The Fire Eye Chosen_Sequel to The Fire Eye Refugee

by Samuel Gately

  Rei sipped her tea. “You understand, of course, Enos Melor is getting credit for uncovering the rebellion. Of course, only the most ignorant believe that he had a role to play. Those of us who know him know he has a long way to go before he is ready for rule. But he is a Melor, and he will grow into it. And it is good for the citizens of Celest to attach their faith to him. Perhaps their faith will strengthen him. It certainly strengthens the Melor Family for everyone in the streets to understand that a horrible crisis was averted by the youngest of the Dynasty.

  “But as I said, that of course only satisfies the most ignorant. They are satisfied with that story, believing that Enos somehow sniffed out the plot and snuffed the match that would have destroyed our home. Most within the Palace are unsatisfied. They dig deeper and find that all signs point to Yamar Advoco. Yamar is a highly decorated Wrang Captain, one with a long record of unconventional successes. It is no stretch to believe he is capable of unearthing a rebellion and upending it, laying it at the feet of his master as a cat might drag in a particularly large dead bird.

  “But that does not yet satisfy those who seek the truth. It is not the whole story. For Yamar was not working alone. Some dig deeper into who exactly delivered Yamar, near unconscious, back to the Palace. And who led the guards to the match that would have ended us all. Who then turned around and made appearances at Devero Tower and the Baymo Hotel, somehow traversing streets blackened with a smoke that blinded all others. Who ordered the ma-lumens messages which pointed us towards an efficient clean-up effort. And some end their search there, believing that once again the mysterious Kay the fetch has had an outsized role in the fate of Celest. But I am of none of those categories. How could I be? I have a strange relationship, one I find truly unpleasant, with an aggressive young woman closely tied to this Kay the fetch. So I must be part of the very select group that digs even deeper than that. And what do I find?

  “I find you, Abi Yellen. You had maintained a public persona of complete distance from this fetch. Yet you broke from it in recent days. You appeared in Sellers Pocket where she resurfaced from a face-to-face with the Gyudi. You were waiting for her at the entryway of the Palace when she arrived with Yamar. You were the last to speak with her before she disappeared into the blackened streets. By the time she was seen next, the threat was cleared, vanishing with the smoke that clouded our city.

  “We think ourselves immortal but a single match would have ended our time. A match you had a part in stopping. I don’t know to what degree you directed our counterefforts. I don’t know what allegiances occurred under my nose to make this happen. All I know is you are owed a thanks.” Rei took a quick drink of tea, as though the words left a bad taste in her mouth.

  “And,” she set her teacup down and leaned in, “the fact that you have not come to collect tells me it is not thanks you are after. You have a line on something else. The Gyudi were merely a distraction and you had them dealt with in a spectacular fashion. So let me be abundantly clear. My thanks has been said. Don’t expect it to go as far as you would like. This meeting is for one purpose. So that I can tell you, I don’t know what you are after, but let me make one thing clear. I want my piece.”

  “Thank you for the tea,” Abi said, and stood to leave. She was not at all surprised that the Game hadn’t missed a beat. She wouldn’t have it any other way. She let herself out of the apartment without looking back to gauge Rei’s reaction.

  It was only a few steps before she reached the staircase that wound its way through the heart of the Dynasty Palace. When she did, she paused, considering whether to go up or down. The choice was hers.

  …

  Had Abi chosen to make her way up the wide, red-carpeted main staircase of the Palace, her path would have led past the Starlight Balcony, packed with a crowd of revelers looking out over the city. At any given time, more than one was pointing off towards the Halo Balcony atop Devero Tower, where the Gyudi had met their end. Others pointed to the Baymo Hotel, where the ma-lumens messages had come late in the evening, rekindling the hopes of those clustered in the heights of the Palace that the dark night would soon end. The stairs continued upwards, through the open levels of the Dynasty elite and into more exclusive territory. Past the apartment of Hammond Melor, where the main staircase ended in a heavily guarded door. Through that door, a short hallway led to the personal chambers of Yostre Melor. Passage through these chambers, decorated in surprising taste for such a garish location, was necessary to reach a private staircase, the exclusive access to the Summit Balcony. And there Abi would have found her sister in all but name, Kay the fetch, standing awkwardly as she stared at the back of Yostre, Head of the Melor Dynasty, himself.

