by Jones, Heath
“Those trumpets play a lament,” she replies gravely, before a faint smile briefly flickers across her face. “Thankfully they are not playing a dirge.”
“A lament to what?” I ask.
She shakes her head sadly. “Someone has tried to kill our beloved emperor.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The streets are eerily quiet as we rush back to Vahla Jyn’s. Everywhere I look, the people are downcast, sombre. Other than our footsteps, the only sound is the booming lament of the trumpets.
The two guards on duty outside The Den – I’ve learned their names are Alhani and Dakwa – usher us straight inside. The usual bustle surrounds us, smoke and noise filling the air. Surprisingly, given what has happened, and the keening of the trumpets outside, nothing seems to be any different in here. Gambling, drinking, and smoking still occupy The Den’s patrons.
Hurrying through the room while trying to appear not to rush, we make our way up the stairs at the back. The others are already here, including Vahla.
“Someone’s tried to assassinate the emperor!” I burst out, breathless from running halfway through the city.
Vahla turns to face us. “We know,” he replies, as though I’ve just told them the sky was blue.
Of course they know. They’ve all heard the trumpets too.
“What does that mean for us?” Aveline asks, sitting down.
“It means,” Vahla replies slowly, “getting your permits is now going to be near impossible. Security and checks on anyone wanting to enter the Royal District will be even more stringent than usual. And if anyone – anyone! – so much as suspects you are up to no good, it will be over for all of you.”
“Why?” Thankfully it is Dain who asks the question that I’m thinking. Vahla turns his withering look on him instead of me.
“You haven’t learned anything, have you?” Vahla asks. “The people of Malikaran don’t just love the emperor, they fear him as well.” Sighing, he takes a seat and we do the same. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell which emotion comes out on top. This city is dangerous at the best of times. With the attempted assassination today, Malikaran just became the one place in the world you don’t want to be.”
“I don’t understand,” I say. “Malikaran seems so peaceful.”
“Seems is the right word,” Vahla says. “Malikaran is a peaceful city because nobody dares break any of its laws. The prisons – the real ones, not the one Karadik had you in – are not places you want to see. Most people never leave them and those that do are only released to spread the tales of what happens there.”
“What does happen in the prisons?” Rose asks.
Vahla smiles grimly. “Enough to engender fear into a city,” he replies. “Nobody talks about the prisons because nobody wants to think about them. People already keep their eyes on everybody else. Now it will be worse. You won’t be able to spit without someone letting the Peace Bringers know.”
The room falls silent.
Vahla’s words don’t make sense. How can anyone, let alone an entire city, both love and fear the emperor? I don’t understand. Yet, this city is different. We’ve all felt it. From the feeling of unseen, watching eyes, to the seemingly friendly locals unwilling to talk too much. The Malikaranis truly love their peace and prosperity, but there is something else too, something… hidden. Is it fear? Fear of what? Of the emperor? Of his prisons?
It’s a shame whoever tried to kill the emperor didn’t succeed. But where they failed, I will succeed. Then my heart stops as I finally take in the first thing Vahla had said. “Does this mean there’s no hope for our permits?” I ask.
Everyone’s eyes turn to Vahla. “I’d get used to that broom,” he says.
There is a knock at the door a moment before it opens and Bhren, one of the men who guard Vahla inside The Den, pokes his head in.
“Sorry to disturb you, Vahla,” he says, “the Captain is downstairs and wishes to speak with you.”
“Probably short of a coin or two,” Vahla grumbles. “Alright, I’ll be down soon. Make sure he wins a couple of games. I want him in a good mood.”
“He’s already been fortuitous enough to win his first three games,” Bhren says with a grin.
“Good,” Vahla replies.
“Wait,” I say. “You mean, you let him win?”
“Of course,” Vahla says, making it sound as though it was another foolish question. “If Karadik were to start losing, he might suddenly remember his civic duty and shut us down.”
