A Call for Brighter Days: Aeriel Trilogy #2

Simani plucked the crisp manila folder from his hand.

Ruban squawked, startled into making his rickety chair screech ominously.

Perusing the stolen file, his partner laughed.

Kitty peeked down from the top of a cabinet to meow her approval of current proceedings, before returning to the task of licking her butt clean for the weekend.

“It’s finally here, huh?” Simani murmured thoughtfully. “Looks like that Aeriel wasn’t lying, after all.”

“Only time will tell,” Ruban shrugged, powering down his desktop with a few clicks. “We can’t be sure of anything until we actually get there. Though the IAW sure seems to think something’s going on. Something the Hunter Corps needs to look into.”

She hummed, flicking through the pages absentmindedly. “How did you get them to investigate the matter without revealing the source of your information?”

“I have my ways,” he smirked. “You heading home for the day?”

“Yes. Why? Something you need me for?”

He shook his head. “Just thought I’d beg for a lift.” He looked up at her with what he hoped was an appropriately beseeching expression. “Pretty please?”

Her lips twitched. “Tired of the bus already, are we?”

Throwing his head back to gaze despairingly up at the newly-renovated ceiling, Ruban groaned. “It wouldn’t be so bad if people didn’t insist on shoving their cameras in my face every five minutes. Who’s that enthusiastic at eight in the morning?”

“People who don’t have night shifts.” Replacing the Ghorib file on his desk, Simani turned to head out of the Quarter, leaving Ruban to scramble after her on the way to the parking lot.

A few minutes later, they were on the highway, Simani lecturing him for the umpteenth time on the stupidity of buying a second-hand car – after his trusty sedan was burnt to a crisp in Zikyang.

“There isn’t much point wasting money on a new car if it’s only gonna get blown to bits by fucking Aeriels, is there?” Ruban muttered, glancing out of the window. “Where are we going?”

“To the museum. I’m stuck driving Vikram and the kids around the city, now that you don’t have a car. And there’s no point in going to the flat before picking Hiya up, anyway.”

Ruban hummed his acquiescence, eyes fixed on the flickering streetlights beyond. Soon, the car slowed to a stop outside the premises of the Historical Museum of Ragah. The back doors of the vehicle clicked open and Vikram, Sri, Hiya, and Ashwin tumbled in.

“What’s he doing here?” Ruban demanded, frowning at Ashwin through the rearview mirror.

“Papa said we should bring Ashwin with us to the museum so we’d get a balanced view of history,” Sri said, his tone sagacious.

Hiya nodded in enthusiastic agreement. “Yes, Vik says we need to know both the human and Aeriel perspectives on major historical events and personalities. Plus, Ashwin packs the best picnics.”

Ruban sighed. “Vik will get both of you rusticated from school, with his ‘balanced view of history’.”

“Not that it’d make much of a difference in the grand scheme of things,” Simani interjected. “If Janak Nath manages to get his hands on more reinforced sif, we’re all screwed anyway. So you might as well enjoy Ashwin’s picnics while you still can.”

“I’m guessing you’ve confirmed Minister Qwaan’s report, then?” Ashwin asked, leaning forward until his head was inches from Ruban’s backrest.

“As much as it’s possible to do so without revealing the source of the information,” Ruban said. “But the higher-ups at the IAW do seem to believe that the Qawirsin is working with another gang to raid the Ghorib mines.”

“For reinforced sif ores?”

“I don’t see what other reason there could be, do you?”

“Still, I’ve never heard of different gangs in the feather mafia working together.” Her eyes fixed on the road ahead, Simani chewed absently on her lower lip. “It doesn’t add up. The gangs are always at each other’s throats – competing to kill the most Aeriels, turn the biggest profit. And now, we suddenly have a joint venture on our hands? Besides, Janak Nath doesn’t strike me as the type of man who trusts easily.”

