave way to a regal looking carpet, the passage arcing with the circular building’s edge. Natural light came in through wide skyward windows. They passed many identical sets of doors as they marched, all of them closed and unguarded. Just as the gnawing in his leg threatened to reassert itself, they came upon a pair of doors that were now opening, a small group of unfamiliar radji filing in. Observers for the inquest no doubt.
“Alright everyone?” Redan asked, stopping in front of them. “Feeling a bit weak in the knees, right? Don’t worry this is just the opening, and I’ll do all the talking.” He nodded to them all. “Okay, let’s head on in.” The group made to move forward, but Redan stopped him specifically before he entered. “Braq, a word.” Turin looked back over her shoulder, a slight crease on her forehead. Braq passed Imdi to her, then turned to their attorney. The little man looked up at him, then nodded his head toward the glass window. “How’re you feeling?” he asked Braq as he led them toward it.
“Like… shit.” He did not have the energy for something clever. Redan guffawed.
“You did alright in the ambush back there,” Redan grunted. “I’ve definitely seen worse. Most people clam up.”
“’Fuzzy stones?’” Braq said with a chuckle.
“I’d like to see that on the evening broadcast,” the plump man laughed. The pair reached the window, looking out at the skyscrapers around them. “You’re keeping something from me,” he said. “Something important.” Braq looked down at him, trying not to look as unbalanced as he felt.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Braq replied. Redan just smiled, leaning back on the balls of his feet.
“Look pal, I’ve been an attorney for almost twenty years. I know this business inside and out, and you know what I’ve learned in all that time?” He did not leave a moment for Braq to answer. “Everybody’s got a secret. Some people’ve got twelve little ones, most people have got two or three. But every now and then you get your snout to someone and you’re like, hrrm…” He jabbed with two claws from his eyeline straight at Braq. “Yeah, that guy… he’s sittin’ on a stinker.” He rested his paws on his waist. “Now listen man, you’re probably rackin’ your noodle tryin’ to work out what I do know and what I don’t know, and comin’ to some pretty reasonable conclusions about how much you can slip by me. The answer is that you’re a pretty smart guy, an’ me?” He chuckled. “I’m a public attorney man, I clearly didn’t think this gig through. But my job is to protect you, to build a solid case, using all the facts, so that those assholes on the high bench don’t get another bonus this quarter.” He put his paw on Braq’s forearm. “Anything you keep from me now, that I don’t know about? I can’t do diddly about when they drag it out. So, why don’t we just get it out of the way; it’s the kid, right?”
“Th-the kid?” Braq stammered.
“Sure, he’s got PD.” Braq blinked at him, a moment of relief giving way to a new fear.
“I-Imdi? N-no, of course not, he’s just quiet is all!” Redan dismissed it with a wave of his paw.
“Nah, nah, nah, not your kid man, I mean Yotun.”
“Yo-?! Oh, Yotun…”
“I’ve known a few kids who came down with it,” he said as his brow creased. “He puts on a mask, laughs when he should. But… you can see it in the eyes.” For a moment, the attorney seemed somewhere else. Everyone has secrets. Braq steadied his breathing.
“I… No, I honestly don’t think so. I mean… he’s traumatised. He has been for as long as we’ve known him. But I don’t think the lad’s sick or anything.” Redan looked at him sideways for a long moment, before smacking his lips.
“Okay, just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page here,” he said gruffly. “We are on the same page here, hm?”
“Yeah,” Braq said. “I think we are.“
“Well then,” Redan turned back from the window, making for the doors. “Let’s get to it.”
The courtroom was a rounded rectangular amphitheatre, the raised steps looking down on the next row. Down, in the centre pit, each party would present their petition. Above them, level with the entry was an extended high bench where the justiciars would reside. From that position, they could look down on all in assembly, the petitioners far below them. The room was well lit, a circular skylight letting in the grey clouds above.
