The Final Tally

Five mornings later, Lieutenant Turan stood to attention in Zelenski's office in Landfall, or as close to attention as senior Intelligence Corps agents could be bothered with.

"Tanya Coppelli was deposited there?" Zelenski asked.

"Yes, ma'am. She was with them when they went into the Southwater temple, and they all left without her."

"You didn't make further inquiries at the temple?"

"I didn't think there'd be any point. And my instructions were not to make myself known."

"No. You're right. The Sisters will never as much as acknowledge the quarters are occupied." Zelenski sighed. "Do you know if Devishi Tang is back in Landfall yet?"

"No, ma'am. But I'd guess she's a ways behind. I was on the ferry from Southwater with her. She hired a carriage from the stables at Salsport, which are another Coppelli business. I watched her go, then picked up my horse and came on as quickly as I could, using relay posts. I passed her a few kilometers along the road out of Salsport, but didn't see her again."

"You did a good job."

"Thank you."

"You can go."

"Yes, ma'am."

Once the door was shut, Zelenski rubbed her forehead, considering the news. She had ordered the tail on the barge mainly out of curiosity. Zelenski knew she had lost in that particular game. There had been only a weak chance of the agent turning up proof that Coppelli and Bakara had conspired to set the heretic free. Even if the evidence had been forthcoming, Zelenski doubted that she would have been able to make use of it.

And the heretic had not been freed—quite the opposite. Some comfort could be had from knowing that she would never be able to infect anyone else with her poison. The Southwater quarters were nothing if not secure, but Zelenski would rather have had Tanya Coppelli in the cells below her, and the opportunity to extract every last scrap of information the woman knew.

The Southwater quarters were a bit of a surprise. Surely they were far too valuable a resource to be wasted on the unrepentant heretic. Why had Bakara agreed to it? What was the hold Isabel Coppelli had over her? Because there had to be something.

With all the lies and double-crossing, Zelenski was still very sure of one thing. Bakara had some secret crime on her conscience, and Isabel Coppelli knew what it was. Zelenski thought back to Bakara's guilty reaction when she had mentioned Consultant Joannou.

Zelenski groaned at the memory. That had been the bait in the trap, and she had swallowed it whole. The woman calling herself Marlena Azid had told the truth about Bakara having something to hide. It might be the only true thing she had said. She certainly was not who she claimed to be. Rather too late, Zelenski's agents had found out that Jean Azid had no nieces of the right age, and none she did have were named Marlena.

Isabel Coppelli was the one behind it all. But maybe Marlena Azid had revealed one other truth. There was no point going after the old rogue while she had the Chief Consultant in her pocket. First Bakara had to go, and then Coppelli would be without her defender.

But how?

Zelenski knew her position was precarious. She had been maneuvered into thinking her hand was stronger than it was, and then caught out, dangerously exposed, when she overplayed it. She was going to have to bide her time, go slowly, and be very sure before she moved against the Chief Consultant again. The first thing was to find out just what Bakara's guilty secret was.

Bakara was not at all like her predecessor, Chief Consultant Pereira. Pereira had been an unwavering enemy to the heretics. She had understood that the Corps was the only force who could stop the spread of foul lies, and that mercy was not a virtue when the soul of the planet was at stake. Better to cut out the cancer than to let the whole body die.

Zelenski's face furrowed in thought. Bakara was soft on heresy. She and Zelenski had fought many times on the issue. Was that the clue to Bakara's secret? Surely Bakara was not a sympathizer. No. Zelenski shook her head. That was beyond what she could bring herself to believe. However, some clue lay there. She knew it. Joannou had been set in the same mold as Pereira.

The Goddess would be better served when Bakara was gone and a true defender of the faith was put in her place. Getting rid of the weak, flawed Chief Consultant was her duty to the Goddess, and no matter how long it took, she would not fail. Zelenski smiled grimly. After all, she had the resources and she had the time.

