"We actually don't open the morgue for the general public," Aldo grumbled. "Felga will have a very private funeral, too - girl made too many enemies who'd be sorely tempted to make a spectacle out of it. They'd probably defile the body while it's still in there." The old physician led Zana around the back of his infirmary, and gestured at a hut that seemed to have sunken into the ground until only the roof poked out.
"Usually, I'd only allow family members - and the law, of course - to heat up the morgue with their bodies," he continued, and squinted at Zana. "But I already allowed Halda to see her, and Morla brought her neighbour... or she brought Morla, I should say... poor old girl couldn't walk, she was so struck down by her grief... There you go." He pushed open the heavy, straw-studded door, and a breath of cold and moist air floated up and gently clung to Zana's face.
The coolness reminded her of the underground tunnel Delia had shown her; the tunnel she and Galen had retreated to, believing it to be safe... that dark, cold, tunnel, full of claws, and...
"Move, girl, you're letting the cold out!"
With a start, Zana realized that she was still hovering at the threshold of the morgue. With a murmured apology, she forced herself to descend the few steps down into the... the storage room.
It was even colder down there than the ghostly kiss of cold air at the top of the stairs had suggested, and Zana drew her scarf closer around herself, glad to have brought it along - after what Rogan had said about the cause of death, she had hesitated to wear anything around her neck at first. The walls were covered with heavy curtains; when Zana's hand brushed against the folds, she found them wet. This room wasn't just cooled by its underground construction, but also by evaporating water.
The only illumination came from a narrow skylight, although at second glance, a row of heavy wooden planks suggested that more windows could be opened for a better view... maybe for an autopsy. But if one just wanted to say goodbye, one opening was enough to find one's way without letting too much cool air escape.
She was putting off the inevitable, Zana realized.
You wanted this, remember? You asked Rogan for permission, so you could say goodbye.
Zana straightened, and slowly stepped towards the patch of light in the middle of the room, where a still form was lying on the only table.
"She looks so peaceful."
"Merciful Mothers!" Zana jumped back, her heart thumping painfully in her chest.
On the other side of the table, a shadow moved. "Oh, oh, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to startle you!"
The voice. She recognized the voice, soft and sweet, reminding her of a little bird, just like the first time she had met Halda. Zana swallowed, and tried to breathe evenly. "I didn't see you, Halda..."
The small shadow hurried around the table to take Zana's hands, with the swift, light movements that completed the birdlike impression of the woman - one of those small, shy birds that were forever hiding in the underbrush, only to be heard, never seen, perfectly camouflaged in their brown-gray plumage.
"I'm so sorry," Halda repeated, her gaze searching Zana's face. She had huge, dark eyes that were now swollen and red-rimmed from tears. "Did you come to say your farewell, too?"
"Yes," Zana stammered. "If I'd known you're here, I would've come at a later time... I didn't mean to intrude..."
Halda softly squeezed her hands. "No, no, you're not intruding at all. I'm... I'm even glad you came... nobody else wanted to, except for her poor mother..." She let go of Zana's hands to wipe her scarf over her eyes. It was a sunny yellow, the only spot of color on her - a strange contrast not only to her brown robe, but to the whole somber setting of this room.
She moved aside, and Zana slowly stepped up to the table.
Halda had been right, she saw; Felga's face wasn't contorted in some horrible agony. It was... not peaceful, though. It was void of any expression. Try as she might, she couldn't even pretend that Felga was sleeping - this vivacious, passionate woman would never have slept so silently. She would've... snored, and stolen the bedspread, and would've talked in her sleep...
Felga just looked utterly dead.
"It's so... so horrible," Halda's tearful voice floated out of the darkness. "I always warned her not to be so, so... I always said to her, 'one day,' I said, 'one day you'll push someone too far.' But she just laughed and said, 'pushing people is what I get paid for, sweetie.'" The words were followed by a wet sniff, and Zana absently offered her a handkerchief.
"Well, someone pushed back," she murmured.
"If only she had been less quarrelsome," Halda lamented. "Why did she have to attack the stable owners like that, every year? We had already made such great progress with the human shelter, and human protection laws, why couldn't she have left it at that? Why couldn't she have been less stubborn, less..."
"... less Felga?" Zana interjected.
For a moment, Halda stared at her with big eyes. "You're right," she whispered. "I shouldn't talk about her like that. We are what we are, right? We have no choice. And with everyone being what they are around here, this was... inevitable."
"No, it wasn't!" Zana protested. "If it was, we wouldn't need laws, or courts, or... or punishment. This was a heinous act, Halda, and the murderer can't excuse himself like that."
She turned back towards the table and gently pulled the sheet up until it covered Felga's slack face. She couldn't bear to look at it any longer. I'm so sorry it had to end like this for you, Felga. If your spirit is still around somewhere, I swear I didn't want Peet to run. I love our humans, I'm not an animal abuser. Please believe me.
"I'm just glad they already arrested him," she murmured. "At least Felga can move on to the Mothers in peace now."
