Peculiar Soul

Chapter 102: Suspicion

Chapter 102: Suspicion

One day the black hound saw the raven sitting on a branch, and came to ask it a question. It told of how it had noticed that every force in nature had its opposite, and that the balance of things was thus preserved.

Man, however, was balanced only by his reflection. The hound was confused how a mere image in the water could serve as balance, when the true man had a body of flesh and bone.

The raven posed a question in return, asking the hound what he saw when he looked into the water. The hound replied that he saw the image of a hound, as the raven would see an image of a raven. Why then, he asked again, should a mans reflection be different?

Because man is unique, the raven explained. Alone of all animals, when a man looks into water he does not see another man looking back. He sees himself. In so doing, the vision takes root in his mind. The reflection may be seen only in water, the raven said, and to others it appears as just that. But its owner bears deep witness when it appears before them; ever after, its bones and flesh are shared between who the man is, and who he believes himself to be.

- Pre-Gharic Ardan manuscript, vellum, c. 500 PE

Sunlight glittered from the water, dancing in the wake of the Mendiko cargo ship; they were sailing west, and the morning sun was rapidly gaining on them. Michael watched the churning spray and tried to relax. Nothing was going to happen today, nor tomorrow - nor likely this week.

But he was past any pretense that the world could continue on in the happy idyll of Imes. Michael and Sobriquet had bid a fond farewell to their borrowed apartment, leaving a small bit of money and a note tucked away for whoever lived there next. There wasnt much to pack. Emil had found a place for their growing collection of clothes and oddities, leaving them with only two modest bags of field-appropriate clothing for their trip.

Michael snorted as he caught himself reflecting unhappily on leaving most of their possessions behind. It was mere weeks ago that he had been stealing rags from farmers laundry; now he had actual luggage. Even so, it felt like a shard of his life lingered behind them in Imes, one he wasnt entirely sure he could pick up again.

He would be Stellar, when he left Ghar, or he would be dead. Or, Michael supposed, he would fail crushingly yet somehow escape with his life, which was perhaps the most daunting of the alternatives that occurred to him in that moment. So he stared out at the sparkling wake of the ship, watching it contort and ripple outwards into the sea, and tried not to think too hard about it.

The deck vibrated as footsteps crossed towards him; he recognized Antolins measured tread. Michael smiled. I was thinking when we boarded that this is hardly the proper conveyance for a grand marshal, Michael said. How did you travel out here in the first place?

Believe it or not, this same ship, Antolin chuckled, standing beside Michael at the railing. He looked much better-rested these days, the winter wind bringing a healthy flush to his cheeks. Its very convenient, it makes supply and mail runs from Leik to Gharon every week. Much easier than scheduling an overland convoy - safer, too. And since it runs on a schedule, a good deal less conspicuous.

Lekubarri mentioned that last advantage, Michael agreed. Something about not wanting to dissuade the Ardans from attacking Ghar; if it looks like a hard target they may decide to attack Saf directly. That wouldnt be horrible, save that it would curtail our ability to do anything about the conflict by quite a bit.

Antolin grimaced. The Batzar will not act unless forced, I fear; there is no chance theyd intervene if the conflict was merely a resumption of the War. It would preserve the veneer of our strength, while allowing the rot to fester ever-deeper. That would be a worst-case scenario; Im not surprised Lekubarri wishes to avoid it. I am surprised the Ardans didnt take that into account in their own planning.

I imagine someone brought it up, Michael sighed. But I can make a few guesses as to why Luc is pushing them towards Ghar. Hes not trying to spur them to a righteous war. Theres no cause here, not even spoils or land worth the effort. He shook his head. Luc could probably find such a cause, but thats not what he wants. He wants the Ardans to go to war out of pride, and arrogance, and spite, and all of the reasons he chose them for this mad plan in the first place. He wants them to deserve what happens next.

Hm, Antolin grunted. And so spitting in our eye is the end in itself, and not happenstance.

Provoking Mendian and Saf, reclaiming Ghar for Ardalt, finding a victory to erase the embarrassment of the Wars end - take your pick. Michael scowled. Theyre all Lucs offerings to the most detestable parts of Ardalts nature. And the worst part of it is - hes right. Its what they want. Its why Spark was able to claw the Institute away from Jeorg and turn it into what it is today. Ardalt is everything Luc thinks it is.