“This is just the opening session,” Redan whispered as they joined the group in their seats. “The justiciars will state the nature of the case and request that all parties state their positions. In the coming weeks we’ll organise evidence for our testimony and hear the petitions of any other parties.” He looked around the room. “Speaking of… the Extermination Office appears to be late.”
“Late?” Teraka shifted in his seat, looking behind them. “No, that can’t be right.” The only other people present, aside from two centurions in the pit, were the observers, who were currently looking at the party with careful, reserved expressions. Something’s not right.
Somewhere high above a door slid open with a resounding clunk. Two centurions led a shuffling precession of five grand appearing radji, one leading, one covering the rear. They all turned face as the five justiciars took their places. Only the central figure remained standing where the other four sat. She was an older looking woman, her formerly black fur sugared with grey and speckled with white. The woman regarded the assembly before also taking her seat. The centurions stamped their rifle butts to the ground.
“Ceremony has begun,” the central figure croaked. “This courtroom is being monitored, and dictation being taken. We the judiciary of Bendara City have a solemn duty to be impartial, compassionate, and unerring in our judgements. Petitioners have an assumption of virtue, so long as their testimony is honest, complete, and as truthful as they can be. Injustice is not tolerated here. Speaker Bolaro will now commence the policy.” She sat back as the man on her left leaned forward, his broad ebony jaw clenching for a moment as he flicked through a screen hidden from view.
“We commence on this day,” he boomed, “an inquest into the natural killing of a Ms Callio, daughter of Mr Teraka, by a large feral predator. The mother of the girl, Mrs Mela, has been deceased for…” The man checked his notes. “…more than four years.” He looked down at the assembly. “What parties are present for petition?” Redan stood, moving down toward the central pit.
“Your honours, I, Redan, present a case made by the residents of the Brackwood estate, the neighbouring Dimsbrook vineyards, and the neighbouring Tanoi anuana fruitery. The nature of our case is that, with prior knowledge and foresight, cert-” Speaker Bolaro raised his paw. Redan trailed off, clearly confused.
“Are there any others?” the speaker asked, his voice echoing around the chamber. Redan looked around at the gathered assembly. Seemingly satisfied, Bolaro nodded to himself.
“Very well,” he said, gesturing a brusque dismissal in Redan’s direction. He waited until the man had retreated to his seat before continuing. “This inquest was summoned at the behest of the Extermination Office following the girl’s death and prior to their investigation. That investigation, now complete, found no evidence of nefarious activity or malicious intent, and their request for an inquest has been rescinded.”
Braq felt his jaw drop. Rescinded? They don’t want the case? He shared a confused glance with Turin, she was chewing her lip. Teraka’s claws were digging into his seat’s armrests.
“We the judicial board of Bendara do find that presented evidence to be satisfactory and elect to comply with their rescinding.”
Braq felt like he had been hit over the head with a hammer. A murmur shuddered through the crowd. The floorboards shifted as Redan stood, calling out from his seat.
“My apologies your honours, but could you please restate? You aren’t going to hear this case?”
“As far as we’re concerned,” Bolaro said, “the case has already been made.” Redan stood there stupidly for a moment.
“Might I move, for formality’s sake, that your honours present that argument?” The speaker raised a fuzzy brow, leaning back in his seat. The woman to his right, the central figure, leaned forward.
“You have that right,” she clucked, and gestured to the younger, paler woman on her right. The woman produced a cup of water, took a sip, and then began reading from a statement before her.
“The Ex. Office’s investigation concludes that, ‘A large predator, confirmed to be a roht, is suspected to have escaped from a private Daensbrook residence sometime prior to their investigation and closure two years ago. Isotopic evidence confirms that this animal was given predator feed during its infancy, a match for the material stored in the Daensbrook residence. That animal must have journeyed south, finding the Brackwood estate.’” More murmurs passed through the audience. Arrut leaned over.
“Someone else was housing predators?!” he whispered. Turin shook her head.
