Of Love and Valor

34: Haunting

"I'm sorry, Your Excellency. I'm not sure I've heard you properly," Kazmiohn Ruokharismet responds to the Orenfior's assertion with the closest thing to diplomatic tact I've ever heard from him.

"I'm quite serious, Kazmiohn. They've handled themselves admirably through this very trying interview. Many public officials lack the self-control these warriors have exhibited, and from what I've heard today, their entire squadron is of the same caliber," the Orenfior replies with a calm far more genuine than that our Kazmiohn is trying to project. "Warriors such as these would be an asset of immeasurable worth as guards to a man in my position."

"They are already an asset of immeasurable worth in protecting this city against threats such as the Erivim. Now that we are aware of the threat the Visserov pose, as well, we must be all the more vigilant to protect the entire city. When they are on the walls and on patrol, they are protecting you just as surely as they would be if they were personally escorting you about your daily business."

"Perhaps you would deign to discuss this with me further in private? I believe it is time for these warriors to take their midday meal, is it not?"

Kazmiohn Ruokharismet nods curtly. "Warriors, take your dinner break now. You will meet me at the North Gate at the next shift change."

"We are yours to command, Kazmiohn," Santhrobar answers for all of us as we all rise to our feet and bow, then leave the Hall of Audience as quickly and quietly as we can. Zelphinon and Mailadui keep in step with me, one on each side.

"I feel fine," I whisper insistently to both of them as the doors to the Hall of Audience close behind us.

"You've had a brush with death, and we're not taking any chances with you," Mailadui replies in a no-nonsense tone that tells me she'll be a great mother someday. Zelphinon lays the back of his hand against my forehead.

"No signs of fever. She's walking fine. I think we can relax a little," he assures her.

I breathe a sigh of relief. "Good. I'm sick of everyone worrying about me."

"Well, when there are people trying to poison you, your friends are going to worry about you," Mailadui tells me. "Why didn't we bring that up in the meeting?"

"Not enough definitive evidence," Zelphinon responds. Something in his face reminds me that he still owes me an explanation for whatever happened to the emissaries' hair.

"Who else would have done it?"

"A valid argument. But we would have to be able to prove it in a court, or at least to the Orenfior, and I'm not interested in sitting through another meeting like that anytime soon."

"You said you would explain something—" I begin, looking at Zelphinon meaningfully.

"Over dinner. Yes. Mailadui, if you don't mind—"

"Say no more," she cuts him off with a mischievous grin. "I wanted to have dinner with Zevaklin, anyway." And with that, she departs for places unknown, leaving me with Zelphinon on the steps of the Orenfior's mansion. Alderon and Santhrobar are already long gone, having escaped from the Hall of Audience before us.

"Do you feel well enough to eat?" Zelphinon asks me.

"If we go to the market, I'm sure I can find something," I answer. My appetite has been slow to return since the onzereth poisoning, but eating isn't my main concern at the moment. "While we walk, though, you will tell me what happened to the emissaries' hair."

"If you insist. It's really not all that exciting."

"They all, the zaikarit in particular, seem to pay a lot of attention to their physical appearance, including their hair. It doesn't make sense for them to cut their hair short, especially not so haphazardly."

"They didn't do it themselves. I would argue they inadvertently asked for it, or for some treatment of the kind."

"So you did cut their—"

"Shhh. Someone might hear you."

"How?!"

"They may or may not be under house arrest, because of the way they approached our patrol group about half a moon or so ago. Orenzhanim are taking shifts guarding their lodgings. Our squadron has been exempt from that for obvious reasons, but Amrhion spoke true when he told us that the whole Orenzhanim stands with us."

"So they let you into the emissaries' lodgings."

"They have every night since you started to recover in earnest. Once I felt sure that you would...still be alive, if I left, I decided to try. Our comrades-in-arms have been very accommodating."

"What?!"

"The first night I just left...messages. On mirrors, on scraps of paper. The name of the girl who died from their onzereth, Mezumei, and that her blood is on their hands. Since then I've been gradually more bold, rearranging things, leaving more messages. Last night was the hair." He takes a deep breath, and I realize, through my astonishment, that Zelphinon is trembling slightly from all that he's holding back. "I want them to know that someone has the power and the means to kill them and is choosing not to, and to live with that fear, or maybe to believe that Mezumei's spirit is seeking revenge. It doesn't matter, as long as they're afraid. Because of what they did to you, and to her, and to me, and to everyone else who's ever been their means to an end or in between them and what they want."

I don't know what to say, what to do, how to respond. Awkward silence blossoms between us while I struggle to find the right words.

"How did.... I mean.... I think.... ugh.... If the Kazmiohni or the Orenfior find out—"

"Don't worry about it. The Kazmiohni and I talked, while you were...indisposed."

"Do they already know, then?"

"No, but I think they would not be angry with the path that I have chosen."

"They made you promise not to kill the zaikarit."

"No. When you said to me, not to be what he thinks I am.... That's when I decided not to kill him, or any of the others. But they still killed a nine-year-old girl, and they tried to kill you, Azerai, and I've told you before.... I can't lose you. I know that our line of work means risking our lives sometimes, but this is rather outside of the usual call of duty. And I know I told you, a long time ago, that revenge isn't worth it, but I don't want to go through this again. I don't want anyone else to have to go through this. So I had to do something. They had to suffer some consequences, because if they don't, they'll never learn, and they'll keep doing things like the onzereth stunt, and there's always the chance that next time...."

His voice trails off, but I hear the words he's left unsaid anyway: Next time, they might succeed in killing you. We've stopped walking, fortunately in a small alley, away from prying eyes, and I step close to him and take his hand in mine.

"Thank you. I...hope you're right, that this scares them and that fear leads to remorse, a change of heart...some sort of change for the better."

"I am convinced the zaikarit has no heart. But maybe he can change for the better, even so."

"How long do you plan to keep...haunting them?"

"Until they leave, or until the positive change we're hoping for manifests. Whichever comes first."

"Be careful."

"Don't worry about me. I can handle myself against them."

"I thought I could, too, and yet.... I just.... I'm no more able to lose you than you are to lose me."

A smile briefly illuminates his face and he kisses me lightly on the forehead.

"You won't. I'm not going anywhere."

"Except, maybe, to the market with me? Were we still going to try to get dinner?"

"If the interrogation is over."

"You can't possibly have expected that, the way you responded when they took their hoods down, I wouldn't have had questions."

"Of course not. Let's go find something to eat. And then we'll find out whether we will be answering primarily to the Kazmiohn or to the Orenfior."

Mezumei --> MEH-zoo-may