Ashes of the Sun

by Django Wexler

  Afterward, her head still feeling clear, she dug her journal out of her pack for the first time since the Kyriliarchs had visited her. She wasn’t sure if the report would do her any good, but it was something. They can’t just keep me in here forever. Can they?

  There was a knock at the door, which made her jump. Maya hurriedly stuffed the journal and pen back in her pack, heedless of ink smudges, and sat back on the bed.

  “Come in,” she said.

  The door opened, and Beq stood between the two white-armored guards, a fresh tray of food in her hands. Maya jumped to her feet, then hesitated.

  “This is real, right?” Her voice felt scratchy. “I’m not dreaming?”

  “I don’t think so,” Beq said. “But I’m not sure how I’d know.”

  Beq set the tray of food down and came forward. Maya kept still until Beq’s arms were around her, then wrapped the other girl in a tight hug, head pressed against Beq’s shoulder.

  “If this was a dream,” Maya said, her voice muffled, “at this point you’d bite my head off or turn into a vulpi or something.”

  “That’s alarming,” Beq said.

  “It’s been…” Maya found her eyes full of tears and rubbed them on Beq’s shirt. “How long have I been down here?”

  “A week,” Beq said, pulling away slightly. “I tried to get a chance to come sooner, but they told me you were ill. How do you feel?”

  “Like I’ve gone crazy.” Maya took a deep breath and wiped her eyes again. “But better today.”

  “Here, sit down.” Beq gestured to the bed, and Maya flopped onto it, while Beq sat cross-legged on the unmetal floor. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

  “How did you get them to let you in here?” Maya said.

  Beq grinned, idly twisting a dial on her spectacles. “I called in a few favors with the servants. Traded some shifts.”

  “The Council didn’t send you?” When Beq shook her head, Maya said, “Have you heard what they’re saying about Jaedia?”

  “It’s all anyone’s talking about,” Beq said. “All over the Forge.”

  “It’s a lie,” Maya said fiercely. “I know Jaedia better than anyone. She would rather die than turn against the Order.”

  “You’re not the only one who thinks so,” Beq said, lowering her voice. She glanced over her shoulder at the guards outside and continued in a whisper. “There’s been serious accusations on the Council. The Dogmatics are accusing Baselanthus and the others of plotting against the Order, and the Pragmatics say that Jaedia must have been set up.”

  “Obviously she was set up,” Maya said. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her insides felt stretched. She touched the Thing absently. “I have to get out of here. She needs my help.”

  “I have…” Beq paused, then leaned in even closer, until her forehead rested against Maya’s. Startled, Maya froze. Beq’s skin was warm against hers, and her lips were almost close enough to kiss. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

  Maya swallowed. “What?”

  “I found something. In the Spike, before we left.”

  “Found what?”

  “Correspondence between Nicomidi and Raskos,” Beq said. “I think. It’s all in cipher, like the letter you found. Tanax had us search Raskos’ office after he fled the city, and I… um… took it.” She shook her head, forehead rolling against Maya’s. “If I handed it over, I was worried Tanax might… misplace it. It was wrong, but I was so mad at him—”

  “Can you read them?”

  “Not easily. But I checked the archives to see who was allocated those codes in particular. They definitely all came from Nicomidi.”

  “If Nicomidi was working with Raskos all along—”

  “Shhhh,” Beq said frantically.

  There was a long silence.

  “So what are you going to do?” Maya said.

  “I don’t know,” Beq said. “I should burn the things, or find a way to turn them over to the Council. But…” She swallowed. “I want to help you, Maya. It’s wrong that they’re keeping you in here. Even if you disobeyed Tanax. Raskos was corrupt, and Tanax wasn’t going to do anything about it! And—”

  “Shhhh.” Maya let out a deep breath. “Thank you, Beq.”

  “I feel stupid,” Beq said. “You’re the one in a cell for treason, and I come to you for help. But I don’t know what to do.”

  “Is there any chance you can decode the letters?”

  “It’s possible,” Beq said. “The codes should be on file in the master archive. It’ll take time to track them all down, though.”

