Rebellion

by Rachel White

  "Your Excellency—"

  "This is not a request." She pinned him with an icy look. "We will reconvene in a quarter hour. Everyone, please remain near the hall."

  As the Suulsen broke into small groups, Rallis slumped back in his seat. His chest was so tight, it hurt to breathe, and his teeth ached from how intensely he had been grinding them together. Beside him, Lieutenant Taarq was as jittery as a bolt of lightning.

  "Now what?" Rallis asked him.

  Lieutenant Taarq gave a soft laugh. "I have no idea," he confessed. "I told you before, I'm not political. I don't know what could possibly happen next."

  "It's good, though, isn't it? That Lieutenant Harn…"

  "I don't see how it can hurt," Lieutenant Taarq told him, "but who can say? Suul Thrun is wily. And his supporters are devout." He glanced briefly at the golden-haired Suul, who was standing at Suul Thrun's side like a guardian animal, the two of them surrounded by their fellows. Rallis's enemies. It was a strange thought. It felt as though it belonged to someone else, and yet it was his. He couldn't escape it.

  Time passed. On the stage, the empress was speaking with a few Suul, though from the way they stood and the lightness of their expressions, Rallis guessed it was a casual conversation. A nearby moot clerk was sketching in his ledger book, furtively tucking it against his chest anytime someone walked too close. Suul Thrun had disappeared, but his associates were milling about, casting ugly looks in Rallis's direction when they remembered he existed. Legionnaire Saura had also vanished, sent off by Lieutenant Taarq just before the trial began, but Lieutenant Taarq remained dutifully by his side as the minutes ticked on. He was sitting with his elbows on his knees, his long body curved in an arc, his fingers winding around themselves.

  "Thank you," said Rallis impulsively.

  Lieutenant Taarq sat up. "For what?"

  "For this." He hesitated, then touched Lieutenant Taarq's knee, conscious of the people around them but unable to care. Let them see that he and Lieutenant Taarq were more than just captor and prisoner. Rallis wanted them to see. He wanted the whole world to see. "For everything. For…for being here with me. For risking everything for me. You…you made my life better."

  Lieutenant Taarq's hand covered his own. "You made my life better as well," he said. "Enormously."

  "Whatever happens after this, I'm glad we met. So…thank you."

  Lieutenant Taarq's hand squeezed his. His silvery eyes locked onto Rallis's with the force of a riptide. "I would do anything to keep you safe," he began—

  And the room exploded.

  Chapter Twenty

  Rallis's first thought, blinking back into awareness to find his ears ringing and his mouth and nose coated with a thick smoke that smelled of acid and blood, was, Naravi isn't here.

  The knowledge filled him with a relief that felt like drowning. Something had happened—gods, gods, he didn't know what had happened, only that it had been unspeakable, monstrous—but Naravi wasn't there. They had already taken him back to his cell. He hadn't been present for…whatever this was. A lightning strike. Nur's vengeance. Whatever else took place, at least he could keep that with him.

  He turned his head to the right, relieved that it would still move, and found himself confronted by fire and death. The force of the explosion had sent enormous chunks of marble crashing down on the people below. The air was heavy with lingering smoke and clouds of powdery white dust that settled over everything like queer snow, coating the bodies of the injured and dying. He was surrounded by screaming and shouting, though the ringing in his ears created a peculiar effect, as though he were hearing the chaos through deep water. When he rolled onto his back again, he found himself staring at a sliver of blue sky through a jagged hole in the ceiling.

  Lightning. He wanted to laugh at himself. No bolt of lightning could do so much damage, nor strike with such ruthless purpose. Rallis knew what had happened, though the idea seemed ludicrous. Someone had set off a bomb during the Suulsen meeting.

  Nur's heart, where was Lieutenant Taarq? Where was the empress? Naravi was safe—he had to be safe, he had been taken away long before the bomb went off—but what about the others? Was Lieutenant Taarq hurt? Was he even alive?

