Strange Noises Fiction by Rachel Greenham

Kerilas was executed two days later, on the last day of Market.

There’s a cold wind from the North. The sky is a mottled grey sheet sliding South over the mastheads in the harbour. When the tide turns, Market sails.

Kerilas and I speak one more time, on the edge of the small lawn set aside for the purpose in the harbourmaster’s garden. There’s just us, and Master Merresan, and a few guards in their ostentatious uniforms, and a guy who looks like a healer or doctor or something equally sarcastic. At least executions aren’t a spectator sport in Jeodin. A small thing to be grateful for. They take their executions seriously here. There are rules. Kerilas could have refused to have me present. He’s permitted it, on condition I follow those rules.

He actually seems cheerful. “Hey I’ve got an idea,” he says, when he first sees me. “Let’s pretend to be terribly British about this. You know, stiff upper lip and all that. It’ll be a laugh.”

“Uh. Okay,” I manage. “I’ll try.”

“Look,” he says, showing me three six-sided dice in his hand, marked in Jeodine pictograms. “Guard lent me these. All ready to roll up a fresh one. What d’you reckon? I fancy doing a halfling next. You know, a bit waayy, a little bit wooah.” He grins. “Nah seriously, don’t leave that there, mate, I’ll nick anything, me.”

“James—”

“Shh.” He smiles. “You’re going with the Satthei?”

I nod. Sam and Lotan haven’t reappeared. “I don’t have any choice, do I?”

“It might be the best thing, Tani,” he continues. “You’ll learn how to be Neri properly—”

“But I don’t want—”

“Shh. You’re a threat to her if you don’t go with her. You don’t want that.” He smiles at my look of incomprehension. “Haven’t you figured it out yet? Think about it. She’s Queen Bee. Last thing she wants is potential feral Satthei out there.”

I don’t really follow what he’s talking about, and I don’t care. “But… I want to stay with you. And Sami…” I can’t bring myself to include Lotan. I hope Sam can’t find him. I hope I never have to see him again. I hope he’s killed himself out of remorse and is lying dead and forgotten in a ditch somewhere.

Goddess, but I can hear my own voice, and my own thoughts, sounding like a child’s, a spoilt teenager’s; not at all the voice of the elegant Neri woman I thought I was being. I never fooled anyone.

Kerilas shook his head. “Didn’t you listen to what I said last time?”

“But that wasn’t you speaking!”

“It will be,” he says. He nods, affirming it. “It will be. You have to understand, this is the best way it could end, for me. This way I get to not be a monster.”

My eyes feel like they’re burning. I’m trying not to cry. For him.

“You wouldn’t let it happen,” I protest. “I know you wouldn’t.”

“This is me not letting it happen,” he points out. “Give me this, Tani. I need your help,” he swallows, “to make sure I go through with it.”

“It’s not fair. Lotan should be here instead of you,” I say bitterly.

“No,” Kerilas says. “He’s young and stupid—” He stops, thoughtfully. “Isn’t that strange? We’re the same age as well.” He shrugs. “He’s young and stupid and hot-headed, but he’s just picked up a lot of XP. He might even end up being worth keeping around.” He grins. “You never know.”

“How can you be so cheerful?” I blurt out, not meaning to.

“Oh that’ll be this potion whatsisface over there gave me earlier. Not sure what’s in it, but I’m a leetle bit high.” He gestures ‘a little bit’ with a thumb and forefinger, grinning. “Thank fuck it works on elves. Definitely a strong euphoric. Hey, maybe I’ll do a write-up for Erowid when I get back. ’Course, I’ll have to skip a bit on the come-down.”

“Fuck’s sake, Keri—”

“He offered. I accepted. My choice. They seem pretty keen on giving you – well, me – every chance to get through this with dignity. Seems to be a cultural thing about a good death and redemption. I think I’m impressed. You know, if you’re going to do the whole state-murder thing, you might as well do it with a little class.”

I can’t help the sob that escapes from me.

“Did they tell you what happens now?” he asks me.

I nod.

“Will you stay with me?”

I nod again. “And I’ll be terr’bly, terr’bly British,” I say, laying the accent on thick.

“Good show, old bean.” Another grin, just acknowledging the joke without leaving it. “Come on then, let’s get it over with before this stuff wears off.”

I want to protest, but I let him take my still-bandaged hand gently and lead me across the lawn to the doctor, or whatever he is, standing next to a small, waist-high table. The guards are a nearby, but for the time being at least they are an unintrusive presence. It’s a surreal moment. Almost as if he’s some kind of twisted barman, the doctor unstoppers a vial of some clear liquid and pours it into a small cup, then pours a small quantity of red wine over it from a jug.

“They say it works almost instantly,” Kerilas tells me while the ‘barman’ pours. “That’s got to be some kind of neurotoxin, I reckon. Probably get it off something growing in the coral.” He looks at me. “Don’t think about even touching it.”

“It’s ready,” the doctor says.

“Thank you,” Kerilas answers, and lifts up the cup.

If he does anything other than drink the contents of that cup, the guards will act, and dignity will be lost. This was explained to me before I stepped on the lawn, that it was equally within my power to rob him of that dignity, by trying to stop him drinking, by drinking it myself, whatever. Presumably it was explained to Kerilas as well.

“This is the worst day of your life,” he says to me, “and you’ve never looked more beautiful.” With his other hand he strokes my hair back behind my ear. “Maybe the Reki have a point.” He smiles, and as if it’s nothing more than a glass of water he drinks down the contents of the cup.

Two deep breaths, looking, searching into my eyes, then he faints and falls, to be caught and lowered gently to the ground by one of the guards; his head propped up by the guard’s thigh. The doctor kneels next to him and puts a finger to his throat.

And waits. Ten seconds. Twenty seconds. Thirty seconds, and he stands up and nods to Master Merresan, and to me.

He’s dead. Even knowing it was coming I can’t believe it. I just stare at Kerilas’s body as the guard gently lays down his head.

I sob. I can’t help it, but I press my hand to my mouth and hold the rest in. I won’t cry now, or rail, or do anything else to rob his dignity. I’ll keep doing the British thing, at least until I’m out of here. I suppose it’s the Jeodine thing as well; the one culture having inspired the other, whichever way around it was, I’m not sure any more.

“You must leave now,” Master Merresan says to me, having come up to my side.

“Yes, of course.” Kerilas’s hair is stirring in the breeze, like Jalese’s did. I don’t understand how such a movement can seem so consequential, except that all other movement is gone. His face looks so restful and so beautiful.

“He made a fine end, Mistress Taniel,” Master Merresan says. “It will be recorded.”

“He still didn’t do it,” I say deliberately and quietly, not making an undignified scene, just stating a fact. “I think he was the most gentle person I’ve ever known.” I hold his gaze for a moment longer, then walk alone off the lawn towards the gates.

On the quayside, on the way back to Satthei Fareis, I see two familiar figures sitting on a bench. A shapely, petite woman dressed incongruously in mannish leather, and a muscular, well-built young man, towering over the woman, in a belted tunic and leggings. They stand as I approach. I wonder who they see. A young Neri woman, finely dressed, with bandages on her hands and hair plaited down her back, and hopefully carrying an opacity of expression learned from her elders. No. A child, a sulking teenager, wearing clothes that are too grown-up for her. Maybe not. Fareis chose them for me, after all.

“You’re late,” I say to Lotan as I pass. I don’t stop. I don’t even want to know how he reacts to my words, my studied disdain. I don’t want to hear the excuses. I don’t want to think he might be laughing at my childish indignation.