"So that was crazy," Tristan said, tucked in her blankets.
"Sure was." Ness gazed up at the blank space of the tarp. Rain spattered its top irregularly. "What's even crazier is that we're lying here going to bed like nothing happened."
In the morning, they got off to a late start. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, but the whole forest was sodden, turning the hike east into a muddy slog. Which about suited their mood.
They broke for lunch, then resumed the march. After a few minutes, Lionel glanced over his shoulder at the doctor. "I suppose we should talk about what's next, yeah? Are you still on to come to the Bay?"
"I should think so," Gohel said. "There's not much left for me here, is there?"
"Guess not. Plus we raided your pantry."
"What's the Bay?" Tristan said.
"Bay of Islands. North end of New Zealand." Lionel grinned. "Beautiful spot. If you'd like to give us a lift, I'd be happy to give you the tour."
"We'll provide transport. But this isn't a free lunch. If you're about to start producing penicillin, our people could use some of it."
"I was going to offer you some either way. Least we can do."
"The least you can do is promise my labor to someone else?" Gohel said. "I should say you're correct."
"Is there a problem?" Tristan said.
"The doctor's having a go at you." Lionel raised his brows at Ness. "How long do you reckon the trip will take?"
"How far is it?" Ness said. "A thousand miles? Two days, I'd think. Three, if Sebastian hasn't been able to patch the hull."
"Two days! If she weren't sick, I'm sure my wife wouldn't mind if we took a little longer."
With no need to follow tracks, they made great time, but the late start meant they had to spend one last night in the woods. The morning after that, the rain quit. By ten o'clock, Ness stood on the cliffs above the inlet, the smell of the sea on the wind.
Below, the sub was nowhere to be seen.
12
Silence encased the great hall. Raina lifted her chin. "I'm sorry. I don't think I understood what you said."
Tina cleared her throat. "I don't know how I could be more clear. The council is asking you to step down."
"The council has no authority to make such a request."
"Set aside the issue of authority. Look at what's best for the people. Your health has been compromised, Raina."
"I feel fine now."
"You were stabbed, Raina. And there may have been lasting organ damage from the poison."
Raina's laughter echoed through the stone-floored room. "If I can stand here and listen to your nonsense, I can do my job as chieftain."
"You shouldn't take your current state for granted. Complications could arise at any time."
"Such a flimsy worry is only necessary when there are no real ones to set forth."
"Tina's trying to do this the polite way," Gates said. "But I know you're not much for polite. Here's the real deal: the people have lost confidence in you, Raina. They're sick of fighting a war that might never end. The way they see it, the Night of Almonds smashed any chance we had to bring things to a swift conclusion."
She gritted her teeth. "I have told you how Dashing lied. If you're that insistent on more proof, I'll track down his conspirators within the People of the Stars myself."
Nolan sighed. "Are your ears painted on? What part of this strikes you as a debate? The people want the war put to bed. If you can't give them that, it's time to step aside."
"So long as I am given the time I need, the war will be won. If you back off now, before Anson has begun to bleed in earnest, then you will be the ones putting my people at risk!"
"They're not your people," Tina said quietly. "They're not ours, either. They are their own. And they have decided it's time for a change. I suggest you accept it now—with grace, and gratitude for the time you had—rather than drag it into an ugly affair that will only turn our citizens against each other."
"And I suggest you get fucked by a bison." Raina swept their papers from the table. "Get out of my house, you rats. The next time I ask will come on the point of a sword."
The council members exchanged glances. Gates was first to rise. "If that's the road you want to walk, you'll see what lies at its end."
"How ominous." Raina stared them down as they filed out of the hall.
"Goodness," Mauser said once they were gone. "Apparently they've spent the last week growing a set of balls."
"Did you know about this?"
"Did I know they were about to ask you to hand in your letter of resignation? I don't like to look stupid any more than you do, Raina."
She considered the papers she'd swept to the floor. "It's bluster, isn't it? That the people have turned against me?"
He pulled out a chair with a scrape and thunked into it. "A week ago, I'd have been sure of it. But they seemed awfully cocky in there. I am officially concerned."
"This was their plan all along, wasn't it? Elevate themselves, wait for the opportunity to tear me down, then swoop in to replace me."
"Tina and Nolan, maybe. The others, I believe they're merely doing what feels best to their pesky 'consciences.'" He drummed his fingers on the table. "Enough wallowing in troubles. How about we search for solutions?"
"All right. But where will we get a catapult large enough to hold them all?"
He steepled his hands. "They threatened you, but in doing so, they exposed some of their weapons. Like this notion that the people are war weary. Scared of things dragging on forever."
"Things won't drag on much longer. We've made gains this very month. If we press them like this for another year—perhaps just six months—they'll have lost too many people to hold their old lands and San Pedro. And that is when we invade and retake our home."
"I know that. But do they?"
"You are saying it is a matter of perception. That they do not believe in the war because they can't see our progress."
He spread his palm in a flourish. "I know you prefer to move down alleys where you can't be seen. At the present, however, your goals will be best served not through stealth, but by making a big damn fuss about how great you are."