 

Chief Consultant Bakara read the letter once more, then folded it and placed it in the middle of her desk. With her fingertips, she aligned the bottom edge with the grain in the wood, as if by making it lie straight, she could straighten her thoughts. The outside looked so innocuous, clear except for her name in Consultant Sharif's bold script. The contents were problematic, both in what they said and in the implications that followed.

Colonel Zelenski had double-crossed her and had not handed over Isabel Coppelli's granddaughter. But had Zelenski wanted the switch to be discovered, or had she been hoping that it might go unnoticed? From the letter, it was clear that only Consultant Sharif's prudence in checking with an Imprinter had exposed the deception.

Bakara tried to think it through logically. Whatever scandal Isabel Coppelli had uncovered, obviously it genuinely scared Zelenski, otherwise the colonel would not have given up the letters and map. Yet, regardless of whether Zelenski thought the swap with the look-alike would be spotted, she had been prepared to take the risk.

Bakara rubbed her forehead. The problem was that she had no idea what threats had been used on Zelenski. What if it was something that would incriminate her as well? Isabel Coppelli had been very careful not to reveal the details.

When Isabel heard about her granddaughter she would be furious, and Zelenski would surely be her first target. But who else might be brought down by the infighting? Isabel had charged the Sisterhood with keeping her granddaughter safe. Would she feel that she had been let down?

Bakara sighed and leaned back in her chair. The plotting and second-guessing was sending her head into a whirl. Yet one thing was clear. Colonel Zelenski had become a major problem, but she was a problem that could be dealt with far more easily if she was off guard. If she thought she had gotten away with her ruse. Whichever way Bakara looked at it, events would be better controlled if Isabel Coppelli did not find out what had happened to her granddaughter, and to this end, Consultant Sharif had made one practical suggestion.

Bakara lifted the small bell off her desk and rang it.

A white-robed Sister opened the door. "Yes, Chief Consultant?"

"Send the Coppelli representative in."

"Yes, Chief Consultant."

Devishi Tang appeared shortly. The young woman, in her rich burgundy jacket, marched to a spot a respectful distance from the desk and bowed. "You wanted to see me, Chief Consultant?"

"Yes. I've read this letter from my beloved Sister in Southwater. She informs me that the arrangements made for your cousin didn't work out as planned."

Devishi Tang looked politely attentive, but said nothing.

"Have you told anyone of this?"

"No, Chief Consultant. I arrived back in Landfall only an hour ago."

"And what are your plans?"

"I'll report to my grandmother this evening before returning to my home in Eastford tomorrow."

Bakara nodded thoughtfully. "Consultant Sharif informs me that you have little sympathy with your cousin."

"She's a heretic. What more need be said?"

"You're not distressed by her disappearance?"

"No, Chief Consultant, not personally."

"Even though your cousin might already be dead, and if not, then she soon will be?"

"I won't be wasting tears over her."

"But your grandmother might."

"I fear my grandmother has given in to misguided sentimentality.

Old women can become overindulgent with their grandchildren and blind to their faults."

Bakara took a breath, wanting to pick her words carefully. "So I ask myself, what good would be achieved by letting your grandmother know of what happened?"

"Chief Consultant?"

"At best, your grandmother will suffer needless grief on behalf of someone who doesn't deserve it. At worst, she'll be drawn into direct conflict with the Intelligence Corps. Even if your cousin isn't dead yet, and your grandmother secures her release, it will only bring more ignominy to the Coppelli name."

"But my grandmother..."

"I think we're agreed that your grandmother's judgment is lacking in this matter. Rest assured I won't let it drop, but I'll act prudently and in accordance with the will of the Goddess. I only ask you to leave this to me and don't involve your grandmother. You needn't tell a direct lie. Say that the affair has concluded satisfactorily, and your cousin is where she should be. A small distortion, for your grandmother's peace of mind as much as anything."

Devishi Tang's eyes fixed on the floor and her forehead furrowed. "I'm...not sure."

"I would offer prayers on your behalf, for a compassionate and dutiful granddaughter."

"The prayers of the Chief Consultant are a blessing I don't deserve, but..."

