The hangman comes to Tyche - part 3
Taggard goes home
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Taggard stood at the entrance to the house he’d grown up in. His house now. The fierce and angry sun beat down on his back, and beads of sweat trickled down his temple and dripped off his jaw. He removed his hat, took a deep breath, and crossed over the threshold. As he stepped inside, it felt like he'd been hit in the chest by a stun charge, leaving him breathless.
He hurried through the entry vestibule and into the inner courtyard. The left side with its cooling pond sat in deep shadow, but the rest baked under the high afternoon sun. Pots nestled into every free space between the long beds, arranged by their affinity for light or shadow. They were still full of the plants that had fed the three of them when he was a kid.
He picked up the large watering can, and sudden movement made him jump. A grey shape leapt up onto the lip of the pond wall.
“What are you doing here?” Taggard said, and the kitten paused momentarily from lapping up water to peer at him with its green eyes. “Just because I’ve fed you a few times, doesn’t mean you can wheedle your way into my life.”
The cat chirred and rubbed its chin on his hand before going back to drink the water.
Taggard shook his head and dunked the can into the pond to fill it. He used a large chunk of his water ration to keep the pond filled and water his mother’s garden. Somehow he’d managed to keep the plants alive in the weeks since her death … in the months since she’d been too ill to care for them herself. But he didn’t know how much longer he could keep it up. The house was too much for him. Its grief bore down on his chest when he stepped into its hushed rooms full of whispering memories.
After watering the garden, he squared his shoulders and entered the family room, still packed with the remnants of a life lived. He ran his fingers over his mother’s desk, disturbing a layer of dust.
He slumped into the chair. This stirred up another storm of dust, which caused him to sneeze. His mother would be mortified at the state he'd let the house fall into.
The kitten had followed him into the room, and now dug a paw under a low chest. A rattle sounded as something became dislodged. The cat batted the object, sending it skittering across the floor.
“What have you got there?” Taggard stood. He winced as his back twinged when he bent to grab both the cat and the item it had discovered.
His mother’s charm. That’s what she called it, her charm, though it had never brought them luck. She’d found it before he was born, on a hike near Tem Cylla. She’d wrapped the orb in a delicate cage of thin wires and worn it on a chain around her neck for years … until the past year. On her deathbed, in the quiet before the doctor came, when it was just her and him, she’d passed it to him.
Keep it safe, she’d said.
Safe from whom? he'd asked.
Hide it from curious eyes. She’d pressed it into his palm, wrapping his fingers around it. And because it was important to her, he’d tucked it into his shirt until later, until after, when he’d left it on her desk.
He ran his thumb over a spot between the wires. The longer he stared at it, the more stars seemed to bloom under its dark surface. He blinked and the pinpoints of light disappeared.
“How did it get under there?” He looked into the cat’s green eyes, and it reached a paw towards the small orb. “Nope, I don’t think you’re what she meant by safe.” He tucked the bauble into his shirt pocket.
He surveyed the room and contemplated spending the afternoon siesta there. Instead, he left the room, made his way through the entry and back out into the searing hot street. The kitten squirmed in his arms as he locked the door.
###
Darkness cloaked the sheriff's building. Given that it was mid-afternoon outside, the streets had been quiet as he made his way here. Taggard thanked Artemis for small mercies. Accusatory eyes might have peered at him from shadowed doors and windows, but he couldn’t see them as people stayed indoors to escape the worst of the scorching day. Though now, sitting on the cot inside the hushed cell, he still felt hundreds of unseen eyes track his every twitch.
Outside, the occasional shadow of a Dominion officer or Empirical Antiquities official passed by, but the locals all knew this was the time to retreat into their homes, escaping the intense sun.
Taggard didn’t retreat to his home nowadays. He spent most nights in the cell trying — and failing — to sleep. He rarely had company given that Inspector Sharp executed his prisoners too quickly to spend time in jail. But today, Sandor Roi snored off his latest bender in the other cell. The man, the same age as Taggard’s mother, was a little too fond of straight Braken.
