The sifkren nicked his ear as it flew past him.
Ruban leapt back, avoiding Simani by less than an inch as she lunged at him, her sifblade extended.
Recovering her balance, she aimed a kick at his chest. Ruban blocked it with one hand, only for her to use his hold as leverage to deliver another kick to his gut.
A second later, he was on his back, Simani's knee digging into his belly and her sifblade at his throat.
"You're worse than Ashwin." She tapped him on the head with the hilt before rising gracefully to her feet.
"Only because you're vicious," Ashwin laughed, stepping forward to offer Ruban his hand. "My heart breaks for the poor Aeriel that has to face you when you're actually going in for the kill."
Slapping Ashwin's hand away, Ruban clambered to his feet. "This is war," he hissed, meeting Ashwin's gaze through narrowed eyes. "Those who refuse to kill end up getting killed."
"By friendly fire more often than not, if this training session is anything to go by." Ashwin threw a towel at Simani, smiling. "Not that Ruban's been doing much firing, lately."
Ruban raised an eyebrow. "Is that a challenge?"
"I wouldn't want to tax your already frayed nerves."
Ruban lunged at him. Ashwin sidestepped him just in time to avoid the boot about to slam into his chest. Ruban pivoted on the spot, planting a fist into his opponent's gut, before using the momentum to slam him against the nearest wall.
Ashwin kicked Ruban's feet out from under him. He faltered, momentarily. Ashwin grabbed the opportunity to plant a knee in his gut.
Ruban groaned and fell back. His fingers grabbed uselessly at the sheathed sifblade at his belt – the one weapon that might give him an edge in this fight; the one weapon he couldn't use.
"Play nice, boys," Simani said, wiping perspiration from her face. "I'll go check if my husband has burned the dessert. We can't all cohabit with Zainian master-chefs." She stepped through the casement doors back into her house, leaving Ruban and Ashwin alone in the Vazs' courtyard.
Before the doors had clicked shut behind her, Ruban was upon his opponent once again. Ashwin parried his attacks, his movements fluid, yet hesitant.
"What's gotten into you?" he frowned. "Did I put too much sugar in your tea this morning?"
"You let it escape," Ruban hissed, throwing the Aeriel back into a wall. He spared a glance at the door. It was shut, and through the glass, he could see that the room beyond was empty. "That Aeriel killed four Hunters. Four of my colleagues, blown to bits in front of my eyes! You had it in that field, trapped and alone, and you let that monster escape."
"Look, she caught me off-guard, okay?" Ashwin ducked, then sidestepped another attack. Ruban's fist slammed painfully into the wall, blood welling around his knuckles. "I was distracted. It wasn't intentional, I swear."
Ruban laughed, extending a foot to trip Ashwin. "You really expect me to believe that?"
Ashwin leapt into the air, and Ruban landed a solid blow to his throat. It would have killed a human.
Without his wings, he couldn't maneuver in the air – a fact that Ashwin never seemed to remember when dueling with the Hunters in human guise. "That Aeriel was outclassed, Ashwin. I've been Hunting since I was twenty; you thought I wouldn't notice? You could have killed it with less than a thought. The question is, why didn't you?"
"You're imagining things–" A forceful kick to the midsection cut him off.
"After what it did to those Hunters, how could you let it live? How dare you?"
Ashwin blocked another kick and punched Ruban in the jaw. "I didn't. I was exhausted and injured. And she just blindsided me–"
"With what? Or should I ask whom?"
Ashwin stilled. Ruban sank to his knees, unable to support his own weight any longer.
"Who's Maya, Ashwin?" he asked, gazing up at the wide-eyed Aeriel. "What did that thing say to you, that you let it flee? Let it go free after all the lives it'd taken? What hold does that creature have on you?"
"It's not – you're wrong." Ashwin looked away, but the fleeting expression of helpless guilt on his face told Ruban all he needed to know. "It's not what you think…Kaheen has no power over me. And Maya is dead." His throat worked, hands clenching into fists. "Has been, for years now. Centuries. She'd never have wanted this. Hatred and bloodshed… We'd thought the retreat would put an end to it all, but–"
"Who wants it, then?" Ruban demanded, struggling upright on shaky legs. "Safaa? Is she the one who wants that Aeriel alive? Kaheen, you called it? Is this a part of some grand plan–"
Ashwin's head whipped around to face him. "There are no grand plans, Ruban. And Safaa has no sympathies with the Exiles, much less this one. She doesn't even know Kaheen is alive."