  The Summit Balcony was the undisputed highest point in all of Celest. It was ovular, with a solid, curved railing winding around it. There were no furnishings or structural embellishments to break the relentless rush of the fierce wind. Kay stood in the very center, her cloak wrapped tightly around her. When she’d arrived on the Balcony, Enos and Yamar had already been in place, quietly waiting on Yostre, who faced the horizon. Kay stood between them, trying not to fidget. She felt ill-suited for the festive atmosphere below them, but no more comfortable in her current perch. She still wore a sling as a cover for her recently healed broken arm. She was closer to the Fire Eye than she had ever been, it seemed to take up half the sky above her, yet she felt its distance acutely. It was receding. It would close soon.

  Kay’s journey up here had necessitated travel through parties thick with glamour and festivity. The night of the Closing was reserved for the biggest parties of all. They carried on as though the threat of the evening before and the Gyudi Dynasty had never existed. Not everyone had the night off to celebrate, of course. For example, the two guards posted on Jyurik Desmoden’s jail cell would be unable to watch the Closing. Their only view was that of the broken fool, his head in his hands, tears falling from his single eye. He would stand trial tomorrow for the murder of Ewan Silas and the attack on the Dynasty. Abi had told Kay not to hold her breath on being called as a witness. The part of the trial focusing on Ewan would be brief. This was to be a spectacle and the best roles would be reserved for those of influence, regardless of any actual awareness of his plot. Still, Kay was assured justice would be swift and Ewan’s murder would be listed among the crimes read when the fool hanged, probably before the week had ended.

  The story of Jyurik’s capture and delivery to the Wrang was no doubt the source of much revelry outside the walls tonight. Kay could imagine the Pathfinders and all their loyalists gathered around a fire, repeating the tale, embellishing it with each turn. A part of her longed to be there, slapping backs and swilling gin, rather than standing in her current place of honor and privilege. It had been Jaime Cowen, the Pathfinder who had brought her news of Amos’s death and had his eyes glued to his boots in her presence ever since then, who had found Jyurik. Kay would have to find a chance to thank him.

  The tale had come to Kay garbled from many tongues and overlaid with rumor, but the word was Jyurik had been dressed as an old woman. He’d stuck to the fringes of one of the many large, lingering drifts of smoke also leaving the city. As the wind steadily stole away his cover, he’d attempted to join a party of Gol traveling west after their visit to Celest to see the Fire Eye. His disguise had not survived the Pathfinder patrols on the roads, and he’d been chased down by a relentless Jaime, eventually tripping over his skirts and falling into a stream. The fool had been dragged to the gates, wet and disheveled as he pleaded for his life, to be handed over to the Wrang.

  Following the delivery of the Dynasty’s most wanted living enemy, the Pathfinders were enjoying a sudden elevation of status. Earlier tonight, in a ceremony brief and unattended by any of the Dynasty, a mid-level clerk had issued the Pathfinders the first licenses ever granted to pureblood Farrow allowing them to carry blades in Celest. An accompanying gift of twenty pristine swords, of the straight blade style favored by the Farrow, had been issued to
the Pathfinders along with the right to expand their ranks. One might marvel at the speed and efficiency with which the Dynasty had produced appropriate weapons for the Farrow. Then one might recall that the extensive stores of Vascal the smuggler had been seized just that morning.

  Kay herself had been presented with a license, probably by the same clerk, on her way into the Palace to answer the summons from Yostre. She’d stuffed it in a pocket. Gillis had been waiting by the stairs, looking painfully uncomfortable amongst the Palace crowd. The sword on his hip, however, was very much a part of him. He’d presented Kay with a small sheathed knife, polished until it shone, engraved with words of thanks she hadn’t bothered yet to read. She’d hidden a smile and pretended not to see his apprehension as she climbed past him towards her appointment, marveling that there may be one guest at the Palace tonight who felt more out of place than she did.