  He pushed himself upright, trying to keep his thoughts together, though every time he moved his eyes he saw a new nightmare. Nur had blessed him: standing at the edge of the room, he had only been blown off his feet by the bomb, avoiding both the worst of the flames and the subsequent ceiling collapse. Others, closer to the center, hadn't been so lucky. Unmoving figures lay scattered about the wreckage: Suul and their aides, legionnaires, the random civilians unfortunate enough to have been invited to attend the hearing, all of them now still and silent and covered with marble dust as white as bone.

  "Rallis!"

  There was Lieutenant Taarq: bloody and battered, bleeding sluggishly from a cut on his forehead, his pristine officer's uniform scuffed and torn—but alive. Ah, sweet Nur. Rallis hurried forward on legs that didn't want to support him. Partway there, he pitched forward, saved only by Lieutenant Taarq's firm hands on his arms.

  "You're alive…" he said hoarsely.

  "Are you hurt?"

  "No, I'm—I'm just stunned. What happened?"

  "It was a bomb." Lieutenant Taarq glanced over his shoulder at the destruction behind them. "It was probably planted somewhere in the hall before the meeting and timed to explode after a set period."

  "Who planted it?"

  "They'll claim it was Adesi rebels. Probably trying to free your cousin."

  They'll claim. "Do you think it was Adesi rebels?"

  "Do you?" Lieutenant Taarq asked.

  Around them, delirium was transforming into a barely-controlled panic. The explosion had summoned others, legionnaires and palace officials more confused than afraid, who inserted themselves into the gruesome scene. They carried out those who were too hurt to walk and moved pieces of rubble off the bodies of those too hurt to do anything at all.

  But no doctors. No one who could treat the injured. Nearby, the golden-haired Suul was slumped against the wall, his shirtfront soaked in blood. One of his hands had been blown off and he was staring at the bleeding stump as though he didn't understand it. A legionnaire was crouched beside him, trying to help, but so young and frightened he kept fumbling his medical bar.

  "People are hurt," Rallis gasped. "The Suul—"

  "I know. I'll go back for them once you're safe." As he spoke, he seized Rallis's wrist and pulled him forward, weaving deftly through the rubble toward the far door.

  "What if you're hurt?"

  "It's all right." In the hallway, Suul were stumbling through the smoke, wounded and frightened. Legionnaires too and the moot officials, all of them hacking and coughing, their clothes torn, their faces waxy and gaunt with fear. The air smelled of iron and dust and a peculiar sweet scent that Rallis didn't recognize.

  "Where are we going?" he asked, staggering after Lieutenant Taarq. "Where is the empress? Do you know who survived the explosion?"

  "The empress was already out of the hall. She's probably being evacuated to safety. I don't know who else survived." Though Rallis couldn't see Lieutenant Taarq's face, he could imagine the exact expression of grim resolution he was no doubt wearing. "I hope…but I don't know. I couldn't see."

  "Where are you taking me?"

  "I'm taking you back to your quarters," Lieutenant Taarq told him. He led Rallis quickly away from the crowd, slipping into a side hallway to avoid the servants hurrying around them. "Don't go anywhere with anyone but myself or Legionnaire Saura. Whoever did this will probably try to involve you. Either they'll try to hurt you or they'll try to blame you for it."

  Rallis only half-understood him. "Who are you talking about? Who did this?"

  "I think—"

  Rallis didn't hear the second explosion: he felt it, rocking up through the floor as though he were on the deck of a boat in a storm. He pitched sideways, half-sure the entire citadel was going to
be upended and they would all slide off into the sky and cracked his head against the stone floor.

  He came to moments later to find that he was lying on his back, staring up at the cracked ceiling above him with eyes that didn't seem to want to focus. When he turned his head to the left, he found Lieutenant Taarq slumped against a nearby wall. "Lieutenant Taarq…"

  Lieutenant Taarq's eyes opened. Thank Nur. He was still alive, still able to pick himself up and pull Rallis up as well.

  "Careful," he said when Rallis stumbled. They clutched each other, swaying as though drunk. "Are you hurt?"

  "I hit my head. What happened? Another explosion?"

  Lieutenant Taarq was holding his shoulder in a bruising grip, though his gaze was far away. "Another explosion," he said grimly. "It sounded close."

  "Who is doing this?" Rallis gasped, fighting down an urge to punch the wall. "Nur's heart, I'm fucking sick of this."

