Chapter 13
Lila woke with a crick in her neck, her head lolling to the side on the slick leather computer chair. Lights burned in the living room, and her computer screen blinked apathetically, marking the place she’d stopped before falling asleep. Feeble warmth trickled from the fireplace, only embers and ash glowing amongst the cold stone. The purple blanket she’d covered herself with slipped off her shoulders.
The couch beckoned for a proper nap.
Her bed beckoned even more.
Yawning, Lila rubbed the sleep from her eyes and turned her attention back to the logs. Several more days’ worth of untouched data remained for her to work through. The mole was still out there, possibly sending critical information about the oracles to the empire.
If her current search didn’t turn up anything, she’d capture the logs for the last three months and dig through it all, painstakingly rooting through the history of hundreds.
If she was very lucky, it might take her six months.
Lila cuddled up under her blanket. She still might not find the mole using either approach. Both assumed the mole sent messages from the compound.
But where else would the mole send them?
Lila turned her chair back and forth, pondering the question. Using a highborn family’s network would be stupid. Highborns could afford the best security and knew the consequences of frugality. They always kept logs, as per government requirements and for proof of innocence at court. A mole might get away with a message or two, but they’d be turned over to the authorities the moment the highborn admins found evidence of contact with the empire. It would reflect poorly on the family if they did not, no matter who had initiated the messages. Even an heir might be turned over to Bullstow for such an offense.
Using a lowborn company didn’t seem likely either. They kept logs as well, and erred on the side of caution, looking to their highborn peers to gain the public’s trust. If they lost it, the lowborn owner would find herself in the auction house seconds after bankruptcy.
The Allied Lands did not take kindly to failure.
Of course, there were alternatives. Unregistered companies flaunted the laws all the time, a few dumping their logs after only a few days. Criminals and thugs needed some way to do business, after all. But everyone knew using one left your dealings open to scrutiny and bribery, especially for anyone who might deal with the empire. A few might not care, but Chief Shaw allowed them a wide berth so long as they kept some sense of honor. They’d turn over a traitor if it meant keeping a few well-fed clients from a holding cell.
Mòr, on the other hand, had a good network and average security. The oracle’s queendom worked under their own rule of law, far outside the scope and purview of Bullstow. It might be the safest and easiest place to communicate with the empire, short of running one’s own server. But where would a person get the hardware and software for such a thing? The government kept such equipment under tight control. They also swept the net for illegal servers and had become good at finding and tracking them over the years.
No, the mole would use the oracle’s servers. She was sure of it.
But so far, her most promising lead turned out to be pictures of kittens.
Dixon would take her to the shop if she asked. She could fetch her programs and explore each photograph pixel by pixel, searching for hidden messages. Perhaps if they went during the day, they wouldn’t run into Tristan and Katia.
Lila tapped at her keyboard. She had no interest in seeing either of them, but Dixon needed to see his brother. They needed to have a proper talk, not exchange a few annoyed messages over a palm. Dixon also needed to pack a proper bag.
Maybe luggage was the difference between a vacation and running away.
Lila’s programs weren’t the only thing she needed in New Bristol. She needed to see Dr. Helen Hardwicke-Randolph at the woman’s clinic for her first prenatal appointment.
She just didn’t know how she’d pay for it.
Lila sent a message anyway.
Moments later, after confirming her mother still had not returned her money, Lila’s palm vibrated.
Come by tomorrow morning before the clinic opens. Six a.m.
Hopping up from her desk, Lila peeked into Dixon’s bedroom, finding his sheets cold and unwrinkled.
Lila entered the bathroom, slipping out of her clothes and into the tub for a quick shower. After dressing, she prowled around the cabin for half an hour before leaving for breakfast.
Connell had invited them over again the night before.
But the chief’s expression faltered as soon as he opened the door. “You look like shit, Lila. Did you get any sleep at all last night?”
“I got a few hours.”
“A few hours isn’t enough.”
“I’m trying to catch a mole, Connell.”
He led her toward the kitchen. “I appreciate the fact that you’re taking this seriously, but the mole will still be here tomorrow.”
“Will your children?”
He pursed his lips. “Take Kenna’s spot this morning. Mòr wanted you to sit next to her.”
“Why?”
“I’m supposed to say it’s because she wants to talk about the compound, but I suspect she just wants a bit of gossip.”
“Gossip?”
“Blair’s her baby sister. You know it goes.”
Kenna entered the room and settled a few pitchers of juice and milk onto the table. “You look like—”
“Yes, I know.”
“When we asked you to look into things, we didn’t want you to run yourself down. You look worse than Nico.”
Kenna’s words were cut short when Blair entered the dining room. Dixon trudged after her, then wordlessly gathered her books when she stopped at the table. He put them on the steering wheel bench, just like Connell had done the day before, and slipped into a place beside her.
