Making Peace, page 25
“I’m Belkan Candor. Maybe you’ve read my books?” I gave her my best book signing smile, which admittedly probably left a lot to be desired with half my face swollen and bloody. That probably explained why the old charm didn’t work on her, judging by the way she looked more skeptical than likely to swoon.
“Books? Why is a writer chasing me?”
“Well…” I chanced another glance at Ugly and noticed the leather pauldron which displayed his Keeper’s emblem was missing. He’d worn it into the warehouse, so it had probably been torn off by whatever trap she’d used to capture him. Maybe she didn’t know we were Keepers. Or she was playing me to see if I would feed her lies without torture. The possibilities made my head hurt. Without Ugly to guide me, I decided to try for honesty.
“My friend there is a Keeper.” Friend? Yes, I supposed he was, considering the circumstances. Anyone who might ride to my rescue was a friend right now. “He’s investigating what’s going on between the top two Houses. There were some killings…” I trailed off when she cringed at this last part, and I wondered again what kind of killer she could be if she couldn’t stand the thought of her own handiwork. “We’re not here to punish anyone,” I hastened to assure her, even though I wasn’t entirely sure if it was true or not. “We just want some answers.”
My voice and carefully calculated rising pitch (it was on purpose, I swear, not unmanly terror at all) was bringing Ugly around faster, and his head had stopped lolling. His eyes were still rolling in his head and trying to focus, eyelids fluttering.
She was eyeing him again. Her body language screamed alarm – probably because he outweighed her by double or even triple.
Ugly’s eyes finally focused, and he regarded us both in silence, first inspecting her at great length. She pursed her lips but bore his scrutiny before he turned to me and gave me a once-over.
“You look more terrible than usual.” His gravelly voice filled the space, bouncing off the crates.
Ina winced but did not lose her defiant expression.
I nodded toward our hostess. “I was just telling her… Ina, is it?... that I’m more used to writing books, and we just had some quick questions to ask.”
She jumped when I used her name. One hand twitched toward a knife strapped to her thigh and I decided then and there not to ever use her name again. My companion was obviously not in his right mind and decided quite the opposite.
“Actually, Ina,” another twitch at his deep voice, and a slight hunching of her shoulders, “we are here to take you into custody, under authority of the Keepers.”
The room was silent. I wondered who would claim ownership of my estate in the event of my untimely death.
Ina uncrossed her arms and stood up, apparently remembering she was in control here. She took a step toward us. My bladder gave a lurch, but I regained control at the last possible second.
Ina’s eyes narrowed at Ugly and her hands balled into fists. “I don’t think so,” she said. “I’ve had enough of being handled. That’s all done.” She regained some of her composure, straightening up with a disdainful look on her face. “So you’re hunting me to take me back to Marack. I’ll never allow that. I’ll kill you both, and anyone else, who tries it.”
She turned away from us and stared off into one corner of the room. “You both know where I live. I can’t let you go. I have to—“ her voice gave out, and she drew a steadying breath before turning back and making eye contact with me. “I have to make sure you can’t hurt me.”
“Believe me,” I said, more sincerely than I have ever said anything to any woman in my entire life, “I have no desire to try to hurt you.”
Ina looked skeptical, dangerously skeptical, so I continued. “My friend here, he’s a bit woozy, not thinking clearly. We just need some answers. We don’t even need answers, really. Come to think of it, I’m not interested in this case anymore.”
“Bel,” Ugly said, “shut up.”
“No, you shut up!” I snapped back at him. “I’m not dying in some Saint-forsaken warehouse to get answers for some sociopath!” I turned back to Ina. “Your Hegemon can go hang himself for all I care. I don’t want any part of this.”
Ina furrowed her brow and took a step toward me, and I wondered if she wasn’t buying it. Step, step, closer and closer, the collection of knives shifting ever nearer.
I huddled back against my chair as far as I could get, straining to keep my face away from Ina while still somehow keeping my one good eye on her.
