by L. W. Jacobs
He laughed. “I feel like that’s all we ever do, in council.”
“Yeah well it’s funny. You say you wish you had passion like mine, and sometimes I feel like I’ve got too much. Like all I ever do is work. That’s what Tunla said anyway.”
“Why are you so passionate anyway? I mean, I’m glad you are. None of this would have happened without you, but Ayugen’s not your home. Or, it only has been for a couple months.”
Ella sighed, feeling an old wistfulness. “I never had a home. Not one that felt like it, anyway. Worldsmouth didn’t, and I don’t have people there anymore. So I guess I’m trying to make one here.”
“That’s what we were doing on the streets too, was trying to escape to someplace safe, but we never could. And then when my kids got taken, I realized we couldn’t just run. There’s nowhere to go. That if we wanted someplace safe we’d have to fight for it.”
“And so you’re passionate about it. Just like me.”
“I just wish I had something obvious to work on. Something I was good at.” He rolled his shoulders. “With the circle I feel like I chase people around all day and get nothing done.”
Ella gazed at the fire, fresh log hissing and popping. “Tunla says there’s no point in working for others if you can’t do something for yourself now and then.”
“On the streets, you take every chance you get to enjoy yourself, because you never know when the next one’s coming. That’s why Aelya drinks so much.”
“And you?”
“I was never good at it. I guess I always had something to worry about.” He laughed, tossing long black hair out of his face. “Still do.”
She sighed, warmth of the fire nestling in her bones. “Well it’s nice to be here with you anyway. I’m glad I came.”
“Me too. I miss our weekly meetings, like we used to have during the rebellion.”
“Well maybe we should have them again. Do something just for ourselves. You can tell me about life on the streets, and I can bore you with tales of Worldsmouth.”
He smiled. “I’d like that.”
She leaned into him, ignoring the wink Feynrick sent Tai’s way from across the circle. “It’s a plan, then. Assuming we survive the next couple days.”
19
They started the next morning at first light, Feynrick wanting to make the abandoned village before dark. Tai had dreamt of Ella, of her fighting with Aelya and Marrem, all of them wielding giant spears and hammers, the back room of Marrem’s infirmary a bloodbath. He was running between them, defenseless, trying to make peace. Ella had been beautiful despite the blood, and something felt different as he walked next to her today. Their talk remained unchanged, introspection on politics and the resonances with a touch of humor, but she walked a little closer to him. Or maybe he walked closer to her, feeling drawn by her despite the fact she was a lighthair from a completely different world.
Or because of it?
“I was thinking,” he said during a lull in conversation, while they were passing through an open meadow rutted with wagon tracks. “Why wait until we get back to Ayugen to find out about the circle with nine spears thing? We have an expert right here.”
Ella looked at him. “Sablo? Do you think he would tell us anything?”
“He’s not exactly in a position to refuse us. Do you know how to protect yourself from mindseyes, in case he has uai?”
She said no, so he explained briefly the method of imagining a conversation in your head, with only one person saying your true thoughts. “Not that he’s probably got any uai,” he said, “but it’s a good thing to practice.”
She was already scribbling in her notebook. He smiled. If she didn’t have all the mysteries of the resonances figured out by winterseve, it wouldn’t be for lack of trying. “Feynrick,” he called. “Going up to talk to the captive for awhile. Privately.”
The Yatiman nodded. “Watch yourself, milkweed. He’s a scrapper for an old man.”
“I think I can probably handle him.”
Sablo was sitting upright when they got to the cart, watching the road ahead. He still wore the clothes they’d captured him in three months ago, starched collars and proud Councilate embroidery beginning to show wear, but meticulously clean. “Ellumia,” he said, turning from his vigil. “And Tai, is it? To what do I owe this pleasure?”
His Yersh was immaculate, his phrasing educated.
“To curiosity, sir,” Ella said, her head held high. “You may recall some months ago, when I was still under your employ, me coming across a certain set of books in your chambers. Books marked with a symbol like this.” She held up her notebook, where she’d drawn the circle pierced by nine spears.