Lila sat next to him in Kenna’s spot. “Out all night?” she whispered.
Dixon shrugged.
“Did you have fun?”
He smiled.
“What did you two get up to?”
He showed her his notepad under the table, a notepad completely filled with his block handwriting, all except for one blank page at the very back. Lila opened her mouth in shock. It’d been new when they left New Bristol. It usually took him a week to burn through one.
Putting it away, Dixon poked her in the ribs. He jutted his chin toward the kitchen.
Lila followed his gaze.
Nico stepped in the room, holding a platter of tortillas, his gray uniform pressed and his boots shined. He’d shaved again, too. “The mystery woman has returned. I wondered if I’d see you here.”
Connell raised a brow. “You knew you’d see her. You asked me.”
Nico turned his gaze in mock offense. “I only wanted to cook a lovely a breakfast for the oracle and my dear, sweet chief. Must you insult me by claiming I have ulterior motives?”
“I apologize, Lila,” Connell replied. “I sold you out for migas. In my defense, his cooking is amazing. Can you forgive me?”
Nico put down the platter and returned with another, piping hot and full of migas. He watched her like a purring housecat as she spooned out a portion.
Mòr heaped some refried beans to her plate. “Could I have a few moments of your time after breakfast?”
“Certainly,” Lila replied, taking a tortilla.
Cecily and Camille entered in a rush and settled into their places, barely turning a surprised eye at Nico. Perhaps guests showed up for breakfast often.
Or perhaps Nico showed up often.
At least Cecily appeared to have woken up in a better frame of mind. The young woman had dressed for the day in a pair of trousers and a sweater. She’d brushed her hair, and her eyes were clear. She even offered up a few words of greeting, calling Nico by name.
Yes, he’d definitely cooked for the oracle before.
“Mother, you’ll never believe what happens at the end of season three.”
“Don’t spoil it, Cecily. I’m not even through season one yet.”
“What show?” Connell asked.
“The Estate,” both women answered at the same time.
“It’s a show about the highborn,” Cecily explained. “The actresses and actors always wear the most beautiful, expensive clothes.”
“Beautiful clothes for beautiful people,” her friend chimed in. “I wonder how much they spend, or if it’s all product placement.”
“It’s product placement, of course,” Cecily said offhandedly. “But who cares about that? It’s the stories everyone’s interested in. The highborn are always sleeping around and doing nasty things to everyone, just like they do in real life. They’re such awful people. I’m not surprised they’re being hanged in droves. Did you hear about the heir who dodged a treason charge?”
Lila choked on her orange juice.
Kenna’s gaze flipped toward Lila, her eyes guilty.
“Ms. Randolph did not do anything wrong, Cecily,” Connell assured her. “She’d been helping Bullstow and got tried by mistake. Nothing she did was—”
“She’s the prime minister’s daughter. I bet he paid off Bullstow to save her. Or she did. It’s what highborn do. You’re so naïve for a purplecoat.”
“No one has that much money. She was prepared to serve a slave’s term to protect Chief Shaw and Bullstow. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
“Former chief.” Cecily pointed at Connell with her tortilla. “And you know what it means to me? It means that an heir was charged with a crime, but the chief who charged her was punished. That’s how it always is with the highborn, especially the heirs.”
“You’re confusing some silly teenage show with reality. Mr. Shaw would not have confessed unless he spoke the truth. I’ve met the man, Cecily, and you’re talking out of your ass. Word is that Ms. Randolph is one of the good ones. Not all highborn are crooks, just like not every oracle child wears robes all day and chants to the gods.”
Cecily bit into her tortilla. “On this we shall have to disagree.”
“Well, I heard they’re going to use the trials in the show during the next season,” Camille said. “The rumor is that one of the characters will be hanged.”
“Spoilers,” Kenna warned.
As the group chatted about the show, Lila nibbled on the migas, her mouth erupting with the flavors, the peppers and onions blended in perfect proportions. The meal was worthy of knocking on a cabin door in the middle of the night.
Nico watched her as she ate.
From time to time, Connell’s booming laugh cut through the group’s conversation. They’d quickly drifted away from The Estate and had begun talking about shows from their childhood, back when television was still good. Cecily and Camille had already gotten lost in the nostalgia haze, the shows too old for them to remember.
Lila had no idea either. She’d not been allowed near a screen as a child. She’d been too busy reading and studying and learning about business. Instead, she focused on Dixon, who’d begun sneaking looks at Blair, a tiny blush creeping into his cheeks.
Blair didn’t take peeks. She stared. Openly and unabashedly, her head cocked on her palm, her elbow resting on the table. Once again, she’d forgotten to eat.
Nico caught Lila’s eye. He chuckled knowingly at the pair.
