“I have received the rewards for following a twisted path, and they are lacking. Give me a straight path, Lord Sumad. Forgive me my choices. Please Lord, show me the way back.”
She dropped her hands into her lap and took a long breath.
The sun edged over the horizon, a cloudless sky turning red, then blue, warming her face, neck, shoulders. More monks came to greet the dawn. In soft harmonies, the men swayed and bowed to the light as they had done every day for Polis knew how long.
‘Protect us, Lord,’ they called in slow harmonies. ‘With Your light, bless our prayers.’
Other figures gathered as the sun rose. Terese wasn’t certain where they’d come from. Their robes were the lighter colors and styles of the ancient paintings and friezes adorning Sumad Reach’s corridors. Young and old, watching the sun rise, some seated and some standing, listening to the monks’ chant.
She’d seen none of these figures in the hut nor the common room and their robes were of no style she’d seen in Polis Sumad. None of the monks seemed to notice the new arrivals.
She should have been surprised or shocked by the spirits’ appearance. She guessed they did not often show themselves to either monks or pilgrims. Instead, all she felt was the sun’s warmth and a sure confidence that somehow everything would work out. Terese joined the apparitions’ rhythms, humming past the words she didn’t know.
Then, the melody changed. Terese opened her eyes. The sun was higher, and pilgrims were emerging from their huts.
She was alone.
Patzer emerged from the men’s hut. Bleary-eyed, hair askew. He blinked against the sun and scowled at her in greeting. Even yesterday, she’d have risen off her pack to meet him. Just to keep his temper in check and make her day easier. Now, she didn’t care.
“Did you find anything?” she said.
“There were sightings of four young men with strange accents trying to cross over the border,” he said, and kicked a small rock. “Perhaps three months ago.”
She didn’t drop her eyes this time. “They’re not here, Patzer. They’re nowhere near here. Possibly they’ve gone further in or left the Polis. Whoever these contacts of yours are, they’re wrong.”
Patzer’s pointed finger trembled in the air. “That’s enough, Saarg! I know what I’m doing.” He retracted his finger and looked around as if worried they’d be overheard. “There are dozens of places they—”
“They’re… not… here,” she interrupted, not raising her voice.
Patzer’s face turned as red as she’d ever seen it. She’d just shut down a tirade that may have taken him an hour to complete, had she let him.
She stood to face him. “When I was a Missionary, I was charged with leading a squad to a small town named Rastreen. My nine squad members and I spent two weeks bothering the daylights out of the locals, hunting an elusive chaos pulse that Armer Stone insisted was right there. We were told we weren’t searching well enough. Eventually, I marched us home and reviewed the Royal transmission. Turned out, the hologram had said ‘Lake Rasten’, a resort up north. Assistant Leilaan. She transcribed the hologram. I had her giving geography lessons to her cohort for the next six months. Now she’s a Missionary, she’s very precise. It’s not your fault, Patzer. Go tell your source they’ve wasted your time, and demand compensation for wasting Seeker time and resources.”
Patzer’s face had run through every expression she’d seen from him, and some she hadn’t. When she was finished, he frowned into the silence, then threw back his head and laughed, before doubling over and clapping his hands in delight.
She couldn’t tell what he was laughing at.
“All right, Saarg. Let’s head to Sumad Reach!” He laughed again. “Very well, Patzer. Perhaps we should.”
10
Terese and Patzer stepped off the rattling tram and hurried through the Sumadan streets, their hoods up, avoiding eye contact with passing locals.
Sumad Reach Chapterhouse, its gray stone walls blackened with age, loomed above the tallest nearby apartments and buildings. The fortress had been designed five thousand years earlier to withstand uprisings and assaults. As five millennia of upheavals rose and subsided outside Sumad Reach’s thick walls, the chapterhouse had sustained itself with its open courtyards, water pipes and the Sumadan accelerated farms. Sumadan chapterhouses were far larger—and fewer—than back home, and didn’t require much external trade to sustain themselves.
As the last sunlight faded and the city glowbulbs brightened, Patzer produced his commission badge for the gate guard and they bustled into an open courtyard where guests could refill their water skins from the fountain. Rain seldom came to Polis Sumad, so roofless spaces were common.
Terese extended her hand to Patzer, smiled and lied. “If you hear anything about the renegades, I’d appreciate knowing.”
He seized her hand and leaned toward her, grinning. For a horrified moment she thought he would kiss her cheek. “Oh, I’ll find them, Head. I’ll find them and I’ll tell you all about it.”
They parted company, Terese leaving the courtyard by a corridor of frieze-laden stone walls.
Home.
Out of view of the courtyard, she galloped up the stairs three at a time.
On the third floor she unlatched the bulbs at a corner window and watched Patzer from the darkened corridor. Still in the courtyard, he lingered between rows of precisely-planted date and palm trees. Leafy vines climbed the enclosing four-storey walls before looping the thick iron grilling at the top.
It was normal for bounty hunters to wait at a Seeker’s pleasure, so she was surprised when the elderly Keeper Deridden approached Patzer within minutes.
Their body language was wrong. They gestured like equals. She squinted. Interactions between a Sumadan Keeper and Cenephan bounty hunter should have been like her finding herself in the presence of Royalty.
Together, Patzer and the Keeper entered the administration building, still gesturing in conversation.
Lijjen would not expect her for debrief yet. Protocol required her to present herself within an hour, so she had time. She wended through the corridors at speed, entering the top levels
