by Rebecca Rode
“Like I said, I’m not sure what to do next,” Theon said, a tinge of sadness to his voice. Apparently he’d decided Ember wasn’t a threat after all. Or perhaps he still wanted to draw her in. “I sacrificed everything for my position. I was trained for the emperor’s service from the day I took my first step. His Eminence came to me for advice on occasion. He didn’t always like what I said, and occasionally I pushed too hard. But he trusted me to speak my mind.”
“And then Ruben came along.”
“His Powerful Highness is unfortunately well versed in politics and high society. He knows which aristocrats to woo and which to silence. There are always citizens who believe themselves more capable than their leaders, but with flickers taking a greater role in a government headed by a flare, the murmuring is completely gone. Everyone is afraid to speak.”
Ember thought back to Mar’s experience on Olvenack. Ruben was no fool. He knew how to scare citizens into submission and pull the rebellious out of the woodwork. No wonder Sa’Kahn was so cautious about the information she revealed.
That Ruben had gladly received Bianca and the information she’d offered was certain.
Now that Theon had begun, he seemed determined to continue. He almost appeared relieved for her listening ear. He’d probably spent the past months in hiding as well. “I am more comfortable with the art of warfare than politics. You are familiar with the Yang Paradox, yes?”
She hesitated. “Never heard of it.”
“A fight is straightforward—there is always a winner and a loser. You strike fast and hard and beat down your enemy. That is the hard side of combat—a straight, direct line. The softer art of politics is more difficult to maneuver, but it’s also more powerful. You must take everyone’s interests into account and find solutions. In my opinion, in war as in most things, the soft art always beats the hard.” He released the table and clasped his hands as if unsure what to do with them. “If I could return to my position, it is the soft art I would focus on. There’s been enough of the hard.”
Ember examined the man, feeling a bit dizzy. If he had a point, she wasn’t sure what it was. The man wanted his post back, which made Ember his enemy. Yet he spoke to her like she was a comrade. She sensed an honesty coming from behind his mental shield, a vulnerability. This man had been broken and was now building himself back up. She knew all about that.
He seemed to shake himself back to the present. “Enough about me. Word of your conquests has reached the far borders of the realm. I believe you will do much to heal the mess we’ve created. You will be the softness we so desperately need.”
She wasn’t sure whether to agree or disagree with such an odd observation. “I’m going to search for a suitable place to sleep. I bid you good night.” She wouldn’t sleep here, of course. She would climb onto the roof to the next abandoned building and find a room that locked. If this man planned to call in backup and ambush her in his sleep, she wasn’t about to make it easy, no matter how genuine his light felt.
“And a good night to you, Ember gypsy.”
For once, Ember didn’t correct him. She just turned and entered the corridor, his strange praise clinging to her as she exited.
She paused in the corridor and turned for one last glance at Theon. The man sat slumped on his metal table, the steel bent beneath his frame. He was still for a long time.
Sa’Kahn woke Ember before dawn, nearly sending her through the roof with fright. The woman was still difficult to read after a week of traveling together, but she seemed surprised when Ember explained that Zandar was the reason she had switched buildings.
“But you also see inside people,” Sa’Kahn said. “You should not doubt what you see. Take this and follow me.” She handed Ember a fresh pastry and a piece of unfamiliar fruit and began to descend the rickety stairs.
A few minutes later, Ember and a bleary-eyed Theon Zandar made their way down the passenger road. Ember still wore her Albine disguise from yesterday, but the former officer wore only a long wig he’d pulled around his throat to partially cover his beard. It looked ridiculous, but his stature would look just as silly in an Albine costume. As far as Ember could tell, all Albines were about the same height, both men and women.
Even this early, a steady stream of people made their way down the street in various uniforms. Above their heads, wealthier individuals whizzed by in their flying contraptions. Ember had no desire to be so high above the ground, but it did look fun to move so fast.
