Division of the Marked (The Marked Series) by March McCarron Page B

low.”
    Enton, a Chaskuan man in his early thirties, crossed his arms. “What does it have to do with me?”
    “You know the Chiona—they think it was us. I wasn’t sure they were going to let me leave at one point. And everyone knows you’re a sword master.”  
    “Why would I kill some quack archeologist?” Enton asked. “Surely not even the Chiona can think—”
    “They’re upset,” Ander cut in, “and suspicious of us perforce. We will have to step very carefully until this mystery is solved.”
    “It had to be one of our kind,” Chessa, an Adourran woman to Ander’s left, said. “Who of the unmarked could possess the ability?”
    “There are many unmarked who are gifted fighters, and Ambrone was not a young man,” Ander said.  
    “What possible motive could an unmarked have to kill him?” Chessa challenged.
    “What possible motive could a marked have?” Britt asked, voice sharp. “And in our own Temple.” The Adourran seemed to have no answer for this.  
    “Ambrone Chassel was best known as a madman who chased after shadows and fairy tales,” Britt said. “I can’t imagine anyone having motive.”
    “Wasn’t the body found in a room without doors?” Ko-Jin asked—then looked startled to hear himself speak.  
    “Yes.” Britt nodded. “Likely, without the snooping of those plebes, he’d not have been found at all.”  
    “Why is there a doorless room in the Temple?” Chessa asked.
    Ander stroked his beard. “There are many such places in all three of the Temples. I imagine it was walled off during the restoration last century.”  
    Several yawns broke the silence and Ander checked his watch.
    “I will have a telegram sent to the Cape to inform our brothers and sisters at home of this news. For now, I think it is best that we sleep. There is nothing more to be done tonight,” Ander said.  
    Gratefully, the congregation rose and departed for their respective beds.  
    Yarrow and Ko-Jin dallied until the room was emptier. “Britt?” Yarrow asked tentatively.
    “Yes?” she snapped.
    “How is Bray?”  
    Yarrow saw the lack of comprehension on Britt’s freckled face. “The girl who found the body,” he elaborated.  
    “Oh—fine. Why shouldn’t she be? Dead men don’t bite,” Britt said, and strode off without another word.  
    Ander still sat at the head of the table, writing a second letter in neat, careful script.
    “Can I help you gentlemen?” he asked, looking up with tired eyes.
    “I was just curious,” Yarrow said. “You said the Chiona are suspicious of us. Why?”
    The dislike between the two sides was eminently evident, but its intensity did not make sense to Yarrow. Surely differing cultural practices alone could not elicit such ire.  
    Ander leaned back in his chair and scanned Yarrow appraisingly. “They are suspicious of us, and we are suspicious of them, because of a three-hundred-year-old foretelling, the Divisionary Prophecy, that promises the Chisanta will at some time go to war.”
    “War?” Ko-Jin whispered.
    Ander nodded. “It is unfortunate. The Chisanta were much stronger when we worked in unison.”
    Yarrow frowned, a crease forming between his brows. “So, tensions are high because of this prophecy. And with tensions high, it is likely we will, at some point, come to conflict. It seems like the prophecy itself will be what sparks the war.”
    Ko-Jin looked thoughtful and nodded agreement.
    Ander smiled. “Very astute observation, and probably true.”
    “So...” Yarrow said, “why can’t we just…stop? End the suspicion?”  
    “Such things are easier said than done, I’m afraid.” Ander took up his pen. “Now, I really must finish these correspondences.”
    “Of course,” Yarrow said, and bobbed his head. “Good night, brother.”  
    Ko-Jin and Yarrow exited the dining hall and stepped into the cool night.  
    “I’m too preoccupied to sleep,” Ko-Jin said. “I think I’ll do the Ada Chae if you’d like to