Page 72 of Vilest Things
Chami turns the note around. Though it is clearly orange stained from Yilas’s flippant peeling, the typewritten message in the middle remains clear and legible:
We need you.
441-819
“Well, first of all, it’s not what it looks like.”
Chami snorts. “Yes, I figured as much. Did you get it in the palace?”
“It was just someone who overheard my conversation with Matiyu.”
A thump from downstairs sounds on cue, then an “Ow!” and a meow. Matiyu is sleeping downstairs on an air mattress in the office. He doesn’t want to return to his designated lodging in the palace, for fear of his life. Yilas still isn’t convinced that there is some conspiracy in the palace taking out the guards. People are murdered in San-Er all the time. The timing is suspect, but it could easily be a regular crime. Maybe some guards pissed off another employee, and now, while most of the Weisannas are away with the delegation, they’re taking the opportunity to strike.
“They gave you a calling card because…” Chami trails off, appearing confused. “They heard your conversation?”
Yilas peers down the stairs, checking on the sound. “Are you all right?”
“Yes!” her brother exclaims. “The cat whacked a plate. I saved it!”
They better not break anything down there. Yilas sighs, then turns back and reaches to take the card out of Chami’s hand. “I don’t know what it is. I don’t particularly care to find out.”
Just before her fingers can make contact, Chami cranes her arm behind her, keeping the card away.
“You may not remember this, because you were kidnapped and everything,” Chami says, “but I recognize this number.”
Yilas stops. That’s even more reason to throw it out. “Hollow Temple?”
Chami nods. “I made multiple calls when you didn’t come home. They were unhelpful, of course. Couldn’t exactly admit to the bodies they were holding hostage in the back.”
“I’m throwing this away—”
“Wait,wait,” Chami urges. “Yilas, you’ve solved Matiyu’s mystery for him. It’s the Crescent Societies. They’ve infiltrated the palace and are wiping out the guards.”
“Okay, and?” Yilas asks. “That’s none of my business.”
“Itisyour business once you know.” Chami is already walking toward the telephone by the air conditioner. “But it can be someone else’s business once you report it with enough evidence. I’m calling.”
“What?” Yilas screeches. “They kidnapped me!”
Chami pulls open their crowded miscellaneous drawer. “We’re calling tocatchthem, not actually work with them.”
Yilas crosses her arms. Her new pajamas are too silky for her liking, so it doesn’t give the full impact she intended. The sleeves absorb her disgruntlement.
“The Crescent Societies are constantly committing crime. When has gathering evidence on them ever stopped what they were doing?”
Chami brings out a camcorder. They don’t own a tape recorder, but the camera captures audio, so Yilas understands that Chami must want to record the call. She sets it beside the phone. HitsSTART.
“I can already tell you what this is going to be,” Yilas continues warning while Chami dials. “Get us in contact with Calla Tuoleimi. We would like her support while we destroy the twin cities for total anarchy. We love her because we love destruction.”
Chami jabs a button, and the phone switches to speaker. It only rings twice.
“Hello?”
She gestures for Yilas to say something. Yilas, stubbornly, remains mute.
“Hello? Anybody there?”
“Who do I have the pleasure of speaking to?” Chami asks, taking over. Despite Yilas’s foot stomping, she always loves it when Chami swoops in on something. She’s so much more confident, radiating brightness where Yilas likes to slink away.