She stopped in front of me and leaned down, staring into my face with alarming scrutiny. I held my breath.
“…What do you mean, he can go hang?”
It took me a moment to remember I’d said that during my rant. I considered what she might want to hear. “I saw what he did to some of the girls in his House,” I said. “I talked to Marsa.”
Marsa’s name seemed to catch something in her, and her eyes widened before narrowing again. She inspected me from real close up, nostrils flaring like a predatory animal. I wondered if she wasn’t going to use the knives but simply maul me to death with hidden fangs. I thought of the beast man from my dream, and my sister’s warning. Too late, Katie. I made some stupid decisions, and now here I am. Only it’s not a Valkyrie who gets killed. It’s me.
“We are taking you into custody.” Ugly’s voice pulled her attention away from me. “Protective custody, if necessary. But there are crimes to answer for.”
Ina lunged toward Ugly, her teeth flashing as she bared them. “Yes, there are crimes to answer for. Awful crimes. So many crimes.” She spat the words in his face, and I wondered that she was getting so close to him after being afraid of him. She stood up and marched away from us, one hand crossing over her belly. I thought she was reaching for a knife, but…
No, not a knife. Fingertips brushing her belly. Something Marsa had said flickered through my mind. Ina had been pregnant with the Hegemon’s child. Then came a beating, a bad one, and being cast out of the House. Not just sending her away.
What would the Hegemon do to an illegitimate child?
“He wronged you,” I said. I didn’t mean to say it, it just came out. And as much as I wanted to stop talking, the next part came out, too. “He harmed you. But not only you.” And my eyes went to her belly, saying loud enough what I didn’t have the guts to say. Her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkled with moisture, and she turned sharply away from us, hiding her face. I saw Ugly give me a sharp look but my eyes were fastened on Ina.
Moments went by, stretching, maybe a minute of quiet in the room. Then I heard Ina’s voice, so low I had to strain to hear the words. “It’s too late. You know where I am. Doesn’t matter if you’re not with him, I can’t let you stop me. And I can’t let you take me. There’s only one thing I can do.” She drew a shaky breath, still facing the corner, collecting herself for the task. She turned toward us and drew one of the curved knives from her waist.
The ropes cut into my wrists as I yanked at them in frantic desperation, but there was no give in them.
Ina’s eyes looked apologetic but her hand was firm as she moved toward me. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, closing in on me.
“There’s another way,” Ugly said.
Ina and I both froze, not sure what to make of the words. She turned to look at Ugly, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the razor edge of the knife poised only an arm’s distance away from my flesh.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“I can offer you another way, girl. Out of this mess, out of this life. A better life, even.”
She tried to laugh but choked on it, turning it into more a sob. Still, her hand holding the knife to me never wavered. “A life? After this? After all this? What kind of life do you think I could have?”
Ugly’s face looked stern. “There’s more than this. He doesn’t control everything. I said I’m here to take you into custody. That could be protective custody, as a witness. He’s done enough to both of us to want to see some justice done.”
“Justice?” Ina spat on the floor. Her hand moved away from me and pointed the knife toward Ugly, punctuating her syllables with light jabs at the air. “Why would they give me justice? A servant of the First House, I’m practically property to him. He owns the courts. Who’s gonna hold him accountable? You?” She slashed the air with the knife and turned to pace back and forth in front of us. “Justice? On this world? He is justice!” She spat again, then turned to Ugly. “That’s what you want to offer me. Fake protection?”
Ugly shook his head, still not sensible enough to be afraid of the angry lady waving a knife just under his nose. “I am offering you more than that. Disappear with us. Work for us.”
The room fell dead silent.
Ina found her voice. “You want me to work for you?”
Ugly nodded.
“But… why?” she asked.
“You hate the Houses. You kill with expert precision. You’re well trained, for sure. And because I hate the First House, too. Our cell was hit hard in an attack I’m sure he ordered. We lost a lot of friends.”