“There are six travel shifts each day,” Sa’Kahn said, gesturing to their fellow pedestrians. She wore a long ivory dress today, the only indication she’d gone home for the night. “Citizens are allowed to travel only during their shift. That cuts down on congestion and traffic. We are part of the second shift now.”
Ember nodded absently, trying to keep her face impassive despite her excitement. She’d waited long for this moment, and yet all she could think about was Zandar. What did the resistance leader want from an ex-high commander? The man surely had information that could help Ember and the others—military access codes, weapon details, strategies, hidden sources of Empire funds. If Er’len managed to get him on their side, they would be unstoppable. Or perhaps there was something far more sinister at work. It was a good reminder to be cautious.
Sa’Kahn leaned over to Ember and nodded toward a building that was tall and looming, like all the rest. “Your entrance is there. Knock three times and wait,” she said without breaking stride. Theon gave her a questioning look but continued on down the street after the Albine. Ember hesitated, watching them go. She’d assumed Zandar would meet with Er’len at the same time. It seemed she’d be going it alone yet again. So much for Albine hospitality.
Ember went up the steps and knocked three times. It looked like the entrance to a restaurant, although there was a huge padlock on the door and the hours listed in the window were faded. There were no cameras, no security guards. The museum would have been a more secure location.
She waited a full minute, but nobody answered. She stepped up and knocked again. “Hello?”
Nothing. Two minutes passed. The pedestrians streaming behind her paid her little attention. Ember was grateful for her white wig, however it made her head itch. She reached out inwardly, sensing a handful of dim lights. They all used that strange flexible shield, but none were anywhere near the door. Maybe she just had to knock harder.
She had just raised her fist again when the door opened. The padlock was fake.
She stepped inside. The door swung shut.
Ember looked around, immediately wary. The dark room held no furniture, just another padlocked door directly in front of her. Ember shook the lock. This one was real. She lifted her hand to knock again and paused. For the first time in days, she felt her inner shadow awaken and look around with interest. It didn’t object to being here. Its silence bothered Ember.
Or maybe she was just being paranoid again. The Albines could have jumped her a hundred times on the journey here, and Zandar could have called an entire squad down on her in the night. But neither had happened, and this was her destination after such a long journey. It was time to focus on the task at hand.
“You don’t need to knock again.”
The voice was one she hadn’t heard in months. It belonged to Bex—the nine-year-old Albine child from her Union flicker team. The last time she’d seen him, he was drifting toward home in a stolen shuttle. Her heart leaped until she realized the voice came from a tiny speaker positioned in the upper corner of the doorframe. It was hidden in shadow. “Is it really you, Bex?”
“Yep. You’re supposed to be patient now and wait your turn.” He paused. “Adults tell me that a lot, and it gets really annoying.”
She grinned. She’d missed the kid more than she realized. “Will I get to see you?”
“Depends on if you pass. Be back in a few.”
It was ten minutes before she heard any sound on the other side of the door. The room’s narrow walls had beg
un to close in on her, the shadows taking form and stalking her like dark beasts. She hadn’t slept well last night, and it was beginning to show.
Just as she wondered if she were losing her mind, there was a tiny click and the door opened. But not inward like other doors—it actually slid upward to reveal a set of stairs.
“It’s dark in there, so be careful,” Bex’s voice warned from the speaker.
She peered into the darkness but couldn’t see the bottom of the stairs. She was growing weary of darkened steps. “And you’re at the bottom?”
“No, but hopefully I’ll see you soon.”
She did another internal sweep and sensed a single heavily shielded light at the bottom. One person. It had to be Er’len.
She stepped inside and heard the door slide down behind her. Then she made her way carefully down the stairwell. A third door. This felt like a very long nightmare. She had just lifted her fist to knock when the door opened, this time sliding to the right. The sudden light from inside stabbed at her eyes.
