Rebellion

by Rachel White

"They're going to arrest you. Once they hear your name… They'll come for you."

  "I know," Rallis said harshly.

  "What are we going to do?"

  We. The word struck like a dagger in the heart. "Why do you care so much?" Rallis demanded. "Nur's heart, this isn't even about you. You won't get in trouble just for knowing me."

  "Knowing you?"

  Frustration gave Rallis's words a cruel edge. He was being unfair, and knew it, and spoke anyway. "Yes. Your reputation won't be damaged. No one will think less of you. You don't need to worry."

  "Is that what you think this is about?" Lieutenant Taarq asked hoarsely. "That I'm afraid for my reputation? Is that why you think I'm here?"

  "It's that or you're worried about losing the only khas player you know, and somehow I find that unlikely."

  Lieutenant Taarq stared at him, and everything was plain on his face, raw and unmistakable. For the first time since he arrived at the temple, Rallis was overcome by emotions, an overwhelming amount of them, like a blow. Horror and terror and dread and misery and despair—and beneath that, a sweet pleasure that was most painful of all.

  "Oh, no," he said, not meaning to speak the words aloud, unable to stop himself. "Oh, no, oh, Nur, you're in love with me. You can't…"

  "Well, I am," said Lieutenant Taarq. He was no longer looking at Rallis, and Rallis was relieved, and ashamed of his relief. "There's nothing to be done about that. What we need to do is figure out how to stop this."

  But there was no way to stop it. In truth, they both knew that. As soon as the rebellion had been shattered, the legion had leapt into action. Even at that moment, they were rounding up the known conspirators and extracting the names of the rest. Sooner or later, Rallis would be mentioned. Perhaps they were already on the way to the temple.

  He knew it, and Lieutenant Taarq knew it too, though he refused to admit it. Instead, Rallis sat on the bench near the edge of the pavilion and watched Lieutenant Taarq pace across the small courtyard like a caged animal. Occasionally he would begin to speak and then cut himself off abruptly.

  Finally, he turned to Rallis. "I can't help you."

  "I know."

  "I can't—I've been going through what I could do, but nothing is enough. I can't protect you."

  "I didn't ask you to protect me," Rallis hissed, unreasonably angered by the anguish in Lieutenant Taarq's voice and eyes. It was cruel of him to have confessed—it was only for his own sake. It didn't make Rallis feel better. In fact, it made him feel worse, to know that he was causing such pain in another person, and to know that if Lieutenant Taarq had only been a little faster—a little braver—they might have…

  He stopped the thought. It no longer mattered what might have been. In the distance, he could hear the sporadic hum of a legionnaire's flier passing overhead. Sooner or later they would become louder, and then they would arrest Rallis and take him to the Red Square, and that would be the end. Or almost the end, Rallis supposed—there would probably be agony first.

  "I can't…" said Lieutenant Taarq. "I can't help you. I'm so sorry. I can't…"

  He trailed off and covered his face with his hands. After a moment, Rallis crossed the distance between them and touched Lieutenant Taarq's shoulder.

  "I'm not angry," he said steadily. "I don't blame you. But I don't want to spend my last moments like this. Let's play khas."

  "Yes," said Lieutenant Taarq, letting Rallis guide him inside. Safe in the temple, Rallis set up the khas board the priestess brought him because Lieutenant Taarq's hands were shaking and he kept knocking over the pieces. Another priestess arrived with tea and honey and departed again as silently as she had come.

  "My cousin…" said Rallis after a time. "Naravi. I went to the meeting because he was part of it." He moved a piece at random. Perhaps this was a stupid risk, but the alternative was to consign Naravi to his fate. He couldn't do that. "He's an eighteen-year-old fool. He didn't know what he was involving himself in. Will he…"

  It was impossible to finish the sentence, but Lieutenant Taarq understood. "I can't promise anything," he said softly, moving his piece hon hol. "But I'll do everything I can to protect him. Was he at the meeting last night?"

  "No, but he's been to others." Rallis moved a piece rhagen kerr, building a defense. "They're sure to name him."

  Lieutenant Taarq nodded, frowning at the board. "I'll do what I can," he said again, softly.

  "Thank you."

  The hum of a flier just outside the temple made them both jump, but it passed on and faded into the distance instead of stopping. Rallis's heart beat a frantic rhythm against his ribs. At any moment, legionnaires might burst down the door and seize him and drag him away. He had to speak. He had to.