"I'd much rather it weren't."
"I know. And maybe you're right. Maybe I should've…" he closed his eyes. "But I couldn't. I just–"
"We need to talk to Dawad," Simani said, stepping into the courtyard with Vikram in tow. They both carried a tray with a jug and two glasses each. "We can't keep fighting blind like this. We'll need more information about Janak Nath before we can proceed with this investigation."
The four of them walked over to the rickety benches in one corner of the courtyard. This part of the house was old, with damp walls, cracked floors, and chipping furniture. The sprawling bungalow had once belonged to the renowned Kirin clan, known for producing some of the most successful Hunters in the history of Vandram. Simani had spent the first decade of her life here as part of a large joint family.
Over the years, the older generations had passed away, and Simani's cousins had scattered throughout the continent in search of work and professional advancement. Now, Simani and her family of three were the only people left in a house that was far too big for them, and annoyingly expensive to maintain.
Once they had all settled down, glasses of lemonade were passed around and Simani spent some time patching up Ruban's mutilated knuckles. As Vikram and Simani clucked at him disapprovingly for his carelessness, Ruban closed his eyes, savoring the feel of the sweet, cool liquid on his parched tongue.
"Why would Dawad know anything about Janak Nath?" he asked at length, swallowing the last of his lemonade. "The man hasn't set foot out of the campus in years. He's got nothing to do with the feather mafia."
"Maybe not," Vikram agreed, emptying his own glass. "But Janak Nath has set foot in the campus. He was one of Dawad's students."
Ruban swallowed the expletive that rose unbidden to his lips. "What?"
Simani nodded. "Vikram dug up the records at Bracken. They tried to bury it, but it's true. Janak Nath was a Hunter. He was one of Dawad's students about twenty years ago. Hell, he even worked with your uncle at one point, before he was dismissed from the Hunter Corps."
"Why was he dismissed? Do you know?"
She shrugged. "No idea. Like I said, the Academy isn't exactly going out of its way to publicize this; nor is the IAW. I'd never have thought to look into it if it weren't for Vik." She interlaced her fingers with his, smiling. "But Dawad knew Janak personally, so he may remember something that'll be useful to us. Anyway, it's worth a try. He likes you, Ruban. So if anybody's going to tell us about Janak Nath's connection with the Hunter Corps, it'll be him."
Vikram hummed his agreement, stroking Simani's knuckles with his thumb. "Plus, the records I found suggested that Janak was fired from his position in the Hunter Corps less than a week after your aunt Misri died." He met Ruban's eyes, his expression somber. "Of course, it might just be a coincidence–"
"Reivaa," Ruban muttered, the blood thrumming in his veins. "Reivaa killed Aunt Misri. And Janak Nath is looking for Reivaa… He thinks she's still alive."
Ignoring his friends' questions and exclamations, he rose to his feet, one hand pressed to a cracked wall for support. "You're right, Sim. We need to talk to Dawad. And now!"
***
Decorated in tones of green, brown, and ochre, Professor Dawad's office at Bracken Academy was as warm and welcoming as ever. Shelves lined with thick, hardbound volumes covered the walls and framed photographs of obscure, pre-emancipation Aeriel architecture took up all the remaining space. A large oak desk occupied the center of the office, behind which stood a sturdy armchair drowning in cushions.
The professor puttered around the chamber, pulling dusty files out from the bottoms of creaking drawers that hadn't been opened in years.
Ruban was grateful the man even had analog records that could be accessed without asking the Academy for permission. He would have pulled Janak Nath's records from the annals of the Academy one way or another, but he hadn't been looking forward to a protracted battle of wills with the Bracken administration. Simani's relaxed shoulders and quirked lips told him that she was as relieved as him.
At length, Dawad collected all his files and folders. Clutching them to his chest, he doddered over to the desk and seated himself snugly in his cushioned chair.
"This is all I have on him, I'm afraid," he sighed, frowning at the stack of weathered documents in front of him. "Not sure how much use the official records will be to your investigation, though. Janak was fairly unremarkable, at least academically. He got decent marks, but certainly nothing to write home about. And it was the same with field training, as far as I remember."
