Epilogue 1
“This wildness must be because of your Keretu heritage,” Great-Grandfather Yi mused. “Their blood is known to run hot.”
Wildness? Linua sat opposite him in his office, with another cup of tasteless flowery tea clutched in her hands. What wildness? She had a hard time persuading any of the stupid adults in her life just to let her act like a normal teenage girl, let alone be wild.
Getting kidnapped didn’t count.
“Happily this kind of behaviour can be harnessed for the good of the clan,” Great-Grandfather Yi added.
That sounded alarming. Up until now, no-one in the Yi family had shown any sign of expecting anything of Linua. She didn’t want to have to resist plans made by Great-Grandfather Yi and Grandmother at the same time.
She wondered what would happen if either of them realised they were planning mutually contradictory futures for her. She was quite sure that it wouldn’t even occur to Great-Grandfather Yi to take Grandmother’s plans into account. Grandmother’s plans for Linua had already been diverted after the settlement of the custody case, which had required Grandmother and Linua to relocate from Shinboa when Linua had been seven. So surely Grandmother had considered this potential obstacle.
But Linua thought about Grandmother’s single-minded focus on all matters relating to Linua’s astronomy studies, and decided that she must be equally oblivious.
“I have considered,” Great-Grandfather Yi went on, “and given your recalcitrance towards Wai Bing, I cannot permit you the benefit of his tuition.”
Really? Linua tried to look sombre and downcast rather than overjoyed by this pronouncement.
“This leaves me with a dilemma, for we cannot have you completely untrained.”
No, we can’t have that, Linua thought resentfully. Great-Grandfather Yi clapped his hands gently, and two people came into the room, clearly having been waiting until they were summoned. They were Shang, but not members of the Yi family. They must be Yi retainers, but Linua had never seen them before. The woman was in her early twenties, and the man was younger, perhaps a little older than Eret.
“This is Tang Siu.” Great-Grandfather Yi indicated the woman. “She will be your trainer from now on.”
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Linua was so surprised she didn’t know what to say. She had never heard of this kind of thing happening to the other Yi offspring. Was it supposed to be some kind of recognition, or a punishment?
Not recognition, she thought.
Linua looked at Tang Siu. She was tall and well-built, with hair cropped short and an angular face that was handsome rather than pretty. She looked as humourless as Wai Bing.
“And this,” Great-Grandfather Yi said, indicating the man, “is Tang Tao.”
The similarity of features between Tang Tao and Tang Siu made Linua think that they were brother and sister. The angular features that made Tang Siu look harsh and strong were much more pleasing on Tang Tao. He had crinkly black hair, liquid black eyes, and a smiled that kicked up to one side, the kind that said he was good-looking and knew it.
“This cultist nonsense may take some time to be settled. I understand the police haven’t routed them all out yet,” said Great-Grandfather Yi, as if cultists were a particularly tenacious form of cockroach. “And I cannot continue to spare one of Zong Rhen’s squads for round the clock cover. So … Tang Tao will be your bodyguard.”
The accumulative surprises were too much. Linua’s mouth dropped open. Tang Tao’s smile widened, and he winked at her.
Epilogue 2
A DEAD ARCHAEOLOGIST AND TWELVE MISSING SOLDIERS
By Weela Frune
Maybe the title of this article doesn’t shock you. Maybe you think that the price we pay for the benefits of our modern-day technology, much of it looted from Ancient Kāruan ruins, is worth it. Maybe you think that those who die signed up for the risk.
But the price isn’t paid just by the archaeologists or their military escorts. It’s paid by the families, by the people who are left behind.
In my last piece, I told you about vulnerable young people exploited by a sociopathic fanatic, so desperate to access a hidden cache of Ancient Kāruan relics that he killed dozens of his followers. However, it’s not just criminals who exploit their people and then hide the evidence of their crimes when things go wrong.
It’s our own government.
Professor Chuyn Hee Guo was a well-respected member of the University of Shinboa archaeological department, and, as veteran of many Ancient Kāruan excavations, seemed like the ideal person to lead an expedition to a hitherto undiscovered Ancient Kāruan city, dating to just before the Deluge.
The expedition took place eight months ago, but there is no record of what they found there. Professor Chuyn’s wife, Ana Li, never saw him again. Even when he supposedly returned, having contracted a highly contagious and deadly virus from contaminated remains, he was kept secluded in a military hospital and allowed no contact with his family prior to his death last month.
The families of the military escort haven’t even had that much comfort. There has been notification of their whereabouts, not even to say whether they are dead or alive. If anyone asks, the UMF headquarters in Shinboa simply have them listed as on indefinite medical leave.
Before you think that it’s the duty of soldiers to take these kinds of risks, consider the fact that these twelve were not special forces, they were ordinary infantry, who would otherwise have expected to spend their careers in routine patrolling and peacekeeping efforts, not dying on an expedition to retrieve technology we can very likely easily do without, or eventually rediscover through our own efforts.
Who will hold the government accountable for their greed?