“It can’t be, Daensbrook is far too far away for a cub to wander! It’d die long before it reached us.”
“Silence!” Bolaro called out. “I will have order in this court.” Silence befell them.
“’The Brackwood,’” the pale woman continued, “‘with its wide undisturbed forest and high numbers of…’” She paused, a hint of disgust wrinkling her snout. “’…prey… formed an ideal hideaway for the predator. Hidden from contact, it was able to grow to near-adult sizes unmolested.’” The justiciar placed down the report, smoothing down the paper with her paws. The central speaker leaned forward once more, looking straight at Braq.
“What the report,” she croaked, “does not state was the extraordinary actions of some of the gathered today. Were it not for Dr Braq’s bravery, two children may have been lost, and that monster may still be on the loose. We do however have some concerns about how two children were able to wander so far, and do so uncontested,” she raised a brow in Braq and Turin’s direction, “and recommend some changes in certain management policies. These will be formally addressed to the Environment Commission for debate, and we expect you to see to their conclusions. The death of the girl was a tragedy. One we hope is never repeated. This court is adjourned.”
The group all made mixed sounds of disbelief. Something popped in his head, and Braq’s migraine fizzled into a background aura.
“Mama,” Imdi squeaked. “What’s that mean?”
“I… I don’t know.” she whispered.
“Can we… all go home?” he asked. Before she could reply Teraka jumped from his seat.
“NO!” he called out, running up to the podium. A centurion moved forward, intercepting him roughly. The small man struggled in the guard’s grip. “Your honours, please! I have pressing information that will change your verdict! I-I must confess!” The justiciars expressions remained closed. The lead raised a wizened paw and the centurion backed off a pace, but Braq thought he saw a sliver of disgust on the old woman’s face.
“Mr Teraka,” the man, Bolaro, said, “we regret the trauma this process may have caused you.”
“No…” Teraka said weakly.
“You have our deepest sympathies,” the pale woman said. Teraka was shaking his head, incessantly repeating the word ‘no’, the justiciar raising his voice to speak over the man. “We have already contacted th–“
“No, no, please no!”
“–contacted the very best psychological professionals to aid you and waived all associated fees. We’ll be expec–”
“JURAN!” Teraka roared. “You’re listening aren’t you?! You always liked to stay close! Well listen to this: I’LL HAVE YOU FOR THIS!” The court rang with his maddened cry, the whole crowd watching in reverent surprise. The justiciars shared a glance and stood in unison. The pale woman leaned forward.
“We wish you the very best in your recovery,” she said sweetly. With that the precession beat a retreat from the balustrade. Teraka took a step back, panting in shock in the bottom of that pit. He turned back up the steps in a rage, the door hinges shaking as he stormed out of the chamber.
The observers were chattering scandalously to one another, seemingly as shocked as the petitioners. Braq leaned over to Redan, the attorney sitting in a befuddled heap.
“Twenty years as an attorney, you said. Ever seen anything like that before?”
“Ever seen an inquest give up without even the slightest whimper?” He shook his head. “Nah. Never.” His eyes fell onto the high bench. “You better watch yourself, Braq. I smell a stinker.”
~*~
The water ran down the Tears in an angry torrent, ships bobbing and rocking wildly. Sailors and marimen fought to lash their craft to the docks, ship bells ringing like a church in mourning. In the distance, one was thrown against the wharf with the sound of splintering wood and screaming metal. The world gone mad…
Leaving the judiciary had been harder than Braq had anticipated. The scene on the steps made Teraka’s outburst in the courtroom seem like a minor tussle. The people gathered outside had pushed and shoved one another as they tried to get a question in. Braq had to bend down to scoop up the tiny carmet Girit when a rogue foot punted him down the steps. Eventually the centurions had intervened and cleared a path for the party to return to their transport. It was only once they had convened behind the safety of those metal walls that they realised that Teraka was not on board.