Simani nodded. "Vikram said as much. But Janak Nath was dismissed from the Hunter Corps ten years ago. I mean, when was the last time any of us heard about such a thing happening? Hunters are expensive to train; the Quarters are consistently understaffed. Hunters either retire or die on the job – they don't get fired."
Dawad clucked sympathetically. "Any luck with the records of his dismissal?"
"Vikram is looking into it, but he hasn't had much luck. We were hoping to avoid initiating an official enquiry with the IAW. We're running short of time. And you know how long these things can take."
"Well, I don't know why he was dismissed. There was a scandal regarding some prisoners… But it's been so long, most of the people who were involved are either retired or dead." His eyelids drooping, Dawad sank back into the cushions. "But I have a feeling his…unnatural fascination with the Aeriels might've had something to do with it. I know he made many at the IAW uncomfortable. The professors here at Bracken certainly were wary of him, and we've had our share of oddballs over the years. It wasn't even that he stood out, really. There was just something off about how much he enjoyed it…"
"What?" Ruban leaned forward in his chair, elbows on the desk. "Enjoyed what, prof? If you know something–"
"Not the kind of thing you can prove in a court of law." Dawad cut him off. "Just…a feeling, I suppose. He was an above-average student – intelligent, hard-working, personable. Nothing wrong with him, objectively. He was just – he was fascinated by Aeriels; their physiology, anatomical structure, that sort of thing."
Simani raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't have thought that was uncommon, for students here at Bracken."
"It's not. Janak was just…well, he was exceptional in some ways. For instance, he could accurately determine an Aeriel's gender at first glance. It's a rare ability. I've never had another student who was as good at it as him. He was fascinated by their appearance and anatomy. Spent hours in the lab studying Aeriel bodies..."
"A bit too academic for Bracken, I suppose. The Academy's meant to train Hunters, not scientists," Simani said. "But I don't see why that'd be a problem. He could transfer to another college if he wanted to study–"
"That's the thing." Dawad sighed, his eyes fixed on the stack of dusty files on his desk. "Many felt that his interest in Aeriels wasn't purely scientific in nature."
Ruban frowned, a feeling of unease settling in his gut. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Lips pressed into a thin line, Dawad began flipping through one of the files he'd just retrieved. "During their third year at Bracken, Janak and some of his friends were suspended for over a month."
Simani's eyes widened. "A month! What for? Did they kill someone?"
"They came close." He handed her the file he'd been perusing, his gaze somber. "I had just begun teaching here at the time, so I wasn't very involved with the administrative side of things. But Janak and his friends had apparently arranged some kind of a…costume party in their dorm. Most of the participants were drunk, and there were some allegations of substance abuse–"
"But that's not why they were suspended, was it?" The color drained from Simani's face as her eyes roved over the file in her hand. Ruban tried to read the old report over her shoulder, but the fraying paper was stained and the font too small for him to decipher the words.
"No," Dawad said, his tone grim. "That wasn't the reason why. Apparently, they'd convinced one of their juniors – a first-year – to dress up as an Aeriel for the costume party."
"In bad taste, I suppose." Ruban glanced from Dawad to Simani, baffled. "But I don't think they were breaking any rules."
"Not by organizing the party, no." Simani's voice was strained. "Although this report does say that the first-year was forced into the Aeriel costume by some of the older students. But that's not why they were suspended."
"No," Dawad sighed. "The suspension was for the assault."
"Assault?" The word scraped Ruban's throat on the way out.
The professor nodded. "The freshman was found in one of the third year washrooms by his classmates the next morning. Apparently, they found him lying in a pool of his own blood, barely conscious, and his costume in tatters. Two of his fingers had been broken. His body was covered in lacerations and burn injuries. He had to be hospitalized for weeks, afterwards."
"Was he – had he been–"
A spasm in Simani's throat caught Ruban's eye.
"Had he been sexually assaulted?" he asked Dawad, as much to spare Simani as for the sake of the investigation.
"Yes."
"And why were the seniors not expelled?" Simani demanded.
"The victim refused to press charges. In fact, he never returned to Bracken after being discharged from the hospital. And there wasn't sufficient DNA evidence to identify the culprits, since half the third year class had been in and out of that dormitory that night. Over a hundred people had used the washroom where the boy was found the next morning."
"And none of them said a thing?" There was a note of disbelief in Simani's voice.