He seems to have made a convincing case, Antolin said mildly. You sound ready to let them fall.

Michael snorted. If it were only my father, perhaps, or if the Assembly would bear the brunt of it. But the men who make the war wont fight in it. The men who die will be farmers and laborers who find themselves swept up in patriotic lies, their minds torn from them and their bodies sent shuffling into Safid gunfire. The Assembly will endure, and find excuses for the loss. It will never even occur to my father that the fault might lie with him.

The sloshing of water in their wake sang its chant over the low hum of the engines. After a few moments, Antolin smiled and shook his head. Youve had a hard month, he said. Before you went to Ardalt, you still had some hope left in you. He turned to Michael, his eyes narrowing. What happened over there?

You mean outside of what youve read in your reports, Michael said. He hunched forward, considering his words. Eventually, he raised his head to look at the grand marshal. I think I understand Leire better.

Antolin raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.New novel chapters are published on

I was furious with her, when she had Galen killed, Michael said. I thought she was an arrogant, domineering harridan who was incapable of compromise.

Not an uncommon view, Antolin said, smiling slightly. Have you come to think differently?

Michael pressed his lips together. To have someone resist all of your efforts to save them, throwing your concern in your face - I can see how it would lead someone to make drastic decisions.

Antolin gave him a considering look, his eyes narrowing. And did you? he asked.

It depends on what qualifies, Michael snorted. All Leire did was kill someone, a known and dangerous enemy. Do you know how many people Ive killed this last month? I dont. I used to count. I used to - remember how many, and where they were, and what their faces looked like. Sometime in the middle of the month I realized that I couldnt anymore. I had been slaughtering Institute teams for so long that it barely registered. He slouched forward again. I used to have nightmares about this, Antolin. The first time I saw Leire use her soul, I imagined myself meting out that sort of death. It haunted me every time I slept for weeks. Now I barely have sleep to haunt, and - it doesnt, in any case.

He looked up at Antolin. So should I congratulate myself on refraining from worse excess, knowing whats ahead? Leire used to speak about using scalpels instead of swords; thats the part I feel most keenly now. I could have killed Luc at the beginning, but I thought I was better than that. I could have ripped the anger and arrogance from my fathers mind, from Isolde and Sofia. But Im better than that. His voice twisted, venomous. Now war looms on the horizon again, and Ill be dealing out respectable, honest death with clean hands.

Hm. Antolin nodded slowly. There is one problem with that line of reasoning, though, Antolin said.

Michael sighed, resting his head in his hands. More than one, he muttered. Least of which is that Im not a fucking maniac.

The brightest lights were reserved for that barrier, drawing a line of daytime in the dark. By their illumination Michael could see crowds of makeshift buildings huddled close, tossed together from castoff stone and wood.

There was a shimmer of light beside him; he smiled. Youre never up this early, he said.

Im still not, Sobriquet said, her voice managing to sound bleary even through the distorted tones of her apparition. Its horrid out there. Im in bed, and shall be until weve docked.

You have some time yet, Michael noted. It looks like well have to come north a bit before we dock, since the citys ports are - not in good repair. He frowned, noting the unlit ruin of piers along the riverbank, sodden or clogged with years of silt. Its bizarre. Ive never seen a city like this, even during the War. Leiks harbor was in worse shape after the attacks, but there were still boats - fishermen, repairmen, something. There are people living there, but theyre not doing anything.

Sobriquet made an indistinct noise. I cant imagine theyre in a good situation, she said. Theyve only got a land route to Saf, who would invade them if they could. By sea they were scarcely much better, the War likely made travel along the Daressan coast hazardous until now. They can fish, perhaps, or grow crops, but without trade their possibilities would be limited.

They should be able to figure something out besides huddling in shacks, Michael insisted. Theyre a Mendiko protectorate.

And look how well-protected they are, she snorted, nodding towards the blaring lights of the base.