  "Just know that I'm not saying this to hurt you," he said. "Or to get revenge. I just…I want you to know. I need you to know."

  Lieutenant Taarq blinked slowly.

  "If you had said something earlier, I would have been interested. I was interested."

  "Ah," said Lieutenant Taarq. He blinked again. "I'm sorry. I didn't… It doesn't matter."

  "What?"

  Lieutenant Taarq smiled faintly. "I was afraid of what you would say. If you weren't interested… I didn't want to repulse you. Or drive you away. I was a fool."

  Words wouldn't come to Rallis's mouth, so he reached out and brushed his fingertips against Lieutenant Taarq's knuckles, wishing Lieutenant Taarq's gloves weren't between them. Lieutenant Taarq immediately withdrew his hand, and Rallis felt a momentary pang of intense hurt, but before the feeling could even fully register, he was watching Lieutenant Taarq hastily remove his gloves and set them aside. Then he held out his hand again, palm up, his bare skin exposed.

  Ah, Nur's heart, Rallis was scared. He reached out and brushed his fingertips against Lieutenant Taarq's palm, trying to commit every moment to memory. Lieutenant Taarq's skin was rich and dark, paler on the underside of his hand. His nails were carefully trimmed. His fingers were as long and elegant as the rest of him, an artist's hands. The place where their skin met was burning hot, sending prickles of lightning down Rallis's arm toward his stomach. Lieutenant Taarq was trembling, his gaze locked on the sight.

  "Normally," he said, clearly trying for levity, "we would be married before we did this."

  Rallis laughed. "Isn't that getting a little ahead of yourself? We're not even lovers yet."

  Yet. A slip of the tongue revealed the truth he was trying to ignore; he thought he would survive this. He wanted to survive this. For all of his rational acceptance, his desperate attempts to seem composed in the face of inevitable death, Rallis wanted to keep living so badly he was nearly sick with it. A thousand futures spiraled out before him, glittering gold, just out of reach.

  Lieutenant Taarq noticed. His fingers wove through Rallis's fingers. Arousal and fear and bitterness and joy rushed through Rallis's body, suffocating him. All he wanted was a little more time—even a day would be enough.

  Outside, the sound of a flier grew louder. He listened with half an ear as it landed on the cobbled temple courtyard. "I have an idea," said Lieutenant Taarq, still holding his hand. "I can't guarantee it will work, but it might be the only chance we have. Do you trust me?"

  "Yes," said Rallis hoarsely. "I trust you with my life."

  "Good," said Lieutenant Taarq, and then, "I'm going to shoot you. This will be uncomfortable," and then there was the shrill whine of a Jevite weapon and hideous nausea swamped Rallis. He retched and doubled over, choking on nothing, as the doors of the temple crashed open.

  Legionnaires filled the room. Hands were grabbing Rallis, dragging him to his feet. They had to hold him up, for his legs wouldn't support him. And somewhere above the din, Lieutenant Taarq was speaking. "Stand down," he said, his voice confident and carrying. "I've subdued the rebellion leader."

  The rebellion leader. Nur's heart, Lieutenant Taarq had gone mad. Rallis tried to protest, but his tongue wasn't working and he could only moan thickly and gag. The l
ight was achingly, miserably bright, dripping into his skull. His head felt as though it were stuffed full of drunn, primed to explode.

  "Sir," said a legionnaire near Rallis. Too loud, Rallis thought. His voice is too loud. "What should we do with him?"

  "It's fine." Lieutenant Taarq strode to Rallis and seized his upper arm in a bruising grip. He was wearing his gloves again. Rallis hadn't even noticed him put them back on. "I'll take him to the Red Square myself."

  *~*~*

  True to his word, Lieutenant Taarq took Rallis to the Red Square.

  The journey passed in a haze. Whatever Lieutenant Taarq had done, its effects were potent, and Rallis was sick and retching the entire flight from the temple. His stomach was empty, so he coughed up bile, which burned his throat and drew tears to his eyes. Lieutenant Taarq kept looking at him, his face hard and remorseless, the face of a stranger. Do you trust me? The worst part was, Rallis still did.

