A Flight of Broken Wings, page 16
part #1 of The Aeriel Chronicles Series
Ashwin narrowed his eyes. “I’m coming with you, aren’t I? It would be a pointless waste of resources not to work together on this.”
Ruban sighed, conceding the point despite himself. Besides, Ashwin had proved to be useful in the past, and Ruban would not let his pride get in the way of finally finding his father’s killer. “Fine. What do you want to know?”
“You said that you, your father and Miki were the only people in the house at the time of the attack. Was anyone else supposed to be there who wasn’t?”
Ruban shook his head. “No. In fact Miki wasn’t really supposed to be there either. I’d just invited her over for dinner because Baba had made kofta that day, and it was her favourite.” His lips quirked slightly into the ghost of a smile. “And I wanted to…well, it doesn’t matter. Nobody else was supposed to be at the house that wasn’t.”
“Hmm,” murmured Ashwin, staring thoughtfully down at his plate. “So you and Miki were basically backwater adolescents who had never seen an Aeriel outside of a TV screen in your lives, no offence. That leaves your father. Is there any reason why he would have been on Tauheen’s radar? Why she might have felt threatened by him, or stood to benefit from his death in some way?”
“Threatened?” Ruban laughed. It was a bitter thing, frayed at the edges. “My father was a farmer, Ashwin. The most exciting thing that ever happened to him was finding pests in the crops. What could he possibly have done to threaten the goddamned Queen of the Aeriels?”
“What about your uncle, then? Could it have had something to do with him? Could Tauheen have attacked your family to send some sort of a message to him? He was working with the IAW at the time, wasn’t he?”
Ruban frowned. “I suppose that’s possible. I don’t see the point, though. Uncle Subhas was working for the IAW back then, but he wasn’t anywhere near important enough to be worth threatening. And even if they had wanted to threaten him, why come all the way to Surai to attack our home, when his own family had lived in Ragah for years?”
Ashwin shrugged. “Well, it was worth a shot. ’Sides, it’s the most likely angle we’ve come up with yet. I suppose we’ll find out more once we get there. If the Aeriels don’t off us first, that is,” he moaned.
Ruban smirked, wiping his sauce-stained hands on a paper napkin. “You know, you’re good. Better than most, even. But not nearly as good as you think you are. You know what they say about fooling some people all the time and all people some of the time…”
Squinting up at him through an impressive frown, Ashwin snapped: “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Ruban laughed, looking across the table at the young man with an expression that was almost fond. After all, it was hard to completely hate someone who had slugged the Aeriel Queen with a table to save your ass. “This whole wide-eyed, distressed damsel act you’ve got going on. It’s just that, isn’t it? An act. Not that you aren’t good at it, mind. Quite brilliant, in fact. Had me fooled for a while there. The rest of the team certainly buy it too, though I’m not so sure about Sim. She always was the smart one,” he sighed. “You Hunt better without a sifblade than most actual Hunters with one, my man. You can drop the act now, you know. Entertaining as it is, it has to be exhausting.”
Ashwin stared at him, wide-eyed, and Ruban suppressed the urge to laugh again. It was a pleasure to have rendered the young man speechless, just this once. The guy was too clever by half anyway.
As if sensing his thoughts, Ashwin spluttered indignantly. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. Honestly, you’re hallucinating–”
“You mustn’t think much of me, if you think you can fool me with the same trick every time,” Ruban interrupted him mildly. “Honestly, if you must be deceptive, at least be original about it. I’m not saying you are not a spoilt aristocrat with way too much money, and too little sense to go with it. Case in point, anyone with half a brain would have cut off that hair by now. Vandran weather just isn’t meant for that sort of vanity. But being too stupid to survive in the real world doesn’t mean you can’t be handy in a fight, which you obviously are. The Zainians weren’t all tripping on acid when they handed you this case after all.”
At that, Ashwin threw his head back and laughed, and Ruban once again had the faint impression of bells tinkling in the distance. “Well, I suppose you’ve got me then,” he giggled, holding up his hands once he had gotten his breathing under control. He looked almost relieved. “You’ve discovered my deep, dark secret. I was a super-secret badass all along. Whatever shall I do with myself now?”
