~ DAVID ~
Bright and early on a chilly morning, the wagon train left town. It was the first of the seeding parties, off to establish a fortress two full days’ ride away. The Eia Valley was all grown up. Its children were starting to leave home. Scouts had gone on ahead, following the maps drawn out by the expeditionary team, and returned with confirmation that the intended site was fit for purpose. David hadn’t seen it, but he knew it was coastal. The Shallows, they were planning on calling it.
Lieutenant Coburn had been invested in her new rank the previous evening, up on the hill where Lord Constable Mannam lay. The fort was hers to command. David had pulled the strings. She’d kissed him all over to thank him, and left him feeling all kinds of uncomfortable.
It was more than just soldiers who had gone off. A fortress alone couldn’t sustain itself, and it was too far away to keep coming back to the valley. One of the wealthy families who’d come to Essegena to grow their wealth had sent off their full complement of staff, to build a fancy house. A couple of hardy farmers had followed them.
They were seen off by a smattering of officers. General Bradshaw had come, of course—any excuse to look pompous in his uniform. But there were more besides. David recognised old Colonel Tastock, one-eyed Lieutenant Chalmers, even Captain Munro had decided to show her face for once. She’d probably been with Bradshaw last night, and figured since she was awake she might as well pop along. Of the Council, only the Hookbill George Prendergast was here. Chris should have been. Chris would have been. But at the last minute he’d changed his mind, and sent Naomi Mallender in his stead.
The crowd began to disperse almost as soon as the last of Coburn’s garrison had set off, but most lingered until the wagons had disappeared over the valley slopes and out of sight. There was nothing left to watch for. None of the garrison would be likely to return to the valley for a few weeks at least.
As David turned to leave, he caught sight of Colonel Tastock, standing on his own now. Tastock was a friend of Lord Constable Mannam’s. Why had he not been for an interview?
Still, now seemed like a good time for it. An unorthodox location, maybe, but the fresh air would make a nice change of pace. Offices and interrogation rooms were inevitably stuffy and tiresome.
“Colonel Tastock,” said David, “I’d like to ask you a few questions, if I may.”
Tastock stared at him. “Were you the best they could do? You’re the Lord Constable, by the Lightness. Don’t ask. Demand.”
Presumably that was a yes. “I know you were a friend of Lord Constable Mannam.”
“Friend? Aye. We served together for a good long while.”
“You were together at Tol Manase, if I’m not mistaken.” Those had been dark days for the Unity. It had started as a simple protest action by disaffected colliers, unhappy that the taxes taken from their pay were going to the big Unity metropolises and starcraft rather than the communities which needed them. It had ended in wholesale slaughter. The war had lasted six blood-soaked years. Everyone in the forces at the time had a story about it, and none of them were pleasant.
Tastock coughed into a chequered handkerchief. “I haven’t talked about Tol Manase in years,” he said.
“I was at Preco Beach,” David said, nodding, “and at Garrenton too. I don’t talk about it much either.”
But Tastock shook his head. “Both horrible fights,” he said, “but both in the latter days, when the war was all but finished. I served with Captain Mannam for a large chunk of that war. Like most of us, he did what he did without enthusiasm. War breeds horrible things. We just have to get on with it.”
“I’m just trying to figure out why someone would want him dead,” said David. “I’ve scoured his service record, and he’s clean.”
“And he was clean on Tol Manase too,” said Tastock, his voice rising slightly. “I don’t know why anybody would want to hurt Richie, but I can tell you for nothing that he didn’t deserve it. You’re a disgrace to that uniform, trying to smear his name, trying to make out like he somehow deserved to die. Like it was reparations. Richie Mannam was a model soldier. He was hand-picked for Bart Surnett’s special division, because he was a good man.”
“I’m not trying to smear anybody’s name,” said David.
“Sure you’re not,” Tastock scoffed. “I’ve heard it all a thousand times already. From do-gooders in the Unity, arrogant zealots who think their personal morality should be impressed upon the past. I’m sick of it. Blame Tol Manase on the Commissioners, Coningsby and the rest. Not us who followed the orders we were given. If you’re here to cast aspersions on men like Richie Mannam you’re in the wrong place.”