“You’re not wrong,” Ruban acknowledged, looking away. “It doesn’t sit right with me, either. But we can’t risk the lives of thousands on the basis of unsubstantiated misgivings, can we? If we’re wrong, it’s a couple of days wasted. No harm no foul. If we’re right, and the mafia gets its hands on more of the enhanced sif ores…”

“I heard SifCo’s almost done with the new formula,” Vikram said, passing a sandwich to Simani and one to Ruban, before dividing the remaining food between the kids. “Dr. Visht is days away from calling a press conference, apparently. If that’s the case, it’d make sense why they’re ramping up production in the mines.”

“All the more reason we should deploy a team to Ghorib immediately.” Ruban bit into his sandwich and savored the sensation of the cheese melting rapidly in his mouth. “Secure the mines, prevent civilian casualties, and arrest Janak Nath if possible. That’s all we need to focus on, for now. We’ll be in and out of Ghorib within twenty-four hours or less, if things go according to plan.”

“As if they ever do,” Simani sighed, taking a sharp turn. “As if they can, when half of us can never be sure what the other half is planning.”

“I’m never going to live this down, am I?” Ruban rubbed a hand over his face. “How come Ashwin’s not in trouble with you? He lied as much as I did.”

“He’s made up for it with food. And information.” She swallowed the last of her sandwich and shoved the plastic wrapper into her handbag. “After all, we would’ve known nothing about the Ghorib raid until it was too late, if not for his girlfriend.”

“Not a girl,” Ashwin interjected helpfully. “But definitely a friend.”

She shrugged. “Never could tell the difference, with you lot. Still, we’ll have much to thank him for – this Minister Qwaan – if we manage to nab Janak this time round. Although, I’ve been wondering…”

“What?” Ruban prompted.

“Some of those men we arrested from Select City – they saw us talking to Qwaan, didn’t they? They might even have heard some of it. And if they remember nothing else, they’ll almost certainly remember the Aeriel sticking its tongue down a Zainian nobleman’s throat. I mean, the Zainians are known for their debauchery, sure. But even by their standards, this is a bit much.”

“Well, at least nobody caught it on camera. If they had, it’d be all over the news channels by now. You think Casia Washi and her ilk would let something like that pass them by?”

“Maybe not. But if those men started talking about what they saw–”

“Who’d believe them?” Ruban shrugged. “If it’s our word against theirs, we win by default. Still, just to be safe, Ashwin Kwan should stay out of the public eye for the next few weeks. He’s been a bit too visible since the attack on the Quarter, anyway.”

Simani caught Ashwin’s eye in the rearview mirror. “So you’re not coming to Ghorib with us?”

“Of course I am. Just not as Ashwin Kwan.”

Ruban turned around in his seat to glare at Ashwin. “What’re you talking about?”

“Something so simple even you should be able to grasp it. I’ll be in the area, keep an eye on things – as Shwaan, not in my human guise. Like you said, Ashwin Kwan doesn’t need to get involved in this.” Tucking a stray strand of hair into his braid, he glanced out of the window. “If things go smoothly, I’ll stay out of it. Observe things from a distance so I can make a report to my sister.”

Simani cocked her head to the side. “And if they don’t?”

“Then I’ll join you, once the stabbing and dismembering begin in earnest. Lots of Aeriels have a vendetta against the feather mafia. Nothing unrealistic about one of them taking advantage of a skirmish between the mafia and the Hunters to get some long-overdue revenge.” He shrugged. “When you hack people’s limbs off for a profit, you make some enemies in the process. Occupational hazard.”

“You realize we wouldn’t be the only Hunters there, right?” They jerked forward as the car hit a speed bump. Simani continued, unperturbed. “If you appear out of the blue with your gigantic wings – in full Aeriel mode – the other Hunters will probably try to Hunt you down as well. An Aeriel’s an Aeriel. And a dead Aeriel is always better than a live one. That’s the motto the Corps lives by, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“And if I’m killed by one of your mediocre colleagues – after surviving Ruban’s company for more than a year – I’ll have deserved to die.”