Dawad shook his head. "That's why there was no official action, apart from the suspension. The Academy wasn't eager to pursue legal proceedings, either. Especially not after the victim had left. The organizers of the party – including Janak Nath – were all suspended for about a month, and that was the end of that.
"Everyone had their own suspicions about what had really happened. By then, Janak already had a reputation for his eerie obsession with Aeriel anatomy and physiology. The fact that the boy had been forced into an Aeriel costume before the assault…" he shrugged. "But nobody – neither the students nor the faculty – wanted to put their own career on the line by pursuing the issue against the wishes of the Academy administration. There wasn't much of an incentive to do so, since the boy had refused to press charges."
"And after all that, those bastards were allowed to join the Hunter Corps," Simani said through gritted teeth. "This is unbelievable."
Dawad frowned, turning sharp green eyes on Ruban. "Well, I'm surprised you don't know about this already. It was one of the reasons your uncle fought so hard to have Reivaa's execution deferred." He shook his head tiredly. "And we all know how that ended."
"My uncle? As in Subhas?"
"Who else?"
"I don't understand… What did Uncle Subhas have to do with Janak Nath?"
"Not much," Dawad said, as Simani passed the file to Ruban. "They just worked together to apprehend Reivaa after her attack up north, near the Zainian border. I'm sure you remember; it was big news at the time. Over a hundred people died in what turned out to be one of the most destructive terror attacks of the century. A taskforce – comprising Hunters from both Vandram and Zaini – was put together to Hunt down the perpetrators. Your uncle was chosen to lead that taskforce–"
"I know all that, obviously," Ruban grit out. "But what does that have to do with Janak Nath?"
"Nothing directly. Reivaa was accused of masterminding the attack and scheduled to be executed within days of her capture, on the basis of a confession obtained during interrogation. But Subhas fought tooth and nail to have the execution deferred–"
"Yes, I know that. Reivaa escaped the day after she was to be executed, all because of that postponement. I don't see how–"
"Janak had gained something of a reputation, while working with the Hunter Corps," Dawad interjected calmly. "He was highly sought after…for his skills at interrogating captured Aeriels. He was especially well-known for his ability to extract confessions–"
"Oh God," Simani murmured, her eyes widening.
"As you can imagine, the IAW didn't have much of a problem with that."
Ruban nodded, blinking back the headache that threatened to take root at his temples. "Aeriels are a flight risk, especially powerful ones like Reivaa. Keeping them in custody is expensive. Quick confessions mean quick executions."
"Exactly!" Dawad nodded, his tone pensive. "Your uncle reached the same conclusion, the day after the execution order arrived. There was some confusion over the evidence. And Subhas – young and idealistic as he'd been, back in those days – came rushing to me for advice on how to stay the execution. He didn't want somebody to be killed on the basis of a false confession, not even an Aeriel. And look where it got him, that idealism…"
Simani rose dazedly to her feet, clutching the desk for support. "If Janak could extract a confession – false or otherwise – from Reivaa all those years ago…"
"Back when there was no enhanced sif to help with the 'interrogation'," Ruban added.
Simani looked at him, her eyes haunted. "What can he do now?"
***
Ruban stepped out of the SUV in front of a large, decrepit building that served as the primary detention center for the South Ragah Division. This was where the two gangsters they'd arrested less than a week ago were being held on remand, awaiting trial. An officer met them at the gate, and soon, Ruban was striding through dank, dim, and airless hallways with Simani at his side.
A few minutes later, they arrived at the door of the visiting chamber. The officer entered a string of numbers on a keypad nearby and pushed the heavy metal door open. Then, he stood aside, allowing the Hunters to step through.
At the center of the bare room, illuminated by a single light bulb, stood a metal table surrounded by narrow, uncomfortable-looking chairs. Ruban immediately recognized the handcuffed man seated at the table.
Muscle-bound and mustachioed, the man resembled a villain from a dated action movie. A lot less threatening than he'd seemed when Ruban first laid eyes on him, out in the secluded fields just beyond the city.
The thug glared at them with bitter, bloodshot eyes, his lips curling into a grimace of distaste.
Ruban smiled, pulling out a chair opposite the prisoner and making himself comfortable. A moment later, Simani was seated beside him, her posture deceptively relaxed.
"You seem to be in a cooperative mood," Ruban said, careful to keep his tone friendly.
Before the prisoner could respond, a slender young man rushed in to set two steaming cups of watery tea in front of the Hunters.