The room was round, lined in concrete, and completely empty except for a steel desk. Behind it sat a woman with predictably white hair and clear eyes. About her throat hung a black necklace, a tiny black box hanging down from it. She examined Ember with a cool stare.
So Er’len was a woman. Even better. Ember stepped inside just before the door closed on her. A tiny camera in the ceiling was pointed at the woman. There was no chair for Ember.
“I’m Gheorghe Ember of the Argyle Beach clan of Earth,” she said automatically. Then she felt foolish. Earth was still around, if battered, but her family and clan were gone forever. None of those titles meant anything now. “I’m supposed to meet with Er’len.”
“Yours truly.” The woman moved her lips, but it wasn’t her voice Ember heard. It was something machine generated. It must have come from the tiny box at her throat. Suddenly it made sense why they’d insisted on meeting in person. That voice wouldn’t have translated well across so much distance. Did Albines have voice issues? Was that why Sa’Kahn’s mate and materna didn’t speak?
“Thank you for inviting me,” Ember said. Politeness felt like an important skill to the Albines. She’d bow and scrape all day if it meant this woman would help the revolutionaries.
Er’len inclined her head, accepting Ember’s gratitude.
A minute passed. She decided to lead the conversation. “Sa’Kahn said something about discussing the future of the Empire. A restructuring.”
The Albine woman didn’t respond. Instead, she examined her guest.
Ember strengthened her shield, although she could sense no touch. If Er’len was a flicker, she wasn’t using her powers. Then again, Sa’Kahn wasn’t a flicker, and she read Ember’s mind all the time.
“Special abilities aren’t required to lead a revolution,” the woman’s robotic voice said. “You don’t even need the ability to speak, in case you wondered.”
“I believe you.” Ember shifted, suddenly uncomfortable under Er’len’s probing gaze. “Are you a friend of Bex, then?”
“He’s my nephew. I thank you for seeing to his safety.”
Ember nodded, checking her shield again. If there were hidden flickers reading her, they had an incredibly soft touch. She couldn’t feel anything at all. “I’d bet your followers feel more comfortable serving under someone who isn’t a flicker.”
“Flickers rely far too much on fate,” Er’len said. She wore the same expressionless gaze as Sa’Kahn. “They think themselves endowed with the right to power. I worried you would be much the same.”
Ember shrugged, feeling much like a naughty child facing a teacher. “There’s a prophecy I’m meant to fulfill. It’s not something I chose, and it certainly isn’t about power.” She hadn’t meant to say it aloud. This woman had an aura about her, a way of putting Ember on her toes, but she had no reason to be defensive about her purpose here.
Er’len clasped her hands on the desk. “You say that as if the stars force you against your will. If you didn’t have to fight the Empire, you wouldn’t.”
Ember bristled. That was a terrible oversimplification. “It’s not about what I want. It’s about what I’m supposed to do.”
The woman just watched her. “Do you want to know what the stars say about me?”
Ember hesitated. This was beginning to feel like an interrogation. She finally nodded.
“Nothing.” Er’len placed her lips together in some semblance of a smile. “No prophecies, no signs of the future. I’ve never had a flicker reading. It’s absolutely liberating. Flickers—and flares, as you call them—don’t hold power. They see it, perhaps touch it. But they don’t own it. That’s because their abilities are simply life taking the form of images, past and present. Their abilities are no more than a sensitivity toward that which cannot usually be seen. Now you see how unremarkable your kind truly is.”
Irritation swept through Ember. Had Er’len invited her here to insult her? Flickers were far from useless. Their abilities were a beautiful connection between people. She’d spent years in that market, telling futures. Yes, it was her living, but she’d also liked to think she had been helping others. Many had returned to tell her the predictions had come true. They’d based important decisions on something a stranger had told them on a tourist beach. This gift from the stars meant far more to people than cheap tricks.
Er’len carefully watched Ember’s reaction. The woman seemed to want Ember upset, but she wouldn’t fall for it. “Flickers have an important place in the universe. They’ve saved many lives and done a lot of good.”
