Song of the Sea Spirit: An epic fantasy novel (The Mindstream Chronicles) (33 page)

From that moment onward, everything happened too quickly for Boden’s thoughts to keep up. They took his sword and would have taken his dagger had he not lost it in the fight with the smugglers in the strait. They also took the shirt off his back and gave him another, but this one had two black bands sewn onto the right sleeve instead of the Legion insignia. A single band meant deserter, but he didn’t know what two meant. “I’m not a deserter,” Boden said to Pharson as he was led outside. “What’s the second band for?”

The corporal glared at him. “Two bands means you’re a traitor. It means kill on sight, so if you try to escape, they won’t bother with a court-martial.”

Traitor. The word curled his lip. How could they think him a traitor simply by writing down what he’d seen? He hadn’t intentionally shown his journal to anyone. Were his tentmates also being prosecuted for reading it?

They didn’t give him a chance to gather his belongings or bid his friends goodbye before shackling his wrists in iron and putting him in the back of a wagon with an armed guard. Couldn’t they have at least let him ride his own horse?

The men of company forty-four gathered to watch the prisoner be taken away. Most watched silently. A few whispered to each other, no doubt asking what he’d done wrong.

Korlan pushed his way through the crowd to the front as the wagon started off with a lurch. “Boden? What the hell?” He ran to catch up and jogged behind the wagon as it rumbled across the dirt. “What’s going on?”

“Don’t tell anyone what happened on patrol.”

The wagon picked up speed, and Korlan was beginning to fall behind. “You did nothing wrong,” he yelled over the jingle and creak of harness tack and the rumble of the wheels across the ground. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It was my fault, not his.”

“It’s not your fault,” Boden yelled back. “Say nothing.”

Korlan stopped running and stood there, watching as they got farther away. Boden pressed his lips together in regret. He’d thought he’d spend ten years serving in the Legion and would miss Rasmus the most, but Korlan had been the truer friend. Korlan finally lifted one hand to his brow in a salute and stood that way until he was but a speck in the hazy morning.

Chapter 19

Life without Elder Kassyl seemed duller and emptier, even though Jora had barely known him. The simple fact that she could no longer share with him her discoveries about the tones made the world seem lonelier. She went through her lessons with Bastin, responding as if she were sleep-walking, which frustrated the disciple and earned Jora extra duties and reading assignments. Jora didn’t care.

She spent most of her free time rewriting her notes and Elder Kassyl’s in a new journal she’d bought at the market. Though her hand ached, she was determined to write as much of it down as she could remember without having to Mindstream it back to herself. Now and then, she looked up and wiped a tear from her eyes.

What she needed was something to pull her out of this melancholy. A walk to the docks would do her good, especially if Sundancer was nearby. The blisters on her feet had scabbed over, and her heels had recovered from the pounding they’d taken on the last walk. She changed from her sandals to boots and went upstairs to knock on Gilon’s door, hoping to talk him into going with her. There was no answer.

She went back downstairs, certain to find him doing a shift in the Observation Request Room, but only Adriel and another novice were there. When Adriel was done with her current client, Jora tapped her sleeve. “Have you seen Gil?” she asked. The people waiting their turn in line glared at her.

Adriel shook her head. “Not since the midday meal. Did you check his room?”

“I knocked, but he didn’t answer.”

“He’s a heavy sleeper, so if you knocked lightly on his door, he might not have heard. If he doesn’t answer a good, hearty fist banging, go in and sit on him. That’ll wake him up.”

She thanked Adriel and started back to the dormitory. If he was asleep, she didn’t want to bother him, but she didn’t want to walk to the docks alone, either. If those rude fishermen were there again, she certainly wouldn’t want to have to face them without an ally. She decided to try his room once more.

She knocked on his door, harder this time. Still no answer. She used the bottom of her fist to beat on it, rattling it in its frame. The latch gave under her pounding, and the door swung open. Jora reached for the handle to pull it closed again, not wanting to barge in, but she caught a glimpse of a sandaled foot draped on the floor beside the bed.

She pushed the door open to peek around it. The stench of urine and feces assaulted her. Gilon was sprawled across the bed, face down, arms above his head. That couldn’t have been comfortable. Was he sick?

“Gil?” She shook him gently. “Gil, wake up.” She shook him harder, and then stopped, realizing that his body wasn’t moving like it should. She turned him over and gasped at the sight of his bloodshot eyes, open and staring. “No,” she whimpered.

His face was gray, drained of its pinkish hue, and his tongue, fat and blue, protruded from between lips that were peeled back from his teeth in a ghastly grimace.

“No, no, no,” Jora cried backing away. She put her hands over her mouth in an attempt to contain her horror. She ran to the staircase and pounded down the steps as fast as she could. “Someone help! Help!”

“What is it, Novice?” an elder asked, rushing to her as she reached the ground floor. His brow was pulled taut in concern.

“It’s N-Novice Gilon. Up in his room.” She pointed up, her hand and arm trembling.

“What’s wrong with him?” the elder asked, gripping her by the upper arms. “Is he sick?”

“He’s... he’s dead.” The words came out in a whisper, her voice failing her.

Several people had gathered around, all the ranks of the Order and a couple of the uninitiated staff, too.

The elder turned to an adept and instructed him to see that a medic was sent to Gilon’s room immediately. Then he led Jora to the dining hall and sat her down at the table closest to the door. “Sit here for a spell, Novice. We’ll handle everything.” He walked away and returned a moment later with a cup of water and a warm, comforting hand on her back. “I’ll have Elder Sonnis come find you here. I’m sure he and the physician will have questions for you.”