  Now, on the Summit Balcony, Yostre stirred from his contemplative pose by raising a thick envelope clutched in a hand encrusted with jewels. He was finally prepared to address her, though he kept his back turned as he began. “Earlier tonight I was handed a report.” A small wave to draw her attention to the envelope. “This report, whose arrival at my desk is no doubt the culmination of an enormous amount of political maneuvering and exchange of favors, credits the defense of the Palace and the toppling of the Gyudi threat all to a small committee formed by my grandson. A committee formed to look into the missing children of our loyal noble families. Oddly enough, there is no mention of Kay the fetch, though it is quite inclusive of many others who deserve praise and reward.” He turned and offered Kay a warm smile. “One might even say exhaustive. Or exhausting.”

  He wore simple, elegant robes of white and red. His jewelry was less garish than other members of the Dynasty, though not in short supply. Bright eyes looked out from beneath his thinning hair and furrowed brow. Kay found herself slightly dazzled by his charm as those eyes playfully twinkled. She’d only ever seen Yostre at a distance. The proximity gave her a better idea of his advanced age, but this close she also felt an energy radiating off him. The kind of energy that might be expected of the most powerful man in all of Celest. She hadn’t anticipated humor from someone in his position, however, and didn’t quite know how to respond. She lowered her eyes.

  He let the silence hold the balcony for a moment, then beckoned her forward with a small, efficient gesture. When she came to him, he gently turned her with a touch so they both faced Enos and Yamar. “I am no fool, Kay the fetch, who does not see the glaring hole in what I’ve been presented. We have business.”

  He gestured to Enos. “The first order of business comes from my grandson. I have already impressed upon him my pleasure at his role in the defense of the Melor Family. I am well aware of his rough edges, but he acted decisively in providing you with the resources you needed, showing a wisdom and humility that can unfortunately be thinner than one might hope,” Yostre gestured around the balcony, “at this altitude. He has asked me for the privilege of giving you a gift in my presence, and I have agreed.”

  “Enos,” Yostre said sharply. The youngest Melor nervously approached. He carried a small black box which he held in front of Kay. He removed the slim lid and Kay saw a pair of newly crafted brass knuckles resting on a satin pillow inside.

  Kay picked them up, feeling the quality in their weight and balance. “Not bad, Enos,” she said as she slipped them into a pocket and tossed him a smile.

  “Now,” Yostre continued, “Enos has also relayed to me that you offered him your services as a tutor. Such an arrangement would serve at the willingness of both parties, but I have quite firmly expressed to Enos my desire that he make such an arrangement work. Any behavior previously exhibited which may have served to repel your attention is firmly rooted in Enos’s past, I am assured.” He leveled a long look at his grandson. “As are barefisted boxing matches outside the city walls fought under a false name.” Yostre’s glare swung up towards Yamar. He gave a disapproving grunt. “Which brings us to our second item of business.”

  With a flicker, Yostre waved Enos back to his previous space as Yamar stepped before the pair. Yostre waited a long time, so long that even Yamar, with his Wrang discipline, began to show signs of discomfort. Kay hid a smile.

  Unexpectedly, Yostre leaned in closer to Kay, speaking in a confiding whisper loud enough that all on the balcony could hear it over the wind. “I’ve always liked Yamar. Don’t let the rigid exterior fool you. If you want an unconventional solution to a problem, he’s the man you send. I wish he’d been trained in politics rather than whacking people with sharp things.” He cleared his throat and spoke more formally. “Enos Melor asked only to present you with a gift, Kay the fetch. A tasteful and appropriate request, though I’ll admit I was a bit uncertain of the content. You seem to like it, however, so well played by Enos. Yamar Advoco asked for a far more difficult thing as a reward for his exemplary service. He asked for the right to court you.”

  Kay’s nerves rose as she felt Yostre’s eyes on her, gauging her reaction. She could feel her face flush. She glanced nervously at Yamar, uncertain how to proceed. Yostre stepped smoothly back in. “It is a request I have given thought to, I have spoken to Enos about, and I have decided to grant.”