A disorganised manhunt forced the adults to spread out in multiple directions, in the upper and lower districts, across as much of Bendara as possible. It was getting so late that they would have to contact law enforcement if he did not turn up soon.
It was firmly evening when a disgruntled iridian pointed Braq toward the Tears, clattering their jaws furiously as they told him how a man had almost stepped right through them. Following the alien’s word, Braq had spied a lone figure at the end of the nearest dock.
Braq’s mother had once worked on docks and quays like this one, and he had grown his sea legs a long time ago. Turin never quite took to it, Braq thought, even though he had tried to goad her onto the sea many a time. The wooden boards and rusted grids rose and fell with the tides, giving the impression to a far-off observer that the marimen could walk on water. In a sheltered bay one was normally safe, but the weather made a misstep deadly. Swaying with each wave Braq inched his way toward the figure. He was close enough now to see the drenched fur clinging to his body.
Teraka stood on the edge of the quay, the bay foaming inches from his toes.
“Teraka!” Braq called out, trying to keep his voice above the storm as he staggered closer. The man looked up from the water, squinting in the rain. He shook his head as he saw who approached him. “Teraka, are you alright?!” The man did not answer, the wind whipping about treacherously. “C’mon, let’s get out of the rain, get you back home!”
“I’m not going back there, Braq!” He shook his head fiercely. “There’s nothing for me there now.”
“Teraka…” Braq stammered. “W-we’ll catch our death out here.” He beckoned to him. “Let’s get back to the car, the others are waiting.”
“You know they nearly cremated her?” he rasped, his voice barely audible above the storm. “’Dangerously contaminated’ they said. ‘Could do undue harm to the community.’ My little girl… they would have burned her.” The wind and rain raged like a hurricane.
“I… I’m sorry, Teraka…” Braq almost had to yell. “I should have done more! If I’d tried harder–”
“This isn’t your fault Braq! It was Juran!” He spat the name like a curse. “Silenced the inquest because he knew we’d be discovered.” Braq ground his jaw.
“B-but he’s just an officer. Surely he doesn’t have the power to influence an inquest?” Teraka shook his head, then wheezed a hacking laugh like he had heard a joke.
“Ah… Believe what you want, it doesn’t matter. All it’s done is delayed him. That man is far more dangerous than any predator, Braq. All that work… He’s content to discard it, stop me from admitting anything, all as part of a greater strategy.” The wind whipped up a crashing spray of water, Braq flinching as the frigid bay splashed against him. The chill bit into his leg.
“…admitting what you did.” Braq said it so low it was almost a growl. He shot at her. The rain slowed, the eye of the storm passing overhead. “You put them there,” Braq rumbled. “The roht…”
“If you’re just putting that together now, then–”
“We found one years ago. A dead cub between some boulders.” Teraka hesitated for a moment.
“You’ve known…” He turned from the water’s edge. “All this time?” Braq might have enjoyed the stupefied expression on his face on another day, but today it just made him angry. Braq threw his arms up in the air, pacing away and then back again.
“It was clear from the outset that someone–“ Braq jabbed a claw at him, ”–had been releasing them. Roht can’t survive in this cold you idiot! Even the ones that attacked us were starving on their feet.” Teraka blinked at him.
“’Ones?’ You’ve encountered others?!” He winced as though he had been headbutted. “The rifle!” Suddenly Teraka’s anger flared. “You knew!” he hissed through his teeth. “And we didn’t see?!” There was a thunderclap over the ocean, rolling through the bay like a demon’s roar. All that had happened to them to put them in jeopardy stemmed from this man and his accomplice. The image of Ki-yu, just a babe, shaking from cold and fear on their couch pushed itself to the fore of his mind. How she had screamed at the sight of him, cringed away. He did that to her…
“Years…” Braq snarled. “You’ve been prodding us for years… Trying to oust us. Killing our animals. Children I can forgive, but it’s always bothered me that grown men are terrified of one tiny reptile!”