“Stop being an annoying piece of shit and let me get some sleep, for starters,” Ruban said, walking to his bed and withdrawing a toothbrush from his backpack. Just as he was about to enter the washroom, however, he turned back. “I don’t know what your story is, my lord, or what you’re really doing here. And I’m kinda busy with all the Aeriels and their formulas right now to spare much thought to it. But after this is all over, I will find out what you’re really up to. So don’t think you’re going to be able to fool me forever.”
“After this is all over,” smiled Ashwin, though there was an edge to his voice that Ruban couldn’t quite place. “I’d gladly tell you myself. If you don’t kill me first, that is.”
Ruban grinned. “Well, I suppose that is always a possibility.” Then, as he was about to shut the door to the washroom, he hesitated. “Thank you for everything, Ashwin. I mean it. You didn’t have to help. But you did. And well, don’t get this into your head or anything, but I am grateful. I won’t forget it.”
“I believe you,” Ashwin said, and for once, Ruban thought he was being truthful. He pushed the door shut behind him.
Surai hadn’t changed much since the last time he had seen it, over eight years ago. It wasn’t the sort of place that changed much. There was a new supermarket across the street from the old temple and the old movie theatre had been renovated into a new movie theatre with a cafeteria attached to it. Apart from such little cosmetic alterations, however, Surai might as well have been stuck in a time warp that never quite got out of the fifties.
The little town was surrounded by farmland, with small farming villages dotting the peripheries of its border. The sight of the crops swaying gently in the monsoon breeze made Ruban’s heart clench. He had never felt so close, and yet so horribly far away from home.
He pulled over beside a white, two-storey house close to the edges of the town. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was going to say, or how he was going to say it in a way that made any sense to his audience. But he’d have to start somewhere, and this was as good a starting point as any.
Shobha Varna looked almost exactly like Ruban remembered her, round and rubicund; the only indication of the passage of time, the little tufts of greying hair around her temples. She hugged him like a mother reunited with her long-lost child – smiling through the tears that ran down her blotchy cheeks. And if Ruban was honest with himself, he knew that she was the closest thing to a mother that he had ever known. Her husband stood beside her, looking just as pleased, if a tad less likely to burst into tears. For that, Ruban would be eternally grateful.
“My child!” Shobha exclaimed, her fingers gripping Ruban’s arms hard enough to bruise. “My poor, dear child. It’s been so long. Over eight years I haven’t seen you. No phone calls, not even so much as a letter. Did you not miss me at all?” At this, her voice broke all over again.
Ruban closed his eyes, though whether it was out of guilt or sorrow he didn’t really know. He had missed her, missed them all. And he knew it was unfair of him to have cut off all contact with his hometown after he left for Ragah. Shobha had loved him like her own child, had baked him more cakes and told him more bed-time stories than he could count. He had no excuse for what he had done, except for the fact that it had been too painful.
For the first few years, even the thought of Surai had brought with it memories of that fateful day, memories of everything he had had, and everything he had lost. He couldn’t imagine going back there just to see the charred remnants of his old life. It had been easier, so much easier to pretend like that part of his life had never existed. Like it had all been a dream he could forget. It had been a selfish thing to do, a cruel thing. He knew that now. But he had been eighteen and far too busy coping with the destruction of his own world to spare a thought for anybody else’s.
“Ah, so it is the Kinoh boy,” said a gruff voice from the door and Ruban turned around to see the grizzled Mr. Gagan, standing at the doorway with a jute sack slung over his shoulder, his bright grin showing crooked teeth. “I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadna seen it for m’self. What brings you this way, my lad?”
“Indeed,” said a woman’s voice behind him. Apparently, word of his arrival had gotten around rather quickly. Ruban squinted to see who was talking just as Rumika’s chubby face appeared over Gagan’s shoulder. Rumi was the wife of Mr. Varna’s younger brother and the most enthusiastic (if not the most accurate) gossip Ruban had ever had the good fortune to meet. “The only place we get to see you these days is on TV. Really, it’s all anyone in this town is talking about anymore, ever since the SifCo video went viral. You’re staying for the Fair, aren’t you?”