A shadow fell across Sablo’s face. “I wouldn’t know anything about that.”
“Even though you wore a pendant with the same design?”
The elder man gave them a smile likely long practiced in Councilate courts. “I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss that.”
“You’re not at liberty at all,” Tai cut in. “Or have you forgotten where you are?”
His silver eyebrows raised. “Are you threatening me? I imagine I’d be worth less as a bargaining piece if I arrived damaged.”
Before Tai could come up with an answer Ella cut in. “Actually, you’d be worth more. Studies of hostage transactions in the Forger Rebellion and Yati uprisings show that wounded hostages tend to elicit more panic and sympathy on the part of their Houses, resulting in better payouts for the trading parties.”
“Well,” he said, face going cold. “If that’s how it’s to be, let’s get on with it.”
Tai was not about to torture an old man, or anyone, and Sablo likely knew it. Ella was right, he was an intelligent snake. “A friend of yours was back in Ayugen,” Tai said. “Funny he didn’t come for you.”
“Funny indeed,” Sablo answered, gazing at Ella. “Here I was under the impression I didn’t have any friends in your city.”
“I’ve heard it’s easier to keep friends if you don’t betray them,” Ella said, too evenly, then surprised Tai by taking his hand.
“I wasn’t talking about Ella,” Tai pressed. “A tallish man, mixed hair, goes by the name of Nauro?”
Sablo shook his head, nonplussed. “Never heard of him.”
“Travels with a fox?” Ella asked.
Something lit in his eyes then. “He had a fox?”
“Yes,” Ella said. “Why? What does that have to do with your secret society?”
Sablo smiled. “I’m from House Sablos, dear. The founders of the Titans? I passed through the training myself, though unfortunately mindseyes are not much used in front line work. Part of that training is interrogation and resistance. You’ll have to be a little more subtle if you want information from me.”
Ella frowned, but Tai shrugged, summoning the nonchalance of the streets. “Maybe we don’t have to. I imagine House Sablos and the rest of the Councilate would find it quite interesting to know you are part of this secret society you don’t want anyone to know of.”
There. Tai saw a flicker of something in Sablo’s eyes before they went back to cool disinterest. They were getting to him. “You’re playing at games you don’t understand, boy. Best to keep out.”
“My whole life was a game I didn’t understand,” Tai said, letting out some of the anger he’d been keeping down. Anger at the man who ruled over the prison camp, and indirectly killed so many of his friends. “Because the rules were made by lighthairs who came and killed my people to mine our yura. The rules don’t matter when it’s impossible to win.”
“But you can win this one,” Sablo said, gray eyes sharp. “There’s a reason my brother is in Ayugen, and it’s not the yura. Call Ella off,” he nodded at her, “and let’s talk, man to man.”
Ella bristled beside him, and Tai squeezed her hand tighter. “I don’t keep secrets from my friends. Whatever you have to say, she can hear it.”
Sablo worked at his jaw, muscles clenching. “Fine, th
en. Reconsider this hostage trade.”
Tai frowned, taken off-guard. “Reconsider giving you back to your people?”
“You don’t know what kind of chance you’re giving up. What we could accomplish together.”
“You and me? I’ve already seen what you can accomplish, and I want nothing to do with it.”
“You think this matters?” Sablo snapped, waving his arms at the militiamen. “This battle with the Houses and mining for yura and your little republic? The trade of one hostage for another? This is all a distraction, Tai. A game they’ve been playing for centuries, to keep us down.”
Tai squinted, trying to follow. “Who’s been playing? What game?”
“I can’t tell you with my arms bound. Nor can I help you once I’m back in Gendrys. Untie me and let’s go, now.”
“I don’t see any gags on your mouth,” Tai said, hiding his surprise. The man didn’t want to return to Gendrys. “You either tell me here or you never do.”