"That sounds like a task better suited for you."
"Typically, I wouldn't disagree. In this scenario, however, it's paramount that we make it about you. Your vision. Your leadership. Your successes. The key is to communicate these things to the people in your own words. And I know just the person to advise you."
"Mia."
Mauser tapped the side of his nose. "She made a living telling stories to people who'd already lived through the wildest story of them all. I don't think it will be any challenge for her to convince the citizenry we're on the right track."
"I won't tell any lies," Raina said. "If I am to win them, it will be through the truth. If my the truth is too meager, then I don't deserve them."
"Heavens! You know I would never suggest you say anything but the truth. I'll send for Mia at once."
"What, right now?"
"Well, yes. I'm operating on the assumption you're not about to do something as silly as 'rest up from the grievous wounds that nearly killed you.'"
Raina nodded solemnly. "Don't tarry."
He saluted and departed. Much like Raina had once been for Thorn, Mauser knew her and her ways and was thus able to get more from her than she was capable of on her own. Perhaps there was something to learn from the notion of the council. She could use more hands to help her hold up the fragile structure of their nation. Mia, for one; she was wise and understood the strange mazes of the mind. Who else? Plucking someone from the council would fracture their united front. Nolan, then—she did not like him, but he knew how to coax food from the land and would provide a voice for the farmers, allowing them to feel more involved, less prone to unrest. She thought he would be more than willing to break ranks with the others if it was to his advantage. He was one of those dogs who could be bribed by letting him feed next after you've
taken your share.
She hated to make calculations of her people in this way. To treat politics as war, dividing and deploying her people not only to aid her directly, but also to neutralize those who might challenge or weaken her.
Yet she had no choice. The council had made it so. There was no use lamenting the tricks of a canny enemy. You absorbed their lessons, or you were defeated.
As she mulled over the final choices to round out her replacement council, Mauser and Mia walked into the great hall.
"For the record," Mia said, "I think this is stupid. There's no reason this can't wait until tomorrow. Or next week."
"I wish to begin now."
"Yeah, I get that. Normally, I'd never have agreed to this—but I think it's a damn good idea." She sat at the table and produced a pen and paper, taking notes as she spoke. "The first thing to understand is how others understand. It's very simple: through narrative."
"Like your stories," Raina said.
"Exactly. The most convincing argument doesn't come from pithy sayings or aphorisms, but through stories. A clear line of causality, from one event to the next, that seems to be leading to an inevitable conclusion."
"We are fighting our guerrilla war battle by battle. Once Anson is weakened enough, we will swoop in and retake what is ours."
Mia rolled her lips together. "Yes, but what makes a story convincing is the details. Giving them a vague phrase like 'guerrilla war' doesn't bring anything to life in their minds. What you want to do is to put them right there in the moment where they can touch and taste your vision for themselves. Combine this with some rhetoric—anything that taps into their aspirations, wishes, and/or fears—and that's when you capture them."
Raina narrowed her eyes to slits. "This is what Anson does, isn't it? He tells his people the story of how he forged them into what they are, then uses that as proof that he will lead them to where he dreams."
"Yes! Yes!" Mia clapped her palms. "And then invites them to buy further into the dream with bullshit like telling them they can aspire to graduate to the Sworn, his royal guardians. At that point, not only are they hearing the narrative, they're participating in it. Sustaining it."
"I don't want to manipulate my people into compliance."
"I wouldn't want you to. It's not about lying, it's about structuring this in the way that will resonate most strongly. The most powerful narrative will be the one you believe in, too."
"I see." Raina glanced across the table. "And what is the narrative you tell him?"
"Mauser?" Mia frowned. "The story he gets is older than Beowulf: there's no point in spending each day being the world's sexiest man if you never come home to make use of it."
Across the table, Mauser snorted.
Raina and Mia spoke for hours, hammering out the shape of the story so far (that the open spirit of the Dunemarket had left it vulnerable to the People of the Stars) as well as the narrative that Raina would be building toward (that that same openness of spirit and mind would prove their greatest weapon in retaking San Pedro). There was a simpler narrative, too—one of persevering against a fanatical enemy that would not rest until they were subjugated or destroyed.
Darkness swept in from the sea. They broke to eat dinner. Raina was growing tired, but Mia's energy for the subject was boundless, and Raina did not want to lose momentum. She barely noticed when a warrior entered, spoke to Mauser, and departed with him.
She and Mia were arguing about how nakedly to present these narratives when Mauser came back to the hall. It took much to rattle him—he viewed the world as amusingly and predictably bitter—but Raina instantly recognized the distress on his face.
"You're going to want to see this," he said.
Mia set down her pen. "Which one of us are you talking to?"
"Both. Come. Now."
Raina stood and followed him into the breezy, chilly night. Her hip hurt some but not enough to stop her. In the courtyard, warriors called to each other, thumping up the wooden stairs to the top of the walls. Mauser beelined for the gates. At the stairs, he offered Raina a hand up, which she accepted. As she climbed to the platform up top, the four warriors there glanced at her, expressions in turmoil.
