Choices were hard in Severance Frontier. Riven had the wonderful options of getting a decent night’s sleep, whatever that amounted to after the evening exercise with the Deadmage, or staying up and being the first into the Invigilator’s Office so that he could meet Father before he took his customary throne behind that damn mahogany desk. Just for once, Riven needed to see Father off balance, no longer speaking from the comfortable fortress of the desk and chair in his office.
So the latter choice was all that remained. No sleep for poor, battered Riven.
Viriya had dropped him off at his refurbished apartment. Rio hadn’t come with them, saying he needed to return to Ascension Demesne to relay the state of Providence Demesne to his boss, High Invigilator Orbray. He’d been here on an observational assignment, after all. Riven had barely thanked him before Viriya had shooed him away. Exceedingly rude in the middle of the night.
Riven had tried lying down and leaning back on his couch, but his back stung with a burning ferocity at the slightest contact. Viriya had offered to help apply the salve that the medicer had left him. Very kind of her, but Riven had flushed and waved her off. Where was her sense of propriety?
The balcony air held the chill of mid-Autumn. It prickled his skin and made his hairs stand up with little goosebumps, but the cool flow over his back soothed the tiny burns and the pain riddling his shoulder. This was nothing more than a test from the Scions. He bore one of their pieces, and if he couldn’t bear a little pain, he wouldn’t be worthy of carrying such an artefact. The streets were deserted, and the lights were off in the nearby tenements. Good thing too. Riven was simply enjoying a moonlit stroll, albeit on his cupboard-sized balcony. He didn’t need someone else popping out of their window and accusing him of voyeurism.
But he’d stood here enough. It was still a ways off dawn, but he could go scout out the Invigilator’s office. Maybe, if Riven was lucky and if Father didn’t live inside the office—he’d been joking, mostly—he could confront Father without even bothering to get inside the building.
Riven went inside and got dressed. He tried to be quick and careful, but the two didn’t go together well. Half the time, he was cursing himself for being slow, the other half, wincing at the little spikes of pain when his shirt met his back. He pocketed his Sept gun, got on a big coat, and made sure he didn’t forget his Sept crystal.
The same crystal he had said nothing about to Viriya.
His stomach churned. Was he felling… guilty? About what? Hiding something from tight-lipped Viriya, who was a near replica of Father at telling Riven nothing of what he wanted to know? No that wasn’t it. Unlike Father, Viriya had appreciated his efforts when it came to fighting Deathless. Unlike Father, she checked in on him at home.
And lousy, selfish Riven hadn’t even asked him about the hand she had hurt that day they first met. Well, that was about to change.
Riven made his way downstairs and paused at the gate. Her house was near here somewhere, but he hadn’t bothered to find out. He hadn’t bothered to do a lot of things, it looked like. Better late than never.
The tenements were part of a local complex. They all formed a small residential area that housed the Invigilator’s staff, and as such, was under Father’s direct supervision. The residential area was walled off from the rest of the city, and guards were posted at the gate, different teams taking night and day shifts on different days. It was these guards that directed Riven to where Viriya lived, though he did have to weather a few strange looks.
From the outside, Viriya’s apartment was no different from his own. The bricks were the same reddish brown, and her balcony was no bigger than his own, though he did spot what seemed to be plants. It was hard to be sure in the gloom.
Riven hesitated at her door. Hadn’t he himself said something about propriety not too long ago? And it was late at night too. Viriya had likely fallen asleep soon as she’d arrived. It had been that kind of day. But her lights were still on, a chink coming through the gap under her front door.
Taking a deep breath, he knocked.
Viriya came to the door after a little while, as evidenced by the shadow blocking the chink of light. “Who’s there?”
Riven cleared his throat. “It’s me. Riven.”
For just a moment, it looked like she was about to ask “Riven, who?” but then the door opened. Viriya stood there with a strange expression, like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to be puzzled or irritated. Riven tried not to gawk, hard as it was. She wore a long robe that trailed on the floor, and he’d never imagined he’d see her in anything other than that immaculate uniform of hers.
“It’s a little late for a house call,” Viriya said. She didn’t sound sleepy. No trace of fatigue either, like she went roping into Coral woods to kill a thousand Spectres and their Deadmage leader every day.
“Sorry.” Riven scratched the back of his head. Maybe coming so late hadn’t been a good idea. Surely he could’ve waited until yesterday. “I just wanted to check in on you. You know, after everything that happened in the evening.”