"And give you a gift of two hundred dollars..."

Devishi Tang looked half persuaded.

"...now, and a further two hundred after you return home."

"You're most generous. And you're right. Why upset my grandmother, when nothing can be gained by it?"

"That is most obliging of you, my child."

"I'm pleased to be of help, Chief Consultant."

Bakara relaxed. The first issue was resolved. After a few more rounds of polite exchanges, Devishi Tang was escorted from the room in the company of a Sister who had been given instructions concerning the money.

Alone again, Bakara left her desk and went to stare through the window. The Guards' parade ground was immediately below. The hard-packed earth shimmered in the heat of the afternoon sun. Directly opposite stood the Intelligence Corps headquarters. Bakara's eyes narrowed. She could only assume that Tanya Coppelli was still in the cells beneath it—if she was still alive.

Bakara's eyes moved on. Beyond the compound lay the roofs of the city, and beyond them lay the rest of the world—the world that the one true Goddess, Celaeno, had chosen for her daughters. Behind her mask, Bakara grimaced. Guiding this world was her sacred duty, and Bakara knew she was the only one who could ensure that the will of the Goddess prevailed.

Bakara thought of her predecessor, Chief Consultant Pereira. She had been a devout woman, resolute in her commitment to wipe out the heretics. In Bakara's opinion, far too resolute and dogmatic. Pereira was the one who had allowed the Intelligence Corps to break free from the Guards' command structure, so the Corps colonel reported directly to the Chief Consultant. She had allowed them the license to act outside the rule of the law, and the Corps had taken full advantage.

Yet, with hindsight, many of the Corps' actions proved counterproductive. Rather than crushing opposition, indiscriminate brutality had won sympathy for the heretics. Faithful daughters of the Goddess, who had no interest in the blasphemous lies, would sing songs glorifying the heretics' leaders and turn a blind eye to their agents. To have any hope of defeating the heretics, the Sisterhood must keep the support of the ordinary citizens. This would mean reining in the Intelligence Corps.

Colonel Zelenski had been a protégée of Chief Consultant Pereira. Even before the current train of events, she and Bakara had been on a collision course. The fanatical colonel could not see that her ruthless methods were the heretics' best recruitment tool. Zelenski clearly thought she should act more and more aggressively until the heretics were destroyed, and refused to believe that the common mass of citizens would revolt against the Sisterhood long before that point was reached.

If the Sisterhood were to remain as guardians to the souls of Celaeno's daughters, then Zelenski had to go—permanently. Bakara closed her eyes in regret. The battle between them was now too personal for any other solution, and she must move quickly and decisively. Yet not to a public court-martial. The situation required something quieter, using the power invested in her as the earthly representative of the Goddess. All that was then needed was to pick the right officer to carry out the orders, before Zelenski had a chance to make her next move.

Bakara went to the candlelit shrine and knelt to ask forgiveness for what she must do.

 

Militia Corporal Jay Delores was enjoying a quiet snooze when she was awakened by pounding on the street door. She lumbered to her feet and swung the hatch open. A small, lightly built woman was standing on the cobbles outside. Her face was screwed into an angry scowl. Her body was swaying as if she was too wound up to keep still.

"What do you want?"

"Have you got my frigging sister in there?"

"I don't know. What's your sister's name?"

"Pat Oduro. Patricia. 'Cause if she ain't here after I've come all this way, I'm going to fucking kill someone."

"Yes. Calm down. She's here."

The news did not make Oduro's sister look any happier. "Hoo-fucking-ray."

"You want to talk to her?"

"I want to kick her frigging ass."

"I'll have to let her out before you can do that. And at the moment, she stays put until the magistrate deals with her."

"Yeah, yeah, it's already been seen to back in Landfall. I've got the warrant for her release." The angry woman pulled a sheet from her pocket and waved it in Delores's face through the hatch.

The Militiawoman grabbed the paper. "Why didn't you say sooner?"

"You didn't think I'd come all the way from frigging Landfall just to shout at her through the keyhole, did you?"