“I’m just asking questions.”
“Ask someone else.” Tastock turned to walk away. David thought to go after him, but he was caught by the hand of General Bradshaw.
“Not so fast, Lord Constable,” said Bradshaw, with his familiar sneer.
David frowned. “Something the matter, General?”
“I’m wondering if you’re intending to hold two of the three Captaincies forever. It’s high time you nominated your replacement.”
“It’s a matter of finding the right person, General.”
General Bradshaw nodded. “It’s very important not to rush into the wrong decision, I quite agree. But it is coming on months now since you took the role of Lord Constable. That’s ample time to find a suitable replacement. If you don’t suggest someone soon, I might have to take matters into my own hands—and believe me, I have some ideas.” No doubt you do. You’ve probably got a whole line-up of lackeys waiting to kowtow to your every whim.
“I have a man in mind,” said David. “But I would like to speak with him first, as a courtesy. Give me two days, and you’ll have your nomination.”
Bradshaw smiled. “Two days, then. After that, I shall choose for myself.” And Bradshaw disappeared down the hill with the rest of the procession, leaving David alone.
“Send for Lieutenant Jackson,” he said, reaching the Lord Constable’s Tower twenty minutes later, as Baxendale rushed to greet him in the lobby. “Bring him straight to my office as soon as he gets here.”
Baxendale nodded and strode off.
A short hour later, she pushed open David’s door. He’d sat himself down at his desk, fully intending to work, but instead had found himself drifting off to sleep. Baxendale’s arrival woke him with a start.
“Were you sleeping, sir?” She had an amused smirk on her face.
David shook his head. “You should have knocked, Lieutenant.”
“You said I was to bring Lieutenant Jackson straight to you. He’s here, sir.”
“Then send him in.”
Baxendale ducked away, and a few seconds later Lieutenant Jackson stepped into the room, his kepi tucked under his arm. He walked with the slightest of limps. Other than that, there was nothing to say that he’d ever been hurt.
David rose to greet him. “It’s been too long, Lieutenant. Have a seat.”
Jackson sat gratefully. He perched side-on in the chair, keeping his broken leg stretched out straight. “I’m just about back to full fitness now, the Lightness be thanked,” he explained, “but I get awful cramps if I bend it too much.”
It had been well over half a year since the Lieutenant had last reported for duty. “I sent for you, but I wasn’t sure you’d come. I wondered if perhaps you’d got caught in the hospital.”
Jackson laughed. “No, stroke of luck there. They were thinking of keeping me in a little longer, but in the end they sent me home to convalesce. This would have been a week at most before it all went down. I’ve been doing physio to get my strength up.”
“And now you’re itching to get back to work, is that it?”
“Back to field work,” Jackson nodded. “I’ve been doing bits and pieces behind a desk, but you know me. I just want to be out there, seeing the world for myself.”
David looked at him. “You’re not planning on going to try and find that tree circle again? Arron, it’s pointless. Best case scenario, you find some trees that are planted oddly. What if you hurt yourself again? It might be your back next time. It might be your neck.”
“I won’t,” said Jackson. “It was a freak accident—honestly, you’re way too uptight sometimes, Captain. Look, you were there before. I want you there again.”
David shook his head. “It’s a fool’s errand. I won’t countenance it.”
“You were there,” said Jackson. “You saw the way that tail had been placed there. You heard the noises. There’s something strange up there, Captain. We both know those trees weren’t in a natural formation. I want to know why.”
“I just don’t think you’re going to find any answers. And that rock-face—”
“We can go around it, if need be. Bring climbing equipment. A little bit of rock isn’t going to be a difficult obstacle. Come on, Captain, you’re supposed to be the head of Expeditionary. Aren’t you at least a little bit curious?”
David coughed. “About that. Lieutenant, I’m not Expeditionary any longer. I’m Constabulary. Wanderings to obscure western mountains are way outside my job remit. It matters not a jot whether I’m curious or not. I can’t accompany you.”
Jackson’s brow furrowed. “But you can’t prevent it, either. If you’re not Expeditionary, I mean.”
