Chapter 30.3: The Wake of Their Actions

Penny, Minkus, and this Alena were taken to what the officer had called the holding room. It was a narrow space, longer than it was wide and lined with asura-sized, steel chairs that were contoured to cup the little people’s bodies. Stone outcroppings along the walls held illumination cells in those angular, asuran patterns, and planters overflowed with jungle foliage, just as Penny had seen in the main chamber of the headquarters. She’d expected a place called the holding room to be a glorified prison cell, but this was notably better. If they were going to be stuck in a law-enforcement facility, this wasn’t the worst option.

Whatever the decor, it was still a place meant for asura, not humans. While Minkus and Alena had immediately settled into seats, Penny didn’t even bother trying. She grabbed the chair beside Minkus and dragged it away from the wall, shoving it aside and settling herself down on the floor beside him. Penny moved and shifted more times than she could count, just to keep her legs from falling asleep, but even that was better than being permanently stuck in one of those butt-cups everyone else was sitting in.

Time seemed to pass in ages. Maybe they’d been there ten minutes, or maybe it had been two hours. It was hard to say. Minkus periodically grinned down at her on the floor, as amused as ever at the most ridiculous things. She didn’t particularly want to acknowledge him with that silly grin, but it was better than meeting eyes with Alena, who sat directly across from them. Gods, she was glaring daggers at everything and nothing.

Finally Penny had to break the silence. Questions had been eating at her.

“So the Inquest are what,” Penny asked, “some sort of magic-y, science-y criminals or something?”

Minkus scratched at his big ear. “I believe so,” he said timidly, “or at least people say so. I know they’re a very large krewe— many labs, all over the continent. Jinkke never trusted them.”

Penny nodded. “And Wepp and Skixx are with these people?”

Minkus just shrugged.

She’d been thinking about it as she sat there on the floor in that room, but suddenly she remembered something, and the pieces came together.

“Employers,” Penny growled. “Those little bastards were always talking about some damned employers. Is that how these Inquest people work: they employ lackeys to do their dirty work?”

Still glowering, Alena spoke up. “Not entirely, but something relatively similar. As I understand it, there’s a hierarchy of sorts—very different from any other krewe—which could lend itself to employer-employee terminology. In any case, you’re right: those two are very much bastards.”

Penny hadn’t intended the question for her, but that never seemed to stop asura from interjecting themselves into conversations. At least this asura made sense.

Minkus suddenly took interest in her too, redirecting the conversation. “Your name is Alena? Alena— Maru?”

The female eyed him suspiciously for a moment, then softened and nodded.

“He was your friend?” Minkus asked, his eyes turning sad. “The male at the stack terminals, I mean.”

She nodded again, sighing. “Fradd. He was the curator. A good boss. A good person. Interested in his employees as much as he was his work. That’s unique in Rata Sum. And that murderer just killed him—expunged him, they keep saying.” She sneered. “They say it like he was an object, just another cog cranked along by the Alchemy.”

Penny watched as Minkus rose and moved quietly across the room to take the seat beside her. He hovered a hand over the other asura’s shoulder for a second, seemingly unaware of all the other eyes in the room that were fixed on him. “May I?” he asked.

At first she recoiled, glaring suspiciously once more, but Minkus had a strange way with these things. After only a moment, she loosened, shrugged, and nodded, letting Minkus rest his hand gently on her shoulder. Together, they stared at the same spot on the floor as the rest of the room tried not to be caught watching them.

“I’m very sorry for your loss,” Minkus murmured. “He sounds— well, he sounds like he didn't deserve any of this.”

“No, he didn’t,” she snapped. She stayed in her seat and let Minkus’ hand remain on her, but her words were suddenly brimming with indignation. “He had nothing to do with whatever that dirtbag was after, except that he happened to be the curator and happened to be on duty!” 

“It’s not fair,” Minkus agreed, looking up at her once more.

“No, it’s not. Not at all.” Alena clenched a fist, and it seemed to glimmer the slightest hint of green. Penny raised an eyebrow, which Alena caught sight of. Her fist loosened, fading back to that pale, porcelain cream, and she looked back to Minkus, changing the subject before Penny could speak. “How are you involved in this? Are you witnesses too? I have to say, it’s unusual to see a human down in the lower plaza.”

Minkus shook his head, looking suddenly more awkward. “No. We knew— well, we knew the expunger.”

The little woman’s eyes went wide, her fists beginning to tighten again as she leaned away from him in her chair.

“No, no.” Minkus raised his hands. “Not like— I mean, we didn’t know him like that— more like—”

“Ease up on him,” Penny interrupted.

She hadn’t wanted to join this conversation, but if she didn’t, another crime might occur, and Minkus was the last person in all this mess that deserved the little woman’s rage.