Corporal Delores ignored the woman and tilted the paper to catch the evening sunlight. The official stamp and magistrate's signature were at the top, and two fingerprints, taken at the time of arrest, were at the bottom left. Everything else was in order, detailing the payment of all outstanding fines. Delores stepped back and opened the door.

"Come in. I'll get her out of the lockup for you."

As soon as she was inside, the short woman raised her voice. "Oi, Pat. You there?"

"Yeah." A voice answered indistinctly from the lockup.

"What the fucking hell you doing down here?"

"Weren't my fault."

"It never is. Hey, Officer?"

Corporal Delores had the key off her belt and was inserting it in the lock. "Yeah?"

"Why was she bought all the way down here? What sort of fucking game was it? I thought someone was having a laugh when they told me."

"Somebody wanted to talk to her."

"What frigging nutter was that?"

Delores faced the short woman. "It was the Consultant at the temple. And if you don't want to join your sister in the lockup you should watch your mouth."

"Oh. Sorry. Didn't know."

Corporal Delores stood in the open doorway. Currently the cell held two occupants. The sailor who had been carried in after a heavy lunchtime drinking session was still sleeping, curled in a corner. Her rasping snores continued unbroken. The Militiawoman glanced at her. She was the usual run of patron for the Southwater lockup. Most likely the drunken sailor would stay there until the ship's captain bailed her out in time to depart.

Oduro was a different matter. Something about her did not fit, and that worried Delores. She had no idea why the Consultant had wanted to talk to the woman, and she did not want to know. Oduro acted and spoke like a common thug, yet her eyes moved with a sharp intelligence. In the six days she had been in the lockup, she had given no information about her family, friends, or job, and that was unusual. Most women of her type talked nonstop. Some needed threats to make them shut up. Delores sensed nasty secrets lurking, and the sooner the woman was gone, the better.

"Okay, Oduro. You can come out."

The prisoner emerged, blinking in the light of the main room.

"By the Goddess, look at you. What a fucking state. Did you go out in your best clothes?" the sister crowed.

"Sort of."

"Well they ain't anything to talk about now."

"Weren't my fault. The lockup's a pig sty."

"You're the stupid pig."

An argument was clearly about to break out. Corporal Delores cut in. "You can squabble about clothes all the way back to Landfall if you want. I need your prints on this and then you can both get out of my station."

Oduro grunted sullenly and stumbled to the desk in the corner. Delores laid the paper and the inkpad before her and watched her put her release fingerprints in the bottom right hand boxes. By the rules, the releasing officer was supposed to check the match using an eyeglass. Delores settled for squinting in the last of the fading sunlight. The match looked close enough. In fact, she did not care whether it was or not. She wanted the two sisters gone before a fight started.

"Can she go now?" the small sister asked. Oduro just stood, scowling.

"Yeah. The pair of you. Shove off."

"Come on, Pat."

The sisters disappeared into the street, but their voices could still be heard.

"I don't know why I frigging bother with you."

"Weren't my fault."

Corporal Delores shut the door and returned to her chair. Things were back to normal and already she was feeling happier. The peace of the Southwater Militia station was broken only by snores from the drunken sailor in the lockup. Smiling, Jay Delores lifted her feet onto the desk and closed her eyes.

 

Devishi Tang lifted her brandy glass and swirled the amber liquid around. The rich, sweet aroma was nearly as satisfying as the taste, but not quite. She took a sip and sighed with contentment. It was good to be off the road and back to the comforts of the Coppelli mansion.

The sun was now low in the sky, and the enclosed courtyard was in shade, pleasant after the heat of the day. The air was full of the scent of flowers and the sound of splashing water from the fountain. Devishi hooked her ankle around the leg of another chair and pulled it forward to use as a footstool. She took a second sip of brandy and smiled at her grandmother.

"I was amazed Bakara went as far as paying me money to keep quiet."

"Yes. That was a pleasant surprise. To tell the truth, I wasn't sure she would even decide to hide the story from me. On one level, it wouldn't have made too much difference. But I'm pleased with how it's turned out. It means she's making her own plans to deal with Zelenski."