Michael frowned and crossed his arms over his chest, watching the port draw closer. The Mendiko docks were active despite the hour, and he saw a couple of small patrol vessels docked beside the larger slip that was meant for their transport.

True to Lekubarris description of it, the base was rather modest compared to the sprawling Mendiko war camps. Based on the barracks, Michael didnt think there were more than a thousand men there. It was nevertheless a formidable installation; its high walls sported regular gun emplacements and spotlights along its perimeter, with a pair of enormous naval guns trained upon the bay.

It was fixed, though, and burdened with the weaknesses of all fixed defenses. Its position in the bay would make it trivial to blockade, and the city would provide cover for an army until it was dangerously close to the walls - assuming the army in question didnt simply avoid the base, landing on the western shore of the Gharic peninsula.

Either way, this compact installation would not be the thing that stalled a potential incursion by the Ardans. It was made to defend itself, and to hold against larger threats until reinforcements came from the north. Michael frowned, shifting his sight closer as they approached.

Youre gloomy, Sobriquet noted. Youve been gloomy ever since Antolin left. Are you still thinking about what you said?

Michael raised an ice-encrusted eyebrow, drawing his sight back. I thought you were napping when we had that conversation.

I was, she muttered. But then someone started quoting things that gave me a headache, so I couldnt help but overhear. She paused, and her tone softened. You never told me your suspicions about Carolus.

Theyre only suspicions, Michael said. I could be wrong.

Liar, she said, the apparition floating closer to him. You know. You know youre right. How?

Michael squinted at her. Most people would have let me get away with that lie, transparent or not, he muttered, grimacing. Its silly, Im probably fixating on it too much.

Michael Baumgart, she said, swelling in size until the apparition towered over him. Need I remind you that I am-

Sobriquet, yes, yes, Michael sighed. He glared up at her. Fine. If you must have it in plain language - aside from the fact that he used my poem - mine, which he had no good way of knowing-

But he did, she frowned. They were the words you spoke to heal me when you traveled up to my safehouse with Sibyl. Both she and Isolde were there, either of them could have told Carolus.

Michael looked askance at her. He seemed almost estranged from her, the way he spoke, and that seems like an odd bit of trivia to share.

Nevertheless, there is no particular reason why she couldnt have made a report, or put her thoughts to paper in some way, she pointed out. Which he read, and planted the words to resurface in his dying breath.

You know just as well as I that it wasnt the ramblings of a madman that day, Michael said. You felt it. I saw it. I saw his soul come together into a great work of glass, and golden light shone through. I recognized that light, when I saw it. Its the color that Stanza shows me, when I view the world with my soul. Golden wires wrapping around everything, Id know that light anywhere. It was me, Sera.

I know youre convinced, but some words and a glow are hardly conclusive, she said. Its not as though youre up against a madman whose soul lets him emit light, hm? She gave him an exasperated look, then shook her head. Its troubling, Ill admit, but you should leave some room for doubt. Antolin was right about auspices, what they see isnt fixed or even necessarily true. Its - true to them, just like your fear is true to you. Their subjective truth doesnt have to be ours.

Michael sighed. Ill admit I never covered auspices much in my schooling, he said. And even if I had, I doubt my textbooks would have been useful here. Ill trust you, and Antolin. He looked out over Gharon, the crumbling blot of city spreading up the river until it was lost from sight.

Liar, Sobriquet said again, though her voice was soft and amused. Youll worry no matter what wiser voices say.

Which one of you two was the wise voice? Michael shot back, smiling.

Antolin, Sobriquet replied. He was right about a lot of things. Your will is your own, your future is your own - and there is no force in this world that can keep me apart from you.

Michael felt an incongruous warmth amid the icy wind, a thrill fluttering through his chest; he kept his smile restrained, though and looked at her. Except for some mildly inclement weather, it seems.

Youve got icicles on your ears, you dolt, she muttered. Come back in and help me get our things together. Itll take forever if I have to do it singlehandedly.

Michael groaned at the pun and turned back towards the cabin, but not before letting his sight sweep one last time over the icebound river with the brilliant jewel at its mouth. He let his gaze linger on the ruins of Ghar for the few steps it took to reach the door - then ducked inside to prepare for their arrival.