She blinked. “You want to come in?”
“Er, yes. If that’s all right.”
Viriya stood to one side, and Riven entered, stepping a little hesitant in unfamiliar territory. Her flat was laid out the same as his—a sitting room beside connected to a large kitchen, with the door at the far end presumable closing off her bedroom.
That was as far as the similarities went. Where Riven had the basic amenities and necessities to make it look like someone lived there, Viriya’s looked like home. Paintings hung on her sitting room walls, most depicting abstract work, though there was one of a couple of pointillism clowns and another showing herons and bamboos in a style of sharp flourishes and distinct colours on faded paper. A tea table between her two cream-coloured couches supported a little crystalline showpiece of a star on top of a mountain. Curtains hung in front of her balcony doors, and the gap between them was occupied by short windchimes. Riven had been right outside. Her balcony had a lot of plants.
“If you’re done staring,” Viriya said, “we can talk. Then I can finally go to bed.”
She took one of the couches and pointed to the one opposite. Riven took a seat. The seat was softer than he’d assumed, though he resisted the temptation to lean back.
“So, Riven.” Viriya leaned forward. “What do you want?”
Riven tried not to stare. With her hair loose, falling in loose curls everywhere like a soft waterfall of branches, her eyes shining through them like emerald leaves, she was too different from the image he had of her. That light dusting of freckles only exacerbated the feeling. Though there was still that hint of rigid immovability, of a jagged edge that would cut the unwary with ease. “Are you enjoying staying up this late?”
There was that smirk-but-not at the corner of her lips. There one moment. A blink. Gone. “Out with it.”
“Are you all right?”
She leaned back and spread her hands. “Don’t I look all right?”
“No. You don’t.”
Riven pointed when her eyebrows rose in question. The sleeves of her robe had fallen to her elbows. Her right hand was fine, but the left bore that wound he’d seen the day she had fought the demon. The injury that was wrapped in bandages that had bled through.
“This?” Viriya looked at it distaste, like it was keeping her up and not Riven. Maybe it was. “It’s fine. The cut was a little deep and the constant movement isn’t helping it heal.”
“So… shouldn’t you be looking after it some more?”
“Are you planning to give your broken back some rest? Even if I tell you I’ll be going after more Deathless tomorrow?”
“You can’t seriously expect me to stay back when you yourself can’t. That’s hypocrisy.”
“That’s a fallacious argument.”
“I think we’re veering off the point,” Riven said, frowning. Was she trying to distract him?
“Don’t worry. I have no such plans for tomorrow.” Viriya stared at him for a bit, then sighed. She crossed her arms, her sleeves falling back in place to hide her wounds. “Though I get the sense you do.”
“What makes you say that?”
Her eyes glittered like jade. “I can tell.”
Riven looked away. There was something unnerving about her gaze. Something discerning. Like every word had cracked a little bit of him and now there was a fracture large enough for Viriya to peer through.
Maybe he could go to her balcony. He had never seen anyone cultivate Coral plants in their personal garden before, nor was the art of Coral horticulture as wide and popular as it should have been. But then, this was Severance Frontier. Coral trees grew here with wild abandon. If there was one place he could learn more about Coral, about Sept, about the crystal, it was here.
If there was one place he could learn more about Mother’s illness and help get a cure, it was here.
“I’m going to see Father,” he said.
“Of course you are.”
“I’m going to go tonight.”
“Of course—wait. Tonight?”
Riven grinned. “Yes. Tonight.”
“Why are you so bent on making things difficult for yourself?”
Riven’s grin died. Things were made difficult for him. Was it that hard to cooperate with him, listen carefully to what he said, pay attention to what he wanted? No, Father had placed Riven in a neat little box that he wasn’t supposed to ever stray from. Well, screw that.
“I don’t want to do this, Viriya,” Riven said. “But what other choice do I have?”
“You could wait. I’m going there tomorrow, and you could come with me.”
“And have another pointless conversation with him barricaded behind his stupid desk? I don’t think so.”
Viriya leaned back, crossing her arms. Her face was even, though the effort to keep it that way was becoming obvious. “And you want something from me?”
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“What? No! I really did come to check on you.” Riven held back from swallowing. First symptom of lies was swallowing, tensing, acting out of the ordinary in any way. And damn it, he wasn’t lying. Not really. “Well… I won’t lie. I was going to ask if you wanted to come with me to talk to him. But you don’t have to,” he added quickly. “Better to rest up.”