The smaller man’s arms came out in a flash, gripping him by the fur of his chest. For a moment Braq feared he would try to throw them both in, instinctively latching onto Teraka’s forearms. Instead, he pressed his nose right up to Braq’s, the man’s eyes bulging madly.
“You think this is about a few lizards and some pet-store predators?! This is bigger than your little ecology project Braq!”
“Then what?! Why did you go along with all this?! What the hell is this all about?!” Teraka’s sneer cracked, and the ecologist realised his face was wet from more than rain.
“F-for her, damnit Braq! One last job for her!” Teraka hung his head, the water running in a pronounced stream down his snout. “A-after my wife… I quit the job. I… I was good at what I did, s-so I’d earned a lot of compensation. I built that farm, and…” His eyes were foggier than the bay. “I thought I’d never smile again when Mela passed, but those days… with Callio…” He panted wetly, his grip slackening. He coughed, recomposing himself. “But I’d miscalculated. The farm work was harder than I’d expected. Things were looking dire when he approached me out of the blue.” He shrugged, his tone acrid. “’One last job,’ he said. ‘Easy thing for a man of your skills.’ What else was I to do? Of course, now it all seems suspicious. Me the perfect man, on the perfect farm, in the right place, at the right time. A-and… it killed her…” His face was a wretched thing. “I-I killed her,” he sobbed, letting go of Braq.
“Yeah,” Braq growled, still gripping him. “Yeah, I guess you did.” This man is my enemy, is he not? The water was so violent it seemed to boil. He’d kill my little girl in a flash, wouldn’t he? But… would she?
Braq let go of him, wishing the storm was strong enough to wash him away. He turned his back on the man, trying not to howl with rage. Braq’s voice was throaty when he looked at Teraka again.
“You say Juran silenced the inquest?” he asked. “I believe you. The real question is why? If he doesn’t care about the animals, what does he want with us?”
“He wants the land,” Teraka whispered, his voice barely audible above the gale. “Wild, untamed. Filled with the Cradle’s native ecosystem, predators and all. And, most importantly, away from prying eyes.”
“F-for what purpose?”
“I don’t know,” he hissed. “He kept me at arm’s length, ever careful. But whatever it was, it was important enough to snuff out a multi-department inquest and sway the justiciars to secrecy.”
“Why does it matter if you say your piece at the inquest? Couldn’t we organise a press conference? Try and gather an appeal?” Teraka just peered down at the blackened waters. “So, what? You’re just gonna give up? Have you considered that maybe this–“ Braq pointed to the abyss, ”–is exactly what he wants?”
“What would you have me do?” Teraka spat. “Throw myself into a political grinder, only to be snuffed out more thoroughly? What’s the point? Isn’t it better this way? Isn’t it what I deserve?” Isn’t it?
“I almost said something this morning, at the top of that hill.” Braq took a shuddering breath. “You know what I’ll remember the most about that stupid clearing? It won’t be the feeling of that animal’s teeth in my bones, or my bloody back being ripped open. What I’ll remember the most is how brave those damn kids were.” Braq’s throat was ragged, but the other father’s glassy eyes were lifted from the water. “Even at the end, she was so fucking brave! So, no! No damn you, sometimes we don’t get what we deserve! You ask me, what’s the point? They are the point!” Braq barked. “I will keep going for them, and especially her! Even if you won’t.” Braq stepped up alongside him, gripping him by the shoulder. “Teraka, tell me truthfully, just one thing. How many roht did you release?” Teraka cringed away, as though the question offended him. “Please,” Braq implored him. “Tell me, and we can kill them all before someone else gets hurt.” Teraka sighed shakily.
“To my knowledge… four.”
“Just four?”
“I know not how he did it, acquiring just one cub would have been a monumental effort.”
He frowned, his eyes darting. “Although… there aren’t many who would have the resources… hm…” A little of the light returned to his eyes. “Hm…” He glanced out at the bay. “Y-you say, she was brave?” Braq straightened, falling back a pace.