Shobha laughed, wiping tears from her face even as she ushered him into the house. “It’s true, Ruban. You’re a celebrity now; at least in this town. And the Fair’s next week. You have to stay. I remember how much you loved it as a child.”
“Really, my boy, we couldn’t have been prouder,” said Mr. Varna, clapping Ruban on the back with fatherly affection. “To see you fight those monstrous creatures to keep everyone safe. I mean we knew, of course. There was the Parliament attack last year. But nobody here had actually ever seen anything like it. I could barely believe my eyes, even though they kept playing that clip for a week straight, at least.”
Somewhere behind Mr. Varna, a woman squealed. Feeling rather overwhelmed, Ruban turned around to see who it was. It was Sazia, one of the Varnas’ neighbours. Following her gaze to see what had her so excited, Ruban realised that she was staring straight at Ashwin, who appeared to be trying to hide himself behind the doorframe, rather unsuccessfully. “Oh my God!” breathed Sazia, and Ruban thought vaguely that she might be hyperventilating. Not that he had a chance to do anything about it before she all but pounced on the Zainian, dragging him from the doorway and further into the drawing room. Her face was flushed and her eyes shone with a light that made Ruban slightly twitchy. “It’s you. It’s really you! You’re the one who was on TV, right? With Casia Washi before Emancipation Day, and then again after that video came out. See, I told you,” she said, turning gleefully to look at Rumi. “It wasn’t the lighting. He really is as pretty as he looked on TV.”
Tilting her head, Rumi squinted at Ashwin, her gaze assessing. “Hmm, I suppose I might have been mistaken after all.” As Rumi looked him over appraisingly, Ruban could for once be sure that the Zainian’s baffled expression was not an act. The exquisite absurdity of the situation made him want to laugh, and he bit his lip to keep himself from doing just that. After all, you weren’t supposed to laugh at foreign dignitaries getting mauled by your former neighbours.
“Knock it off, ladies,” said Mr. Gagan, the unlikely hero riding to Ashwin’s rescue. “Let the poor boy take a breather. They’ve travelled quite a distance, I’d wager. Give ‘em a drink and let ‘em relax for a while. There’ll be plenty of time to talk later.”
“Ah yes. Ruban, you must stay for lunch,” Shobha said, beaming at him. “I’ll make your favourite curry.”
“Yes, yes,” Sazia agreed eagerly, her eyes gleaming with a predatory light. “We’ve got so much to talk about. You must tell us all about what’s happening in the capital. You’re almost always in the papers these days. Life must be very exciting for you over there.”
“Indeed, you must indulge us old people with some stories from the big city, my boy,” agreed Rumi, nodding. “Lord knows nothing exciting ever happens around here.”
After a gigantic, three-course meal that made him feel like he was bursting at the seams, Ruban walked over to the porch, lighting a cigarette as he stared out over the countryside. It was raining, though not as hard as it often did, this time of year – more a light drizzle than a typical monsoon thunderstorm. That disconcerting feeling of being simultaneously close to and very far away from home was back, and he could no longer bear the happy chatter of the people inside the house. It felt like laughing over a grave.
Still, Ashwin was in there and in this one situation Ruban was sure he trusted the Zainian more than he trusted himself. By the time he had left the room, the ladies seemed to have forgotten all about his existence, hanging on to Ashwin’s every word as if he were quoting the gospel. Ruban grinned. He supposed he could understand why Casia Washi had thought the Zainian such an invaluable asset. If playing to the crowd were an art form, Ashwin Kwan would have been the undisputed maestro of it.
“Thinking about something?” Mr. Varna asked quietly, coming up behind him and handing him a cup of coffee.
Ruban accepted the proffered cup with a murmur of thanks. “Yes, actually,” he confessed, turning back to the scenery outside. “It’s kind of the reason I came here. I needed to know…”
“Yes?” Mr. Varna prompted gently, taking a sip of his herbal tea. “What would you like to know, my boy?”
Ruban hesitated. He didn’t know how to broach the subject without upsetting anyone. He realised that he didn’t really want to dig up old nightmares…at least not here, not now. He wanted to believe, no matter how briefly, that he truly was back home. That this was all real.