"Any idea what those plans are likely to be?"

"She's going to have the colonel killed, of course."

Devishi pursed her lips thoughtfully. She was surprised not by the casual way her grandmother treated the topic of violent death— such things were hardly a rare occurrence in the unforgiving world of Landfall politics—but that the Chief Consultant should be the one employing the tactic.

"You're sure of that?"

"Oh yes. Bakara believes Zelenski stole incriminating documents, used them to bully and blackmail her, deliberately defied her orders, and then double-crossed her. She's going to think Zelenski is totally out of control. And Bakara's going to want her out of the way before she causes more trouble. Remember, they didn't even start out as allies."

"Killing Zelenski seems a bit extreme. Although it will cheer a lot of people up." Devishi knew her words were an understatement. The head of the Intelligence Corps was hated across the Homelands.

"It's the best way to make sure that nobody else ever gets to hear what Bakara thinks Zelenski has found out. It's just Zelenski's tough luck that Bakara is blaming her for all sorts of things that she hasn't done"—Isabel paused, frowning—"yet."

"Yet? You think she will?"

"Zelenski is shrewd enough to unravel our plot, given time, and she doesn't give up. She'll dig down to the truth. And once she gets there, she could be very dangerous. Fortunately for us, she isn't going to get the time." Isabel turned her face to the fountain in the middle of the courtyard. Her expression showed no trace of concern or regret.

"You're sure?"

"Very. If Bakara was planning some other fate for Zelenski, she'd have brought me in to help. Whether she's consciously aware of it or not, the reason she paid you to keep quiet was so it would be a private matter between her and the Goddess."

"I was expecting the Chief Consultant to be a bit more"—Devishi waved her free hand, hunting for the word she wanted—"forgiving, unworldly."

"Don't be misled by all their talk of love. If there's one lesson you should take from this, it's that the Sisterhood and the Guards are the most dangerous enemies you can have, because they can always convince themselves the Goddess wants them to do whatever it is they're doing. They see compromise as a betrayal of their faith."

"An all-or-nothing game?"

"Indeed." Isabel reached out and plucked a bloom from a nearby bush. "If someday you come to sit in my place and play games with the Sisterhood, make sure you have every step charted and know exactly where you're going to end up. If you can't guarantee being on the winning side, then throw in your hand before the stakes get too high."

"At the moment, I'm still taking lessons from the best player in Landfall." Devishi smiled at her grandmother. "You worked it all out very neatly. Tanya is free, but the Sisters think the Corps have got her, the Corps think the Sisters have, and Zelenski will be gone before anyone gets the chance to swap notes. The Chief Consultant is further indebted to the family. And between them, they've paid us one thousand four hundred and sixty dollars."

Isabel Coppelli raised the flower to her nose and inhaled the scent, while her eyes danced in amusement. "Oh yes. It never hurts to turn in a profit."

 

High tide was covering the marshland. Only the tips of reeds and the tallest sand banks broke the surface of the water. The sun was setting behind the temple, casting a golden glow over the waves. Thin bands of purple cloud lined the horizon. From the activity on the decks of two seagoing ships, it was plain that they were preparing to set sail on the high water.

Tanya trekked down to the harbor beside Riki, savoring the simple action of walking under the open sky without Guards around her or her hands bound. She was out of prison. She was free. She could relax— almost.

Tanya knew Riki would have arranged passage for them and had deliberately left getting her out of the lockup until the last possible moment. The Intelligence Corps had assuredly followed them to Southwater. Colonel Zelenski would not have given up on her so easily. Grandma Izzy had thought the Corps would not hang around for long, once the Sisters and Devishi left, but there was always a risk they had left an agent in place.

Even though the lengthy stay in the lockup had not been pleasant, the less time she was on the streets of Southwater, the less chance of being spotted. Who thinks of reporting someone already in a lockup? If she and Riki could just get onto the ship and have it cast off, she could feel truly safe, but not until then. Tanya clamped her jaw as the fears resurfaced. Surely she would not fail now. Her eyes drifted to the reed beds. If anything went wrong, she would throw herself in the water. She would rather drown in quicksand than return to the Corps dungeon.