“From what I saw.” Teraka looked down at his feet, so close to the water.
He stepped back from the edge.
“Go back to the car, Braq,” he said carefully. “You can tell them I’ve gone home.“
“Are you?” Braq asked. ”Going home?” Teraka donned the mask he called a face. He smiled thinly at the ecologist.
“I swear to you, you will see me again.” The ordinary man looked at him strangely. “If I were you Braq, I’d want nothing to do with those woods. After all, I’ve known Juran for years and yet I were just a piece on his chessboard. I wonder, are you his opponent or yet another pawn?”
Teraka strode down the pier, casually stepping into someone’s boat. He disappeared into the cabin, and a few moments later the engine roared to life. Braq stood there numb with more than cold and fatigue as he watched the vessel sail into the tempest of the night.
~*~
Braq threaded the wire through the end of the socket, applying a healthy dollop of solder to the housing. The camera trap came together easily, the warm buzzing of the lamp and the smell of the weld a comfort most sublime. Satisfied, he added it to the pile, picking up the next.
The light from the living room window was too diffuse to aid with such fine work, but it helped him to look out at the forest. Spring had finally settled into its golden seat, the trees sending forth their leaves like green palms to paw at the sunlight. The wind still blew, albeit somewhat gentler, carrying the cries of the abundant fiirits to him.
After everything it felt strange to just return to their little valley. But it still felt like home.
It had taken several weeks for the media attention to die down, and Braq did not doubt that their days of quiet anonymity were at an end. They were not idle; if anything, recent events had galvanised them. They had to do better. Braq and Turin tried to roam out as often as they could, checking and rechecking the trails they had led the investigators down, sweeping the area for anything that could be a subtle piece of recording equipment or a hidden drone. Aside from some discarded packaging, they found nothing.
They were doubly thorough on the lodge itself, pulling up floorboards, shifting furniture, and rebuilding the security system from first principles. They could not afford to be lax now. Not today.
A warm mug of tea came down on the table, his beloved nudging it closer to him. He had been so focused on his work he had not noticed the kettle boiling.
“Ah, thanks,” he murmured, setting down the iron. He looked warmly up at her, the blonde tinge to her caramel fur shining in the orange light. She smiled back at him, her own steaming mug in her paw.
“How’s it coming?” she asked, her other paw resting lightly on his shoulder. Braq smacked his lips, rubbing it with his own.
“Getting there,” he said. “I think something in that last storm really did a number on the casings.” Turin raised a brow.
“Still no sign of any tampering?” He shook his head, picking up the nearest unit, turning it over in the light.
“I can’t tell if I’m not being thorough enough or just plain paranoid.” He set it down again. “How about you?” Turin took a swig from her mug, tilting her head down to look at the dark liquid.
“The next generation of monitors aren’t old enough for release yet,” she said. ”None of them can tell meat from mushrooms at the moment.”
“The vexise then?” he suggested, Turin releasing a small breath.
“We could do, but there aren’t that many of them,” she murmured. “Still, we don’t have much choice.”
“When Ki-yu…” he began but stopped himself. He did not want to reopen the argument, and Turin’s grimace spoke volumes of her reluctance as well. Braq kissed her paw, rubbing it with his thumb.
“Sorry,” he said, picking up the nearby camera. “Quite right…” Turin moved around him, leaning against the table.
“I’ve missed her too you know?” she said quietly.
“I know,” he said. “But… I… think she’s waited long enough. She’s desperately hungry, and…” Turin nodded wanly, but with that little bit of sunlight in her eye.
“I know sweetheart. But this was a close call, far too close.” Turin shifted slightly, watching him work. “You were screaming again last night,” she uttered softly.
“Gotta be careful with these,” he muttered, fiddling with the casing. “Apply too much pressure and the latches can snap.”
“Same old dream?” Turin continued unabated. Braq grunted as the case came apart. He picked up his tea, inspecting the interior of the device.