The constant noise meant there was no hope of napping, though sleep had been unlikely regardless. So, instead, Taggard sat on the cot, running his thumb over his mother’s prized trinket as he ruminated.
He needed to get Sharp off the planet if he wanted his town, his niece, to be safe. Which meant helping the inspector find a thing he refused to share details about.
“Geterfme.”
Taggard looked up at the sound of Sandor’s voice. Squinting in the half-light, the kitten had jumped onto Sandor's chest and now lay curled on the man’s neck, despite Sandor’s protests.
Finally, Sandor sat upright … mostly, which dislodged the cat. It let out a mournful sound, as if a great injustice had been done against the universe. Sandor rubbed his hands over his face, then grabbed the water glass beside the cot. That was another thing Taggard spent his water budget on — making sure anyone in the cells had a bit to drink.
The cat pawed at the glass. More awake now, Sandor pulled the glass away and downed the rest of the water.
“Would you like some more?” Taggard asked.
Sandor blinked at him. “What are you doing in a cell?”
“Napping.”
“Don’t much look like a nap to me.”
“Thinking, then.”
Sandor scowled as the cat curled up in his lap, but he didn’t shoo it away. “That’s a dangerous pastime. I used to think too much.”
Taggard kept his snort to himself. “Really?” he asked instead, absentmindedly fiddling with the bauble as he tried to keep his disbelief out of his voice.
“Really. Hard to believe now, I know.” He jerked his chin to Taggard. “Back when your mom and I discovered that thing.” He ran a hand down the kitten’s back. “I had plans to be an archaeologist, studied for the exam and all." He coughed into his sleeve. "We’d head over to Tem Cylla when we were kids. Her, your father and I.”
His mother had rarely talked of his father, and never in kind terms. “Really?” His voice was quiet, not sure if he wanted Sandor to continue or not.
“Mmm. We found a cleft one day. We followed it into the hill a ways, before your mom got too afraid that the rock would fall and crush us. On the way out, we found a couple of pieces of metal and a scrap of fabric, all with ancient Erivani inscriptions. Didn’t know enough of the language then to read them, though I learned later.” His voice trailed off at the end, his eyes distant in memory.
Taggard’s forehead furrowed as he saw Sandor in a new way — as someone who knew ancient Erivani. “Did you figure out what they said then?”
Sandor shook his head as he stared intently at the cat in his lap. “They disappeared." His eyebrows raised. "Don’t know what happened to them, but years later your mom discovered that ….” Sandor glanced up, his mouth dropping open, and Taggard knew.
“My father took them.”
Sandor’s lips tightened into a thin line, and he nodded. “He never knew we’d found that orb you're playing with over there, or he’d have taken that too. Sold ‘em, she said. It broke her heart.”
Taggard’s attention shifted to a sound that echoed in the street. He almost missed Sandor's next words.
“She always thought there was something special about that bit of rock. Said it felt like peering into the heart of the universe.” Sandor’s eyes shone in the dim light, and he rubbed the back of his hand against his cheek. “She was ….” He stopped as the sound from the street moved into the office. “You should put that away, keep it safe.” Sandor slumped, his demeanor that of a drunk again.
Taggard followed the man’s suggestions, tucking it into his pocket just as Sharp entered the cell block.
“What are you doing in a cell?”
Taggard opened his mouth to answer, but Sharp cut him off.
“Never mind. While you might look at home in a cell, we need it.”
“Why —” Taggard stopped short as a pair of SIPS lackeys entered, hauling a struggling form between them. He inhaled sharply. “Nita.”
“I told you to take care of your niece. Instead, I have to interrogate her.” Sharp tugged the hem of his tunic. “Unfortunately, your townsfolk wouldn’t let me haul her to the SIPS detachment." He huffed. "I’ll get reinforcements from the dig tomorrow, and we’ll move her then. But right now, we need that cell.”
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