On-Grid
Haven City
Aunt Zandir had met with a Healer.
Jorey knew this because he kept a very close watch on clever Aunt Zandir now that she was threatening him.
Aunt Zandir was a great one for plans. And her plans had been put significantly forward when Jorey had broken through the wall the Healer had built between himself and his soul, killing Grandmother in the doing of it.
He had been, a little, sorry about that. Grandmother had spoken against having the Healer come in to do the work. It had been Mother who had insisted that Jorey be made Deaf, inept, and stupid, in order to keep him close to her.
Much good that had done her. Mother had fallen straight off the roof. Why she had been on the roof so late in the evening was never explained. It was not the best time to view the roof garden, and in any case, she had not been an admirer of flowers or any other sort of plant.
Yet, fallen from the roof she had, and that was Mother out of Aunt Zandir’s way.
Jorey had for a long time thought that Aunt Avryal had been the reason for the fall. She and Mother had been at odds for as long as Jorey could remember. More lately, he had come to think that the genius behind the fall had been Aunt Zandir, even if it had been Aunt Avryal’s hand on Mother’s back.
In any case, Grandmother’s death had suited Aunt Zandir right down to the ground. She became head of the family and the syndicate, which gathered even more influence and wealth under her guidance, and with Jorey as the enforcer of her will. She had praised him, then, for his strength and his daring. When he had learned how to siphon and copy signatures from the ambient, she had declared him her clever boy.
Aunt Zandir had not seen any reason, then, to have the Healers build a stronger wall, or cast him out into savagery. No, Aunt Zandir had seen that Jorey would be useful to her plans.
But the nature of Aunt Zandir’s plans had changed as the family, and she as its head, had come more fully forward. Too many deaths, even unproved deaths, around the kezlBlythe Syndicate, would adversely affect their momentum. It was Aunt Zandir’s ambition to be the leader of business and of policy in Haven City, and therefore, she refined her methods.
She had sought influence over well-connected Pel chastaMeir, thinking to reach the Warden though his kinsman. But Pel was deeper than Aunt Zandir had understood. Jorey had watched him shake off her control again and again, even as her influence corroded his shields.
Jorey’s Sight wasn’t best suited to such things, but he had come to believe that Pel had two sets of shields, one inside the other—the first meager and permeable; the inner as seamless and as slippery as glass.
Jorey watched Pel, clever Pel, kin to the Warden, willing to toy with Aunt Zandir—waiting for her to make a mistake. And if Pel brought down Aunt Zandir, he would also net Aunt Avryal—and Jorey.
He would be Healed again, cut in two, half-remembering what he had been, and all of what he’d lost.
Jorey had acted. Pel, clever, clever Pel, had stumbled when Jorey hit him in the back, falling beneath the wheels of the incoming train.
Zatorvia had been another of Aunt Zandir’s plans. But Zatorvia had been no more in thrall than Pel had been. Maybe Pel had taught her how to double-shield, too.
She had been better at pretending, Zatorvia, and maybe Aunt Zandir had held some part of her. After all, she had never gone to the Warden, or called a Healer, or even a security officer. But she had gone to the port. Jorey had seen her, coming away from the Isfelm Trade Office, where Zatorvia had no business to be.
He had told Aunt Zandir that Zatorvia was going to try to run off-world. She had laughed and told him that Zatorvia was well under control.
The risk had been too much.
Jorey had acted again.
And now Aunt Zandir was threatening him, meeting with the Healer. Aunt Zandir would have to be dealt with, soon.
But there was something else that had to be done first. A new development.
There had been an eyewitness to Zatorvia’s death. Right now, it was only a whisper on the streets, but it would be on the news services soon enough, and Aunt Zandir would hear it.
One of the brats must have seen him.
The lucky thing was that not only were the brats not of age, they were savages, living among the savage.
Jorey had no clear understanding of what sort of legal work might need to be done in order to allow the brats to testify against him. He thought it might take some time. On the other hand, it had been some time since Zatorvia’s death, and the news only now being released. That spoke of confidence.
The legal work might already be done.
The Warden’s office might be closing in on him—right now.
But they weren’t here yet, Jorey thought.
And it didn’t matter how legal the witness was, if the witness was dead.
Jorey took a hard breath, bringing a signature forward in his mind.
Mist swirled.
The room was empty.