“No,” said David, shaking his head. “Lieutenant, I’ve been asked to put forward a candidate to take my place. The Expeditionary still needs a leader. I won’t beat around the bush—I’m thinking of putting your name to the General.”
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Jackson leaned back in his seat. “Wow. And that would be a Captaincy, right?”
“It would be a promotion, yes.”
“I’d be honoured,” said Jackson, his cheeks suddenly flushed.
“That does mean greater responsibilities.” The Essegena mission had been David’s first ever Captaincy, and it had come when he was pushing forty. He’d got the wilder days out of his system when he was still just a junior officer. Lieutenant Jackson was still in his twenties, fresh-faced. A decade ago David might have got a bee in his bonnet about the hooked wheel of Nameth in the mountains, just as Jackson had, but time had matured him and made him more cynical. “You can’t just tear off willy-nilly, not as Captain. Obviously the judgement calls are yours to make—but if you’re chasing a feeling, you’d best be sure to find something. There are plenty of officers who would love to take that job from you.”
Jackson nodded. “I understand that, sir. But I’ve been out there, and I know there’s more to this planet than meets the eye. How can we be content to blind ourselves? Can we really just hide in this valley forever, and pretend that there isn’t a whole world beyond?”
“I’m not saying that at all. Just don’t be foolish.”
“I learned my lesson last time,” Jackson grinned. “Got a broken leg for it.”
“For what it’s worth, Lieutenant, I think you may be right. There’s more history to Essegena than the Unity would have you believe. Walk with me a while.”
David led Jackson to the Constabulary records hall, one floor beneath the ground. He seldom went there himself. Better to send Lieutenant Baxendale if he needed anything. The staircase down was narrow and winding, and in some places so dark that it simply wasn’t safe to traverse without holding onto the iron handrail. It led to a small antechamber, where the duty guard sat.
The records hall itself was a rotunda almost as far around as the Tower itself, with walls made from variegated stone bricks. Slits around the perimeter let in sunlight, where ditches had been dug in the earth around the Tower. This light fell in columns, bringing the lingering dust into sharp relief against bookshelves three times the height of a man.
Most of the shelves were empty. The majority of the records had yet to be moved across from the Eia, or simply didn’t exist yet. It made the whole place feel lonely and empty. When David did come down here, he was sure to be done as quick as he could.
Lieutenant Jackson’s limp was more pronounced when traversing stairs, so getting down here was slow-going. In future, David resolved to talk with Jackson above ground whenever he could. It wouldn’t take so long.
The figurine he’d found was one of the first things to be moved to the records hall. He knew that, because he was the one who’d moved it. It was locked away in a mahogany steamer trunk. There were several such trunks, all containing physical objects the Constabulary needed to store safely. Most were labelled in pink pen, with a unique number corresponding to a paper record stored elsewhere—all the easier to find things. David’s carved man was in a trunk with a blank label.
He fiddled with the trunk’s lock. “I don’t for a minute believe the stories your men were coming out with. There’s no witch-shades in the mountains, no demons or spectres or anything like that. But we’re not the first people to come to Essegena. There was a colony a few hundred years back.”
“So we’re not pioneers?”
David shrugged. “There’s no proof they actually made it to the planet’s surface, so we might well be. But I have a theory—and it doesn’t make any sense at all, not really—but I think there was life here a long time ago.” He released the catch on the steamer trunk, which hit against the top of the shelf as it opened, and took from it the gauze-wrapped figure. He laid it on the empty shelf above, gracefully unfurled the fabric, and let the wrappings fall away to reveal the figure beneath. It was uglier than David remembered. “Call me crazy, but there’s no way this is less than two hundred years old.”
Jackson reached out to touch it. “It looks primitive,” he said. “What is it?”
“I found it in the Mettywood, back when it was first being mapped,” said David. “Beyond being ugly as sin, I’m not really sure what it is. A child’s doll, perhaps? Mannam reckoned it might be an artefact from Belaboras, brought and lost by someone aboard the Eia.”
“But how did it come to be in the Mettywood?” Jackson finished David’s thought for him. “Unless it was put there deliberately. To mess with you.”