“They’ve taken more lives than they’ve saved,” Er’len said. The robotic voice could only be described as matter-of-fact. “They could use them for good, I suppose, but most choose to focus on the dark, manipulative part of their gift instead. If the stars intended for that to be the case, I’d be very cautious about following whatever the stars dictate for you.”
Ember ground her teeth. “So you’re saying I should toss the prophecy aside and do whatever I want? That doesn’t sound practical with everything going on.” This conversation had just taken a very strange turn.
“You don’t know the extent of this war. I’ve gathered thousands of warriors over many planets, many of whom are aliens the vanguard attempted to extinguish. We have artillery that meets and exceeds what has been sold to the Empire. I know this because my people are the weapon makers. We have infiltrated every level except the emperorship itself. Meanwhile, your people hide and flee whenever the Empire gets too close.”
Ember bristled. What were they supposed to do? Get themselves killed? Besides, these people were hiding too. And aliens, apparently. “Then what’s stopped you from attacking? You obviously need us, or you wouldn’t have brought me here.”
“Public opinion. The previous emperor’s policies were careless and unkind, but at least he took his homages and stayed out of their way. Ruben Kane has fit much better into our plans. The citizens loathe him. He’s tightened the Empire’s already bloody fist and squeezed their loyalty from them until they’re ready to break. We’ve had more recruits than ever these past weeks, people running from arrest. Your revolutionaries could be the last piece we need to tip the scale in our favor.”
Finally. “It does seem like we’re on the same side. We can help each other.”
“I admire your followers and their grit. They’ve suffered and sacrificed much, and I think when the time comes, they’ll be ready to fight. But I don’t sense the same raw courage in you.”
Ember felt her expression freeze. What kind of accusation was this? She didn’t care if Er’len liked her or not. If this woman expected her to turn over her army, she was about to be surprised. “You’re wrong. And you don’t get one without the other.”
Er’len slowly shook her head. “You don’t understand. The Albine people are known for their sensitivity as well. We can read a person’s heart without permission from the stars, and yours has grown hard. If given the op
portunity, you will take the throne and continue the emperor’s reign of terror.”
“That’s not true,” Ember burst out. She felt her face heat and resented this woman for making her feel foolish. “All I want is freedom and peace. For the citizens, for the resistance, for the revolutionaries. Being empress is the last thing I want.”
Er’len’s eyes were hard. She still sat perfectly still, her posture irritatingly straight. “The stars have been known to choose the wrong individuals. Look at our emperor and his gifts, for example. I, on the other hand, have never been proven incorrect. And I say you wish too much for visibility. You must learn that the greatest heroes often go unseen.”
“I don’t want to be seen,” Ember insisted. “If you knew me, you’d see that. We don’t have time to argue about how loyal I am to the cause. You’ll observe my dedication soon enough.”
“I’ll observe nothing. You have a greater sensitivity than most, yet you choose to employ only the darkest parts of your gift—manipulation, forcing people against their will, causing injury. Even more unthinkable, you have used your gift to take innocent lives. Many of them.” She shuddered. “No. You will return to your so-called revolution, and we will continue our work without you.”
This couldn’t be happening. She’d come so far just to be lectured about using her powers? “But you need us. You just said we would tip the scale in your favor.”
Er’len’s eyes flicked to the camera in the ceiling. “We’ll find a way.” It made Ember wonder who was watching their conversation.
Ember approached the desk. “Then at least send a portion of your army to help us. We’ll fight the Empire, defeat them, and discuss this again when you’ve witnessed our sincerity for yourself.”
“This war will not be won so far away. We need to defeat the emperor here, where our strength lies.”
Ember placed her hands on the desk and leaned forward, getting right in Er’len’s face. Her cheeks burned now. “You claim sensitivity and kindness, but you refuse to help those who desperately need you. I’m not the one with a calloused heart.”