  As though answering his anger, the world shuddered beneath his feet. For a moment, he thought it was a third explosion, but that didn't seem quite right. This sensation was deeper and greater than the previous, less of a blast than something akin to the ground-shaking earthquakes he had occasionally experienced in Kavck.

  "Ah gods," said Rallis, rubbing his face fiercely with his hand. A knife was stabbing into his temple with the beat of his heart. "Another one?"

  There was no answer. Lieutenant Taarq was standing very still, looking over Rallis's shoulder. When Rallis turned to follow his gaze, he expected to see someone—the empress? Suul Thrun? Naravi—but there was only the empty hallway, smoky and dim but otherwise unremarkable.

  No, not quite: the horizon line at the far end of the hall seemed strange. It was tilted, Rallis realized: the hallway they were in, previously level, was now sitting at a mild but persistent angle that pulled them subtly, relentlessly downward.

  Downward. "Why is it tilted?" he began to ask but stopped short at the look on Lieutenant Taarq's face. "Lieutenant Taarq? What's happening?"

  Lieutenant Taarq shook his head. His gaze was locked on the other end of the hall, that peculiar slanting line.

  Cold fear seized Rallis's heart in an iron grip. Some part of him knew what had happened, what the angle meant, but he was too afraid to even think it. Instead, he could only croak questions at Lieutenant Taarq, like a child seeking assurance from her Head. "What? What is going on?"

  Lieutenant Taarq said, softly, "The citadel is falling."

  *~*~*

  Rallis had asked, once, about what would happen if a citadel fell. It was something that was always on his mind—something, he believed, that was on the mind of every Adesi who looked up at the sky. Not only because the displaced Jevites would surely make their way down to Adesa, and that meant finding food and shelter for thousands, but because the citadels themselves were enormous and heavy and their impact would be catastrophic. But it was never going to happen, couldn't possibly happen—and yet.

  "What do you mean, it's falling?" he demanded. "How can it be falling?"

  "Something must have happened to one of the engines. The weight isn't being supported evenly."

  Rallis thought back to the explanation Mican Leros had given him, the rough drawing of the citadel and its five Exalted engines. Besides the central engine in the palace, four more rested at the cardinal points. If any one of them was destroyed in an explosion…

  "What should we do?"

  "I'm guessing the second explosion came from the engine room. I want to make sure Mican is all right. This way."

  "Should I go back to my room?" Rallis asked, hurrying after him as he started down the sloping hallway. It was an unnerving feeling, made worse by the fact that that the angle was growing more severe with each passing minute. He had to shuffle his feet along the stone floor to keep from losing his balance and lurching forward, like he was trying to run down a hill.

  Lieutenant Taarq shook his head. His hand was still wrapped around Rallis's wrist, a firm, steadying pressure. "I don't think it's wise. Whoever is doing this is able to navigate around the palace. Until this is over, I think it's safer for us to stay together."

  What he meant was, It's safer for you to stay with me. Despite everything, Rallis felt himself respond to that, a bolt of joy piercing through him, almost enough to drown out the roaring fear in his head. At least for a moment.

  The hallways were uncannily deserted as they made their way toward the engine room. He didn't know if everyone had fled in terror, or if they had all gone to help in the aftermath of the Suulsen explosion, but the emptiness made his skin crawl. It was a relief to see the entrance to the engine room ahead of them. He matched Lieutenant Taarq's pace as he quickened his steps, so they were both half-running toward the doors.

  Inside, Mican Leros was barking orders at a small group of frightened engineers. The air stank of smoke and that same sweet scent, vaguely floral. Around the edges of the room, more engineers were hastily moving pieces of rubble and tangled bits of metal around, while closer to the center a large hole gaped near the Exalted engine, obviously the remains of another explosion. The floor had collapsed and jagged stone stuck out around the edges of the pit, sporadically crumbling and collapsing as the citadel shuddered around them. But the engine itself was humming and glowing just as Rallis had last seen it. He wanted to cry at the sight.

  "Mican!"

  Leros stormed toward them. "Where the fuck is the Legion?" he demanded. "Somebody set bombs all over the fucking citadel. What in hellfire's name are they doing?"

