Rebellion

by Rachel White

  The large corridor led to a circular room with multiple pathways radiating out like wheel spokes; Lieutenant Taarq led him straight toward another hall on the far side of the central hub, unhesitating in his pace. Rallis, for his part, was so hopelessly lost he couldn't have found his way back to his room with a map and compass.

  Five minutes more of walking brought them to another doorway, where they slowed. On the other side, Rallis could hear snippets of Jevite, men's voices raised in cheerful conversation. He wanted to ask what exactly was happening in the room, what kind of tangled web he was stepping into, but by the time he began to voice the question, Lieutenant Taarq was already opening the door.

  Inside, a group of men was gathered: all Jevites, a variety of ages, they were talking animatedly amongst themselves but quieted and turned as Rallis stepped inside. He was pinned in place by nine pairs of curious eyes.

  "Here we are," said Lieutenant Taarq, more to the Jevites than to Rallis. "Apologies for the delay."

  "About time, Taarq." The speaker was a young man in an officer's uniform, handsome and wolfish, who gave Lieutenant Taarq a scornful look and then grinned. "Is this the traitorous rebel or the beautiful one? You look half-Jevite, so you must be the traitor."

  Rallis gaped at him. "Leave him be," Lieutenant Taarq said firmly. "This is Rallis Yy, of House Yy. Rallis, this is Lieutenant Helvve Falaq."

  Lieutenant Falaq bowed. "A pleasure."

  Somehow, Rallis made himself fall into a motion that might have been a bow, if you squinted. "Likewise," he said, not meaning it.

  "Lieutenant Falaq is a friend of mine from Academy. He's—"

  "Intolerable." This was a second Jevite, another man around Lieutenant Taarq's age, though this one wasn't an officer. He was dressed in rich dark clothing and, unusual for a Jev, he had lines of gold earrings running up both ears and a gold hoop through one nostril. As he spoke, he slung a companionable arm around Lieutenant Falaq's shoulders, receiving a toothy grin in response. His fingers were heavy with gold rings. "Renn Corranis. Just ignore Helvve. Everyone else does."

  "Exalted take you," said Lieutenant Falaq cheerfully. "Ignore Renn. He's only here because I told him there would be vekk. If Suul Thrun promised him a discount on shipping costs in exchange for his loyalty, he would turn his back on all of us in a heartbeat."

  "Not true!" Corranis exclaimed, and then to Rallis, by way of explanation, "My family owns gold mines on Lyr. The price we pay to bring up our wares to Jev is outrageous."

  "I apologize for both of them," Lieutenant Taarq said to Rallis, who was struck dumb by the theatrical act before him. "They're good men. They don't mean anything by it."

  Any allies were better than no allies at all. Rallis couldn't give as good as they were giving, but he could play along, laugh a little at their comments, tolerate the back and forth while Lieutenant Taarq went around the circle and introduced him to the others. If it meant they would help to stay the execution, he would bend over backwards for them.

  Fifteen minutes more and he had met everyone. Most of them were officers or Suul, though a few of them, like Renn Corranis, worked in the palace or in business. Lieutenant Taarq knew them all intimately, and they knew him, if the way they incorporated him wholeheartedly into their conversations was any evidence. Rallis learned the names and saw the faces and knew he would never be able to remember them or connect with them in any real way. It didn't matter. All he had to do was make it through the moment, and he was sure he could manage that.

  As Lieutenant Taarq laughed and joked with Corranis and Lieutenant Falaq and the others, Rallis observed him, half-forgotten. He was more in his element than Rallis had ever seen him except during the middle of a khas game. Surrounded by Jevites he knew, confident and relaxed, it was like someone had taken the anxious man from the previous day and replaced him with an identical twin, nearly unrecognizable.

  Discomfort rolled in Rallis's stomach. Lieutenant Taarq professed to love him, but did they even really know one another? Who was the Rallis he thought he loved?

  "It's good to see you so cheerful, Taarq," said Suul Oymis as another verbal sparring match between Lieutenant Taarq and Lieutenant Falaq came to a close. He was one of the Suul Lieutenant Taarq had mentioned, an older man, stately and aristocratic and affable. He turned to Rallis. "I hope Thrun didn't give you too much trouble earlier today."