He left her there, trembling and sobbing, unable to erase the image of Gilon’s body from her mind. How had he died? Had he fallen and struck his head, perhaps laid down to rest? No, there would have been blood, wouldn’t there? Could he have suffered some affliction and collapsed onto his bed? She thought back to the morning, trying to identify a clue in his demeanor or appearance that she’d overlooked. He had been sullen that morning, quieter than usual, but she found that he could be moody at times, especially in the mornings.

“Novice Jora?”

“Yes?” She looked up to find Naruud, the blond physician who’d attended Elder Kassyl.

Naruud slid onto the bench next to her and put a warm, comforting hand over hers. “I’m very sorry for your loss. I understand Novice Gilon was a friend of yours.”

She nodded, looking down at the woman’s hands, slender with well-manicured nails, though the years showed in the wrinkled skin. “He was one of the first people I met when I arrived. Someone needs to notify his family. I should do it.”

“You needn’t worry about that. Elder Sonnis will send word of his death to his family, and his body will be shrouded and returned to them. Were you the one who found him?”

She nodded, shaking loose more tears from her eyes.

“Did you touch him at all? Perhaps move him?”

“I shook him a little, thinking he was asleep, and I turned him over. That was when I saw—” His face. His gruesome face with its protruding tongue and eyes. That wasn’t how she wanted to remember him. “How did he die?” Jora asked.

“It’s a bit of a mystery at the moment. Novices die from time to time due to the stress the Talent for Witnessing puts on the brain, but this is the first time I’ve seen petechial hemorrhages in the eyes.”

“What does that mean?”

“Bloodshot eyes are commonly found in someone who’s died of asphyxiation. It’s an unusual finding. I’ll know more after I consult with the coroner. We’d need to look at his brain before we’ll know for sure.”

His brain? They were going to saw Gilon’s head open? A spasm in Jora’s stomach pushed a foul taste up her throat, and she swallowed it back down with a few gulps of water.

“Of course, his family might not allow us to take such measures. You said you found him face down?”

She nodded, wishing she could erase the image from her mind.

“Do you know of anyone who wished him ill?” Naruud asked.

“No. Everyone liked him. He was friendly and funny and went out of his way to help people. No one would wish him ill. Did someone... kill him?”

Naruud looked over her shoulder as if to see whether anyone was near enough to hear. “I doubt it, but we have to rule out the improbable before we can narrow down the actual cause of death. It’s a strange coincidence that Elder Kassyl died with the same—”

Jora stopped her with a “Shhh!” and a raised finger. Something wasn’t right. An odd feeling crept up her neck like ghostly fingers. It wasn’t quite like the feeling of being watched; she’d replaced the barring hood the last time she used the Mindstream. This was more like someone was
there
. “One moment.” She opened the Mindstream and examined the scene. A pair of eyes, shrouded in a mist, hovered over the physician’s left shoulder. Someone was observing Naruud, eavesdropping on their conversation, but she couldn’t see who it was. “If you have suspicions of foul play,” she said, closing the Mindstream, “keep them to yourself. This is the Justice Bureau. No one here would be involved in a crime, especially one so despicable.”

“Of course. Again, my deepest condolences on your loss.” Naruud stood and left.

Jora hoped the physician noted the look of warning she tried to convey and paid it heed. If Gilon’s death wasn’t a tragic accident, then it likely had to do with the theft of her books. One death on her shoulders was awful enough. She didn’t want a second.

Adriel came into the dining hall, her eyes bloodshot and face streaked with tears. She rushed over to Jora. “Is it true?”

“It’s true.” Jora stood, and the two women embraced, which renewed the tears for them both. For the first time in her life, Jora felt like she was among people who understood her, who didn’t fear her abilities or disrespect or pity her because she was different, and now her best friend was slain. Murdered. And it was all because of her.

Gilon wasn’t quiet like Jora. He wasn’t the kind of person who backed down from conflict or let people get away with something bad. She knew that, and yet she’d shared information with him that ignited his scrappy nature. He was dead, and it was her fault.

“I can scarcely believe it,” Adriel said, pulling back. She sank down to the bench, her hands writhing in her lap. “It wasn’t like he was an elder who’d been Mindstreaming for thirty years.”

Jora startled, looking deeply into Adriel’s eyes. “What did they tell you?”

“Elder Sonnis said he had a stroke. He told me sometimes novices don’t survive the training. It can make the brain bleed. Gil hid his Talent for so long that the stress of it was too much for him.”

Jora didn’t believe it for a second. The physician had only left a few minutes ago, and she certainly hadn’t said anything about a stroke. With all these members of the Order, justice officials who’d taken an oath to uphold the laws, not one of them was going to pursue the truth. And they called themselves Truth Sayers? More like Truth Hiders.

Gilon was murdered, and whoever had done it would get away with it... unless someone observed him in his final minutes to see what happened.

Jora would. She owed it to Gilon to find out the truth. She would see the face of Gilon’s killer.

Sonnis entered the dining hall and brushed his hands off as he approached. His eyes were solemn and moist. “Novice Jora, Novice Adriel. I’m so very sorry for the loss of Novice Gilon. It’s devastating to lose a member of the family, especially one so young. Novice Gilon had such a bright future ahead of him. His untimely death is a terrible tragedy, and the entire Order mourns this devastating loss.”