Chapter 120: Rival
“Why should this heretic be allowed to join our sacred Order? We have been tasked with safeguarding the galaxy, with being the protectorate of its peoples, a task given us by Riiva itself. To allow such a blight within our walls is an insult to the countless and hallowed dead who sacrificed everything to keep their kind from burning the galaxy. Heretics are called such for a reason: The Reign of Laogoth the Terrible, The War of the Blackswords, the War of the Black Ships, the Return War, the many-numbered Heretic Wars, not to mention the numerous wars of the Marked Empire—what benefit do you have to weigh against all of that suffering?”
—Antokritus the Ancient, former Scholar Suprema of Directives in the Order of Riiva and founding member of the Scions of Riiva
Baeus’s glyph landed his small, atmospheric ship on one of the many circular platforms built atop Port Isle, Kaado’s main hub of incoming and outgoing traffic.
“Here we are,” Baeus said, his bed-pod detaching from its restraints. “Next stop, the Ship Charter—then Ganthelia.”
“Ganthelia?”
“That’s the world where our little friend comes from. Maybe the manufacturing plant will be able to help, or at least point us in the right direction.”
She stared down at Gizmo, who was still in her lap and still in low-power mode. “I hope so.”
The ship’s doors opened, and Baeus led the way out. Zaina walked alongside him, noticing the glares and glances from lancers, scholars, and attendants alike as they traversed the steel jungle of landing platforms.
Try not to think about them. They’re not what’s important right now.
“Okay,” Baeus said, “so when we get to the Ship Charter, I’ll go in and do the talking, if you don’t mind waiting outside.”
She shot him a nasty look. “Why, they don’t rent ships out to my kind?”
He sighed. “It’s not that, though they would be more likely to ask questions should you come inside; mostly, though, I don’t want them to see Gizmo. They’d have more questions about him than they would you.”
She hadn’t thought about that. If someone asked her what was wrong with her glyph, what was she going to say? Battery issue?
I probably should have planned this out a little better.
“Don’t worry,” Baeus said.
“I’m not worried.”
“Your anxiety is palpable. It’s going to be okay, Zaina.”
Her lips tightened. Nothing was ever that easy for her, but Baeus wouldn’t understand. Instead of engaging further she changed the subject. “Why don’t we take your ship?”
Baeus chuckled. “That little thing? That’s not rated for interplanetary travel. No, we’ll need something with a few more bells and whistles.”
Zaina grumbled, wishing she didn’t have to be out and about on Kaado.
They finally came to a windowless, square metal building supporting three separate landing platforms. Upon reaching the door Baeus turned to Zaina and said, “I’ll be right back.”
She nodded. Once he was inside she hobbled over to a bench near the entrance and plopped down. Beside her was a decorative plant, a Monmoran thrushcaller sculpted from transparent glass. In school she’d learned that thrushcallers spread their seeds by a partnership with birds—the plant produced a sweet nectar to attract birds, and while they gorged themselves, the powdery seeds of the thrushcaller would attach to the bird’s leg and fall off during flight.
She sighed. Even birds and plants can get along.
Sometimes she wished to be a bird, to be able to fly away from all her problems. To be accepted among her peers without question was a feeling with which she was most unfamiliar.
A harsh voice snapped her from her melancholy. “Hey, look! It’s the little heretic, all alone.”
Zaina’s head snapped toward the noise, stopping on a familiar sight. Her stomach dropped—this was the last thing she needed today.
Kurgan.
The lancer apprentice stood beside his mentor, Qylin, who also hated Zaina but was more restrained about it.
“Where’s your big friend?” Kurgan asked and then sneered.
A surge of anger coursed through her body. “Not today, Kurgan.”
Qylin looked on with an amused, smug grin as Kurgan took a step toward Zaina. “Oh, why not? You too busy planning your next murder?”
“You know damn well I didn’t murder anyone.”
“I know if you wanted to frame some poor attendant and make her body disappear you could.”
The words struck Zaina like a brick to the face, but she tried not to let it show. Ovela had been her friend, and then she had betrayed and attacked Zaina—how dare he try to use that against her now. “You don’t know the first thing about me.”
“I know at least two things,” he said, a vicious smile taking over his lips. “One, you’re an abomination. Two, you don’t belong here. Come to think of it, that’s all I need to know.”
She took a deep breath. He’s not worth it.