“Yeah…” he murmured, taking a swig. “At least, I think it was. They all fade away.” His paws went idle as he set down the cup. Not for the first time recently, his mind went back to the clearing. “Remember when the first roht attacked us?”
“When you ran headlong into it, and I had to shoot it?” Turin said swiftly, taking another mouthful of tea. He smiled, tracing the edge of his own cup with a claw. But the smile quickly faded, replaced by a frown.
“I remember, afterward, you said the thing that scared you most was the thought of… having to put me in the ground. Bury me in some cold crypt somewhere.” Turin’s muzzle twisted as she nodded, looking down at the floorboards. “There was… a moment…” Braq breathed, “when it seemed like… when Callio was dying, and Ki-yu had been…” His beloved gripped her cup a little tighter. He sniffed. “It was going to get me… and all I thought was how… I’d failed them. Failed the kids. Failed you.” He glanced at her awkwardly, ashamedly. Turin sighed deeply, tilting her head and smiling at him much as she did with their children. She set her cup down on the table and sat side-saddle on his uninjured left leg, one arm around the back of his neck.
“You haven’t failed us yet you softie,” she whispered. Braq closed his eyes, resting his head into the nape of her neck. He could hear her strong heartbeat, smell her earthy scent.
“Nor do I ever plan to,” he replied. “But… on the day that I do, promise me you won’t leave me on some sodden hill, sealed in the rock.”
“Braq…”
“I want you to plant a tree over me. Something big and long-lived, with nice strong branches for children to play in, and ripe fruit for the picking.” Turin’s paw reached for his, the two intertwining.
“They’d have to leave space for two trees beloved,” she murmured. They sat together and held each other close.
The alarm wailed sharply. Braq reached over and pulled the monitor toward them.
“Rylett,” he said swinging it away again. “It’s her.” Turin tilted her head back, and suddenly Braq realised she was crying. “Hey… it’s okay,” he told her.
“I-I know, it’s just,” she panted for a moment. “Why does this scare me? I want to hold her so tight, more than anything else. But w-why do I feel so worried? Oh goddess…” She wiped her nose. “I’m being so stupid…“
“I’m worried too,” Braq said, drying her cheeks. “But we’ll get through it, worried, stupid, whatever.” She half-laughed at him. “Okay?”
“Okay,” she sniffed. Turin stood again, Braq grunting as he tested his leg. Imdi came running up the hall, his little legs moving as fast as he could. He looked around quickly, grinning ear to ear.
“Is it them?!” he giggled. “Is it them?!”
“So it would seem,” Turin laughed. Quickly, he toddled over to the door, hiding behind it. The parents peered at him.
“Shh!” he hissed. “You didn’t see me!” The adults looked at one another, shaking their heads with a smile. They stepped out into the yard, Rylett’s car roaring down near the fence line.
Pressed against the car window was Ki-yu’s narrow snout. The girl looked thin, like she did when she had been starving herself. The door slid open, and she was bolting across the yard in a heartbeat. In the second she was airborne, the third in his arms, the force almost toppling him. Braq laughed as he righted himself; he would have done the same if she could catch him. The girl keened and whined up at him, licking about his face before scrambling to throw herself at her mother.
“Mama!” she sniffled as she clambered onto Turin. “Baba!”
Ki-yu wriggled about aimlessly, full of anxious energy. Before they could get a word out she had clawed her way out of Turin’s arms and leapt down her back, spinning around their ankles frantically. She ran at the door, but seeing it was shut bounded off it, running back to them.
“H-hey!” Braq laughed, putting his arms out. “Calm down!” Ki-yu skidded to a halt, her nose and chest working continuously. Her eyes were misty, and she fell back on her haunches putting her nose up high. She sat there, taking in the air.
“I… I’d forgotten how good it smelt here…” she whispered. Braq could not wipe the smile from his face. He knelt down beside her.
“Hello sweetheart,” he managed, stroking her. Turin knelt down as well, wrapping her arms around the girl’s neck.