Lights lined the path to the palace. As many as a hundred people approached, lanterns in hand. Some carried rifles, too, or holstered pistols. Raina hunted the figures at the front. It was easy to pick out Nolan's bulk. Identifying Tina's slender, academic frame took a minute more.
Mauser's distress had morphed to anger. "There's no way they put all of this together in the last few hours."
"You think they had it planned?" Raina said.
"They know you. Unless Dashing's poison devoured your brain, they never expected you to agree to step down. But they weren't about to provide you with the time to address the unrest, either. So they prepared a ready-made mob."
"Just add outrage," Mia said.
One of the warriors, a teen named Smith, stared at Raina. "If they don't stop, what should we do?"
"Keep the gates closed," she said. "And let them speak."
The mass of people came to a stop fifty feet from the gates. Raina had spotted Gates and Raul, but had seen no sign of Ophelia. This consoled her more than she expected.
Gates and Tina stepped forward. He was armed, but he was the sheriff of Catalina.
"We're here to take what's ours," he said. "The capital."
A gut-high wooden wall enclosed the platform above the gates. Ignoring the pain in her hip, Raina climbed the wall and stood on the two-by-four railing.
"Why have you brought this group to my gates?"
Gates gestured behind him. "So you could see we're more than hot air."
"Then why have you armed them?"
He blinked up at her. Tina said, "In case we needed to defend ourselves."
Raina gazed across the civilians, but it was too dark to identify more than a few. She raised her voice to them. "Do you really think you'd need to defend yourselves against me?"
"You're unpredictable!" Tina called back. "Strange and out of step. We don't know what you're capable of. That, among other things, is the very reason we're here."
"I didn't ask you."
The woman turned and said something to Gates. Before either of them could pipe up, a middle-aged woman stepped from the crowd. Raina knew her by face but not by name.
"We got guns for the same reason we came out here," the woman said. "To show you we're serious."
Atop the rail, Raina's leg wobbled. She steadied herself. "What do you want?"
"The same outcome we asked for at today's meeting." Tina's face was a white ghost in the lantern light. "For you to step down. And allow the council to take over administration of this island."
"And since you couldn't convince me with words, you decided to do so by force."
Gates shook his head. "There won't be any violence. Not unless you refuse to open those doors."
"These are my doors," Raina said. "I'm not in the habit of opening them to those who are hostile to me."
Tina's laugh drifted through the night. "Your doors? I think the people here tonight have more right to them than you do. And I think the fact they're here proves the island of Catalina is ready for democracy."
"Wow, you assembled a mob," Mauser burst out. "What a fucking accomplishment! What did it take? Weeks of furtive fear-mongering and influence-peddling? And for all that, in your big moment, you can barely whip up a quarter of the population to march behind your idiot's banner."
"This is far from everyone who wants change. We had to move on short notice."
"I'm sure you did. Because now that Raina's awake, she can start shoveling out the bullshit you've been piling up while she was in a poison-induced coma. But let's set that aside for the moment. Shall we call a vote and put your 'silent majority' theory to the test?"
"I think we're well beyond that, Mauser," Tina said. "But one of the council's first acts will be to establish democratic elections open to all candidates
."
"To be held when?"
"After the situation has resolved with the People of the Stars, and it is safe to do so."
"In other words, about five years after my unborn grandchild retires." Mauser made a jerk-off motion with his right hand. "You want an election? Let's hold an election. None of this 'We'll get to it as soon as we feel like ceding power' crap."
A rock flew from the crowd. It was well short, whomping into the dirt before the gates. A second rock flew after it, rattling against the gates. On the walls and in the towers, many but not all of the warriors leveled guns and bows.
"Hold your fire." Henna's voice rang through the darkness. "Those are your friends. The people you've sworn to protect."
Below them, people had begun to scatter. But they weren't running away. They were taking cover, dispersing to the shrubs to both sides of the road. Tina and Gates turned, yelling at them, but their words—whether encouragement or reprimands—were lost in a sudden, confused babble.
As confused as the others were, Raina understood everything. The pain in her heart was far worse than her leg.
"Stop!" she yelled. Around her, feet scuffled to a stop on the wood platforms. Beneath her, faces lifted from cover, unidentifiable in the spotty light of the lanterns. "This is madness. I will not fight my own people."
"Then open up!" someone yelled.
"You lunatic," a man added.
"There can be peace." Tina's voice pierced the hubbub. "Just open the gates."
"I have lost you," Raina said. "I don't know at what moment it happened, or if I could have stopped it. I expect to ask myself that often. I'm not sure I'll ever find answers."
Her leg wobbled again. She willed it to straighten.
"What I do know is that if I have lost you, there are only two answers: either I am not your leader, or you are not my people. I hope both of us have made the right choice—and that your future is better than the one you saw with me." She turned her back on them. She stepped down from the railing and onto the platform, facing her warriors. "Open the gates. Let them in. And don't harm a hair on their heads."
Relapse (Breakers Book 7) Page 15
