Halcyon The Complete Trilogy (36 page)

He closed his eyes and turned his thoughts to the divine, to the existence and purpose of the soul, to the meaning of righteousness, to sacrifice, to duty, to balance and purpose and purity and every other high-minded word he had ever heard an entire sermon about.

“Enzo?” Qhora’s whisper shuddered through her trembling lips.

He opened his eyes.

Dona Ariella Espinoza de Cordoba stood beside them. The ghost was as insubstantial as smoke, yet every detail of her serene face and centuries-old dress was sharp and distinct. She appeared, as always, a plain-faced woman of middle age, short but straight-backed, with thin humorless lips but wide smiling eyes. It was a face that could comfort even as it disapproved. Lorenzo glanced from the dead nun to the living woman beside him.

Qhora studied the ghost impassively without a trace of fear of surprise on her face. “Hello, Sister Ariel. It’s very nice to meet you.” If her voice wavered, it was only a tremor from the cold of the meat locker.

 “Hello, Lady Qhora. Hello, Lorenzo.” The ghost’s whisper cut the air like a razor.

“Sister.” Lorenzo bowed his head.

“You’ve chosen a strange place to pray.” A hint of a smile played at the corner of the dead nun’s mouth as her gaze swept the room and its contents. “But strange times may call for strange places, I suppose. You looked troubled, Lorenzo. You think we’re going to have a fight, don’t you? Lady Qhora and I?”

Lorenzo shrugged. “I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what to say. That’s why I came here today. I had to see you, to ask your guidance again.”

“Oh, you poor boy. There’s nothing I could say that I haven’t already said a dozen times before.”

“I just…I just feel so lost. So torn.” He swallowed and stole a look at Qhora. “I know I have to give up so many worldly things to follow in your footsteps, but my heart doesn’t want to. I don’t want to live without Qhora. And I don’t know how to live except by fencing. It’s all I know, all I’m good at. I know I’m just being afraid and selfish and weak, but…”

“Hush, Lorenzo.” Ariel turned to Qhora. “My Lady, I’m sorry it has taken so long for us to meet, but circumstances do not allow me to come and go as I once did.”

“I suppose not,” Qhora said. A shiver ran through her and she recrossed her arms. “I really didn’t think I would see…you. A ghost, I mean.”

“I know you didn’t. But Lorenzo is as sane as everyone else in our country. The souls of the dead may only be seen in the deep cold and only by a cold light. Even then, the soul must come and make itself seen, and even then, the witness must be willing to see it. I imagine that ghosts are seen throughout the northern world, but only where the people have an understanding of the afterlife.” Ariel clasped her silvery hands in front of her. “But I don’t want to keep you two down here in this place any longer than needs be. Lorenzo?”

“Yes, Sister?”

“I will say this as plainly as I can.” The serious little line of her mouth softened with the appearance of lips, and her eyes suddenly looked quite old and tired. “I was not the paragon of virtue that you think I was. I performed good works and I served the church as I was instructed, but always with fear and doubt. I respected the Mother’s commandments to preserve life, but as a nun I never created any life myself. In fact, I never really cared for children. So much noise, so much dirt, so much worry. I respected the Son’s commandments to show compassion and mercy, but as a nun I was almost as penniless and lonely as the beggars I cared for. It took little effort to pity them as I pitied myself. But worst of all, I did not respect the Father’s commandments to observe the law and seek justice. I sheltered all manners of criminals, knowing full well what they were, and I sent the police away. I think I was too afraid of the criminals. It was just easier to look the other way, to not get involved. I sacrificed justice to keep my house quiet. I chose the easy road.”

Lorenzo stared at her, frowning, wanting to interrupt, wanting to correct her and to argue with her, but he was lost for words. Slowly, the thought formed in his mind:
If she could live such a holy life and still be so far from grace, what chance do I have?
He glanced around for a few moments until the queasiness in his stomach died down and he said, “What does that mean for me?”

“It means, poor Lorenzo, that you still have the potential to live a life that is far better than mine ever was.”

He blinked. “How is that possible?”

Ariel nodded at Qhora. “Marry your beloved and have children. God is a creator and sustainer of life. Having children is pleasing to the Mother, especially if you raise them properly. Uphold and enforce the law. Go on serving Prince Valero.”