“It’s okay darling,” Turin cooed, kissing the top of her head. “You’re home now.”
Rylett smiled as she approached them, a large, sealed tray in her paws. Turin released their daughter, smiling back at the Priestess.
“I took the liberty of preparing something to eat,” she said. “I’m not an excellent cook, but it’s the thought that counts.”
“Oh, thank you,” Turin said warmly, beckoning them inside. “C’mon, let’s get that going.”
“H-how’s your leg Baba?” Ki-yu asked him, looking at his ankle.
“Better,” he said. “I mean to keep running after you for a long while yet.” Ki-yu grinned abashedly, following Turin indoors.
“Where’s-?” she managed to get out as she passed over the threshold. The boy collided with his sister, Ki-yu’s bark of fright turning into one of laughter as they tumbled across the carpet.
“Oh, now you’ll get it!” she yapped, her teeth flashing in delight. Imdi sniggered happily, rolling over his much larger sister as he tried to hang onto her back.
Turin shook her head and took the tray from Rylett. Though she smiled, there was something pressing in the teacher’s eyes as she watched the children playfight.
“Are you alright?” he asked. Her smile hitched for a moment.
“There’s something you should know,” she whispered. She took his elbow, walking over toward the kitchen so Turin could hear. “Yesterday,” she said in a low voice, “I went to visit Teraka. See how he was doing.” Turin paused where she stood, looking Braq in the eye.
“Oh Protector…” she murmured. Braq swallowed hard.
“What did he do…?” he asked.
“He wasn’t there,” Rylett said. “But someone had been. The front door was broken, cabinets thrown everywhere. It’d been ransacked. Or cleared out… he’s gone.” Braq rubbed his face as he looked out of the window. The wind outside was gentle.
“W-well shouldn’t we call someone?” Turin was saying. “Call the authorities?”
“All his fruit was rotting on the vine,” Rylett said. “Whatever happened must have happened weeks ago. But, yes, for what good it’ll do I have reported it. Braq, you were the last one to see him. Did he seem… I don’t know… vulnerable? Depressed?”
“Goddess…” Turin mumbled. “The pier…”
“No…” Braq said as he turned back to them. “He said we’d see each other again… I think… no.” The two women glanced at one another.
“Well… what are we going to do?” Turin asked. “I feel like everyone is looking at us now.”
There was a squeal from the living room, the adults turning to see Ki-yu dangling her brother upside-down over the back of the couch.
“Admit it!” the pyq girl giggled. “I missed you more!”
“N-n-no!” he giggled raucously. “I-I mi-ss-ss-ed y-you!” Braq snorted, watching the children. He looked at the women, smiling heartily.
“For now, we carry on,” he said. “C’mon guys,” he called through to the kids. “let’s get ready for dinner.”
“Is Ku eating with us?” Imdi asked from where his sister was shaking him.
“Of course,” he said. “We’ve got some stiplets. That is, if she wants to?” The girl blinked at him, looking shyly at Rylett.
“I’ve seen you eat before, you know?” she said.
“O-okay,” Ki-yu mumbled. Then she smiled. “Okay.” Braq clapped his paws together.
“But first you two, if you’re gonna be wrestling one another the least you can do is set the table first. C’mon.” Ki-yu set her brother down gently, leaning over to kiss the top of his head as he sat up. The room was filled with the sound of clinking ceramic as Braq started handing out plates. The oven door swung open as Turin placed their rich smelling meal within. Chairs squealed as people sat. Imdi asked Ki-yu about the lighthouse. She asked him about the city. They talked and played games.
The home felt warm.
---
“Anger – sing, goddess, the anger of Achilles son of Peleus, that accursed anger, which brought the Greeks endless sufferings and sent the mighty souls of many warriors to Hades, leaving their bodies as carrion for the dogs and a feast for the birds; and Zeus’ purpose was fulfilled.”
– The Iliad, Book I. Homer. c. 700 BCE.