“You should follow your own advice.”
Riven stayed silent. He’d done what he came here to do, so why dally any longer? Yet he couldn’t get out just yet. Not when he had unwittingly upset her. But then, what did it matter if she chose to be upset at him? No, what mattered was the Sept crystal weighing him down, preventing him from getting up.
“Maybe I will,” he said. “I was thinking of what happened this evening with the Deadmage. I don’t know what—”
“I’d rather not talk about it,” Viriya whispered. She cleared her throat and her voice grew louder. “Not just yet.”
“I was just…” Riven sighed at her unyielding expression. “Sorry. Later then.”
Another time. Another time, he’d find a way to tell her it might very well be him with the strange powers that made the earth shift into a cocoon around him, and that the Deadmage said he had a piece of a Scion with him. Another time, when Viriya decided not to be so tight-lipped. And here he was thinking they had gotten off to such a great start.
He rose, though it was a bit of a struggle. “I’ll let you sleep. I’ve disturbed you enough for now.”
“You’re lying aren’t you?”
“What?”
“You aren’t going to take your advice. I can see it in your face. You’re going to head over to the Invigilator’s office at this ungodly hour, get yourself arrested, then get thrown into prison.” She shook her head, eyes like knives slicing whatever they beheld. “Imagine that. The Invigilator’s own son behind bars.”
She had stood up, and the Viriya Riven had always known back. The image couldn’t be any further from the hard, uniformed Essentier who killed Deathless without mercy, but the essence was still there. The same hardness, the same immovable belief, the same readiness to let her thoughts known.
He swallowed. The same willingness to use her Essence. Though hopefully, Riven was beyond that, right?
“Fine, yes, I’m going,” Riven said. “I’m tired of talking to him as an Invigilator. He’s going to face me as a Father whether he wants to or not.”
“Then by all means, go. Shoo. Don’t let me hold you back. Achieve your silly dreams of being recognized by your father.”
“You really think that’s what this is about.” Riven laughed. A breeze sneaked in, and the windchimes tinkled in companionable laughter. “I need to make him give me access to the Sept research. I need to find a cure for my mother. She’s dying, Viriya. Father and his acknowledgement can go screw off to the Chasm for all I care.”
Riven headed out, and Viriya said nothing. Not a word as he went to the door, not a word as he stepped beyond, no goodbyes as he closed it behind him. No appreciation for him taking the trouble to come over here and check in on her. What great friends they were.
He set out for the Invigilator’s Office. The night was deep and dawn was still waiting, but that was for the better. Riven had all the time in the world to prepare for his surprise visit.
#
They wouldn’t let him in. Which wasn’t much of a surprise considering the time. Even after Riven had shown his ID and stated his business was official, the guards at the gate said that without express permission, no one was allowed into the Invigilator’s Office when the big man himself wasn’t around. Apparently, Father was one of those “first in, last out” kind of workaholic freaks.
Riven, of course, made a show of going away but then circled around when he was out of sight and waited. Still an hour or two left before dawn, then perhaps another hour or two till Father showed up, but Riven had to keep himself busy somehow. Wouldn’t do to fall asleep. He’d miss Father’s arrival and the whole thing would be for nothing. Keeping himself wasn’t hard—he took a ladle of rage and swirled his thoughts into a maelstrom of all the accusations and indictments he’d fling at Father. It kept him awake, even when sleep hemmed in on him.
Employees began trickling in once the first light of day broke over the city. The gate guards checked their IDs and let them in. Now was Riven’s chance.
“Back again?” the guard asked as Riven approached from his hiding spot.
“I did say I was here on official busines,” Riven said. A small man in a trench coat gave him an odd look while his ID was being checked.
“Define official.”
“Shouldn’t you be addressing me as sir?”
The guard looked he’d been asked to spell the alphabets. “That’s not what your ID says. Sir.”
Riven sighed. The small man took back his ID and scurried inside, watching Riven all the while.
“Look, I need to talk to my father about the Deadmage I fought yesterday,” Riven said. “Important matters. He’ll be angry if he learns I was obstructed from giving him my report.”
“How can you give him your report if he isn’t here?”
