A House Divided

Chapter 8

Arriving home was a relief. Kila had learned a great deal that evening, and he wanted some time alone to sort through all the pieces, to make notes and try to put together a picture. He had noted a lot of details and was able to make some educated guesses based on them, but that was all he could hope to do for the time being. Were his partner an Intentionist, they could have worked together to create a much more accurate picture. Kila would have been able to make sense of the physical clues, and his Intentionist partner would have been able to read the gestures and expressions of their subjects to gain insight as to the subjects' states of mind.

But even the weakest of Intentionist Adepts were snapped up by the wealthy and powerful. They were perhaps the rarest of all Adepts, and Kila was under the cynical impression that no one wished to create a crime-fighting team with as much accuracy as would result from the pairing of an Intentionist and an Enforcer. Not to mention that the wealthy had no real interest in controlling crime any more than was necessary to keep the lower classes appeased. It was much more to their benefit to use the Intentionists to spy on their enemies and protect their own interests, and even the most idealistic of Intentionists would be hard-pressed to deny a wealthy patron. Those in the employ of the powerful were less than forgiving of anyone who tried to upset the system.

Stripping off his formal uniform, Kila pulled on a loose tunic and a comfortable pair of breeches. His new lodgings were slightly larger and quite a bit nicer than the old, as another aspect of the trade Houses' public works project had been to arrange for Enforcers to be able to obtain better housing in more desirable districts at a discounted rate.

Like slipping so many sweets to small children.

He couldn't argue with the benefits, though. His needs were modest, but his lower rent coupled with the slight increase in his wages would allow him to live more comfortably, and it was difficult to quibble with that. He was certain there was something to it. Large, lavish gifts were nice, but something told him that it was the small touches that were more prone to increase one's sense of gratitude and, therefore, one's sense of indebtedness.

Leaving his bedchamber, he went into the room he had set up as an office. His quarters also included a privy room that was large enough to accommodate a stone tub, and a large common room that served as kitchen, dining, and sitting room. The fireplaces in his bedchamber and the common room worked well enough, and the lodgings seemed as if they'd be relatively cozy in the winter, but he found himself thinking longingly of the modern system at Enforcement headquarters, and he shook his head. Reeled in already.

One wall in his office was covered with scraps of parchment that he arranged and rearranged at will, helping him to sort the information he'd gathered as he tried to establish links. Lengths of string extended from some bits to others, forming connections wherever he found them. Writing with a brisk, sure hand, he jotted down his new additions and added them to the wall. Stepping back, he stroked his chin and squinted, turning his head this way and that. Sometimes the answers leapt out at him, but at other times they were coy. He had made several leaps during the course of the assembly, but nothing of serious concern. Such personal information might prove itself useful at some point in time, but as of yet everything he'd gleaned was of a petty, unimportant nature.

Rolling his head around on his shoulders, he shook out his arms. Exercise would help. Allowing his mind to work through the knots while he focused on something else often resulted in his most useful discoveries, and he had learned to walk away whenever he began to feel stymied.

His new quarters also included a walled garden, but it wasn't any larger than the old. The previous tenant hadn't been much of a gardener, judging by the jungle-like growth in the yard, nature reasserting her claim. Kila frowned in distaste, but the physical labor would provide him another avenue for quieting his conscious mind, so it wasn't all bad. He liked to cultivate herbs, but more important to him was that his garden was in good order, laid out in lines that were pleasing to the eye and soothing to the mind. He would have his work cut out for him with this garden, but he would wrestle it into submission in due course.