  "That's like hoping water isn't wet," Corranis muttered, making the men around them snicker. When Rallis glanced at him, he winked.

  "Not too much, so far," said Rallis.

  "Hmm. I expect he'll try again." As he spoke, Suul Oymis inspected his face. Did he think Rallis looked like a traitor too? Rallis had hoped his father's blood would make people more sympathetic to him, but perhaps his Jevite features would incite hatred instead: the hatred of the apostate. "For what it's worth, I support your cause. I think it was a tragedy, what happened last year."

  The All Council massacre. He didn't want to touch on that at all. Though he could keep his temper if they discussed it, the idea of hearing their true feelings frightened him. How many of them would consider it justified? What could Rallis do if they did? He bowed, hoping they would leave it at that. "Thank you."

  "Don't talk about that to the rest of the Suulsen," Lieutenant Falaq admonished Suul Oymis. "Most of them are adamant that was the right choice. You'll only drive them to Thrun's arms."

  Suul Oymis gave him a cool once-over. "I don't think I need you to tell me how to address the Suulsen, lieutenant." It was only when Lieutenant Falaq laughed that Rallis realized he was joking.

  "Is that so?" Lieutenant Falaq said. "Well, I think—"

  "No one cares what you think," Corranis told him, and they were off again.

  The next few hours were a whirlwind of arguing as they discussed what to do about Suul Thrun and the upcoming vote, though the arguments never felt serious. The meeting was half-politics and half-socializing. Not long after their arrival, someone opened a bottle of vekk and began pouring generously.

  Some of them, Lieutenant Taarq included, seemed to feel very personally about the subject of Adesa, while others saw it more as an intellectual exercise. It was…less terrifying than Rallis had feared, more intense than he had anticipated. Forget lurking in a corner being told what to do; these Jevites spoke to him directly, asked him questions, debated with one another about the best way to proceed while he was right there in the room with them. Every time his attention started to drift, someone would address him again, dragging him back to the present. He spoke more Jevite in an afternoon than he had in the past five years. Lieutenant Taarq stayed by his side the entire time, watchful and faintly protective, but he didn't intervene. Of course he didn't: Rallis was rebellion leader. He needed to act like it.

  By the time the bells rang the fifteenth hour, Rallis felt like a wrung-out rag. He sat on the couch, nursing a half-drunk cup of vekk and observing Corranis and Lieutenant Falaq and Captain Jura Vaarse argue quite passionately about whether Adesi liberation would harm or benefit Corranis's family mines. Falaq and Corranis kept trying to bring him into the discussion, while Captain Vaarse—Lieutenant Taarq's academy friend, and the most pleasant of the assembled guests—kept coming to Rallis's aid. He gave Rallis a sympathetic smile when he saw that Rallis looked overwhelmed.

  The sound of the opening door made Rallis turn. It was Lieutenant Harn, slipping into the room with a gaunt expression on his face. He was alone. Rallis's stomach twisted. "Where's—"

  His voice gave out. He cleared his throat and tried again, aware as he spoke that the conversations around him had died, that everyone in earshot was waiting for something to go wrong—expecting it to go wrong—and that the following minutes could not go wrong. Allies or not, they were all tipsy and restless and on edge. Conflict would be like lighting a match beside a powder keg.

  Lieutenant Taarq was poised, ready to intervene at the first sign of trouble, but his anxious watchfulness only worsened Rallis's panic. "Where's Naravi? Is he
…"

  All right, he thought, and then, Did you hurt him? and Did he suffer?

  Lieutenant Harn sighed. "He's fine. He's…ill."

  "Ill?"

  "Yes. He fell ill earlier and decided to stay in his room today. He'll be well by tomorrow."

  Nur's heart, he was speaking in circles. It felt as though Rallis was trapped in a riptide, the waves crashing around him, buffeting him one way and then the other. Every time he caught his breath, more water washed over his head. "What happened?"

  There was a pause. Rallis waited for the inevitable: Naravi had attacked Lieutenant Harn, had been subdued, shot with a pulse or physically put down, and was even then lying in bed, hurt and shackled. If he wasn't already imprisoned.

  But instead, Lieutenant Harn said, "At breakfast, he noticed the jar of rhhev."