  By the time he fully came back to himself, he was being placed in a cell deep in the heart of the Square by an indifferent jailer. Everything smelled old and sour. The damp stone walls were cold against his shoulder when he leaned against them to catch his breath, but there was nowhere else to sit except a single rough-hewn bench pressed against the wall, and that was already taken up someone huddled in a ball. For a moment, Rallis didn't recognize his cellmate, but when the door banged shut, the hunched figure uncurled itself and looked up. It was Naravi—bruised and gaunt with fear but mercifully, beautifully alive.

  "Naravi," Rallis exclaimed, hurrying toward him. "Are you well?"

  Naravi scoffed. "Do you think I'm well?" he muttered, hiding his face against his knees again.

  "Did they hurt you?"

  "No."

  The bruises on his face belied his defiant words. "Who struck you?" Rallis demanded.

  Naravi lifted his head again. "The jailer. Why?"

  "How did you end up here?"

  "They came to the motherhouse. They… He took me away."

  "Lieutenant Taarq?" Rallis asked, but Naravi shook his head.

  "Not him. The other one." He spoke through gritted teeth, his eyes glinting in the low light of the cell. "Hesse's killer. He arrested me in front of everyone. Miana… she tried to stop them."

  Spears of cold terror pierced Rallis's stomach. "Is she alright? Was she hurt?"

  "No. But she was upset. It…"

  Naravi trailed off. He breathed once and then again, slowly, composing himself. "Faida told them about me," he said tonelessly. "He told them I was part of the rebellion. He—they gave him leniency. Because he talked. And because his House paid the Jevites."

  He clearly expected Rallis to preen at the news, but there was no satisfaction in having that prediction come to pass. "I'm sorry," he said instead.

  Naravi's fists clenched. "I hate him."

  "I know."

  "I hate him, and I hate the Jevites, and I hate that—that Jevve monster. Hesse's killer. I'll rip his throat out," he added, angry tears tracing wet paths down his cheeks. When Rallis touched him, he fell limply sideways and didn't protest the arm Rallis wrapped around his shoulders. His hair was soft and smelled of flowers. Revolutionary or not, a part of him was still the sweet, vain boy who had followed Rallis and Hesse around like a lamb when they were younger.

  "I know," Rallis repeated. There was nothing else to be said.

  Time passed. Footsteps in the corridor made him look up. He assumed it was the jailer, returning to move them somewhere else, but it was Lieutenant Taarq, alone and practically vibrating with anxiety.

  "Are you all right?" he asked when he reached their cell. "I'm sorry. This is all my fault. I didn't know what else to do."

  "I'm all right. Naravi is too. What's going on? Where are the other rebels? Are they here?"

  "Not in this part of the Square. They're in the main prison. These are the holding cells."

  "Why are we here?"

  Lieutenant Taarq's eyes skittered over his face and away. He sighed. "It's hard to explain…"

  "Lieutenant Taarq, what is going on? You told them I was the rebellion leader. Why would you do that?" Rallis asked. "They're going to execute me!"

  "They're not." Lieutenant Taarq held up a hand. "At least, not yet. Not… I thought this would give you a chance to plead your cause. The rebellion is disjointed. As far as I can see, it's mostly young men playing games."

  He wasn't wrong. The closest thing they had to a leader was Hivaar Myn, who was arrogantly provocative when he wasn't out of his mind on lunn.

  "They don't want to cooperate, anyway," Lieutenant Taarq continued. "Citizen Myn spat at me when I spoke to him. If I brought him before her, I'm afraid he would try to attack her, and if he attacked he would be killed. Most of the others are paralyzed with fright. You can explain what the Adesi want and make her understand. But to do that, you need to take on authority. Otherwise she'll never listen to you."

  Her. A terrible suspicion was rising in Rallis's chest, like a roaring storm. "Who would never listen to me?"

  But Lieutenant Taarq was still talking, thinking out loud, and didn't notice the question. "We're scheduled to go to Jev this evening, so we'll be there by tomorrow. You'll have an audience with her immediately, I expect. Suul Thrun and his allies are already pushing for your public execution, which means there's not much time. You'll need to convince her to spare you. At least convince her to hear you out. Adesa's demands aren't unreasonable. If you can bring her to your side, it might be enough."

  "Who am I going to be meeting?" Rallis demanded, and finally Lieutenant Taarq heard him.

  "Ah." He blinked. "The Empress, of course."