Meals were so very different in the oracle’s home than how they’d been in the great house. There, the family played chess, her mother raking over any comment made, always trying to gain an advantage. One stray word, and she might send a spy to track you for a month. Guests played the same game. Dubois might take any comment said at the table, bartering it with other members of the senate or his own matron.
People in this home filled their spoons with laughter. They dined on easy chuckles and refused platters of discord, not taking a bite.
Everything here seemed easy.
Perhaps that was why Lila shot off the bench first, spying Mòr’s eyes as they rolled toward the ceiling. Cradling the oracle’s head, she stopped it from striking the table, guiding her down to the floor. Connell appeared at her side a split second later and rolled his lover onto her side, pulling her away from the table so that she would not bang her legs or arms upon the wood. He fiddled with her bracelet as Nico shoved a pillow under her neck so that she would not injure her head.
Connell watched as his lover shook and jerked and drooled on the floor. Half-chewed tortilla tumbled from her mouth as she mumbled. All he could do was check his watch and keep the time.
Lila only caught a few of Mòr’s words here and there. “…serpents rising. The bishop lost in the golden house of the bulls… The Army of the Dead assembles under the same stars. Lila… Lila… Lila…”
Nico grabbed a clean napkin from the table, passing it to his chief so that he could wipe Mòr’s mouth.
Kenna stood. “Cecily, Camille, take your food into the kitchen and eat in the breakfast nook. You know Mòr doesn’t like being stared at when she’s like this.”
The young women obediently took their meals away.
Dixon and Blair followed.
Nico also got to his feet. “I should leave for first patrol. If you don’t mind, I’ll take my breakfast to go this morning.”
“No, it’s not right, Nico,” Connell said. “This is happening much too often. Kenna can stay with her sister this morning. I can’t—”
“The oracle needs to be with her family right now, and I serve the oracle. This is part of it. I would do this every day for the rest of my life if duty called for it.”
“Sixteen-hour days? You’re going to start making mistakes.”
“Nonsense. The oracle had a good day yesterday, and I got a good night’s sleep, filled with very pleasant dreams.” Nico’s gaze flicked toward Lila. “I’ll be fine for days. I’ll take my breakfast and relieve Boyd. Stay with your lover. You ease her, and she needs it.”
Nico chugged his orange juice and dumped a few more spoonfuls of migas and an extra tortilla on top of his plate. Then he covered it with a napkin. “It was lovely to see you, Lila. Knock on my door tonight if you want more of my cooking. Cabin twenty-four. And go see Dr. McCrae about that bump on your face, will you? I don’t like seeing you hurt.”
“It’s just a bruise. Besides, I’m heading back into town to see my doctor tomorrow morning.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Nico marched from the dining room, whistling as his footsteps retreated through the parlor.
Connell brushed Mòr’s hair from her eyes as she finally stopped thrashing. “Nico likes you. He can be a little aggressive in his pursuit sometimes. If you want me to talk to him, I will.”
“I’m more than capable of handling blunt men.”
“I imagine you are,” he said. “Your reflexes are faster than I thought.”
“I just happened to look up at the right time.”
“You might not be able to fight worth a damn, but I suspect that will come in time. I could use someone with your talents, and I understand that you’re in need of a job.”
“What does Mòr think about that?”
“She’s not a matron. I don’t need Mòr’s approval or permission on security matters. I did run it by her, though. She likes the idea of keeping you close. What happened last month keeps us both up at night. Think about it.”
With that, he picked up the oracle. “Kenna, send Dr. McCrae to our bedroom when she arrives, will you?”
Connell trudged from the room, Mòr in his arms.
Kenna rearranged the pitchers on the tables. “Mòr has seizures all the time. It can be a bit nerve-racking to outsiders.”
“To insiders as well.”
“They usually aren’t this bad. Most of the time, she just spaces out. Sometimes she doesn’t even drop whatever she’s holding. She’s had them at the temple before, and most of the time, pilgrims don’t even notice. I catch her up in her earpiece when she gives me the signal. She’ll even carry on for the rest of the day. Lately, they’ve been different.”
“Because of the thrashing?”
“And what she sees. Death, destruction, blood. Whatever it is this time, it’s big. Big as in conferences with your father. We’re lucky, really. The prime minister might want to interfere with us, but he listens when we speak. It’s more difficult to warn someone when they do not yet believe. It’s why there are factions within our numbers who wish to return to the old ways.”
“When the oracles controlled the government?”
“Yes.”
“Do you?”
“Sometimes I believe it would be better than the system we have now, but there aren’t enough oracles who wish to rule. We prefer our oases away from the rest of the world.”
“She keeps saying my name.”
“She’s trying to work out what she’s been seeing, conferring with other oracles who might be seeing the same things, or perhaps the other pieces of her vision. Sometimes it’s a group process.”
“She said she wanted to talk to me after breakfast. Should I stay?”