Sablo’s jaw worked again. “Fine. If that’s how you want it.”
He puckered his lips and whistled.
Men burst from the trees. At the same time something screamed and pushed at Tai, impossibly loud. He lost Ella’s hand as a dark figure slammed into him. Tai struck resonance from reflex, scream still filling his ears, and tried to push up, but his uai felt dampened, and he lifted only a few feet into the air.
Black-coated men shoved Ella aside, reaching for Sablo. A rescue party. Tai shook his head, trying to shake the scream still pounding there, and wafted himself at the nearest one.
He hit with enough force to knock the man off-course, but nothing like his normal strength. Something was wrong, but there was no time to question what. His muscles still worked, so he bounced off and kicked the man savagely in the head, spinning to find the other two lifting Sablo from the wagon bed. Ella lay in the dirt clutching her temples.
Tai leapt for the wagon, but the first man grabbed his foot and he slammed to earth instead, temporarily seeing stars, disoriented from the endless scream.
What was that sound?
He rolled, tangling with the dark-coated man, trading blows, and heard Feynrick’s shout, the pound of approaching feet. At the same time, the scream cut off in his head, and his uai returned with a vengeance, throbbing out of him. Tai shoved himself upward in air, striking his higher resonance to throw the man off him with air.
The black-coated men were gone, and Ella lay where she’d fallen in the road. He couldn’t get to both of them.
Ella first. Tai flew down to her, landing and pressing fingers to her throat. Her heart beat, and her eyes fluttered open. “I—heard a voice,” she said. “Like Telen, or LeTwi, only angry.”
“Me too,” Tai gasped, still out of air from getting knocked down. “Are you okay?”
“I think so,” she said, trying to push up. “Now.”
“Which way, boy?” Feynrick called, pounding down the path toward them.
“I didn’t see!” He looked back to her. “Are you okay? We need to catch him.”
“Go,” she said, pushing up. “I’ve got my resonance again.”
“Okay.” He shoved up, looking for signs. “You take the south side,” he barked, “I’ll take the north. Spread out! They can’t have gotten far!”
Tai flew over the canopy, searching for figures, then when he failed dived below the treetops, weaving between trunks, spreading out in a fan from the attack site. Nothing.
He returned to find Feynrick grim-faced, taking report from one of the militiamen. “We found some sign, sir,” the man was saying, “but likely from before the attack, not after. It looks like they’d been trailing us since morning.”
“And us without a pissing clue,” Feynrick spat.
“What of the one I fought? Have you talked to him?” Tai looked around, saw him still laying in the road.
Feynrick shook his head. “Gone.” The swarthy man’s face was grim. “I apologize, Tai. This one is on me.”
“No,” Tai said, “it’s on all of us. And they may have had powers we don’t understand. Ella and I were both attacked, somehow.”
Feynrick frowned. “You look well enough.”
Ella had walked up to them, her skirts straightened. “Not a physical attack. Something else, though I have no idea what. Like they’d stolen my uai.”
“Do ye have it back now?” Feynrick asked, looking between them. “Good. This is no place to dally. They might still be out there, and we need to get a move on if we’re to make the meeting with the whitecoats.”
Ella frowned. “You don’t think this was their doing?”
He shook his head. “Not the Councilate’s style. They’d’ve attacked with numbers, and soldiers, and taken all of us.”
“Not just our bargaining chip,” Tai finished. He glanced at Ella. “The man must have other friends. Either way it leaves us without much anything to trade.”
“Not necessarily,” Ella said. “Knowledge is power, and it was clear Sablo didn’t want us to know about his connection to the ninespears, whatever it is. He wanted the Councilate to know about it even less.”
“Meaning it might be worth something to someone in the Councilate,” Tai finished, glad to find some positive note after Sablo’s escape. “Maybe his House.”
“Or their enemies,” Feynrick said, raising his bushy eyebrows.
“Whoever it is,” Ella said, “hopefully they can explain what the hell the ninespears is, too.”