  “That’s the first thing we need to do, then,” Maya said.

  “You don’t want me to go to Baselanthus?”

  “I’m not sure how much Basel can do,” Maya said. “If we know what Nicomidi and Raskos were talking about, we’ll have more leverage.”

  “Okay.” Beq pulled away from Maya and took a deep breath. “I’ll do it as fast as I can.”

  “Will you be able to get in and see me again?”

  “Not for a while,” Beq said. “But I should be able to send a note. I have a friend on the kitchen staff.”

  Maya perked up. “Could you send me a book?”

  “I can try,” Beq said. “What do you need?”

  “A copy of the Inheritance, to begin with.”

  “Really?” Beq stuck out her tongue. “Haven’t you studied it enough? I certainly have.”

  “The basic rules of the Order are in there,” Maya said. “I want to see if there’s anything about… treason, I guess, and how the trial might go.” She shook her head. “I need to get out of here, one way or another.”

  “I’ll try,” Beq said. She got to her feet, looking over her shoulder at the guards. “I’d better go.”

  “Beq—” Maya stood up, a little too fast. Beq paused, her beautiful eyes too big through her golden spectacles, wisps of green hair escaping her braid. She looked worried and harried and achingly beautiful.

  “What?”

  “Thank you. You didn’t have to do any of this.”

  “Oh.” Beq looked down, flushing a little. “I… when we were on the mission, I thought…”

  Maya waited, hardly daring to breathe.

  “Never mind,” Beq said, her voice rising to a squeak. “I’ll be back. As soon as I can. And I’ll get those books. If I can. And—”

  Maya glanced at the waiting guards, and Beq paused, then nodded fiercely. Maya didn’t move until the door closed behind her.

  Focus, Maya. She sat down by the meal Beq had brought and ate every scrap, dutifully chewing the too-tough meat. Get out of here first. Jaedia needs your help.

  Nevertheless, when she fell asleep again, she found her dreams considerably more pleasant.

  Days passed. The last of Maya’s fever vanished, and her mind felt like her own for the first time since she’d left Deepfire.

  A copy of the Inheritance arrived with one of Maya’s meals, and not long after, a thick tome detailing Council precedents in serious judicial matters involving centarchs, going all the way back to the founding of the Order after the Plague War. Maya finished her report of the events of the mission, then threw herself into reading. It wasn’t her favorite activity at the best of times, and the judicial book made for exceptionally slow going, but there wasn’t much else to distract her. She took to pacing quickly while she read, trying to work up a sweat, or putting the book on the floor and doing a handstand.

  It was the latter exercise she was engaged in when she heard voices outside the door. She held her pose, arms beginning to ache and sweat trickling down her nose, but stopped trying to focus on the technical merits of the argument made by a century-dead Kyriliarch and listened. Someone snapped an order, and she heard the stamp of boots. Then the door lock clicked open.

  Beq? It didn’t seem likely. Maya tensed, then sprang back to her feet, breathing hard. The door opened, and she found herself face-to-face with Nicomidi. The Kyriliarch was alone, without even the
usual pair of door guards in sight.

  “Agathios,” he said with the hint of a smile. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

  “Just trying to keep busy,” Maya said carelessly. “How can I help you, Kyriliarch?”

  He stepped into the room, glancing around curiously. “I’m told your health has recovered.”

  “It has.” In truth, Maya still didn’t know what to make of the fever and nightmares. Shock, maybe. But they seemed to have passed. “Thank you for asking.”

  “I have been looking into your case, as you might imagine,” Nicomidi said. “And I have reviewed Tanax’s reports of your conduct. I am starting to believe that I may have been… overhasty in my judgment.”

  Maya hesitated, sensing a trap. “How so?”

  “The picture that Tanax paints of you is a young woman dedicated to the highest principles of the Twilight Order.” He coughed. “If, perhaps, somewhat impulsive and inclined to disrespect authority. It seems out of character for you to have been involved in a plot with Jaedia against the Order.”

  “It’s out of character for Jaedia, too,” Maya said, then frowned. “Tanax said that about me?”

