Bannerless (The Bannerless Saga 1)

“I don’t know,” he said, sullen. He glared at her as if he could wish her away with the power of his will.

“Why don’t you show me where that person must have been standing? I think he was just where you are now. He would have come straight in, right for Sero, here. Come on.”

She coaxed him like he was a stray dog, step by step. Just a little farther.

“Sero would have been surprised. He liked to be alone, didn’t much like people coming at him, right? So he would have stepped back.” She did so, toward the spot on the two-by-four that still showed a stain of blood. “Maybe it happened even more quickly. Why would anyone be angry at him? He might have put up his hands. We all know Kirk has a bit of a temper. He might have taken advantage, maybe pushed—”

“No, it wasn’t like that, it wasn’t—”

He rounded on her, and right at the last, he saw it. They all saw it. He stepped in; she stepped back. He didn’t raise a fist, not this time. He stopped himself. And she was expecting it so was able to keep her balance, her awareness. Was ready to block him if he followed through. Sero wouldn’t have been ready. He wouldn’t have expected it, not from the son of a committee member, from a place like Bounty. Sero might even have been confused as to why Kirk came here to yell at him in the first place, and when Kirk lunged, he would have dropped whatever he held, thrown up his arms, stumbled back in confusion—

“A bad step. That was all. One chance in a hundred, that step threw him back against the one spot on the wall that would kill him.” Enid took that step back, but carefully. Still, everyone could see the trajectory she was on. If she had tripped, if her whole body had swung as if on a fulcrum, it would slam her skull against that piece of wood and crush it.

“Sero wouldn’t have taken that step if Kirk hadn’t pushed him,” Enid said. “And then Kirk carefully closed the doors, so no one would see. If it had truly been an accident, the doors would have stayed open.”

Kirk wore a look of despair. He knew and was sorry. His father—Philos showed no surprise at the image she presented. He’d known all along. Kirk had told him. The two of them together had hoped it would all just . . . go away.

Enid nodded at him. “Is that what happened, Kirk?” She didn’t mean to sound gentle. She meant to be furious at him. He’d been angry, but had this really been worth any anger at all? The boy was clearly broken.

Miran—she was crying, but she wasn’t looking at the tableau Enid had presented. She hadn’t been surprised, either. She’d known, and she hadn’t been able to protect him.

Kirk put his hands over his face, which muffled his words. “I just wanted to scare him a little so he wouldn’t get any ideas. It was an accident. How could I have meant for that to happen? I didn’t mean it! I didn’t!”

Enid believed him. Still, she couldn’t absolve him, assure him that of course they all understood, that it was all right, that there’d be no consequences—

“It was an accident that never should have happened,” she said. “That was only the first infraction committed here. The second was not telling what happened straight off. If only you had done that—”

Philos was furious. “How could you expect us to, knowing how he’d be treated by you—”

“You don’t know how he’d have been treated if he’d just told us straight off, do you? But you’ll know how you’ll all be treated now, hindering my investigation for three days. All of you.” She pointed this last at Miran, who Enid really thought would have known better.

Kirk still tried to argue. “But Sero—”

“Sero was yours. He was part of Pasadan; he helped build this place, no matter what anyone thought of him. You should have cared for him. Accidents happen, yes. But you should have cared. All of you!”

At least no one was arguing with her assessment of the events. At least no one tried to tell her this wasn’t what had happened. She was at least satisfied with that part of it: she’d learned what had really happened. I solved it, Tomas. She thought she might have heard a response, an echo in the back of her mind: Never doubted you would.

She moved to the door, pushing past the gathered witnesses to get out of the shed. “I’ll have my judgment for you in an hour.”

Marching up the hill, she waited until she was out of sight before brushing away her tears. All that, for a bit of jealousy and misguided anger. Jealousy was a nebulous thing until you were the one feeling it, she knew that well enough. But they were supposed to be better than that. Better than the old world.

Leave it to Dak to follow her. He caught up with her when she reached the committee house. She only wanted to go inside and pack, to get out of here as soon as she could. But she waited for him to say what he wanted to say. She planned to just let it wash over her, because she was tired of being the voice of authority.

They stared at each other for what seemed a long time.

“Well?” she asked finally.

“You proved it,” Dak said. “The rest of us might have suspected, but you proved it.”

Was he praising her? Accusing her? She couldn’t tell. She wasn’t sure she’d ever been able to read him. “What do you want, Dak?”

“Would it have hurt anything to just let it go?”

“It would have hurt everything,” she said. “You really think Sero wasn’t worth defending? You think Philos gets to flout quotas just because he thinks he deserves it? Maybe it won’t hurt anything now, but what about five years from now? What about when the next big storm comes? Or when the next person who dies because of an accident that isn’t an accident is someone you love? And the whole town tries to cover it up? The plan has to be for everyone or it fails; we all fail.”

She waited for the argument, for his insistence that investigators did more damage than good. But it didn’t come. His smile seemed amused, and she wanted to slap him.

“I’ve missed you, Enid,” he said finally. “I’ve been lonely these years.”