  "How bad is it?"

  "Bad?" Leros gaped at him. "Bad? Do you know what's happened?"

  "We just came from the Suulsen Moot," said Lieutenant Taarq tightly. "Someone set off a bomb there as well. People are dying. No, I don't know what's happened. That's why I'm asking."

  The note in Lieutenant Taarq's voice cut through the worst of Leros's disbelieving anger; he sighed and raked a scarred hand through his hair.

  "It's bad," he said. "They didn't manage to get us—one of the engineers noticed something wrong and we were able to get it away from the engine before it went off."

  His expression darkened. For the first time, Rallis noticed the blood spattered across his uniform jacket, the drawn, hard set to his features. They had saved the engine—but they had paid a price for it.

  "Afterward…fuck, Taarq, we've been getting messages from the other sites. It was a coordinated effort. The western engine is damaged and the northern engine is ruined."

  "Is there any information about who might have been behind it?"

  "Everyone's assuming Adesi rebels," said Leros, sliding a cool glance toward Rallis, "but there's no actual proof of anything."

  The citadel rocked under their feet, another echo of Lyran earthquakes. The knowledge of what would happen when the engine failed rang in Rallis's mind like a bell.

  "What are they doing about the northern engine?" Lieutenant Taarq asked Leros.

  "They're going to see if they can move Ekket into position to support it."

  Ekket was another citadel, a large, empty one that was mostly home to farmland and scattered military garrisons. For a moment, Rallis couldn't tell why Leros had even mentioned it—and then his knowledge crystallized into understanding.

  "Can you do that?" Rallis demanded, making them both start and look at him. He had the sense that they had forgotten he was there. "You can pilot the citadels? You're going to prop this up on another citadel?"

  "Technically, yes," said Lieutenant Taarq hesitantly. "But we don't. It's just too dangerous. The Exalted built them to orbit slowly around one another. We've only ever made tiny adjustments to their paths because we don't want them to crash into each other. This…seems like a very dangerous idea," he added to Leros, who snorted.

  "Don't look at me. Yes, Adesi, they're going to prop this up on another citadel. It's that or let it fall to Lyr."

  And not just anywhere on Lyr—Kavck sat in the shadow of Jevell citadel, vulnerable and oblivious. "How so
on will that happen?"

  "As soon as possible. The north quarter is under evacuation orders. They don't think that it's going to stay together. People are already reporting cracks."

  It made sense: the citadel was heavy, covered with dirt and stone. The thin metallic disk the Exalted originally made wasn't built with all of the extra weight in mind and had little in the way of reinforcement. If the engine that kept it afloat gave out, the sudden weight would snap the metal like a stick.

  "Whatever's left of that side will be balanced on Ekket. Maybe that will hold everything up." Leros shrugged, a quick, harsh movement that showed his fear and displeasure more clearly than if he had shouted it. "Maybe not."

  "Is there anything we can do?" Lieutenant Taarq asked him.

  Leros rubbed the side of his face. "Not really. We have it under control here. As long as no one tries to set off any more bombs, this engine should be fine. If I were you, I'd take him out of here." He indicated Rallis. "Like I said, people are blaming Adesi rebels for this. It's not a good time to have a face that looks like that."

  "Right." Lieutenant Taarq clapped Leros's shoulder firmly. "Be careful."

  "Same to you," Leros told him, and then he was turning back to the engineers still lingering around the damaged engine and Lieutenant Taarq was shepherding Rallis toward the door.

  "We'll go back to your room," he said, sounding more as though he was speaking to himself. "I'll stay with you. It should be safe."

  "Yes," said Rallis, following him, but he felt as though someone else was controlling his body. His movements weren't his own. Something was churning in his unconsciousness, seeping up toward his conscious mind like tar: something about what Leros had said. The north side of Jevell citadel is under evacuation orders. He hadn't been on the citadel long enough to know the directions very well and didn't have a good understanding of how the city was laid out, but there was something familiar about the north side in particular. Someone had mentioned it, or he had visited something there as part of Lieutenant Taarq's optimistic tour of Jevell, which felt as though it had taken place a lifetime ago, though it had only been a few days. Or—