“What do you suppose he wants?” Aveline asks.
“Other than winning some money?” Vahla replies. “Who knows. He might want to relax with a few drinks, or he might even be here to check up on all of you. Or more to the point, to make sure I haven’t slackened in my protective care of you. Remember, he has no reason to suspect you of anything - ”
“We haven’t done anything,” Alek interrupts.
Vahla glares at him. “So just act docile. Acting dumb you’re already good at,” he adds, under his breath.
We follow him downstairs and into the main room of The Den. The portentous sounds of the trumpets outside are drowned out by the usual cacophony of gambling, drinking, and boisterous carousing. The attempted assassination of the emperor doesn’t seem to have dampened anyone’s spirits.
Vahla takes in the scene for a moment before nodding to himself. Heading over to one of the dice tables, he stops behind a large man dressed in a white coat and pants, who is laughing raucously.
“Glad to see you’re enjoying yourself,” Vahla says.
The man turns around, and I’m greeted by the sight of Captain Karadik’s flushed face.
“I always do when I come to visit, Vahla,” Karadik replies.
“A pleasure I always savour,” Vahla says. “Here, have another drink, Karadik,” he adds, taking two cups of wine from a waiter, and sipping at one himself.
“Thank you Vahla,” Karadik says. “Your hospitality is always exemplary.”
“So is your luck in taking honest money from us,” Vahla replies.
“Please, luck has nothing to do with it,” Karadik scoffs. “My abilities are many and varied, Vahla, you know that.”
“So it seems,” Vahla says.
Karadik turns his attention finally to us, standing behind Vahla. “I’d have thought you would have put your charges to work by now.”
“Don’t be deceived by their lazy, slovenly appearance,” Vahla says. “I get them working hard.”
He takes a long sip of his drink, eyeing Karadik over the top of the glass. “What brings you here tonight? Other than to steal our money.”
“Just doing the rounds, like any dedicated Captain would,” Karadik replies. “I’m sure you’ve heard the trumpets, Vahla?”
“How could anyone miss them?” Vahla replies.
“That’s their purpose,” Karadik responds. “I must say,” he continues, glancing around the room, “no one in here seems overly concerned about the attempt on the emperor’s life.”
“Yourself included,” Vahla counters quickly.
Karadik smiles thinly, his drink halfway to his lips.
“How is our permit application progressing?” I venture to ask.
Karadik eyes me up and down before answering. “These things take time. I can assure you that your application is progressing, but… well, today’s unfortunate event means more careful… scrutiny must be applied.”
“It’s lucky you caught them,” Aveline says. There is something in her voice and I can tell she is hoping Karadik will let something slip that may help us when our time comes.
“I assure you, luck had nothing to do with it,” Karadik replies pompously.
“They weren’t one of yours, I hope,” Vahla says.
“Of course not,” Karadik scoffs. “My investigation of all permit requests is scrupulous.”
“Especially for the blondes,” Vahla quips.
“Please, Vahla,” Karadik protests, “You know me better than that. I sho
w no favouritism.” His eyes suddenly light on Bella and follow her as she carries a tray of drinks around the room. “No favouritism at all,” he murmurs, an appreciative smile lighting his face. I shake my head at his blatantly roving eye.
“But… how did they get into the Royal District?” I ask, trying to sound shocked. “They tried to… they tried to kill the emperor!”
“My dear girl,” Karadik says, tearing his eyes away from the waitress, “there’s no need to worry about the safety of the emperor.” He gives me what he probably assumes to be a charming smile, but instead makes him look slimy and repulsive. “There were two of them,” he continues, “and they tried to scale the walls undetected during the night. We were already watching them, so we allowed them over the walls to see if they had any collaborators inside the Royal District. Thankfully they didn’t, as they attempted to infiltrate the Royal Palace by themselves, armed with more than a dozen knives each. No, the safety of the emperor never was, and never will be, in danger. But this does make my life a damn nuisance,” he added with a theatrical sigh.