David shook his head. “Who would do that? What would it achieve?”
Lieutenant Jackson looked thoughtful for a second. “The Unity’s line was that we would be the first ones to set foot on Essegena. Pioneers. An object like this would go against that line. So if somebody wanted public opinion to turn against the Unity, this would be a very useful tool.”
“It’s a possibility,” said David. “But this was found seven months ago. I knew about it, and Mannam knew about it—and that’s it. If it was deliberately put in the Mettywood to cause discord, it hasn’t worked. Now, I’m no evil mastermind, but if this was my plan, and it wasn’t working, I’d try again. I’d carve another figurine, and leave it somewhere it would definitely be found. And yet there’s not been another one.”
“Perhaps there has, but someone like you found it,” said Jackson. “This one’s been hidden away for months. What if someone else is holding on to one?”
“Uh, Lord Constable?” Lieutenant Baxendale had crept down to the records hall so quietly that David hadn’t noticed her coming up behind him. He swore loudly. “The Governor would like a word with you,” she said, pointedly looking David in the feet.
“Is he in my office? Tell him I’ll be with him shortly.”
Baxendale shook her head. “No, sir, he’s up at the big lake.”
David sent Baxendale away, then turned to Lieutenant Jackson. “Think about what we’ve talked about. But keep it to yourself, for now. I hope I’m not making a mistake in trusting you.”
Jackson shook his head. “Of course not, Captain. You can trust me. I just want to find out what this world has to offer.”
“That’s the spirit.” He cajoled Jackson with a pat on the back, and walked up the long staircase wondering why in the Mother’s name he’d thought that was a good thing to do. Jackson probably thought he was a weird old grandfather locked in the body of a soldier in middle-age.
He put the figure back in its mahogany tomb and sealed it up tight.
The walk up to the lake was a long one but a nice one, even if the wind was bracing as he climbed higher up the slopes. He caught himself thinking of Lord Constable Mannam. Not too long ago, Mannam had worn the same emblem on his cap as he climbed this same slope, not imagining for a minute that he’d be dead the next time he was down in the valley.
One thing was for sure: David wasn’t going to go anywhere near the cliff edge.
He found Chris stood on the lake shore, looking out across the water. Far across, the church of Lightness Skerrett stood titanic above the plains, its white walls contrasting sharply with the grey shape of the mountains way on the horizon. “I came here with Caro once,” he said. “And I upset her. I never had the chance to apologise. A missive came from the hospital this morning, passed on a scribbled note to one of General Bradshaw’s guards. Caroline’s dead, David. My love’s gone, and I couldn’t even make things right.”
David gurned. “I can’t help but feel that it’s my fault. You asked me to keep that bottle safe. That’s all I had to do, and Caroline would be alive.”
Chris turned to face David, with a curious look on his face. “None of this was supposed to happen.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.” Chris shook his head. “Caro was never your friend. You won’t miss her.”
“But you will. She was your wife, and she’s dead because of what I did.”
“She wouldn’t have blamed you,” said Chris, crouching to pick up a pebble from the ground, which he turned over in his hands “Caro would have smiled and squeezed your hand and told you it didn’t matter that you’d killed her, because she forgave you.” All of a sudden he turned, and launched the pebble high into the air. Its parabolic flight came to an end with an undignified plop, somewhere in the centre of the lake. “Why does she have to be dead?” Chris yelled. “What do I do without her?”
David said nothing. He wasn’t sure there was anything he could say that would make things better. Chris was shaking, he saw, though the Governor tried his best to hide it.
“I didn’t ever get to know Caroline half as well as you did,” said David, “but I don’t think she’d want this to beat you. She’d want you to move on.”
“Move on?”
“Remember all the things we always talked about. The Borrowood Dynasty, all that. Do it all in her name. Let Essegena be a monument to her memory.”
“It’s not just about Caroline, though,” said Chris. “There’s nearly fifty dead, so Stockton says, and no end in sight. That’s more than a tragedy. It’s senseless.”