Even if she wanted to fight him—which, she had a feeling, would only make things worse—her leg wasn’t going to be of any use right now. And with his mentor there, ready to summon his cipher in an instant—no, even if she were healthy this wasn’t a winnable fight.
Kurgan glanced down at her leg. His smile deepened. “Oh, what’s wrong? Did you get hurt protecting that heretic enclave?”
She almost snapped, but stayed calm. Her eye twitched—there were so many things she wanted to say, but she knew it would fall on unwilling ears. “What, you’re stalking me now?”
This time Qylin replied, his arms crossed. “We keep an eye on those we believe to be acting against the Order’s best interests.”
“That’s right,” Kurgan said. “And we’ll be waiting for the day you show your true colors.”
Zaina sighed. What would Xyrthe say to get them to go away? She wished she could channel her mentor in that moment.
Kurgan was still going on, trying to goad Zaina into making the first move; at that point, she couldn’t hear him. A chorus of dark whispers drowned out his voice, chanting in unison, “Kill them, kill them, kill them…”
She wanted to shout, to scream something, anything—whatever would make the voices stop. They hadn’t been this aggressive in a while. Her eyes jammed shut, her head shaking as she tried to contain the rising shadow within, but it was about to break—
A familiar voice cut through the haze. “Hey! What’s all this?”
Zaina opened her eyes—Baeus had emerged from the charter building, and based on his face, he was pissed. He floated over, continuing, “Qylin! Standing by while a lancer, your pupil no less, harasses a fellow lancer? This is unacceptable. I expect better from you.”
Qylin’s eyes narrowed, and his crossed arms somehow crossed further into each other. “I dispute whether that thing is a fellow lancer, but so be it. Come, Kurgan.”
“I should speak to the disciplinary board about this,” Baeus said. “Conduct unbecoming of a lancer—incitement via failure to act. How does that sound on your record?”
Qylin stopped in his tracks. “Sir Scholar,” he said in a mocking tone, “you should know I’m only defending the Order of Riiva from those who would seek to take it from us.”
“The Scholar Suprema of Induction gave her his vote of confidence,” Baeus retorted. “She has as much right to be here as anyone. You included. Perhaps you might find the Scions a better fit for your temperaments. I could talk to the board about your expulsion if you wish.”
Qylin spoke softly, but his words were poison. “If you think any disciplinary board on this world will take her side, you’re not right in the head.”
“Yeah? Why don’t we roll the dice on that, then?” Baeus replied, not backing down. “Are you a gambling man, Qylin?”
Qylin’s eye twitched while he stared Baeus down; then, he turned away. “As much as I’d love to continue this thrilling conversation, we have official business of the Order of Riiva to conduct.”
“Be on your merry way,” Baeus said.
“And you enjoy your afternoon with an abomination.” With that, Qylin grabbed Kurgan’s arm and dragged the protesting boy away.
“This isn’t over!” Kurgan shouted toward Zaina.
Baeus sighed. “Insolent idiots. There was a time when lancers respected the authority of the lesser scholars, even in matters of extreme disagreement.”
A strange warmth filled Zaina’s chest—Baeus had stood up for her, the last thing she expected. Her suspicions were still there, but there was something else, too—the growing trust of a young bond? She didn’t know.
“Thanks,” she said. “For stepping in like that.”
One of his eyebrows raised. “Huh?”
“You know. For standing up for me. You didn’t have to do that.”
“Of course I did,” he said. “You’re my friend, aren’t you?”
The word struck her like a wave of understanding—that warm safety was something she hadn’t had for quite some time.
“Yeah,” she said, smiling. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
“You guess?” he replied. “Don’t sound too enthused, now.”
“No, sorry, I—I didn’t expect to make a friend today.”
Baeus chuckled. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
They found their ship and departed from Kaado. While they pulled away, Zaina remembered the question she’d asked Xyrthe when they’d returned. Baeus seemed like he’d be more receptive.
“Say,” she said, “do you know why Kaado is broken like that?”
Baeus huffed. “Why, that story goes back a long way—back to the Era of Chaos, the era following the fall of the Primortala; the Dark Master Laogoth, considered by many to be the father of all marked and creator of the Eldritch, was ever a thorn in the side of the Nova Rim, but at the Breaking of Velitrus—the ancient name for Kaado—the Alliance of Empires struck him down with a weapon that split the world asunder. Now, it’s unknown what that weapon was…”
Baeus continued on, and Zaina watched him passionately speak. A contented smile came over her lips. It felt good to have a friend.