Kenna shook her head. “It might take her a few hours until she’s well enough for a visitor. She just wanted to check in, make sure you’re still getting what you need. Gossip about Blair.” She snorted. “She also wanted to give you a chance to interrogate one of the mercs.”
Lila’s mouth hung open. “You still have them?”
“You bet your ass we still have them.” A darkness spread across Kenna’s eyes. “Dr. McCrae keeps them half drugged. Connell has cameras trained on them day and night, keeping them locked in their cells. They aren’t going anywhere, not until we find this mole.”
“I’m not sure what I would ask. I read the transcripts. Your sister and Connell asked some rather blunt and pointed questions. If they didn’t know anything then, they won’t know anything now. They aren’t going to tell me anything different.”
“Maybe we didn’t ask the right questions.”
“Maybe I don’t know the right ones yet, either. Tell Mòr that I don’t have much of an update, with you? I’ve culled a few interesting files from the logs, but I need to fetch some programs back at Dixon’s apartment to investigate them further.”
“You’re leaving?”
“I need a few things back at the shop.”
“You’re uncomfortable here.”
“No. It’s very nice. It’s very inviting. Very easy.”
Kenna studied her. “That makes you nervous, doesn’t it?”
“I’m not nervous. I just need a few things. So does Dixon. Things were left a bit unfinished between him and his brother.”
“Dixon’s leaving a few things unfinished here as well. He kept staring at Blair all through breakfast.”
“You don’t approve?”
“I don’t know him well, but I can’t possibly imagine what he did to deserve her as a punishment,” Kenna said. “My heart weeps in sympathy. Blair is aggravation personified.”
“I think she amuses him.”
“Some people are amused by cobras. Perhaps he should keep her in a basket.”
Lila tried not to smile.
“I’m guessing he doesn’t wear that scarf for fashion.”
“He likes purple.”
“He likes Francois Bisset, too. I recognize the designer. That’s an expensive scarf. I’m guessing it’s a gift from you.”
“We’ve been friends for a few years now.”
“Just friends?”
“Not anymore. He’s moved up in my esteem lately. We’re contemplating becoming best friends. I’m sure there’s a greeting card or a secret handshake involved. I’m a bit rusty.”
“Best friends with a man who cut out his slave’s chip?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Lila said.
“I’ll tell you exactly what I’m talking about. He’s not workborn, from his bearing. He comes from money and power, but it all slipped through his fingers. I can see that plainly enough. There’s guilt in him. Pain, loneliness, and sadness, too. He’s just starting to come into his own as a man, figuring out the sort he wants to be.”
“I think time away from his brother will help him do that.”
“It better not come at the expense of my little sister. I might not like her, but I love her,” Kenna said. “It is times like these that I wish had the vision. I’d touch Dixon every time I saw him.”
“You care a great deal about your sisters. You pretend frustration, but you worry over Blair a great deal.”
Kenna played with a napkin. “I’m the eldest. It is my job to worry. The seizures took our mother too early, just like they’ll take Mòr in the end.”
“They’re adults, Kenna. You don’t have to play that role anymore.”
“Don’t I? Given Mòr’s illness and Blair’s refusal to participate in the world, someone has to take care of them.”
“Where’s your lover?”
Kenna looked up, not expecting the question. “Some people can’t handle responsibility.”
“It sounds lonely.”
“Not so lonely as busy. Cecily and Camille help when they aren’t preoccupied. Achille did as well. That might have put on a strain on their relationship. I just hope it wasn’t the reason why he left.”
“I sincerely doubt he left Cecily because he occasionally had to remind a grown woman to wear her jacket and gloves,” Lila said. “If he couldn’t handle that, he didn’t deserve her.”
“Damn straight.”
“Connell seems to help.”
“Yes, he does. Connell is a good man. Is Dixon a good man?”
Lila nodded.
“Well, I hope he’ll return with you, and I hope he’ll figure out things here. Maybe you both can. I see in your eyes that you’re lost too. Stay here as long as you wish. You’ll always have a place with the oracles.”
Dixon entered, his lips and cheeks a touch redder than before.
Kenna snatched up her breakfast plate. “I need to eat and help the girls clean up. Drive safely. I’ll see you both soon.”
Lila left her plate where it sat. Nico had cooked excellently, but she’d lost her appetite after Mòr’s seizure. Instead of lingering, she and Dixon walked back to their cabin, with Lila sneaking peeks at Dixon’s face.
“We both need to retrieve things from the shop. If you’re going on vacation, you need to do it properly. Also, it would be helpful if you and Toxic could help me go through some of this data.”
Dixon paused mid-step, as though he might refuse.
“Take me back, Dixon, and I won’t bug you for details about last night or what just happened in the kitchen. At least, not yet.”
Dixon’s cheeks turned a darker shade of pink.