But that wasn’t an option, though. It hadn’t been an option for him since that fateful night eight years ago. He drew in a steadying breath and forged ahead. “I need to know…on the day of the fire. Did-did anyone here see the Aeriel that attacked our home? I think I know who it was but…I need to be sure.” He fished the composite photo of Reivaa that Simani had given him out of his pocket and handed it to Mr. Varna. “Have you ever seen anything like this? Has anyone?”
Taking the photo from Ruban, Mr. Varna drew in a sharp breath. Ruban supposed it wasn’t every day that he was handed a full-length photograph of a real, live Aeriel for identification. “I-It has two marks…on its wings. There’s two of them,” he stammered, after a beat.
“Yes,” said Ruban, frowning. He wouldn’t have expected Mr. Varna of all people to know the significance of the wing-marks. “Have you seen it anywhere before?”
“I haven’t. Oh God, I didn’t believe him.”
“Didn’t believe who?” asked Ruban, his heart hammering against his ribcage.
“My nephew,” whispered the old man softly. Then, turning to the house, he bellowed at the top of his voice: “Aran! Aran, come out here, my boy. Rumi, get your son in here now!”
A few minutes later, a long-limbed, narrow-faced boy of around fourteen appeared at the doorway, looking winded. “You called, Uncle?” he asked, panting.
Mr. Varna nodded grimly, holding the photograph out to the boy. “Look at the wings, Aran. You’ve seen ‘em before, haven’t you?”
As he gazed down at the photograph, the boy’s eyes widened almost comically. “It’s those wings. The wings over the fire. I told you. I know what I saw. No one would believe me then, but this is it! The two red marks…I told you that’s what I saw.”
“I know, my child, I know. You were right all along. We were fools not to believe you,” sighed Mr. Varna, turning to Ruban with tired eyes. “I didn’t believe him. I suppose I didn’t want to believe him. He was just a child, and what could we have done anyway?”
“Believe what?” asked Ruban urgently.
“On the day of the fire,” began the old man, shooing his nephew back into the house. “Aran told us…he said he’d seen wings in the sky just above your home. Aeriel wings, like in the movies, but with two red markings on them. You have to understand, Ruban, he was just six years old. We had no way of knowing he wasn’t just imagining things. I mean I knew about the X-class Aeriels, of course, and the red mark on their wings. But I’d never heard of anything like what Aran was describing and I thought…well I suppose it would be more accurate to say that I hoped he had just been imagining it. His parents didn’t want him involved in something like this. And well…can you really blame them? We saw what happened to your family, Ruban. To Abhas, Miki…” he bowed his head, running a shaking hand over his face. “We were scared. Terrified. So we just…we just pretended like it never happened. Who would believe a six-year-old anyway? What purpose would it have served to drag a child into it?” He reached out and took one of Ruban’s hands into both of his own. “I’m sorry, my boy. I’m so very sorry.”
Rawaria, like most of the old northern factory-towns, was small and dusty, with a fair dose of dilapidated. Many of the houses were abandoned and most of the store-fronts were boarded-up or simply left to collect dust in unattended darkness. Even the few buildings that were still occupied seemed unkempt and wanting for maintenance, as if the residents were just biding their time to pack up and leave. Most of the street-lights no longer worked and the few that did flickered ominously at irregular intervals. It was a place where one would have been hard pressed to find cheer, even under happier circumstances. And it certainly wasn’t happy circumstance that had brought them to Rawaria.
Ruban thought back over the clipped, urgent conversation he had had with Simani over the phone just before they’d had to rush to the semi-abandoned little town in pursuit of a lead nobody really thought would pan out. There had apparently been rumours of an Aeriel sighting near an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Rawaria. And some people in the IAW evidently thought that it might have been Reivaa, based on the descriptions they had received from witnesses.
Simani had been apologetic. She hadn’t wanted to bother him while he was in Surai. But this new lead was a long shot and they both knew it, and it made no sense for her to abandon the investigation in the capital and rush out to the hinterlands on what would most probably turn out to be a wild-goose chase. Especially not when Ruban was already in the neighbourhood anyway.