"Aren't they hospitable," the thug sneered, his blackened teeth showing.
Ruban wrapped two fingers around the handle of the steel cup and took a sip. "Not as bad as it looks. We could get you some, if you're helpful."
The prisoner laughed. Some of the hostility had bled out. He slouched in his chair; his hard, inquisitive eyes trained on the Hunters. "What d'you want from me?"
"Nothing much. Mister…ah…Banki?"
He nodded.
"Well, all we want from you is some information, Mr. Banki." Simani leaned forward, placing her elbows on the table. "And a bit of honesty. In return for a commuted sentence, if all the information checks out."
"What makes you so sure I will be sentenced?"
Simani's lips quirked. "If you're not, buy a lottery ticket on your way back from the courthouse."
Banki guffawed. "Alright. I'm listening. What's this information you're after?"
"It's been a few months since the feather mafia began working with Aeriels." Simani stared unblinkingly at the prisoner, the humor disappearing from her features. "Particularly your gang, Mr. Banki. If I'm not mistaken, the Qawirsin was the first to include Aeriels within its ranks. You started the trend."
Banki smirked. "You're welcome."
"So, how're you luring them in? Securing their cooperation?" She sipped her tea. "What's in it for them? What's the bargain?"
"They have their orders," he shrugged. "From Vaan. We're just pawns on a larger chessboard that we can't see the whole of." He glanced at the ceiling. "They're the ones moving the pieces around. Pulling the strings, so to speak."
"You're saying the feather mafia is receiving help from Vaan?" Simani frowned. "Now, why do I find that hard to believe?"
"You can believe what you want. I'm just saying it as it is."
"Well, I think you're lying," Ruban growled. "And I think it'd be in your best interest to start taking our questions seriously.
"The Hunter Corps has captured more than a few of Tauheen's followers since her death last year," he continued. "Many of them are being held here in Ragah, awaiting execution. We could arrange to have you spend a few hours with them, if you're not feeling cooperative. I've a feeling they won't take kindly to you people killing and branding their comrades, though."
The color drained from Banki's face. Ruban bit back a smile. He thanked Ashwin silently for telling him about the different factions among the Aeriels. Apparently, Banki knew about it too, and had enough sense to be afraid of the faction still loyal to the former queen. So, the Exiles weren't a united front after all. This might turn out to be easier than he'd imagined.
Ruban sat back, forcing himself to relax. Simani was scanning his face through narrowed eyes. He ignored her. There'd be time for explanations later.
"We seem to have got off on the wrong foot." He smiled at Banki. "I apologize. So, let's start at the beginning. You joined the Qawirsin a little over a decade ago, am I correct?"
The prisoner nodded.
"Well, if you don't mind me asking, why did you? What drew you to Janak Nath and his gang?"
After a few moments of deafening silence, Banki shrugged. "He was a trained Hunter. Not every day the mafia gets one of those. He's a good leader, and a better negotiator. After he took over the Qawirsin, they killed more Aeriels in a year than most other gangs managed in half a decade. And they sold the feathers at a higher rate. I wanted a piece of that pie. Who wouldn't?"
"Fair enough. And the Aeriels? What do they want?"
"Who knows what those creatures want?" Banki snapped. "They're monsters. Or haven't you Hunters noticed that?"
"Even monsters have desires. Goals. They're murdering their own kind to make the mafia rich. They must want something in return."
"Drugs. Sex. Entertainment." He laughed. "It changes from time to time. And from Aeriel to Aeriel. Sometimes they want booze, though they can't get drunk. Or at least, it doesn't last when they do. Sometimes they just want to fuck. Sometimes, nothing at all. Just flying around, rearranging the clouds. They'd even take you for a ride if you asked…and if they were in the mood for it.
"Like I said, they're monsters. Can't be reasoned with. If you ask me, they just got a taste of freedom after you killed the queen last year. Want to make the most of it. Can't say I blame them… Though, if they have a coherent goal, they aren't very good about pursuing it, I can tell you that."
Ruban sipped his watery tea, watching Banki over the rim of the steel cup. His words were in line with what Ashwin had said about the feather-borns. And with what he'd observed during his brief visit to Vaan last year.
"And what about Janak Nath? What does he get out of this?" Simani asked. "And how's he luring the Aeriels into his fold, to begin with? They aren't exactly known to be team players."