“As a fencing instructor?”

Ariel gestured toward his espada. “How many men have you killed since we first met?”

“None.”

Qhora looked at him sharply. “None? What about the robbers in Tingis?”

“I slashed their hands and struck them unconscious. It’s easy if you know where to hit,” he said sheepishly. “They probably woke up a few minutes after we left.”

“Yes,” Ariel said. “And you merely disarmed the bandit on the highway, just as you disarmed the woman in white at the marketplace. And you refrained from killing her at the train station. You even offered her alternative punishments. You are not afraid to fight for the law, but you fight with your mind as well as your sword. In fact, few men could do what you do. Destreza is the study of the
skillful
sword, not the
blind
sword or the
murdering
sword or the
cruel
sword. And you are a master diestro. The youngest in decades.”

“Then you’re saying that I should fight?”

“In the name of the Father, the Mother, and the Son. Yes. Fight for the law. Preserve life. Show mercy. You can do all three in a single stroke of your sword. You’ve been doing it for months, time and again. You are already walking a righteous path, Lorenzo.” Ariel smiled. “But you’ve let your illusions about piety and holiness blind you to that truth. God does not want us to lock ourselves away in cloisters and cells to pray and hide from the world. God wants us to live in the world, to shape the world, to teach the world. You are not a scholar, Lorenzo. We both know that. You are a soldier, but yours is the sword of life and law. Carry it proudly. Teach it to all who are willing to learn it. You could train a legion to fight with courage and honor to preserve life, not to kill. To truly fight in the service of God.”

Lorenzo rested his hand on the pommel of his espada, and for the first time in months he gripped it without fear or doubt. “The sword of life?”

Ariel nodded.

“And children?” He glanced at Qhora for the first time in several long moments and saw a curious look in her eye and slight smirk on her lip.

“But marriage means conversion, doesn’t it?” Qhora asked, turning a colder eye on the ghost. “You want me to be an Espani lady, to turn my back on my people and my gods and everything that tells me who I am.”

“Lady Qhora, you have already sacrificed so much. Your home, your family, your future. I’m in no position to ask you to sacrifice your gods. But you love this man. You want to spend your life with him? To have his children? Yes?”

Qhora nodded and Lorenzo felt a sudden flush in his chilled cheeks.

Ariel nodded back. “Then, as long as you intend to live in España, it seems a small concession to perform a brief ritual. Say the words, wear the triquetra, and read enough of the Book to discuss it with your neighbors and friends. You might be surprised how little effort would make you as pious as most Espani. But keep the gods and prayers of your people in your heart, if they bring you comfort and peace. Can you do that for Lorenzo? Can you do that for your children?”

Lorenzo watched the fiery wheels turning behind the princess’s eyes and for a moment he thought the argument he had been fearing was about to erupt, but instead Qhora nodded and turned back to face him. “I can do that. But only if you come back to me. Be my Enzo again. No more sulking, no more hiding. And one more thing.”

“What?” he asked.

“Smile, damn you.” She grabbed his collar and pulled him down toward her face.

The smile came on its own, stretching his cold and stiff cheeks, and they kissed. It was the warmest, softest sensation he had felt in over a year and it only ended when he ran out of air. But as he straightened up he saw clearly how blue her lips had become and turned to say his farewells to Ariel, but the ghost had vanished. “Come.” He grabbed her hand. “Let’s get out of here. We have things to do.”

“What things?”

He smiled. “Everything.”

Chapter 33. Syfax

The marshals’ office in Arafez was nearly identical to the one in Tingis and Syfax quickly threaded a path through the hallway traffic to the locker room where he took a quick shower and changed into someone else’s clothes and boots. With the slime and smell of the Zemmour Canal finally gone, he found the records room where he took one look at the rows and rows of cabinets before asking the clerk to find an address and any files on Barika Chaou. The young woman appeared to be in no particular hurry until he presented his badge for verification and she saw his name etched along the bottom of it. Within three minutes, Chaou’s file was in his hand.