  “He did. Although you should address him as Centarch Tanax Brokenedge now.” Nicomidi gave his thin smile again. “His cognomen ceremony was yesterday.”

  “Congratulations to him,” Maya said, a bit sourly. She knew Brokenedge was an ancient, honorable cognomen, indicating the favor of the Council. “I’m… glad he speaks well of me.”

  “He is an honorable young man, and attentive to his duty. He will make an excellent centarch.” Nicomidi fixed her with a careful stare. “In any event, his testimony has convinced me that we need not be enemies. I am respected among the Dogmatics. If I were to speak on your behalf, I am certain your release could be arranged.”

  “I see.” Maya hesitated again, then said, “And what would you want from me, in exchange for this favor?”

  “I see you grasp the nub of the issue,” Nicomidi said. “Your testimony would be… informative to our discussions of Jaedia. You would only need tell the truth, of course.”

  “Of course,” Maya murmured. I’ll bet I would, you snake. “And if I refuse?”

  Nicomidi’s smile became more strained. “If you refuse, matters might be more difficult. You could be here for some time.”

  “You can’t hold me forever.” Maya put her foot on the thick book of judicial proceedings. “I’ll demand a Council hearing, and you don’t have any evidence of treason.”

  Now the smile was gone entirely. “You think you’re very clever, don’t you?”

  “Not really. Just persistent.”

  “Perhaps you should consider this, then. Council members do not require evidence to, say, make recommendations for postings. Your next assignment could bury you away on the northern frontier, where you will have nothing to do but write reports and check your toes for frostbite. You’ll lose your teeth before you get your cognomen.”

  “If that’s the judgment of the Council, then I would accept it.” She said it with a straight face, because it seemed to annoy him.

  “Or there’s your arcanist friend.”

  “Leave her out of this.”

  “I hope she’s careful in her work. Arcana are dangerous, after all. We don’t want any… accidents.”

  There was a long pause.

  “You’d go that far?” Maya said. Her voice was small. “Really?”

  “You don’t know the stakes you’re playing for,” Nicomidi said. “Now. Will you be a good girl and tell the Council the truth about Jaedia? Or do we have to go over other potential mishaps?”

  Maya looked down at the law book again, then back up at Nicomidi. “I’ll speak to the Council.”

  The next morning, the guards opened the cell door, and one of the Legionaries motioned for Maya to follow. The white-armored soldiers brought her to a residential level that it took her a moment to recognize as her own. They stopped in front of her door, which she’d left only a couple of weeks before.

  “Your uniforms have been cleaned,” one of the Legionaries said. “Make yourself presentable for the Council.”

  “How long do I have?” Maya said.

  “Why?”

  “Because if I’m going to make myself presentable, I need a bath, too.”

  The soldier consulted with her fellow for a moment, then nodded. “Collect your things. We’ll escort you.”

  Thankfully, with a pair of Legionaries blocking the entrance to the baths, Maya didn’t have to worry about anyone wandering in. She took her time, rinsing days of sweat off her skin and out of her hair, then climbing into the hot pool for a soak. The Council can wait.

  When she was finished, she put on her dress uniform, which had been cleaned and folded as promised. As always, its tailoring felt awkward, but at this point Maya welcomed the discomfort. Anything to keep my mind off what I’m about to do.

  “Are you ready?” the Legionary said when she emerged. The woman’s voice was flat, deadened by her helmet, but Maya swore she could detect a trace of annoyance. She gave the soldier her best smile.

  “Absolutely.”

  They climbed the spiral stair, her two white-armored shadows a half step on either side of her. For the first time since she’d returned, Maya saw other inhabitants of the Forge, servants, arcanists, and agathia hurrying between floors on various errands. They stopped to watch as she passed. It made her wonder what they were saying about her.

  A centarch in plain clothes met them at the top of the stairs. She was an older woman, her purple hair going gray and pulled back in a severe bun. Her cloak was fringed purple-red-orange, and Maya’s studies supplied her name: Evinda Stonecutter, one of the most respected centarchs. Jaedia had said she could have been a Kyriliarch, if she’d been willing to play politics, but she’d maintained a position of studious neutrality between the factions.