  Some of the gathered Jevites winced. "Did he add it to his tea?" Captain Vaarse asked.

  Lieutenant Falaq shook his head. "He thought it was honey, didn't he?"

  "No." Lieutenant Harn frowned at nothing. "I stopped him before he could and told him it wasn't honey. I said he shouldn't add it because it was an acquired taste and he wouldn't like it. He…"

  He trailed off and looked directly at Rallis. "He poured the entire jar into his tea and drank it," he finally finished, and the room burst into noise.

  "He drank it?" Corranis demanded, even as Suul Oymis said, looking horrified, "I like rhhev and I would never do that. Exalted, that would be miserable."

  "Is he all right?" Lieutenant Taarq asked. "Does he need a physician?"

  "He was sick all morning, but when I left he was sleeping it off. Legionnaire Klin is watching him now. I was going to go back and check on him after this." He looked at Rallis again. "Is this how it's going to be with him? Indefinitely?"

  "Yes," said Rallis. "This is how it's going to be. Naravi would set himself on fire if he thought it would inconvenience an enemy." Ah, Nur, his heart was still pounding. But of course it was Naravi doing it to himself. Wasn't that always the way?

  Lieutenant Harn nodded. After a moment, he said, "May I speak with you a moment?"

  A glance at Lieutenant Taarq showed he had no idea what Lieutenant Harn wanted to say. Rallis let himself be escorted to a corner of the room, where no one would overhear. Alone, Lieutenant Harn sighed.

  "Your cousin despises me," he said. "It's not…unreasonable. I understand his feelings."

  "I…see."

  "I wanted to tell you that I won't…I won't hurt him. No matter what. Suul Thrun wants to provoke us into violence against each other, but I have no intention of being his puppet. Your cousin will be safe. On my honor."

  His dark eyes seemed serious. Despite everything, Rallis believed him. Or, rather, he believed that Lieutenant Harn's intentions were good and that he planned to refuse any violence toward Naravi. Only time would tell if he could maintain that resolution in practice. Naravi was extremely tiresome when he wanted to be.

  "That's the other one, isn't it?" said Lieutenant Falaq, appearing unexpectedly at Lieutenant Harn's side. "Is he as beautiful as the rumors? No disrespect to your family, of course," he added, bowing to Rallis. "My intentions are pure. I've just been hearing a great deal of gossip."

  Corranis joined them as though drawn by a magnet. "His intentions are never pure," he said helpfully.

  "You wound me! Really, though, Harn, is he?"

  Lieutenant Harn shrugged him off irritably. "I couldn't say."

  "Harn—"

  "Suul Thrun is pushing to expedite the vote," Lieutenant Harn continued, more to Rallis than to Lieutenant Falaq. "It's possible you'll have less than two weeks before the Suulsen meets. Don't count on a great deal of time to prepare."

  "He won't succeed—" Suul Oymis began, glancing over from his own discussion nearby.

  "He's already stirring dissent among the upper ranks of the Legion. He wants the officers on his side." Lieutenant Harn's gaze pierced Rallis to the bone. "If he gets their support, it will pull more of the Suulsen toward him as well. Many people are waiting to see where the legion will fall."

  Uncomfortable silence met his words. The men around Rallis shifted in place, not meeting one another's eyes. Even Lieutenant Taarq seemed uncharacteristically subdued.

  "Tell me about Suul Thrun," said Rallis into the quiet. By Nur, if he was rebellion leader, he would act like it. The authority didn't come naturally to him, so he settled for imitating how a rebellion leader might act; since he didn't actually know any rebellion leaders, he channeled Miana instead. "Why does he feel so strongly about Adesa? Did he fight in the war?"

  "Nothing like that." This was Lieutenant Falaq, who had taken a nearby seat and was lounging in it like royalty. "A Suul would never deign to fight in the war." He ignored—or perhaps didn't notice—the sour looks he got from Suul Oymis and Suul Almandi, the other Suul in attendance. "It's—actually, Renn can probably explain it best. He's the same way. Well, not in wanting to ruin Adesa, but…Renn, explain it to him."

  He waved the glass in his hand imperially at Corranis, who made a face but obediently spoke. "Suul Thrun makes his living from gorrian mines," he told Rallis.

  "Gorrian?"