Ugly’s expression darkened, as did mine. For a moment I felt a connection with this girl who was so wronged by the Hegemon. Maren’s face flashed in front of my mind’s eye, and in my anger I almost forgot we were held captive. Almost.
Ina drew another breath, leaning back and closing her eyes. “No. It’s too late. I don’t want another life. I don’t even want this life. I want to finish my work, and then go join my sweet baby.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. Ugly thought he did. “I know what that’s like,” he said. “To lose a kid. To not want to go on.”
Ina shook her head. “No, it’s more than that. I’ve done… things.” She cut her eyes to the side, avoiding eye contact. “Terrible things. Things I can’t take back.”
Ugly shifted in his seat to pull himself up straighter but did not break his gaze on her face. “Yeah, I know what that’s like, too.”
A small gasp escaped her lips as she choked on a breath. “Tell me.”
Ugly looked firm, immovable. I remembered Shield saying he didn’t talk about these things, and I wondered if even this could break his iron defense.
“Tell me,” she begged. Her arms fell limp at her sides, the clutched knife entirely forgotten.
Ugly held her gaze for a long moment, not moving. Seconds stretched out into minutes, his jaw working. He’d open his mouth, only to close it again. Then the light went out of his eyes, and he started talking, but I could tell he wasn’t really seeing her.
“My home world, Iron Sky, is split between two factions, and we’re always fighting each other. Each side really does plan to wipe the other population out, to finally make their people the dominant force on the planet. And the Empire encourages this because it makes for damn hard soldiers in their military.” He sounded bitter. “My wife and I lived in one of the towns close to the border. Our two daughters, too. I commanded many soldiers, in one of the longer campaigns of the war.
“On Iron Sky, everyone fights. Imperial law prevents women from serving now without a waiver, but on our world, there are no exemptions. We say that even our women are made of iron.”
Ugly smiled to himself, his hooded eyes seeing something in his past. The smile slipped away, and a haunted look swept over his face. “And I took great pride in that, until I saw the battlefields.”
Ugly looked at each of us in turn. “Have you ever seen hundreds of dead and dying teenage girls strewn across a field? Can you imagine the crying, the screaming little voices?” He closed his eyes, shaking his head as if trying to disperse the images.
I knew memory didn’t work like that, knew it very well. I remembered Maren and I tried to multiply that by a thousand, couldn’t handle the resulting image, and turned my face away.
Ugly nodded knowingly. “It’s awful. You can’t even imagine. But we soldiers didn’t have a choice. You don’t disobey the Iron Kings. We soldiers told ourselves the scenes were normal, casualties of war, that all the horror was for glory.” His voice got rough and he swallowed. He couldn’t look at either of us. “We were committing these atrocities for the sake of our people. For our families. To advance our cause. I kept remembering my girls back home. I tried not to picture them lying in those blood-soaked fields. I was killing so I could end the war before they were old enough to be conscripted. I became a monster to the other side, a hero to my own.”
Ugly laughed, a harsh and angry sound. “A man driven by that kind of purpose can do anything, no matter how terrible. I kept killing their soldiers: little boys and little girls who should have been at home, kids who shouldn’t have been anywhere near the battlefield. I don’t even know how many I killed, by my own hand and by the men killing at my command.”
He swallowed hard, eyes pointed in Ina’s direction but not really seeing her. Ugly was silent again for a full minute, and I didn’t know if he was going to continue. When he did, his voice was rough and firm despite the vacant expression on his face.
“The enemy engaged us, hard, a last stand for the region. We knew it, they knew it. We gave it everything we had. We gave too much. Command pulled squadrons out of formation for a last push, which let bombs slip through.”
Ugly stopped and his eyes focused on Ina. “They pounded my town into blackened ruins.” He squeezed his eyes shut, very hard.
His breath rattled, but Ugly continued. “My girls were gone. My wife, too.” He hung his head, eyes and teeth clenched. “Everything I’d done, for nothing. Worse, the people of my nation called me a hero. They thanked me for my service. A monster like me, the horrible things I’d done, and all for absolutely nothing. I hated hearing it, their thanks, their praise.” His voice choked off, his face twisting with the bitter taste of the last word.
