COMPANION, Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR

Viewed from afar, Jacob understood the marvel of Balefor, a fortified trade-center crawling up the sides of the low river valley in which it nestled. The enormous Colossus stood atop the main gate arch, its back to the city, a vigilant guard protecting its charge. Layers of mis-matched architecture emanated outward from the city’s central core, a hilltop buried in opulence like a jewel-encrusted sword pommel and unironically dubbed the Diadem.
          On one side, the Diadem tumbled sharply downward, an arc of jagged cliffs terminating in a wide bend in the Carrowan river below. Opposite the river an array of government offices, universities, trade schools, and private residences climbed the slope in layered terraces of increasing ostentation. At the crown stood the Villareth, the heavy-columned rotunda within which operated the seat of the Sovereignty’s legislature.
          At street level, away from the Diadem, Jacob knew a different city. Opulence gave way to austerity which often conceded to destitution. In Jacob’s time away little had changed. For a man of his means and desires Balefor’s street life could prove beneficial, but the city’s reality weighed heavy on the hearts of those hoping for more.
          In his time back he’d secured long-term lodging, renewed many old contacts, left a very important message with a moneylender named Jenner, and begun gently probing for information about the murder of Queen Consort Heliah and the artificer Ezekeal. His nascent investigation had yet to yield any results of substance.
          Although the crime had shaken Baleforean society to its core, it had faded from the general consciousness in the intervening time. Eventually, as facts gave way to gossip, and gossip cycled out of favor, the city settled on a comfortable narrative to weave into the fabric of the city’s history. Another brick in the wall, another memory.
          Jacob knew the truth of it. Samuel told him the story of her murder, seen through the eyes of the construct framed for the crime. Oceans stood between knowing a thing and being able to prove it, though. An act like that wasn’t random, and the odds Bales acted of his own accord were exceedingly thin. Even though Eriane had rid the world of the Queen Consort’s murderer and his partner, the puppeteers still waited, somewhere, likely now wondering who’d cut their strings.
          Tonight, like most of his first few nights back in Balefor, Jacob set about tying up a loose end. For perhaps the first time in his life Jacob had thrown his lot in with something—someone—larger than himself, and it was finally time to leave his old life behind.
          His feet found their way through the city without much intervention on his part. Raucous nightlife spilled into the streets near the Lower Seam, the neighborhood marking the division between the warehouse district backing the riverside docks and the financial district at the base of the Diadem. The celebratory din faded as Jacob followed turns he knew by rote, coming to a stop on a wide but deserted side street several blocks from the core of the Seam. The house before him hadn’t changed since he was a child; a slender, three-story stonework affair sharing walls with the houses to either side, capped by a steeply-angled shake roof. Lamplight fell to the street from the second story while gentle firelight flickered behind the downstairs window.
          Some part of Jacob’s heart had hoped the house would be empty, and he could just move on. His leaden legs carried him to the stoop, his hand hovering before the wide front door without knocking. Last chance to turn away. You don’t need to do this.
          “Yeah,” he whispered to himself, “I really do.”
          A voice called out an unintelligible response after his knock and shuffling sounds emanated from the front before the latch clicked and the door swung inward. The inquiring look on the answering man’s face slipped into a swirl of anger and consternation. He took a deep breath and glanced over his shoulder before sliding out to stand before Jacob, quietly latching the door behind him.
          “What do you want?” he said. The man towered a head taller than Jacob but was similarly slender. His shoulder muscles corded at the base of his neck as though he expected a fight.
          Jacob wasn’t exactly sure what welcome he should’ve expected, and only now realized that this reaction was beneath even his meager hopes. “Hello to you, too, Bren.”
            Bren shook his head and clenched his jaw, pointedly crossing his arms. It had been months since Jacob had seen his brother-in-law, and in that time something about him had grown more intimidating. Their relationship had always been uneasy, but now it felt outright hostile.
          “How is he?” Jacob asked. “And how’s Iri-”
          Bren stepped into Jacob’s space, leaning in close to his face. “Unh uh. No. You don’t get to do that,” Bren said, quiet but forceful. Jacob felt the edge of the stoop unnervingly close to his heels. “Those are not the questions you get to ask. I’m running out of patience, Jacob. Why are you here?”
          A kernel of anger welled up in Jacob’s throat, but he decided to temper his reply. “I have something for him. And Irissa.”
          Bren turned his back on Jacob and put his hand on the door-handle. “Keep it.”
          “For fuck’s sake, Bren,” Jacob said. “I know we’re not on the best of terms, but I’ve only been gone for-”
          “Three years,” Bren said.
          Jacob’s anger melted into confusion. “What?”
          Bren’s shoulders rose and lowered with his steady breath, but he didn’t turn around. “You’ve been away almost three years, Jacob.”