“What he means,” Penny continued, “is that we traveled with him once. We had nothing to do with what the little shit did here.” She put a hand to her head. “Gods, we were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Again.”

The little asura flashed a distrustful glance between the two of them, and Minkus nodded his agreement to Penny’s statement. “Yes. That. What she said. We were here— well, we were right here, with the peacemakers, to turn in Wepp— he was Skixx’s partner.”

Alena grimaced, pointing at the door. “That other guy? He was the murderer’s partner?”

“Yes— well I think so. He says so. But—” Minkus twiddled his ear, “Well, I don’t think he had anything to do with this either. He seemed very surprised by it too. Hurt, in fact, very hurt.”

“Well, great for him,” Alena growled. “I hope that friend of his is writhing in Grenth’s Domain.” For a moment, she glowered at her empty hands, flexing them open and shut again in her lap.

Minkus squirmed in his seat, seeming to build to his next words. “Did you see it happen?”

Her head still bowed forward, Alena twisted to look up at him. “No, and that’s why they don’t believe me that he did it. ‘No eyewitness proof,’ they told me. But of course they’re going to bring me in and question me more. Pfft. Maybe they’ll believe me on the sixth try.”

“Well,” Minkus started, fidgeting nervously. “The peacemakers need to work with the facts, so—”

“Oh, I gave them facts,” she said, squaring herself and meeting Minkus’ gaze. Her eyes gleamed. “I gave them facts they couldn’t have found on their own. Before the peacemakers took over the site, I checked the logs in the terminal. Fradd had unsecured all the college vaults before being killed. Only the staff have those passcodes; only Fradd or one of his librarians could have done it, and Fradd was the only person currently on duty. Furthermore, Fradd’s keys were missing, and the logs indicated the Synergetics vault had been not just unsecured, but opened, which requires a key only four people possess. I ran into the murderer as he took a trajectory toward the stacks and again on a trajectory away from them. I have no idea what he was after, because those peacemakers wouldn’t let me in, but whatever it is, it was in the Synergetics vault. Fradd died for something in that vault, and I don’t care what it was—” She paused, her speed and intensity quickly diminishing. “It wasn’t worth Fradd’s life.” Alena let her head fall forward into her hands as the passion bled out of her.

Penny watched the two of them, waiting for something more to happen, but the young woman just sat there, silently shaking her head between her hands. Minkus stayed equally silent. Penny shifted, brushing back a stray lock of hair and crossing her arms, but something bubbled inside her. Gentle but insistent, her dissatisfaction grew at sitting still on this side of the room. She could almost hear Minkus in her head, insisting that this asura girl was in need of something Penny could give.

Lifting herself off the ground, Penny sighed as she walked toward them. She had her own, damn problems, but here she was, compelled to say something kind to this utter stranger.

“Hey,” she began uncertainly, “I’m—”

Before anything more could leave her lips, though, the heavy stone door slid open again, and two new asura rounded the corner into the holding room. The first was just a peacemaker, like any other Penny had seen in the building. The other was clothed in bright colors, stood barely half as tall as the peacemaker, and was proportionally far narrower: a tiny thing with hair as dark as Penny’s, done up in two buns atop her head. She hopped along beside the officer, looking up at him with both expectancy and hesitance.

Penny blinked. Between their height and exaggerated proportions, all asura looked in some way like children to her, but this person, this littlest of all people Penny had ever seen, this was a child, an asura child. She’d never seen one before. What had Minkus called them? Prodigy? Progeny? Protégé?

“Officer,” the child insisted, “please just explain why I was summoned. I was on my way to a very important protocols test at my internship. I can not be late.”

The officer stopped in the middle of the holding room and gestured toward the wall of chairs. “Please, progeny, just wait here. The inspector will send for you shortly and explicate.”

“I can not believe you’re going to make me fail my test by absence and not even express to me why,” the girl harrumphed. Still, she gave in and moved toward a chair. It was then that she noticed the others in the room, and her eyes settled quickly on the curator’s friend.

She pressed forward past Penny, grinning all the way. “Alena? Alena! Why are you here? Are they ruining your projects as well?”

Alena looked up, and the lines of fury on her face dissipated into concern. “Ippi?” she asked. “I didn’t— I mean— it’s you. You’re here. How are you here?”

The little one chuckled, planting hands on her tiny hips. “And you say I’m not observant. I was just brought in by that officer. What are you doing at the peacemaker headquarters? Alchemy, why am I at the peacemaker headquarters? Do you know why they’ve conducted me here? Has something transpired?”

“I—” Alena stammered. All her eloquence suddenly left her. “it— Ippi— Didn’t they tell you?”

Minkus edged away in his seat as the smile dwindled from the younger asura’s face.

“Didn’t tell me?” Ippi asked. “They haven’t informed me of anything. Why, Alena? What should they have told me?”