  “Centarch.” Maya bowed. “It’s an honor.”

  “Agathios Maya.” Evinda looked her over. “The Council will hear your testimony. You will respond only to questions from the Kyriliarchs, and not otherwise speak. Your answers should be truthful and succinct. Do you understand?”

  “I understand,” Maya said. Her heart fluttered in her chest, and her hand brushed the Thing as Evinda turned away.

  The Council chamber was down the hall from Baselanthus’ office, behind a set of double doors elaborately carved with a scene from the Inheritance—the first centarchs, swearing their oaths to Sif-Nal-Bjaern, one of the last surviving Chosen. Sif was rendered as an abstract figure, featureless and aglow with light, but the six men and women who’d founded the Order were picked out in loving detail.

  A pair of Legionary guards nodded to Evinda and pushed the doors open. Beyond was a broad oval chamber, with the twelve Kyriliarchs of the Twilight Order seated behind a long, curving table. The opposite side of the room was lined with chairs, some of which were occupied by a variety of aides and functionaries. In the center of the room was an open space, at the focus of the Council’s attention, and Maya guessed this was where she was supposed to stand.

  She swallowed hard as Evinda guided her forward. In addition to the Council, she guessed there were a dozen other centarchs in the room. Twenty-five of the most dangerous people in the world, the guardians of civilization, with enough power between them to level cities and topple mountains.

  And I’m about to stick my finger right in their eye.

  Evinda touched her shoulder, bringing her to a halt. Maya looked down the line of Kyriliarchs. They were arranged by faction, with Baselanthus and the five other Pragmatics on the left, and Nicomidi and the four Dogmatics on the right. In the center, facing Maya, sat Prodominus, idly scratching at his beard.

  “I have brought Maya, agathios to Centarch Jaedia Suddenstorm, as instructed,” Evinda intoned.

  “Yes, thank you,” Prodominus said. “You may go.”

  Evinda bowed and backed away. There was a long moment of silence.

&n
bsp; “Agathios Maya,” Nicomidi said. “As you know, this Council is in the midst of weighing the evidence against your master. We wish to ask you about your experiences with her, and to clarify certain matters in her reports that have been… obscured. Answer truthfully, and you have nothing to fear.”

  Maya knew how that would go, if she let it. Jaedia hadn’t always been able to work through proper channels. Like when they’d cornered Hollis Plaguetouch at Bastion, she’d cut corners to get things done, greased palms, avoided notice. Maya had no doubt Nicomidi had assembled a battery of specific questions that, even if she answered honestly, would paint Jaedia as someone who operated outside the Order’s rules.

  Fucking plague that.

  “Are you ready to begin?” Nicomidi said.

  Maya took a deep breath.

  “No, Kyriliarch.”

  Nicomidi blinked. A mutter ran through the room. Prodominus raised an eyebrow. Baselanthus, who had been studying something on the table in front of him, looked up suddenly.

  “You want to wait, then?” Nicomidi said. “I understand if you are overwhelmed, but the Council’s time is valuable—”

  “I do not wish to waste the Council’s time, Kyriliarch,” Maya said. “But I will not be answering your questions. I came before you today to say that I believe I am ready to assume my cognomen immediately.”

  Nicomidi snorted. “That is hardly for you to decide. Nor is it relevant—”

  “If the Council disagrees with me,” Maya said, “then I formally challenge the centarchate, as is my right under the codes of the Inheritance.”

  Nicomidi froze. Across the room, the muttered conversations stopped and everyone stared. Everyone except Prodominus. The old Revivalist was hunched over, shoulders shaking, and before anyone could speak he burst into huge, bellowing laughter.

  “No one has challenged for their cognomen in a hundred years,” Nicomidi snapped, when Prodominus had subsided.

  “One hundred and seventeen,” Maya said. “And Agathios Canivo was defeated. It has been one hundred and forty-eight years since a challenge was successful.”