20
They reached the abandoned village at sunset, shadows stretching over huts so long abandoned they were more piles of rotting wood than buildings. The Councilate was already there, five sturdy wagons forming a box around rows of white canvas tents. The soldiers themselves stood in formation, about twenty-five Tai estimated, with a stiff-backed man at the front, many badges and knotted ropes on his jacket.
Tai rolled his shoulders. This would not be easy.
“Evening,” Dayglen said, the lanky former Maimer speaking fluent Yersh. He had been their best option for negotiator—Tai couldn’t reveal his identity, and Dayglen had spent enough time on the streets that Tai trusted his instincts.
“Rebel,” the commander said. His eyes searched Tai and the other men, and the cart with its elk team. “You’ve brought High Arbiter Sablo?”
“We have not,” Dayglen said. “The situation has changed.”
The man’s face darkened. “Meaning?”
“Meaning we were attacked in the woods, and the arbiter was taken. I thought at first it was your men, looking to break our agreement, but I see you are still here.”
The lighthaired man scoffed. “Attacked in the woods. Did you have any intention at all of bringing the man to trade? Is he yet alive?”
This was the danger, that the whitecoats wouldn’t believe them. They needed to establish credibility if they had any chance of trading what they knew of Sablo for those wagons of food.
“We did, and he is, so far as I know,” Dayglen said. “As you can see, we haven’t come with the men necessary to take your wagons by force, so the journey would offer little benefit to us without Sablo as well.”
The officer cleared his throat. “So we’re done here?”
“I do have something you might be interested in,” Dayglen said. “Information.”
“Information,” the man repeated, unimpressed. “What could you possibly be willing to tell us, that we would believe?”
Dayglen shrugged, playing it casual. Good. They couldn’t look too eager. “What we know of Sablo, and the men who took him. And some… other things, that came to light about the arbiter after his capture. Information House Sablos might wish to keep quiet.”
“That is something you’d have to take up with them,” the officer said. “As a commander of the Councilate military I represent all the houses, and cannot speak for any of their private interests.”
“This information could be worth a lot to you, too,” Dayglen said, shrugging. “Secrets like thi
s, a House would pay dearly to keep quiet. Might speed up your retirement a few years.”
Meck. Dayglen wasn’t reading the man right—his back was getting stiffer by the moment. Not good.
“The Councilate military is above any offer of bribery, sir,” the lighthair replied in angry tones. “I am under orders to defend these wagons with my life, unless the person of Arten Sablo is safely delivered. Now. Can you or can you not deliver said person?”
“We can not,” Dayglen said.
“Then this meeting is at an end,” the man said. “While you are welcome to camp here, I would advise you not to try anything against my men or the wagons. We are well-trained and prepared to defend ourselves.”
Tai’s shoulders slumped. It would have been so much better, and so much easier, if they’d been able to make the trade here. So much safer.
“You have my word we will not,” Dayglen said. “In fact, I believe we will travel further this evening, so as not to inconvenience you. Prophet keep you, sir.”
They walked back to where Feynrick stood with the cart, Tai’s back itching, waiting for the whitecoats to attack. They didn’t, and at a word from Dayglen they moved on, trundling across the clearing and into the trees ahead.
“Well,” Ella’s voice came from under the canvas. “I take it that didn’t go as hoped?”
“Wouldn’t take the trade,” Dayglen said, falling back into casual Yersh. “Not even as bribery.”
Ella pushed the canvas flap back, platinum hair askew. “Well. An upright man amongst the Councilate. Who would have thought?”
Feynrick guffawed at that. They’d kept the Yatiman back and Ella hidden in case the deal failed—they would have a hard time infiltrating the army camp if word traveled back to Gendrys that they were part of the rebels.
“I might have read him wrong,” Dayglen said. “I’m not used to bargaining with—Councilates.”
He was going to say lighthairs, Tai guessed. Old habits died hard. “No, you did well,” Tai said. “I doubt he would have taken it in any case.”