“More soldiers to put on the streets, more eyes to look out for troublemakers, I know,” Vahla says.
“More paperwork, more hours, and less time to myself is more to the point,” Karadik says. “How is a man supposed to have any fun in this city with so much work to do?”
“I’m sure you’ll find a way,” Vahla says knowingly, patting the captain on the back.
Bella approaches again, another tray of drinks in her hands. Karadik sees her and his eyes light up. “Yes, well, we must make our sacrifices, mustn’t we,” he says, before setting off after Bella. I’m in no doubt as to what sacrifices he wants her to make.
“I feel sick,” Aveline says, watching the captain following after Bella.
“Why?” Vahla asks. “Because he has the power to act however he wants, and you don’t?”
“You know that’s not what I mean,” Aveline responds fiercely.
Vahla shrugs his shoulders. “Amounts to the same thing.” He takes another sip of his drink before rounding on us. “All right, back to work, all of you.”
Meekly, we all obey him. Appearances need to be maintained, especially with Karadik here.
The next day sees a marked change in Malikaran. The streets are quieter and somehow darker. People avoid talking to us, and the feeling of watching eyes has turned into reality. Everywhere I look, eyes are following me, only to turn away when I look directly at them. More Peace Bringers on the streets, regarding everyone as though they are a potential danger.
The days pass slowly. Every second day three of us pay Karadik a visit, politely enquiring after the status of our permits. Each time his reply is the same – there’s a long queue of applicants in front of us, and these things just take time. After a week of his rebuttals, a quiet despair has settled over us as we realise that Karadik may not issue our permits at all. Without those permits, there doesn’t seem to be any way of getting into the Royal District. The captured assassins proved that.
There are vague rumours of tunnels under Malikaran, some of which lead into the Royal District. Today, Jarryd and I are paired together, to discreetly drop hints of the tunnels to see if someone reveals any real knowledge of them. It would normally be a task fraught with danger, but given nobody wants to speak with us, it is merely a pointless one.
After a few wearisome hours of this, we head back to The Den and the room we all share on the second floor. Nobody else is here – they’re obviously more dedicated in their tasks today than we are.
Dropping onto my mattress on the floor, I stare at the broom in the corner. I should take it downstairs and start sweeping, but I just couldn’t be bothered. Sitting on a chair on the other side of the room, Jarryd appears as reluctant to get to the kitchens as I am to sweep. We haven’t had much time together recently, at least not alone, and for a while, we simply ignore each other. Even while we out in the streets we didn’t say much to each other. Gradually though, the silence grows awkward.
“How are you doing?” I ask, a fairly pathetic attempt to make conversation.
“Conflicted,” he replies.
That brings my head up. “About?” I ask, fearful that I know exactly what he is conflicted about.
“Sara,” he says, then stops. Anguish is written plain on his face. “When we were out in the forest before we came into the city, I… I said something…” His voice trails off.
Jarryd, if only you knew how well I remember that night and what you said to me. My heart soars whenever I think about your feelings for me. But I can’t tell you that. And I can’t let you stay conflicted. Aveline is too precious a friend, and to steal you from her would be a betrayal I could never live with.
“Jarryd,” I say.
“No, please let me finish,” he interrupts. “Sara, I’m sorry, but I worry that I’ve wronged you. I’m not good with words, I never have been. Sometimes they come out the wrong way and don’t really say what I mean them to.”
A drop of sweat drips down my forehead. This is going badly. I can’t let him say it. “Jarryd, it’s okay. I don’t - ”
“No, Sara, it’s not,” he interrupts again. “I fear my careless words gave the impression that I feel more for you than I do. I love you… as a friend. But my heart belongs to Aveline. I’m sorry if I made you believe anything different.” Without another word, he jumps up and quickly leaves the room.
I stare after him, my mouth open. What just happened? I don’t understand. I don’t… He loves me as a friend? Is that all? Did I misunderstand what he said to me, the way he looked at me? Have I been wrong all this time?