  Chapter Ten

  Before the day was out, they were going to Jevell, the capital city of Jev, to meet the Empress.

  After Lieutenant Taarq's arrival at the Square, things progressed very quickly, just as Rallis had expected them to—though in an entirely unexpected direction. Lieutenant Taarq explained his plan a little more to Rallis, but it was hard to follow, lacking as Rallis did in any context for the names he kept saying. Suul Thrun, Suul Oymis, the Empress, the cabinet. Then he left, replaced by the jailer, who led Rallis outside, still shackled, and manhandled him onto a Jevite flier. At least Naravi was there too. If he had been left in the Square while Rallis was taken to Jev, Rallis didn't know what he would have done, but together they found themselves at the airfield outside of Kavck.

  There, it was an afternoon of frightened tedium interspersed with moments of disorienting action. They were forced to sit, made to wait, made to walk, made to sit again. Jevite legionnaires passed indifferently by, hardly deigning to notice they existed, though at one point someone brought them water and let them use the washroom. There was no sign of Lieutenant Taarq or anyone even vaguely familiar. Eventually, as the sun was setting, more legionnaires loaded them onto a Jevite shuttle, one of the larger ones made for travel between Lyr and the citadels. It was larger and heavier than any flier Rallis had ever seen, with an interior that could hold at least a dozen people. The idea of letting it carry him miles into the air was terrifying.

  But there was no help for it. He was pushed onto a bench and locked in place, Naravi at his side. For a confused moment, Rallis thought they would be sent up alone, but as the shuttle began to grind to life, Lieutenant Taarq boarded and took a seat. At his side was Lieutenant Harn. It would be him. Nur enjoyed laughing at Her children.

  For a while, no one spoke. Lieutenant Taarq appeared deep in thought and Naravi was glaring with icy hatred at Lieutenant Harn, who was absolutely expressionless. The shuttle rumbled under their feet, the metal groaning and creaking around them. What if it fell apart while they were halfway to the citadels? What if the engine gave out? There were no safety precautions as far as Rallis would see. They would plummet back to the ground and splatter over Kavck.

  "It's going to be a while," Lieutenant Taarq said, breaking the silence. "The journey to Jev usually takes about six hours."

  Six hours. "Th
at's fine." Rallis leaned back against the metal wall of the shuttle, testing the give of his chains. "We can manage."

  "I'd recommend sleeping if you can. I'm sorry, I know it's not very comfortable."

  "It's fine."

  The manacle chains were too short for him to stand up but long enough to at least lean sideways. Rallis shifted slightly until he could tuck his shoulder into the corner of the flier. All at once, exhaustion was crushing him. He hadn't slept in…Nur's heart, since the day before last. And the interim had been nothing but terror and chaos. Small wonder he felt so tired.

  But it seemed dangerous to sleep. Naravi's eyes were those of a wild animal. Though his chains were too short to allow him to reach the opposite bench, that didn't mean he wouldn't try.

  "Naravi," said Rallis softly. "You should rest."

  Nothing. Naravi didn't tear his gaze away from Lieutenant Harn. If looks could kill, Lieutenant Harn would have been stripped to his skeleton.

  "You'll need your strength for tomorrow."

  "I'm not tired," said Naravi, though it was an obvious lie.

  "Just close your eyes for a while," Rallis told him. Once Naravi was asleep, he would stay asleep—that had always been his way. Then Rallis could rest as well. Nur's heart, just let him behave for once. "I'm going to do the same."

  "No." Naravi's back was very straight and his hands were clenched on his knees. "I'm not tired."

  It was a miracle no one had strangled him yet. "Fine." Rallis leaned back against the wall again, struggling to keep his eyes open. "It will be a long wait."

  "I don't care."

  Silence returned. Not only was he exhausted—now that things were settling down, Rallis realized his legs were already growing sore from sitting. There wasn't any way he could really stretch them, which meant he would have to endure. Six hours. It might as well be a lifetime.

  "What's going to happen when we meet the Empress?" he asked Lieutenant Taarq.

  "I'm not sure." Lieutenant Taarq's fingers tapped against the metal seat. "She'll speak with you about the rebellion. The Empress…she's much more supportive of Adesa than many of her subjects. Depending on how the conversation goes, it's possible she'll understand the goals of the rebellion."