Page 15 of Oathborn
Zari couldn’t quite shake the sense someone watched her. When she lifted her head to the rooftops beyond, she could have sworn she saw a white-haired figure melting away, into the shadows. Someone in a cloak, someone whose purple eyes seemed to gleam like starlight.
Should she flee back into the hospital? Run to Captain Javen for advice?
No. She rubbed her eyes. She was exhausted. Surely, she’d been imagining whatever she’d seen. Dealing with the captain again would only subject her to more of his taunts. She pulled her thin coat tighter. It was only a few blocks until the trolley stop. Telling herself she’d be home soon, she forced herself to keep walking, only to jump back in alarm when a familiar automobile bumped the curb in front of her.
“Zari!” Annette shouted from the passenger side’s open window. “Oh, thank goodness! Come on, squeeze in here.” She opened the door and patted the leather seat next to her, while shifting closer to her husband, Pietr. He still wore his uniform, which was more rumpled than usual, and worry lines creased the dark skin of his forehead.
“How did you know I was leaving?”
“A lucky guess.” She smiled. “You know I get those feelings sometimes.” It was true Annette had the oddest ability to win almost any game of chance, and a habit of predicting things right before they occurred. Zari’s father used to tell her that Annette had the devil’s own luck.
Given how differently her life turned out from Annette’s, Zari found herself thinking there was nothing devilish about anything in Annette’s world. A handsome husband, which had been a love match, not arranged, two wonderful children, and a beautiful home in the most desirable neighborhood of the capital. Yes, Annette was lucky in a dozen ways Zari was not.
Though,Zari thought, as she shut the car door behind her, thinking back to her last ride in an automobile hours before.Some luck has found me.She’d been able to help save the lives of many, had surely proven herself as worthy of attending medical school in her actions, and even had met Yansin.
“She wouldn’t let me rest until I agreed,” Pietr said, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. “Seeing as I can’t really have her careening off on a joy ride twice in a night…” His dark mustache twitched.
“How are the soldiers?” Annette asked. “There were… some survived, right?”
“Yes, and they’re healing, thanks to the advice from a captain, who—”
“Ooh, a captain?” Annette’s eyes lit up. “A handsome, single captain?”
“A miserable, married captain,” Zari laughed. “Captain Javen.”
“Name rings a bell. Solemn fellow. Transferred here from a unit in the north, after the last of the outposts closed up.” Pietr kept his eyes on the road ahead. “Officially, we will not speak of tonight again. Commander Lockwood’s orders. Got the telegram before we left.”
In other words, a cover-up.
Chapter four
Tobias
Tobias Bridger wasn’t surprised when Captain Javen failed to appear for the morning inspection, even if he’d hoped he would, if only to acknowledge that Tobias was back on his feet after his stay in the hospital. Then again, these months under Javen’s command had lowered Tobias’s expectations considerably. Orders were sparse and praise nonexistent. The one time he’d voiced frustration, another officer had offered a shrug and a smirk about how there were always potatoes to peel.
Standing in formation, Tobias waited for further orders.
Tobias spent a great deal of time waiting. Someone chuckled. “Your captain’s not here, Bridger. Bet you get stuck with latrine duty.”
“Hey, a latrine probably smells better than where he grew up,” a second said.
Tobias gritted his teeth through another round of muttered insults. Even though he had graduated top of his military academy class, his home province of Karsic made him an easy target. When he’d first been selected to serve under the captain, he’d thought he was lucky. Tobias had heard countless stories of criminals brought to justice by Javen. Meanwhile, Tobias was only known for that time he’d fallen asleep in the mess hall and chipped his tooth on his plate.
Just as he was about to leave, his name was called by the captain on duty. Not Javen, but an old man with a bristly mustache. He followed the ordersgiven to him, and went to a small room inside the military complex, where he waited, refusing to sit in the single chair.
Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait very long. A man in a suit, with a curled mustache and a gleaming gold pocket watch in his hand entered, then shut the door behind him. “Tobias Bridger.”
“Yes, that’s me.”
“Excellent. I am glad I have a moment to talk to you.” The man cleared his throat in that way posh people did when they were trying hard to sound important. “You serve under Captain Javen, correct?”
“Yes, sir.” Tobias noticed the stranger pronounced the surname with a hard leading syllable, rather than the more elegant way Javen himself said it. The part of Tobias’s brain that still was full of his notes from the academy, especially his linguistics class, quickly categorized the two sounds. The first, was affricative, and the second, which was Javen’s, was fricative. Not that it mattered much, Tobias figured, except to hint that this man had never met Javen. Which made Tobias a bit wary.
“Have you… noticed anything unusual about the captain?”
Tobias narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?” A second later, he added, “and with what privilege are you requesting that information?”
“I mean what I said.” The man simply smiled smugly at his own non-answer of Tobias’s questions. “Here’s my card. Do send me a telegram if events transpire that you feel might be ofgovernmentalsignificance.”
