“Don’t make him a hero,” Marko insisted. “You were at my father’s address. You saw what happened.”
“And you saw the nivasi Gedeon’s powers. He put the Phoenix under his control,” Kesali replied. She stopped moving bags and faced Marko. “Don’t demonize a man who has done everything to make reparations for his actions that day.”
Nadya breathed out, and a bit of the weight she carried lifted, dissipating into the sunlight.
“If the Phoenix is sorry for what happened at the address, then he needs to make it clear. Turn himself in and face the justice of Storm’s Quarry.” Marko shook his fist. “But what does he do? He hides in the shadows while Wintercress threatens to take away the only thing keeping this city from dying.”
“Some would say he makes a difference, Marko,” Kesali said. She did not look at Nadya.
“On his terms. He thinks himself above the rules and governance of the city. Right now, he may be hiding, or trying to atone for what Gedeon the Chaos-maker forced him to do. What happens when he decides to stop? When he decides to begin taking control, or killing on his own?”
“There’s no evidence—” Kesali began.
“That doesn’t matter! Don’t you see? He can do what he wants, and people are fickle creatures. Today, he is the Iron Phoenix, vigilante of Storm’s Quarry. What happens when tomorrow he wakes up and decides to be our destruction?” Marko sighed. “We have law for a reason. I know he’s Nomori, so—”
“That is not why I defend him,” Kesali said. “Do you think so little of me?”
Immediately, Marko’s face softened. “No, I’m sorry. It’s just—we are the ones who have to make the hard decisions. The rest of the city may be enamored with him today, but we must be the ones who prepare for tomorrow.” He looked at Nadya. “You’ve been quiet. What do you think?”
Kesali sucked in a breath. Behind her, Nadya heard her father stop moving for a moment. She swallowed. “I don’t know.
“You think he’s a hero?”
“I—I don’t think there is malice in his intent. But intent cannot be everything.” She looked up to find Shadar staring at her. He whispered under his breath, and across the cobblestones, she caught his words: This is why you must be careful, Nadya. I fear an encounter with Lord Marko and the Guard could prove disastrous.
She shook herself, but the cold feeling remained.
Marko was still speaking. “I suppose I should attend to the line. Just to see if anyone interesting has shown up.” He kissed Kesali’s cheek.
Kesali watched him leave, then turned to Nadya. “Sometimes, I feel bad for him. All the answers right under his nose, and he can’t see the truth.”
Nadya’s instant fear must’ve plastered itself all over her face, because Kesali touched her shoulder, adding quickly, “I will never tell him. But perhaps you might, someday.”
Someday. When he is not hunting me like a rabid dog. But Nadya knew much of her anger was unfair. Marko was a loyal soldier and a good leader for the city. He truly believed he was doing what was best for Storm’s Quarry, and part of her agreed with him.
“No,” Kesali said.
Nadya blinked. What question was Kesali answering? “No, what?”
“No, you are not going to turn yourself in so that the caravans will continue to arrive.” Kesali grabbed her hands. “Aster is bluffing. She knows there is much to be gained from friendship between Wintercress and Storm’s Quarry, and she won’t jeopardize it over a vigilante.”
“As long as that’s true,” Nadya mumbled, unable to think much beyond the feeling of Kesali’s hands on hers. Painful chills filled her when she let go.
“Since we have a moment, there is something I need to ask of you.”
“Oh.” Nadya gritted her teeth and practically threw the bag of fish at the crates, shaking them violently. Had this all been to ask something of the Phoenix?
“I know you have no wish to patrol after dark, but I believe the Phoenix’s presence might deter more soldiers and any others who may seek to take advantage of Storm’s Quarry’s state.”
“It’s been pretty peaceful, hasn’t it?” she mumbled.
“Yes, but that is because the people still have hope. If they lose that…you saw what the solstice brought.” Kesali took a deep breath. “The city needs your help, Nadya.”
“I’d much rather help here,” Nadya said, avoiding her eyes. “There is only so much…so much the cloak,” she continued, lowering her voice, “can do. Look around us. These people need homes. They need food and medicines. No amount of fighting will help them.”
“I am very much aware of how much pain there is in my city.”
Nadya did not miss how she claimed Storm’s Quarry. She doubted Kesali even noticed anymore, and really, was it such an incorrect statement? She and Marko bore the responsibility now, just as much as the Duke.