  Lieutenant Taarq leaned forward. "It's what we use to power our machinery. The power cores."

  "Ah." He had shown Rallis the power core on his flier, a little metal ball, heavier than it looked and quite temperamental. Gorrian took sunlight and fire and heat and transformed it into the energy the Jevites used to make their fliers move and their lights shine, but it overcharged easily. According to Lieutenant Taarq, more than one legionnaire had been killed when the gorrian cores in their fliers exploded after pulling in too much fuel. It was part of the reason they had never been able to replicate the Exalted engines—whatever those cores were made of, it was a far steadier and more reliable substance.

  "The mines have supported his family for generations," Corranis continued. "But the technology used to extract the gorrian is breaking down, and he needs iron and coal to repair it, both of which are much more common in Jev's territories on Lyr. He could purchase them, obviously, but the tariffs are prohibitive." He snorted. "I agree with him on that—"

  "You see?" said Lieutenant Falaq. "A traitor to the bone."

  Corranis rolled his eyes, holding out his glass so Lieutenant Taarq could refill it. "Be silent. Anyone involved in mining feels that way."

  "What way?" Rallis asked, only half-following the conversation. It was as though he were looking a painting through a sliver in a cloth, seeing only a tiny portion, unable to make out the whole picture.

  "Jev's territories are iron-poor," Corranis said. "We don't have a lot of it ourselves. Adesa, however…they're sitting on absurd amounts of it. It's practically in every mountain. And they don't do much with it. But if you want to buy it from them, they'll charge you through the nose for it."

  Something twisted uncomfortably in Rallis's stomach at his words—not at the words themselves, but the drawling, slightly scornful way he spoke. For all his friendliness and his association with Lieutenant Taarq, he looked down on the Adesi. Not with Suul Thrun's hatred, but with pity and contempt. He thought they were backwater, misguided, perhaps even scheming.

  "Profit is profit," said Lieutenant Falaq, laughing. "Besides, what can you expect of them?"

  "I can expect them to behave like reasonable traders."

  Corranis received nods for the comment, and another man said, "The new tariff negotiations should help, though I expect they'll still try to skin us to the bone."

  "It's only to be expected." This was Suul Oymis. He cast a sympathetic look toward Rallis. "It's how things go with them."

  Lieutenant Falaq stretched in his seat. "Exactly. Besides, Renn, it's not their fault you don't like giving away your money."

  "I don't like giving away my money when it's not worth the loss. Anyway—" Corranis shook his head "—Suul Thrun needs iron as well. And he believes that if Jev conquers Adesa, he'll pay less for it. Once he
has iron, he can repair all his mining equipment. And my family can fix all our mining equipment," he added with a lazy shrug of one shoulder. "Which I wouldn't complain about."

  He'll pay less for iron. Iron that had been mined by Adesi Houses, that was property of Adesi families, that belonged to Adesa, Rallis thought, on the edge of hysteria. Suul Thrun wanted to destroy the Adesi for what—to get out of paying taxes? He would condemn Naravi to death for cheaper iron ore?

  "The benefits," said Lieutenant Taarq calmly, "aren't worth the cost."

  Corranis glanced at him and then at Rallis. "I meant no offense." He sounded sincerely apologetic. "Despite what Helvve says, I'm here willingly. I don't want Thrun to succeed."

  "I understand," said Rallis, not understanding at all.

  The rest of the meeting seemed to pass in a haze. He spoke with more of Lieutenant Taarq's associates but remembered little of what was said. When Lieutenant Falaq and Corranis insulted and teased each other, Rallis made himself laugh, though he hardly heard what they were saying. His thoughts had turned inward, toward his new understanding of his station.

  He was in a nest of vipers. There was no other way to describe it. He had entered a nest of vipers and was now waiting for the first strike. Once they set on him, they would bite him to death. Every wrong move brought him precariously close to the edge, but he was walking a road he couldn't see, fumbling in the darkness for a path made of sand. All eyes were on him, waiting for him to make a misstep. One unintended insult, one slight against the wrong person, in the presence of the wrong person, and Rallis would die. Naravi would die.

  But it wasn't enough to stay quiet and keep his head down, for he needed to charm people—to woo people—and convince them that his life had worth. How was he supposed to do that when even his purported allies pitied and disliked him?