          It felt like only months had passed since Jacob last walked the streets of Balefor. Since he’d had a drink at The Severance, or hustled paduki in the dockside bars. “No,” he said. “It’s only been…” How long had it been?
          Bren scoffed. “And you can’t even remember,” he said.
          “Bren, I’m sorry, I-”
          “I just-” Bren paused and shook his head, lowering his gaze. “I just don’t care, Jacob. I don’t care anymore.”
          Jacob started to speak, but his words caught in his throat and he coughed. “I don’t know what to say.”
          “That’s a first,” Bren said with a smirk which vanished all too quickly. “There’s nothing for you to say, Jacob. You’re not welcome here anymore.”
          Those words cut Jacob to the quick. “That’s not your decision to make.”
          “You left, Jacob,” Bren said. “So yeah, it is my decision. I don’t give a shit where you went or why.” He paused, shrugged. “It’s the same consideration you showed us.”
          “That’s unfair,” Jacob said, his anger rising. “I asked you for help and you turned your back on me. Now, I’m not even asking something of you and you decide it’s time to cut me out without even giving me the chance to fix anything?”
          For a beat, Bren simply stared, grinding his teeth. “I’ve given you every chance I have in me, Jacob, and you’ve repeatedly squandered my good will,” he said. He tried to continue but his voice caught, and he took a deep breath. “You’re burned right I turned you down. You put me in a position where I had no other choice.”
          “No other choice?” Jacob spat. “Oh, that’s perfect. You abandon me and somehow it’s my fault. Exactly how could I have done things differently?”
          Their eyes met and held; Bren’s contempt laid plain. “By being a good brother. A good son. By not gauging the worthiness of every single act in your life by what you’d be owed in return. By asking a question expecting an answer instead of an obligation.”
          Jacob rocked back on his heels, stepping one foot down off the stoop. His breath fluttered, anger and horror fighting to stave off a wave of shame welling up from his chest. They stared for longer than either was comfortable before Bren broke, turning back toward his door. He was almost inside before a spike of fear spurred Jacob on.
          “Wait!”
          Bren stopped and heaved a sigh, his hand still on the door handle. Jacob reached into the satchel at his hip and removed a small rosewood box, its lid bearing a fine inlay of walnut. He stepped forward, holding the box in both hands. “Here,” was all he could manage.
          Bren’s brow crinkled before his eyes widened and he moved back out onto the stoop. Slowly, almost reverently, he took the box from Jacob and held it for several seconds before lifting the lid. Bren’s gasp was exactly the reaction Jacob had hoped for.
          “You found it.”
          “I never really lost it,” Jacob said.
          “We thought you’d sold it. Or traded it,” Bren said.
          Jacob dropped his eyes, that familiar pang of shame rising back up. “I did.”
          “Where…?”
          “Morrelton. I was there a few months ago,” Jacob said. “I took an opportunity, then… some things happened.”
          The box riveted Bren’s attention, his breath fogging in the chill night air. After a time his features softened, and Jacob took it as his cue to speak.
          “Look, Bren.” Now that he’d opened his mouth, he had no idea what to say. “Just give that to Irissa for me, please. Let her decide whether to show Father.”
          Jacob raised his eyes to see Bren’s jaw clenched. In spite of the stony visage, he nodded once before turning back toward his home. He paused at the threshold.
          “This doesn’t change anything, Jacob.”
          Jacob’s heart sank. Bren closed the door.
          “I know,” Jacob said.
          A shuddering breath racked Jacob and he moved forward, placing a hand on the door. From inside the house he heard voices, quiet at first but gaining volume as discussion turned to argument. It was time for him to go, but something rooted him in place, the sounds of the argument giving him the slightest hope of the door opening one more time. The voices died down and footsteps moved toward him. Sudden anxiety escalated to panic, and by the time the door opened again, Jacob was gone, the last dark ribbons of khet dissipating in the night air.
          After an awkward landing on the rooftop opposite, Jacob pulled back into shadow, away from the street. Irissa rushed through the open door, swiveling her head about, scanning the street in both directions, clutching the wooden box to her chest. Tears rolled down her cheeks while she waited, longer than he expected, nearly longer than he could bear.
          Every fiber of Jacob’s being wanted to call out to her, to slip back down to the street and pull his little sister into his arms; to show her he hadn’t abandoned her. But that wasn’t the truth. The more he thought about it, the less he understood his own expectations, and the more his motivations came to light.
          Investigating the Queen Consort’s murder would be the most dangerous outing he’d ever embarked on. Dragging what little family he had left into the fray just wasn’t an option. Responsibility for the welfare of others was never Jacob’s strong suit, but something changed inside him the moment he decided to help Samuel; the moment he decided not to run. As much as it hurt, it was better to leave things this way.
          As Irissa turned back to her home, realization and responsibility provided Jacob thin solace. With one last look, she closed the door.