To her surprise, Halda started to sob.
"But it wasn't him!" she cried. "It can't have been him!" She buried her face in her hands, and stumbled up the stairs.
For a moment, Zana was frozen to the spot; then she ran after her.
"What do you mean, it wasn't him?" she gasped, when she had caught up with Halda. She grabbed the woman's sleeve and forced her to stop. She had chased after her almost until Halda had reached main street again, and Zana's gut protested against the sudden run with stabs of hot pain.
Halda wiped her scarf over her face and gestured wildly with her other arm. Her eyes were glinting slits, almost swollen shut from repeated bouts of crying. "It wasn't Levar! The police are wrong! It wasn't him!"
Zana frowned. "But they found her behind Levar's kennels, with one of his humans' taping bandages around her neck."
For a moment, Halda just stared at her, mouth formed into a silent 'o', and Zana cursed herself for having given the poor woman the same horrific image that had reeled her the previous evening, when she had been on that impromptu dinner with Rogan.
"I mean," she said hastily, "the police know what they're doing, and the evidence against Levar is damning."
"But why would he have left her lying there?" Halda asked in a thick voice. "Damning him? He was set up! He didn't kill her!"
"Why are you so sure?" Zana asked, wondering if Halda maybe had a secret crush on the man. "He and Felga were arch enemies, from what I've heard."
Halda threw a hasty glance over her shoulder and stepped closer. "That was just a ruse!" she whispered. "For the townspeople! Felga... Felga told me the truth, because she knew she could trust me - we've been best friends since elementary school." She stepped even closer, and breathed into Zana's ear: "Felga and Levar were secretly engaged. They loved each other! Levar would never have killed Felga!"
Zana jerked back to stare at Halda. Halda nodded vigorously.
An animal rights activist and a stable owner. Zana could see why Felga hadn't been eager to spread the news. "She was sleeping with the enemy," she said slowly.
Halda shrugged nervously. "I don't know if they were already... how far their relationship had... developed. But all those articles, and Levar throwing a tantrum and threatening to sue her boss - that was all just make-believe. So that nobody would suspect anything."
"Have you told Rogan?" Zana said, still stunned. She began to slowly walk towards the market place - she didn't want to rouse attention by standing in the middle of the street, whispering with a tearful, disheveled woman.
Halda caught up with her after a moment. "Of course I have! Before I even went to visit poor Felga, but he didn't believe me! He said, even if it was true, it wouldn't mean that Levar hadn't killed her, only that he might have a second motive on top of the first one - jealousy, hurt pride, se... sexual frustration... I told him that he was probably the best judge of that," she concluded, visibly satisfied with her saucy comeback. Zana remembered what Rogan had said about Halda's attitude towards him.
"He might be right about that," she murmured, but her own doubts about Levar's guilt had increased tenfold.
"He's not!" Halda said with absolute certainty. "I hate what Levar does, but I can't stand the thought that he'll hang for killing Felga when he didn't do it, and the real murderer stands in the crowd and cheers along with everyone else!"
Her last words sent a chill down Zana's back. It was true - if Levar hadn't killed Felga, someone else was prowling the streets of Sapan right at this moment, secure in the knowledge that an innocent man would hang for their crime. They'd be free to sleep soundly, enjoy their meals, and plan their next step...
Their next step?
As long as they didn't know the murderer, they didn't know their motive. They didn't know... they didn't know if they would be content with killing only one half of the human protection society's leadership.
Halda might be in danger, too.
Zana looked down at the petite woman walking beside her, dabbing at her eyes with that silly yellow scarf, and decided that she wouldn't share that last, disturbing thought with her. There was no need to frighten her on top of her grief.
"You know, Halda," she said instead, "you're absolutely right. It's unacceptable to stand by and watch how an innocent man is hanged. We need to find the real culprit."
Halda gaped at her. "But... how?"
Zana stared straight ahead, oblivious to the bustle of the market before her. All she could see was Felga's dead face. "I have no idea," she murmured.
"But that's no reason not to try."
"Okay," Burke said, "slow down. This isn't calisthenics, Al. It's about control."
Virdon let his hands sink and straightened. "I thought I was doing it slowly." But his heart was beating rapidly, as if he had run for miles. And his leg...
... his leg felt actually better than it had in a long time. Warm, and tingling, but not in that electric way that heralded a new flash of lightning pain.
Burke shook his head. He was holding his stance, legs spread, one of them slightly bent, and his torso slightly rotated. "You're using your momentum to propel you through the motion," he said. "You're evading the pain. And you're forgetting to breathe into your lower dan tien, too."
"My lower what?"
Burke sighed, and straightened, too, apparently realizing that Virdon wouldn't continue with the exercise anymore. Virdon felt a pang of guilt, but suppressed it - they had been at this for over an hour, by his estimation, and he had been exercising every day.
But apparently, he had been doing it wrong.