The first few pages were standard. Education, work history, current and previous residences. But the list of known contacts and associates read as a who’s who of the wealthy elite of Marrakesh, España, and Numidia. It went on for pages, names of people followed by brief descriptions of how and why Chaou knew them. Bankers, diplomats, merchants, generals, admirals, princes, and countless others that meant nothing to him. The file was long, detailed, and therefore useless. It gave him a thousand leads and none of them were people he could reasonably shove up against a wall in a dark alley. Syfax flipped to the back of the folder to the errata and found a few pages of miscellany, some letters and memos, most of it several years old.

He tossed the file onto the clerk’s desk and rubbed his eyes.

“No help, sir?” the clerk said.

“Not really. Give me the one on Lady Sade.”

She hesitated for a bare instant before taking back the Chaou file and fetching the one on Lady Sade. It landed on the desk with a heavy thump and Syfax exhaled slowly. “Is there a shorter version?”

The clerk smiled and shook her head. “Sorry, sir.”

He opened it to find a longer and more detailed version of Chaou’s. Lady Sade’s entire family history, all of her business dealings and associates and all of their histories and associates, and on and on. Chaou was there, briefly. So was Fariza Othmani. But he only found them because they were listed alphabetically. There was nothing obviously helpful about either of them.

Syfax groaned and tried to ignore the gnawing in his belly. “All right, help me out. If you were rich and powerful, and doing something totally illegal, would you meet with your friends at your own house where you can control the security or would you meet somewhere else, somewhere hidden, somewhere private?”

“Do you mean Lady Sade and the ambassador, sir?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, if I had to guess, I’d try the Onyx Club. Very exclusive. Tight security. And it wouldn’t arouse suspicion if every rich and powerful person in the country happened to be there at one time.” The clerk drummed her fingers on the desk. “Definitely the Onyx Club, sir.”

The Onyx Club was a long hour’s walk from the marshal’s office, but the major eventually found the towering building across the street from a massive park. The armored doors huddled behind a row of Hellan columns and the ground floor windows were all curtained. The upper windows revealed only the massive chandeliers suspended from the ceilings and the shadows of servants passing in front of the bright electric lights. Syfax paused long enough to observe the two small boys in matching blue uniforms standing side by side in front of the doors before he turned and strolled back to the corner, out of sight, to watch and wait.

Two hours later, as he leaned against a tree eating a bag of nuts he bought from a cart at the far end of the park, Syfax saw two people step out onto the street. The first was a woman, middle-aged and short and rather pale, who emerged from the Onyx Club and began walking along the sidewalk. The second was a young man in a red jacket who jogged out of the trees across from the club and caught up to the woman just as she was turning the corner.

Syfax grinned and muttered, “Good work, kid.” He crossed the street and slowly made his way over, approaching from behind Kenan so he could get a good look at the woman and hear them talking before the corporal saw him.

“Excuse me, Doctor Medina?” Kenan jogged up alongside her. “Are you Doctor Medina?”

“Hm, yes?” The woman stopped short and glanced at him with wide eyes. “Who are you?”

“Corporal Kenan Agyeman, marshals’ office,” he said. “I’m, uh, I’m part of the task force investigating the fire at your office last night. I’m assisting the fire chief and local police.”

“Oh? Oh, yes.” The woman blinked and her shoulders relaxed a bit. “Yes, what can I do for you, corporal?”

“Just a few questions.” Kenan clasped his hands behind his back. “Do you know a man named Medur Hamuy? Tall, muscular build, late thirties.”

“I don’t recognize the name. But if he was a patient of ours, then I’m sure we have…oh, no, no, all the records must have been lost in the fire.” Genuine dismay passed over the doctor’s face. “All the patient records, serial numbers, invoices. Gone.”

Kenan pursed his lips for a moment. “What about a woman named Barika Chaou? Short, older, silver hair?”

The doctor froze for a fraction of a second, but there was a tiny flash of fear in the woman’s face.

“Ah, yes.” The doctor offered a smile, obviously false and full of nerves. “Yes, a lady in the government service, I believe? I do recall that name, although I think it has been some time since I last heard it.” Her speech began slowly, but accelerated the longer she went on. “Yes, I believe she was a patient several years ago, back when I was first starting out here in Arafez. It was quite an unexpected honor to have such a distinguished person in my shop back then. I was still wondering whether I would have any success at all in this country, and suddenly, here was this very important lady seeking my services! Oh, that was a good day. But what does any of this have to do with your investigation of the fire? Surely Señora Chaou was not hurt in the fire?”