The room was quiet again. Ina had set her knife down on the crate, leaning back with her hands on the crate for support. A tear ran down her cheek.
Ugly spoke again, that iron mask closing back around his inner self. “I did all of that for nothing. My family was gone. But I have done what you did, a thousand times over. And now I’m here, working to make this a better place for people like you. That’s what I’m offering you. Not happiness, not an easy life. Atonement, as best as can be made.”
Ina’s face looked hard, resolute. Her shoulders started to shake, a look of rage smearing her features. And then suddenly her resolve collapsed, giving way, and she rushed forward. She threw herself on Ugly, dropping into his lap. She was a tiny thing, dwarfed against his body. She drew her knees up to her chest and curled into a little ball. She clung to him and buried her face in his neck, sobbing.
Ugly’s face betrayed no shock or surprise at this turn of events. He closed his eyes and rested his chin on top of Ina’s head, bringing in his shoulders to embrace her as best he could.
He let her weep, crying herself out. It dragged out for a long time, her little sobs echoing in the dark room. The candle burned down to half its original height. Still, he let her cry into him, cradling her. We had a miracle there, in that time we spent together as Ina wept and Ugly’s tears ran down into her hair. Our miracle didn’t happen in a grand cathedral or under a bright sky on a warm day. Instead it happened in a dark and damp shack in a miserable little town. In that rotting place, two broken killers forgave each other. Maybe they were the only people who could understand each other enough to do it, to really know what it meant. In each other they found not absolution, but compassion, enough to admit their terrible deeds, things no one else could ever accept.
Eventually, Ina’s sobs quieted, and she stopped shaking.
After a while, Ugly nudged her with his chin. “Let us go, Ina.”
She sniffed hard, wiping her face on his shirt. Her hair had come mostly undone and covered her face. She uncurled her long legs and stood up, moving around and cutting him free.
I wondered if it had been a ruse, if Ugly was going to grab her. But he just rubbed his wrists as Ina came over and cut me free. She wasn’t able to meet my eyes, and she let her hair hang between us as a curtain. I thanked her, which seemed to hurt her even more.
We gathered up our things, Ina covered up with her cloak, and we headed home.
When we arrived back at the safehouse, the Keepers and the staff gave us curious stares as we marched Ina through the house, muddy boots and all. Ugly took her to the holding cells underground, and she walked into a cell without protesting. She sat there on the floor, huddled over with her back to us, not even looking around when the lock clicked into place and sealed her in.
CHAPTER 36
UGLY WAS IN Shield’s room briefing her on what had happened. She’d been frantic when she found out we were missing for hours, but the others had kept her in bed. Sen and Vapor were playing another one of their games in the mess hall.
Everyone seemed occupied with some sort of activity, except me. Which was just fine, really, since I had something I wanted to look into. I slipped downstairs to the holding cell area, scooping up a rather simple and undecorated candelabra as I went.
Polished metal gleamed as the light went ahead of me into the basement. My worn boots made only light tapping sounds as I descended the stone steps. Muffled sobbing came to me as I crept forward.
The cell consisted of one stone ceiling, three stone walls, and a wall of iron bars with a set of sliding iron bars for a door. The floor was stone covered in clean straw, which gave the cell a dusty smell. It was pitch black with no windows. A wooden bucket sat in one corner, and a three-legged stool sat in another. A plate of food and a cup of water had been slipped under the cell door for the prisoner, but both looked untouched.
Ina sat where we’d left her the day before, with her back to the door. Her shoulders shook as she sat there, hunched over into a ball of misery.
Should I have been glad on behalf of her victims? Sad for her, as a victim herself? These were questions better left to a philosopher or a priest. It was enough for me in that moment to feel grief at the brokenness of the girl huddled in a dark cell.