"That they're not." Banki chuckled. "Still…erratic, moody bastards they might be, but there's no easier way to kill an Aeriel than with another Aeriel. We were doing well enough before. But we've Hunted more Aeriels in the last six months than in the last ten years. No more scavenging for us. If the government had any sense, they'd get rid of the Hunter Corps and hire us instead."
"The pay is terrible." Ruban shook his head. "Trust me, you're better off."
"So I've heard. You're welcome to switch sides. Janak did, and look where he is now. Besides, you've got quite the reputation. We'd be honored to work with the man who killed Tauheen. The pay's good." He leered. "The benefits are better."
"Is that why Janak is looking for Reivaa?" Ruban raised an eyebrow. "For the 'benefits'?"
Banki stiffened. "What're you–"
"Don't bother." Ruban held up a hand. "We know he's looking for her. Has been, for a while now. The question is, does he want to kill her or recruit her?"
A few seconds passed in silence, and Ruban wondered if he was going to get a response. Then, Banki sighed, pressing the heels of his shackled hands to his eyes. "If he finds out I told you… That I spoke to Hunters about–"
"He won't." Simani directed a baffled gaze at Ruban, but her tone remained steady and reassuring. "Every word spoken in this room is confidential. None of this will be repeated at the trial, or on any other public platform. This information is for our investigation, and that's all it'll be used for."
After a few more seconds of hesitation, Banki relented. Ruban supposed the fear of being torn apart by vengeful Aeriels overshadowed any punishment Janak Nath might mete out for tattling to the Hunters.
"Janak wants revenge." Banki swallowed, looking away. "He wants to make Reivaa pay for what she did to him. And he'll stop at nothing until he's got his hands on her.
"He was always a little obsessed with her. But she went underground after her escape. No one saw hide nor hair of her for over ten years. All the leads dried up eventually." He shrugged. "And there's only so far you can chase a ghost. But ever since the rumors of her re-emergence started gaining steam last year, Janak's been like a man possessed. I've never seen him like this before; none of us have."
"Revenge?" Ruban repeated, his mind racing. "For what?"
"For the humiliation, of course. Janak and his partner were discharged from the Hunter Corps after Reivaa escaped. Although it was Subhas Kinoh who deferred the execution, which gave her the chance to flee.
"But the politicians needed a scapegoat. And Kinoh's wife died two days after Reivaa's flight. Besides, he was popular within the Corps and had the sympathy of the media. So the axe fell on Janak and his partner, as they'd been overseeing Reivaa's security detail on the night she escaped. They were both dismissed from the Corps and lambasted by the media." Banki smirked. "Can't blame the man for holding a grudge. Who wouldn't?"
Simani frowned. "This partner–"
"Dead. Killed himself within a month of the dismissal. You can look it up if you like. His name was Ashfaq Dishari." Absentmindedly, Banki picked at the shackles that bound him to the chair. "After his death, Janak left Ragah for the heartlands and eventually joined the feather mafia. If the government wouldn't have him, he could use those Hunting skills to make some actual money for once in his life."
Ruban nodded. "And I suppose the gangs weren't complaining."
"They lapped him up. They'd never had a member actually trained in Hunting before. There's a reason we scavenge more than we Hunt. Hunting, for the mafia, has always been a matter of trial and error. Only, every error costs a life, if not more. Any gang having the slightest edge there is miles ahead of all the rest. Look at how fast Qawirsin has grown. And once we find Reivaa," he smirked. "It'll only get better."
Simani's brows drew together, her expression mystified. "But Reivaa is dead."
Banki laughed. "And who fed you that piece of bullshit? There's only one Aeriel in the world with two crimson markings on its wings. Like the ones the X-classes have, with one extra on each wing. Reivaa's the only Aeriel ever seen with markings like those. Even Tauheen had three, not two."
"She was, I know. But she died last year at Zikyang forest."
Banki looked from Simani to Ruban, then back again. Finally, he cracked a smile, his shoulders losing some of their rigidity. "Nice try! You're real good, you are! I'd have believed you too, if I hadn't seen her with my own two eyes less than a fortnight ago. And I wasn't alone, either."
Before either of the Hunters could respond, Banki exhaled sharply and continued. "Those wings… Kind of hard to miss, aren't they? Harder to forget once you've seen 'em. By God, I've known Janak for more than a decade, and I'd never seen him more excited than the day he first heard she was back.