Good thing Riven didn’t have the Sept crystal with him. He was sorely tempted to press it against the guard and turn him into a Necromancer, just so Riven could pass right through him, the same way Mhell did. “I just want to wait inside. I couldn’t sleep the whole night and my back is killing me because trust me, those Deadmages are a pain in the arse. And I can’t go back now, not when I need to let him know as soon as possible. Is it too much to ask just to let me in where I can rest up and wait in peace? Does it look like I’m going to cause trouble?”
The guard moved his jaw slowly as if his words needed to be chewed into shape before they came out. “I’m only doing my job. No one gets to see the Invigilator except when he’s in his office.”
“So help me do my job. If I wanted to break protocol, I’d be breaking into his house.” Now that Riven thought on it, maybe he should have broken into wherever Father lived. So stupid of him to have his thoughts so narrow. No, it was Viriya’s fault. He’d been so distracted, barely remembering to hide the Sept crystal in a secure, discreet location where only he’d be able to retrieve it.
The guard sighed like a deflated walrus. “Fine. Go on in then. Just don’t—”
“Yes, yes.” Riven waved him. Chasm, but the damn guards had nearly made him late. Father would arrive any time now, and Riven had to be ready.
The area was starting to wave up. Sweepers brushed dirt and dust away from the little stone courtyard, the Sept lights at the corners were flickering off, and the fountain with the treelike Scion’s statue had begun to gurgle out water. A huge waste, if Riven was asked. The inside was still dark, where the daylight was yet to find a proper way inside, but a few people were bumbling around with little snacks in their hand. Riven’s stomach rumbled. Food was the next big priority after this.
He had been right. Riven had barely settled on his position, leaning on one side of the staircase, when Father arrived.
“What are you doing here so early?” he asked with a little frown.
Riven shifted about until he was standing at the foot of the stairs, right in the middle so Father wouldn’t be able to simply walk past. Unless he pushed Riven out of the way, Which, now that Riven thought on it, wasn’t very unlikely. “I want to talk.”
“Wait until we are in my office—”
“I wouldn’t be here if it could wait.”
Father frowned. Too bad he had come unaccompanied by any guards or something like that. He looked reluctant to dirty his hands and push past Riven. “Be brief.”
“Go to the Chasm,” Riven whispered.
“I see. Now out of my way, boy.”
“Don’t boy me. And I’ll get out of your way once I say we’re done.”
“You forget yourself.” Father looked around, as if trying to catch someone’s eyes. Someone who could escort Riven out of here and let the poor, overworked Invigilator get on with his duties to Providence Demesne. “I have no wish to waste my time listening to your rambling complaints.”
“Of course you don’t.” Riven took a deep breath. He was approaching this wrong. Emotions never won against a man like Father. “I’m sorry, there are actual important things we need to discuss. About the Deadmage, and the Scions. Let’s go up to your office, all right?”
Riven didn’t wait for his response, only turned and led the way upstairs. After a moment, Father followed. Riven unclenched his hands from the fist they had formed. When they reached the middle of the staircase, Riven whirled around. Father wasn’t the kind of person to jump back and fall off, thankfully.
“Give me access to your Sept research,” Riven demanded. “We defeated the Deadmage. Viriya might have killed it, but if I wasn’t there, we’d all be dead. And you’d have a Deadmage—no a Wraithlock—to deal with. All prevented, thanks to me. I deserve to know.”
Father looked annoyed again. Any moment, a vein would pop on his temple. “And what will you do with my research?”
“I need to find a cure for Mother. Clearly, you’ve given up on her, so I don’t even know why you’re bothering with continuing this research. But I want in on it. I want funds to be redirected to the medical division of the research team. I’ve learned some surprising things too, and I need a professional to investigate it further.”
“None of that gives a right to know what I know.”
“What? I proved myself.”
“What exactly did you prove Riven? That you’re still a child throwing tantrums on my stairway? That you’re still here begging for some foolish notion of recognition?” He stepped closer. Riven was of a height with Father, but those amber eyes sized him down until he was little more than a dwarf before the Invigilator. “Go home and grow up. You’ll learn, and then you’ll earn your place instead of having to demand it.”
They hadn’t been shouting but they had still attracted spectators. No one was brazen and stupid enough to gawk openly, but riven felt the eyes. Surreptitious glances flitted past them, little looks thrown at them and then pulled away just as quickly. He and Father were under a spotlight, and there was no room for either of them to fail.
He made to move past, but Riven shuffled back until he was blocking Father again. “And what I said I’d earned it?”