  He took a half-step back and turned to face Kay. “I want to clarify something, Kay, and it is important to me that we understand each other in this. I have given Yamar leave to court you. Meaning there will be no restrictions or limitations on such a courtship from the Palace. We will not get in the way. But this comes with no expectation of the Dynasty for your response.” He leaned in, back to the overly loud whisper, “In other words, you can still tell him to get lost. And if he asks you one too many times, you can tell me to tell him to get lost.” He looked at her, almost nervously. “Is that acceptable?”

  Kay stole a look at Yamar, her heart beating fast. She shot a quick glance to Enos, who offered her a tight-lipped smile. There must have been some fairly intense conversations between him and his deathsworn over the past few hours. Kay nodded to Yostre.

  “Good.” Yostre sighed in relief. His posture relaxed. “In all my years of ruling, I’ve never had to have that particular discussion. Would you believe even an old man like me still gets stressed from time to time?” He reached out and took her hands. “Kay, one of the things that—” He turned abruptly and faced Yamar. “Back to your corner! Presumptive! Just because you’ve been given leave to bother this young lady doesn’t mean you get to listen in on her every conversation.” He shooed Yamar across the balcony.

  “Right,” he said to Kay, “third order of business!” She could sense he was having fun. “Third order of business is my own personal thanks. Kay, I love my family. And you have helped keep them safe. I’ve granted Enos and Yamar wishes, both tastefully small and uncomfortably large…what can the Dynasty do for you?”

  Kay’s head was swimming. The last thing she’d anticipated out of this summons was to be handed an unconditioned wish from the Head of the Dynasty. She wracked her mind and came up with exactly nothing. “I don’t…can I get back to you?” she said lamely.

  Yostre laughed. “Yes. Yes, you can. You might have enjoyed the expressions on Enos’s and Yamar’s faces when I asked them what you would want. They had no idea. Neither do you. That’s fantastic. A wonderful change from this.” He raised the report he’d shown her earlier with the names of the committee members and all their closest friends. “Imagine what they would answer. Imagine how quickly they would produce a list. Kay, you refresh me.” He threw the report in the air and the wind carried it away over the rooftops. As Kay watched it flutter, she felt a tremor of vertigo from the height of the balcony.

  “In that case,” Yostre said, “I would make a request of you.” When Kay nodded cautiously, he continued. “Would you launch a lantern with me?”

  “I’d be honored,” Kay replied. The Fire Eye was near its Closing, and the paper lanterns were rising across the city. It was a st
range perspective to see them drifting towards her rather than away.

  Yostre seemed almost to clap his hands in delight but caught himself at the last moment. “I’ve got them here,” he said, walking to the railing and opening a small, wooden trunk which held a pair of lanterns. He struggled with a match, the wind chasing away his flame as he cursed quietly.

  Kay looked to Enos. He was staring at her, sadness in his eyes. Again he forced a smile, and Kay felt for him. His family by all appearances seemed to be both wise and kind, but it was still a narrow road he walked down. One she would never fit on, barriers of age aside. Hopefully her role as a teacher and guide would help him get over his youthful heartache, rather than extend and deepen its grip. Only time would tell.

  “Here we are.” Yostre had both lanterns lit and the air inside them was warming. They tugged at his hands, eager to be loosed into the wind. He took his position at the railing and Kay stepped up beside him. For a moment they stood there together, gazing upon the Fire Eye. “What does it mean to you?” Yostre Melor asked her quietly.

  As she stared at the light above them, she thought on all the flames she’d seen since the Opening. The candles which lit the room where the Weiss had begged her for guidance in finding their daughter. The one she’d held before the grave of her lost lover. The lone candle in her office window, warning her of danger. The spark she’d used to illuminate the blue line of paint, drawing her to her enemies. The torch in the tunnel before her and Yamar which she’d seen as the single flaming eye of a hunting snake. The line of flames which had steered her out, then back to Devero Tower. Those that had healed her, those that had helped end the cruel ambitions of the Chosen. The Fire Eye was a part of all of those, but the feeling she couldn’t turn away from was the wonder when she’d seen the flames in the tunnels form a line, leading her and Yamar to safety.