"Into your belly," Burke explained patiently, "way, way down - into your pelvis. Where the pain is, y'know? You want to open it up, so that the chi can move freely."
"I'd never have guessed that you're into Chinese mysticism," Virdon muttered, and sat down at the steps to the inn with a grunt. They had been allowed to use the garden for their sessions, and Burke insisted on getting him out there even when it rained. Thankfully, it wasn't raining today.
"It's not mysticism," Burke growled. "Jus' their terms for things us Westerners hadn't bothered to discover on our own. So it's just right I use 'em."
Virdon held up his hands. "I meant no disrespect, I just... you didn't strike me as someone who'd have the patience for something so slow."
Burke just shrugged, and sat down beside him. Virdon flicked him a sideways glance. His friend had been unusually silent today. Virdon thought he might know the reason... but how to break the subject?
"How's work up there?" he asked casually.
Burke didn't look at him. He stared across the garden, as if the hedge at the other end was the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen. The leaves were beginning to change color - just a slight paling of green, a hint of yellow. "The usual."
Virdon took a long draw from his water flask.
"How's the training?" he asked, after he had put down the flask.
Burke heaved a heavy sigh, but said nothing.
"He should've asked you," Virdon muttered after a long silence.
"Yeah." Burke sniffed, and reached for the water flask. "But he didn't. An' he doesn't have to, not here."
"So what are you going to do?"
Burke shrugged and put the flask to his lips. "Run," he said, and drank.
Virdon didn't believe him for a second. It just wasn't like Burke to yield without a fight.
Burke put the flask down and caught his stare. "What? You're looking at me as if I had a choice there."
"Okay, Pete." Virdon held up his hands in defeat. "I can't help you if you don't tell me what you're really up to."
Burke snorted. "Help me with what, exactly? I'm already getting all the help from Marpo." Virdon saw a muscle jump in his jaw.
"If he's harassing you, you should tell-"
"Galen?" Burke interrupted him. "Oh yeah, that'll go over well with the master, me complaining about the monkey who's set to make me a winner, so the two gents can cash in the money!" He jumped up and took two long steps into the garden, before he spun around to face Virdon.
"That's my money they'll share!" he said heatedly. "Mine! I'm the one tearing my lungs out for the fucking monkeys' entertainment here!"
"I'm on your side with this, Pete, you know that."
"I'm not gonna win them anything," Burke continued, as if he hadn't heard him. "I'm gonna finish last. Fucking asshole, thinks he really is my master..."
"Pete, calm down." Burke was trembling with rage, clenching his fists, his jaw. Virdon slowly came to his feet. "Have you even talked with Galen about the money?"
Burke shook his head. "Haven't seen him yet."
Virdon breathed a tiny sigh of relief.
"I can talk with him," he offered. "That'll reduce the risk of someone getting strangled in the process..."
Burke stopped his pacing and shook his head. "He's an ape. And an ape can tell a human anything, doesn't mean shit." He sounded bitter. Neither of them had expected to ever extend that sentiment to Galen.
We've come far, haven't we?
"If I can get him to agree to give you a share of the money, he'll keep his word," Virdon insisted. "He's nurturing his grudge, because he doesn't know how to deal with Zana's... condition, and we're convenient targets, but... but he's a decent man... ape. He won't trick you out of your money, Pete."
Burke snorted. "Ya think?"
Virdon sighed. "Look at it this way: if you win, he'll nominate you for another race - more money to win. If he'd refuse to pay you after that first race, you'd stop giving your best, and you wouldn't win anymore, so - no more prize money. If you don't want to believe that he's honorable enough to keep his word, at least grant him the intelligence not to sabotage his own interests like that."
Burke closed his eyes and rubbed his hand over his face. "Alright, fine. I'll count on his self-interest. Anything else you need me to do, Al?"
"Don't provoke that trainer of yours," Virdon said, ignoring his sarcasm. "I'll try to convince Galen that you don't need that ape to win the race." He slowly sat down on the steps once more. Although his leg could bear his weight for longer periods of time now, he was still glad when he could rest it.
"Good luck with that," Burke muttered, avoiding his gaze. "That monkey is hell-bent on making me the next Phar Lap."
"I'll just point out to him that he gets to keep a hundred percent more money if he gets rid of that ape," Virdon said with a wink. "That should do the trick."
But Burke didn't smile. "Yeah," he murmured. "Let me know how it goes." He grabbed the vest that he had thrown across a bush before they had started their Tai Chi session. "You know, Al," he said suddenly, "maybe we shouldn't wait for Zana to get her act together. Maybe we should leg it now, make it across the mountains before the weather gets too bad."
Virdon didn't bother to remind him of all the reasons his idea wouldn't work - no money, no papers, and still too many apes with guns. "Hang in there," he said, hoping his voice would convey more optimism than he felt. "We've made it this far, we'll make it across the mountains, too, in time. Let me talk to Galen... it will get better, Pete. I promise."
Burke nodded, but he didn't meet his eyes.