“I would be able to tell. You fail to grasp it, but you lack the maturity—”
“No, no, you foolish old man. Just listen.” It was wonderful to be able to call Father whatever he wanted. He had an image to uphold, a harsh one, but calm and collected as well. One that wouldn’t let him react to barbs. So Riven smiled, free to call him whatever he wanted. “I have earned it in another sense. What if I said I knew a secret of the Deadmages, something not even Viriya knows yet?
“What do you mean? Out with it.”
Out with it. Riven smiled. Where had he heard those exact words before? “The Deathless will be hunting for something soon. A little artefact that they call a piece of a Scion.”
Father’s stare grew hard. “In my office, now.”
“I do not want to go into your stupid little office.”
With a heavy sigh, Father pushed past Riven. Damn him. Riven could haul him back bodily, but the constraint of not causing too much of a spectacle went both ways. Even Riven had limits to what he could do. He cursed, then followed Father into the Invigilator’s office.
Father took his usual seat behind the desk before he continued with their conversation. “How did you learn about the Scion piece?”
“I talked with the Deadmage before Viriya killed him,” Riven said. “I found a large crystal of Sept and when I showed it to the Deadmage, he said it was a piece of a Scion.”
“You have it with you?”
“Well, I had it with me. And I know where it is.” Riven let go of the smirk he’d been holding back and let it run amok across his mouth. “No sense in bringing it here. Perishable cargo.”
Father steepled his fingers. He had set his hat down when he had taken his seat, and now he considered it, as if picking at every thread and seam to see if any criticism was possible. Behind him, the paintings of their family looked on with steely dispassion. “Bring it here.”
Riven shook his head. “I need assurances first.”
“I don’t care. Once you’ve shown me proof of what you say, we will discuss this further. Until then, you are dismissed.”
Dismissed. Wasn’t Riven always dismissed when they were in this exact position? Always sent packing home while Father took refuge between his dark desk and the paintings with their darker gazes?
“Forget it,” Riven growled. “I’ll keep it to myself, until you learn to value the wants of others. You aren’t the centre of the universe.”
“And this is why I refuse to give you anything, Riven. When will you mature? When you learn obedience? Faith? You’re old enough, aren’t you?”
Mother’s missive rang in Riven’s head like the windchimes in Viriya’s apartment. Trust in your father. Listen to what he says…
Damn it, but how was he supposed to trust a man who had no faith in him? So hypocritical, to expect Riven to listen when he himself wasn’t heard at all.
“I think we’re done,” Riven said.
Father dismissed him with a flick of his wrist. Of course. Riven wasn’t even worth any parting words. His face twisted though he smoothed as he headed for the door.
A loud knock stopped him in his tracks. “Sir, may I enter?”
Viriya.
“Come in,” Father answered.
The door opened, and Viriya entered. And she was Viriya again, the same disciplined Essentier in her grey uniform again, gun belted at her waist and hair pinned up in a tight bun. Eyes too dark to discern the green in them. She glanced at him, motioning for him to stay as she walked past.
“Sir.” Viriya bowed, one hand held in a fist behind her back. “I am not sure what has been said here, but I can attest to Riven’s contribution in the Deadmage battle. If not for his contribution, I would not be standing here today.”
Father was silent. Really, had he thought Riven had been lying? But his heart was thudding. He’d been hiding the Scion piece from Viriya, and was father about to reveal it all to her? How would he explain why he’d hid it from her? “The only thing spoken that is worth mentioning is how Riven wants to know of the Sept research.”
“In my humble opinion, sir, he has earned a right to know.”
Riven glanced at her, a smile trying to creep onto his face. She ignored him, eyes only for Father. Later. He could show her his grateful smile later.
“Fine.” Father’s hands were steepled, but now it looked like he was pressing them together. “I have no wish to deal with this anymore. Take him to Rosiene when you leave for Welmark, later. And I want that report on last night. Dismissed.”
Rosiene? Riven’s sister was a well-regarded Essentier, but he had no idea how involved she was in with the research on Sept. He would have asked, but he caught Viriya’s warning glare. Enough was enough. He had pushed it as far as it could go. Or so she seemed to say without actually uttering it.
Riven gave a slight nod at Father’s general direction, then left the room. He could quiz Viriya—and thank Viriya—later. For now, he had to bask in the glory if his little victory after all.