“That isn’t my fault.” David wanted to believe it. But he’d been the one to throw away the bottle. All he had to do was hold onto it, as Chris had asked him to, and none of this would have happened. Every single death was his fault, at the end of the day. “Is it?”
“Don’t be absurd,” said Chris. “Of course it isn’t. It’s a force of nature. How can you be held responsible?”
“I’m almost afraid to find out. General Bradshaw will probably find a way to blame me, though.”
Chris shook his head. “Bradshaw doesn’t know there was ever an antidote, let alone that you had it. And he doesn’t need to find out, either. In any case I can’t even be sure the antidote was an actual antidote. Caro saw her sickness in a dream, but the dream wasn’t kind enough to tell her what sort of sickness it was. It mightn’t have been poison at all.”
“If it wasn’t poison, the Wracks’ cook should be released. If she didn’t do anything—”
“You’d need a toxicology report to say so for certain.”
David laughed drably. “And until Doctor Caerlin lifts the lockdown on the hospital, we can’t get at her body to autopsy. It’ll be a miracle if she hasn’t rotted away to bone by the time she’s on Curlie’s slab.” Chris had gone tense, no doubt at the talk of his wife’s slow decay. “Sorry,” David muttered.
“I never realised the church was so stunning from across the water,” said Chris, sighing. “Why are churches always the most fascinating buildings?”
David shrugged. “How else can they lure gullible idiots inside?”
“You’re gonna have to pretend to be as devout as anybody, in two days’ time. Skerrett and I have an arrangement. But the ceremony has to go through, and he mustn’t feel as though he’s been slighted by the Governor’s representative in the church.”
David frowned. “You aren’t going to be there?”
“Officially, I’m grieving,” said Chris. “The truth is, I’m worried about what Bradshaw might try.” Chris was wringing his hands as he spoke. “The ceremony up at the church is his big opportunity to make a name for himself, before the whole colony.”
“What could he do?”
“Ideally nothing at all. All the same, I’ll steer clear. Oh, and David? I think it’s best if we don’t allow private security on the premises.”
“Easy enough,” said David. “Bradshaw hardly makes use of his anyway.”
Chris shook his head. “Not just Bradshaw’s. It’ll have to be a blanket ban. You know he’ll cry foul otherwise, bring it up to the Council, and that’s not shit I want to deal with at the moment. Anybody who comes, you have to send them away. It has to be even treatment for everybody.”
“You’re expecting something to happen.”
Chris turned away from the water again, a frown on his face. “Why would I be expecting something?”
“At the church, you sent me away so you and Lightness Skerrett could have a private tête-à-tête. What did you talk about?”
Chris wrinkled his nose. “A couple of small matters. I’d had a few childhood questions about the Books of Lightness, which I figured Lightness Skerrett was best placed to answer. It was very enlightening.”
“And you had to be alone to ask those questions?”
“I always understood faith to be a personal affair.”
David watched Chris closely. “I can’t say I ever took you for religious.”
“I can’t say I ever did either,” Chris admitted. “I still don’t. Like I said, I just had some questions I wanted answered.”
They stood for a while beside the water, content to share in each other’s loneliness. He’d never have said it aloud, but David was glad it was Caroline who’d died. Her, and not Chris. Without Chris, who was there for him to talk to? Without Chris, he would be truly friendless.
Chris, perhaps, felt the same way now Caroline was taken from him. Perhaps he felt worse. Love always ends in heartbreak, one way or another. Mother had always said as much. No matter how much you love someone, and how much they love you, at the end of the day you’re destined to die. David couldn’t help but feel at least a little glad that he’d never found love.
“I’ll name this place for her,” said Chris, eventually. “The lake, not the valley. Lake Caroline. I think she’d like that.”
“Lake Caroline,” David repeated, muttering softly under his breath. It had a nice ring to it. The leaves of the nearby trees, blown by the afternoon’s breeze, seemed to rustle and sigh their assent. There was probably some funny religion somewhere in the universe that would have believed Caroline was watching through the trees. And David wouldn’t blame them. It was nicer than realising that a friend was gone, and no matter how long he waited, she wouldn’t ever be coming back.
Funny. He didn’t realise how much he enjoyed Caro’s company until it was gone forever.