The older of the two ran fingers through her hair and leaned forward. She knelt to the floor, her eyes wandering in search of answers, but finally she put hands on the child's shoulders and met her eyes. “Ippi, your father— he’s gone.”

A shiver ran up Penny’s spine. This girl was the dead curator’s daughter.

“What do you mean, Alena?” the girl asked. Standing perfectly still, she searched the other's eyes for answers. “Where has he gone? Where is he? Why are the peacemakers involved?”

Alena tried again, locking eyes with the child. “Ippi,” she said soberly, “they should have told you. The peacemakers should have told you this before they brought you here. Your father, he’s dead. This morning, he was— he passed away.”

Penny seethed, watching the girl’s large eyes flick back and forth between her friend’s, still searching for understanding. Skixx hadn’t just murdered a librarian; he’d taken away a child’s father, and this was how the girl found out.

“Dead?” the girl asked her friend flatly. “I— I don’t understand. He works at the stacks and is in excellent health. What could possibly harm him at the stacks? He couldn’t possibly be—”

“Someone killed him,” Alena said. “The peacemakers are trying to—”

“Hey,” Penny demanded, moving toward them. She’d had enough. “This is a damn kid. She doesn’t need the details, not like this.” She spun, throwing a finger at the peacemaker still at the door. “And you, what in Grenth’s green ass are you doing bringing her in here? She doesn’t need to be here for all this. Screw your head on and get her out of here!”

“Hey yourself,” Alena snapped back. She stepped up between the human and the young girl. “Fradd was my friend. Ippi is still my friend. And who are you in any of this?”

Penny paused briefly, shocked that these people were not only too stupid to see the harm they were doing to this girl but also fighting to keep doing it.

“I’m just someone who knows a thing or two about bad news,” she retorted. She spun to the officer at the door again. “Take the girl to her mother! She doesn't belong here, hearing it all like this. What in Torment is wrong with you people?”

Two little hands slammed into Penny’s side, and her attention shot back to the librarian, who was shoving her back toward the wall. Her eyes were wet, and she growled a word with each step, just loud enough for Penny to hear. “Whatever your problem is, stop it. The child’s mother is gone, and they have no local kin. She. Has lost. Everything. So leave her alone!”

Penny hit the wall in the space she’d made for herself between the chairs. Silence and the first hint of understanding struck her. “Her mother’s gone?” she whispered. “Dead?”

“Not that it’s any of your business,” Alena muttered, the strength going out of her arms, “but Fradd didn’t know. Her body was never found.”

Penny looked up at the tiny, frightened girl, and she blinked stupidly. “No family at all?”

“Not that I’ve ever heard of.” The asura’s eyes fell to the space between their feet. “Fradd said there was some relation who ventured far north with the priory, but I don’t think Ippi has ever met her. Who knows? Maybe that’s where she’ll go.”

For a long moment the two stood quietly, Alena still looking at her feet, and Penny looking down at the back of the other’s head. Penny wasn’t really aware of what she was looking at. Feelings welled up inside her, some she had a name for and others she didn’t.

Alena rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. “Look, alright, just leave it alone. Just leave her alone. It’s heinous, but it’s real; this is all she has now. It’s all your travel-mate left her.”

On that point, Penny agreed. This had been Skixx’s fault just as much as the theft of the jade or the loss of Penny’s shop. But this? This was worse than both. Leaving a child fatherless, orphaned? That was a theft there was no return from. The girl would just live with it, forever.

“Grenth damn that little bastard,” she snarled. He was to blame for it all. If he hadn’t been there on the road with them, playing her for a fool, she’d still have her shop, the Vigil would have their stones, and this girl would still have a father. If at any point he’d been denied—at the bridge, at the Keep, in the Shiverpeaks—none of this would have happened. If he’d gotten lost, died—anything. If someone had woken up that night on the bluffs, to intervene, it would have been over right there. If someone, anyone, could have just stopped the little rat that night...

Her racing thoughts came to a sudden stop, and the world around her fell silent.

Penny looked past the librarian to the asura girl in the middle of the room. Knees to the floor, she sat alone, bent over and staring blankly at the wall with tears already forming a path down her cheek. Whatever his objective, Skixx had done this, and he’d done it because no one had stopped him when they could have. Because Penny hadn't stopped him when she could have. She'd just played right along with him, and now...

“I didn’t do this,” she whispered.

“No one said you did,” Alena replied. The words shocked Penny out of her stupor, and she looked down to find the asura glaring at her incredulously.

“How in all Tyria would you have had anything...” Alena stopped, waving it off as she wiped her eyes again and turned back toward the girl across the room. “No, never mind. None of this is about you. Just stay out of it.”

Slumping back down to her seat on the ground, Penny only half watched as the little woman walked away. The world was a haze, and just one thought was the least bit clear. Penny repeated it to herself.

“I didn’t do this.”