"We didn't believe it initially, of course. No one did. Those sorts of rumors come and go. But the sightings never stopped, and the reports kept trickling in. We sent our boys to lure her out." He shrugged. "But she's good. Killed all but one of them with a fire shell. And the one that escaped died of his injuries within the week. Not that that's a surprise. They say she was the queen's right hand, way back before the Rebellion. Probably why she was able to put one over on the Hunters and escape."
"But you say you saw her," Simani prompted, setting her empty teacup down carefully.
"I did. As did many others. And not just once. After all, there's no mistaking those markings on the wings. She's been seen on and off since Tauheen re-emerged last year. And the sightings have become more frequent since the mafia started working with Aeriels. Guess she isn't too happy about that." He licked his lips. "Well, she's going to be far less happy once Janak gets his hands on her. Never thought I'd feel sorry for an Aeriel, but there you have it. You don't want to get on the wrong side of Janak Nath if you value your life and sanity."
"And how does Janak plan to entrap Reivaa?" Ruban asked, his throat tight.
Banki grinned toothily, his expression dark. "I've no idea. He didn't say."
***
Simani parked the car some distance away from the school. Ruban frowned, glancing out of the window. The red-roofed school buildings were barely visible through a maze of concrete and greenery.
They'd decided to collect Sri and Hiya from school on their way back from the detention center. But the Holy Child Center for Primary and Secondary Education had a perfectly functional parking lot within its premises. There was no need to walk the last few hundred meters to the campus.
Before he could ask, the driver-side door clicked open and Simani stepped out into the scorching afternoon sunlight. Unlatching his seat belt, Ruban followed suit. After the air-conditioned car, the hot, humid air of the outside world clung to his skin and blocked his airways. With a sigh, he slipped his hands into his pockets and began walking towards the school premises.
Simani's strong fingers dug into his biceps, pulling him back. Ruban yelped, but wasn't fast enough to keep himself from being slammed against the hood of the SUV.
"Simani! What–" He planted both hands on the heated surface of the hood to retain his balance. "What're you doing?"
"That's exactly the question I want an answer to, Ruban." Simani glared at him, leaning in until their noses were inches apart. "What are you doing? And don't even think about lying to me this time."
Ruban looked around, perfunctorily scanning the empty streets. The only people out and about at this time of the day were newly-liberated school children and the street vendors who sold them junk food and sweets. If this was an ambush, Simani had timed it well.
"Look, can we talk about this after we get the kids–"
"No. We cannot." Simani's fingers dug further into his arm, making him wince. Noticing his expression, she let go of him and took a tiny step back. "You won't distract me again, Ruban. I won't let you. I texted Sri; he and Hiya are having bhelpuri at one of the food stalls on campus. Believe me, they'll be happy to wait."
Ruban's eyes narrowed. "You planned this."
She smirked. "You're not the only one capable of subterfuge. Now, back to business. How did you know Banki was lying about receiving help from Vaan?"
"What?"
"Back at the detention center, Banki said that the Aeriels were working with the feather mafia under orders from Vaan. You accused him of lying; threatened him into telling the truth. But how could you have known for sure that he wasn't telling the truth already?"
"I-I didn't." Ruban straightened, moving away from the car. The hot metal had left blisters on his palms. "I was making an educated guess. I mean, why would Vaan support criminals whose entire business model is built around killing Aeriels and selling their feathers for a profit? Makes no sense. Besides, if Vaan was behind the rise of the Qawirsin, there's no way they'd condone the branding of dead Aeriels. They think humans are below them. Even if they wanted to use the mafia as mercenaries to take out their enemies, they wouldn't facilitate the humiliation of their own kind."
"I suppose you're right." Simani sighed. "Not that it'd have killed you to share some of your insights before being slammed into a car. You've been acting weird since your uncle's death. At first, I thought it was just the shock–"
"I daresay it was."
"Maybe some of it. But that doesn't explain everything. You've always been a good Hunter, Ruban. Great, even. But I've been your partner since the beginning and I know your limitations. Since Subhas died, you seem to just…know things. Information you shouldn't have access to. You seem to think differently now; about the Aeriels, about Hunting. I don't know how to explain it, but…"
Ruban shook his head, trying to think of a response that would assuage her misgivings without being a complete lie. It was hard. Simani had been his classmate at Bracken Academy, although she was a few years older than him. She'd married early, and had had Sri at twenty-one. Hence, she'd joined Bracken in her mid-twenties, a few years later than most students. Still, they'd hit it off almost immediately in first year, and through a combination of luck and stubbornness, had been inseparable ever since. There wasn't much she didn't know about him.