Tanya's gaze touched briefly on Riki, strolling next to her. Abruptly, Tanya's pulse rate soared and it had nothing to do with fear. Riki was all spark and audacity. Tanya could feel the energy radiating off her. Riki's head and shoulders were back, her bearing nine-tenths swagger. Her grin showed an utter lack of concern for the Guards, the Corps, the Sisters, or the rest of the world. It was not just a façade of bravado. Tanya had come to realize it went far deeper. Yet surely Riki's heart was not untouchable. If the devil-may-care rebel could be made to care, what expression would Riki's face hold in the heat of passion?

Tanya caught her breath even as a crooked flagstone made her stumble. She had to concentrate. Falling over would be an idiotic blunder when she was trying to avoid attention.

They reached the gangplank to one ship readying for departure. A sailor on deck waved to Riki. "You found her, then."

"Propping up a bar, like I said," Riki called back.

The sailor laughed and returned to coiling her rope. Riki strolled up the gangplank. Tanya followed, reaching the deck, leaving Southwater.

"I stored our stuff over there." Riki pointed to a couple of bags. "Do you want to grab a clean shirt?"

Tanya considered what she was wearing. Grandma Izzy had provided new clothes in Landfall. The outfit selected for the evening the Corps reclaimed her had been chosen to look suitably costly for a

Coppelli scion when clean in the temple, and suitably inconspicuous after two weeks in a cell when on the Southwater docks.

"I think I'm okay. What do you think?"

Riki gave her a serious appraisal. "You're right. You'll attract less attention as you are, rather than if you start stripping off."

Tanya's pulse leapt again as Riki's eyes swept up and down her. Her knees felt wobbly. She pointed to a low crate on the seaward side. "I'm going to sit down."

"Okay."

Tanya staggered over and collapsed. Even before she was settled, she heard a wooden clattering as the gangplank was hauled in. Either Riki's timing was perfect, or the crew had been waiting for them.

Tanya raised her eyes. Sailors were climbing through rigging overhead, loosening sails. She felt the ship sway. Steadily the movement became more pronounced. The ship rode a soft wind, carrying them out to sea. Tanya looked back. Already ten meters of water separated the ship from the harbor wall.

They had left Southwater.

She was free.

The ship drifted on, slow and sedate, down the channel between sandbanks, moving into deeper water. Tanya looked back. The temple crouched atop the rocky island, overshadowing the town like the Sisterhood overshadowed the Homelands. Yet already it was fading into the dusk.

She was free.

Tanya's gaze moved back to the boat. On the other side of the deck, Riki was laughing with a sailor. Tanya remembered her grandmother's words. She is a troublemaker, and she'll always be making trouble for someone.

Riki was making trouble for her at the moment—the most pleasant type of trouble. Yet Tanya knew it could lead her into making a complete fool of herself. They had been enemies in Westernfort. Tanya no longer felt that way, but how did Riki feel about her? Despite their daily meetings, they had never shared a private conversation. Always the Sister on duty had been watching, an inhibiting presence, even if she could not overhear what was said.

Supposing Riki got bored on the journey and wanted to stir things up. Without Guards as a target, there would be no one else to annoy.

Was Riki about to revert to being a pain in the ass? Riki had said she was on Tanya's side. Did that still apply? Would she want to hold hands again?

Tanya groaned and closed her eyes. I've got to get a grip, she told herself. Her head and heart were all over the place. They had a long trip ahead together, without anyone else as distraction. Tanya took a deep breath, unsure whether the ripples inside her were due to worry or expectation.

Unexpectedly, a laugh bubbled up inside her. Oh yes. She was certainly free, if such trivial matters were the main thing on her mind. Tanya opened her eyes and looked from Riki to the temple, fading into the dark, and then back to Riki.

She was free.