I leap to my feet and run down the stairs, then outside into the street.
Where I burst into tears.
Hours later, after wandering aimlessly through the streets and alleys, I find myself in the Square of Harmony and Unity, staring at the walls protecting the Royal District. Emotions still wash over me. Painful, humiliating emotions. I was wrong to think Jarryd could love me. Not when he could have someone like Aveline. I’m nothing in comparison to her, and I don’t deserve Jarryd’s affections. So, hard as it is, I try to put him out of my mind and instead focus on solving the problem of getting beyond those low, green, and white mottled walls. I’m hurting though and thinking about anything else is difficult.
I watch the Peace Bringers as they march back and forth along the top of the wall, searching again for a place that is even momentarily out of their sight. But there is nowhere that is not always within their view, nowhere I could scale the walls without being seen.
Letting my eyes wander over the crowd, my attention is drawn to a woman in a green coat. She has the cowl pulled over her head, but underneath she seems to be staring right at me. We lock eyes for a moment before she hurriedly turns away. I wonder who she is and why she seemed to be so interested in me, but not for long. She is only a distraction from my growing despair of ever getting into the Royal District. And, of course, Jarryd.
“What’s wrong?”
I spin abruptly at the voice beside me and am shocked to see Rose, concern etched on her face.
“The permits,” I say quickly, “I don’t think we’ll get them.”
She is silent for a moment, watching me. “Sara, you’re my oldest friend. You’ve always been a bad liar. Tell me what’s wrong?”
I stare at her and can only imagine what my face must look like. A flood of tears has washed down my cheeks since I fled The Den. It must be obvious I’ve been crying, and not over permits. Rose is my oldest friend, yet I haven’t spoken to her much since… since leaving Tolos, all those months ago. Focused on Storm’s training, then planning a way into the heart of Malikaran to kill the emperor, our paths have subtly diverged. For companionship, I drifted towards Aveline and Jarryd, away from the friends I grew up with in Farley. And now I look at her, seeing a stranger in the face of my best friend.
Unbidden, the tears begin again. “I’m sorry,” I say, rubbing my cheeks.
I see the concern in her eyes, the genuine, caring concern of a friend. Relief and gratitude wash over me. Taking a deep, composing breath, I decide to unburden myself.
Before I can speak, Dain interrupts us. He places his hand around Rose’s waist, and she leans against his shoulder. “Are you alright?” he asks me.
Dain and Rose. I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am. I’ve watched as they’ve spent more and more time together, but I never guessed how close they were becoming. Dain, who I used to dream about, and Rose, my best friend. It shows how distant I’ve grown from them.
“I’m fine,” I reply, steeling my voice. “All this delay is just frustrating me. The longer it takes to get in there,” I nod towards the walls, “the less likely it seems that we ever will.”
Dain nods his head. “We’ll get in there,” he says softly, but firmly. “We all want to see this through to the end.”
Rose, unfortunately, is more perceptive than Dain and isn’t deceived by my change of topic. “We can talk later,” she says quietly, her voice reminding me that she is still my friend.
“Where’s Jarryd?” Dain suddenly asks. “Aren’t you two supposed to be scouting together today?”
Rose shoots Dain a withering look, while I simply ignore him and walk away.
For two days I avoid talking to anyone. I rise early to sweep The Den, then head out alone to wander the streets. The sombre mood of the city matches my own. Peace Bringers are still out in abundance, and suspicious glances from underneath hoods is the norm. Twice I even think I see the woman in the green coat again, but with everyone casting wary looks at strangers before skulking away from them, it’s hard to be certain.
The need to continue my chores is the only thing bringing me back to The Den. That and sleep. I head up to our room as late as possible at night, hoping everyone will already be asleep. Vahla watches me worriedly, whenever he thinks I’m not looking. Even Theolin studies me without her usual disdain.