"After that attack in North Ragah, how did you know when and where the mafia was going to strike next? If the IAW had any information, they'd have briefed us together. But it wasn't the IAW, was it?" She held his gaze. "What are you hiding from me, Ruban?"
"Nothing. There were just some rumors floating around among the slum boys who run errands for the mafia–"
"Those are some incredibly well informed errand boys." Simani laughed. "There's a reason I made up all the excuses for our hijinks at Bracken, you know. You're shit at lying."
Ruban blinked at her, unsure of the appropriate response. She wasn't wrong. Sometimes, he wondered why he was even trying to deceive her. She was his partner. If anyone deserved his trust and loyalty, it was her. Instead, he was lying to everyone he knew and loved, all for an Aeriel. Wasn't that what Uncle Subhas had done? Wasn't that why he died?
He suppressed a shudder and glanced away.
Watching him through narrowed eyes, Simani lit a cigarette and continued. "That Aeriel the mafia was Hunting out in those fields…awfully helpful, wasn't it? Didn't try to attack us; not once. Hell, if anything, it was trying to protect us. In all my years of Hunting, I've never seen anything like it. But you know what was stranger than the bleeding-heart Aeriel? It was the fact that you expected it to act exactly the way it did."
Simani brought the cigarette to her lips. Ruban closed his eyes, fighting the guilt that threatened to rise to the surface and swallow him whole. He knew how she was feeling. He'd felt the same way when Ashwin refused to tell him why he spared the Aeriel that had killed his colleagues. Was it worth it, lying to her to protect Ashwin, while knowing that the Aeriel was deceiving him? What was he doing?
Simani tilted her head back, releasing tangy smoke into the humid afternoon air. "When I was cornered during the Hunt, you didn't immediately jump in to help me. Instead, you remained focused on the offensive. At any other time, I'd think that was progress. But it wasn't because you'd suddenly learned to follow protocol, was it? It was because you knew that Aeriel would come to my aid, so you didn't have to. You were relying on it to help us fight the mafia. And not just to save itself, because it could've done that on its own. It held off two Aeriels singlehandedly and helped us kill the third. It didn't need any help. We did. And somehow, you knew we'd get it."
Ruban kicked a pebble down the street and bit his lip, forcing himself to swallow the words that sat at the tip of his tongue. He could tell Simani about Ashwin. Hell, perhaps he should've told her the moment he found out, after the clash with Reivaa at Zikyang.
But he hadn't. Ashwin had been unconscious and Ruban hadn't known if he would ever wake up again. And if he didn't, he supposed he'd wanted the others to remember him as a friend, not a monster.
After that, it'd just been easier to lie by omission than tell the truth. It took Ruban months to really accept and internalize the truth about the Aeriels, about Ashwin. He still wasn't sure if he'd managed it completely.
So how could he expect it of anyone else? Of Simani, who grew up in a family of Hunters and was perhaps even more distrustful of Aeriels than the general population. In fact, that was one of the reasons they'd gotten along so well together in the beginning.
When Ruban joined Bracken after the death of Miki and his father, his hatred of Aeriels had been fathomless. Simani was nowhere near as bad as he had been, back then. But she had understood him. She told him that if he couldn't get back what he'd lost, he could at least fight to ensure that nobody else suffered such a loss ever again. She told him that one day, he would be strong enough to get his revenge. And he'd believed her.
So how could he tell her, after all these years, that not only had he knowingly worked with an Aeriel, he'd befriended one? Had trusted it with his life; with all their lives...
When Ruban learned of Ashwin's true nature, he stabbed him with a sifblade. What would Simani do? And what right would Ruban have to stop her, if she did try to kill Ashwin?
After all, Shwaan was the very thing they'd all been trained to Hunt since they set foot inside the Academy. To Simani – to any Hunter – killing him would be natural. Righteous.
Ruban exhaled sharply, forcing a smile onto his face. "You're mistaken," he said, looking his partner straight in the eyes.
He couldn't tell her. Not yet.
***