Kesali stopped in her work. “Nadya, I wish I could wave a hand and make this vanish. There is little good in being able to see the future of the skies and not of what matters most here on the ground.” She sighed. “Truth is, as bad as it is, we can fix this. Me and Marko and the Guard and every person, Nomori and Erevan, in this city. But we cannot do what you do. I understand that this kind of work is easier, but you are the only one who can do what I ask.”
“You do not understand,” Nadya said, turning away. She busied herself stacking crates that smelled of stale fish and lye with an undercurrent of sea salt.
A hand on her shoulder. “I do, even though I am not…nivasi.”
Nadya jerked up at the word. But there was no one else around to hear Kesali’s remark, not even Shadar, who was busy helping an old Erevan man carry his rations. Kesali’s hand remained firm.
“I am the Stormspeaker, Nadya. The only Nomori in the city with this gift, just as my mother before me. The entire city relies on me to keep them safe from the skies, and I failed. The Protectress failed, and I believed in her.”
Nadya flinched at such a blasphemy, but Kesali continued.
“I have that blood on my hands. All those riots, the fall of the great wall. And now, every child who dies of the scouring sickness, every family who weakens with hunger, that is all on me. So I do understand what is to be saddled with powers you do not want and responsibilities you never asked for.”
She looked up at Kesali, whose face shone with fierce truth. Never before had she heard her be so candid about her designation as the Stormspeaker. “I thought—I thought you wanted your duty.”
“Wanting something and having others need you to do it are two different things. A distinction I know all too well.” Her hand brushed Nadya’s cheek, and fire erupted there. Nadya’s stomach began to fall, and it did not stop. Kesali’s eyes swallowed her until all she saw was their milky brown depths.
“What we want does not always matter,” Kesali whispered into her ear. Shivers ran down Nadya’s back. “But,” she continued, “that does not mean we cannot keeping hoping.” Kesali’s hand found hers, and something light and crinkled was thrust into it.
Kesali looked away and broke whatever spell had held them. “I know I am asking much of you, Nadya. And if you believe it is not the best course, then do not take it. But you were right. The city does need hope.”
Nadya’s throat was so dry her tongue did not work.
“Hope beyond ration lines and medicines. Hope that they have someone watching over them. A protector.”
A Protectress. Her seal flashed hot, and Nadya wondered if this was the reason for it all. If Kesali saw her purpose before she ever could. Is this what you want? You saved me from Gedeon for something. You gave me these powers for a reason, and I do not think it was to sow destruction.
No answer came to her prayer.
“Storm’s Quarry needs the Iron Phoenix. It needs you.” Kesali’s voice lowered to almost nothing, so quiet even Nadya strained to hear it. “I need you.”
“Everything looks calm.”
Both Kesali and Nadya jumped as Mark
o returned. He rubbed his hands together. “Well? Shall we get this fish and rice unloaded or not?”
Kesali recovered first, smiling and saying, “Of course.”
Nadya remained frozen. She clutched the note like a lifeline in a flood. “Excuse me,” she said and left. Her numb legs carried her past the pallets of food and the guardsmen. Behind her, Shadar said something, but she did not pause to attend to him. She stopped a street over. Heart pounding, she unfurled the note. It read: Tomorrow, east wing of the palace, third floor. I will be waiting.
Chapter Six
The cloak weighed heavily on Nadya as she wore it out under the stars that night. Their light illuminated the marble of Storm’s Quarry, giving it a soft glow. Unlike the harsh lines and formidable heights of day, at night, the city looked almost gentler, more motherly. The stars also created shadows in which Nadya moved as she prowled about on the rooftops.
In the back of her mind, Shadar’s voice warned her against this: You need to master control before you start this up again.
Her own memories echoed his warning. But she was not here to start a fight, nor to embark on any dangerous raid. She would try to not even use her abilities. Tonight was about letting the Phoenix be seen in hopes that his presence frightened off looters and quelled the smugness of Cressian soldiers.
Inspiring fear. Well, at least you are good for that.
The city needs me, Nadya said, shutting those voices up. Kesali needs me to do this.
And you would not be doing it if she hadn’t asked you. The last came in the voice of her grandmother, so it was easily ignored.
The words of the note Kesali gave her were less easy to set aside, but she pushed them back. Tomorrow night, she would find out what they meant. Until then, she needed all the focus she could manage.
Once, the city had been alive after dark. Nadya perched on the edge of a family dwelling and thought back to Arane Sveltura, the festival of starlight that her people celebrated every year. The most recent festival had been a rare celebration in the face of the oncoming season of storms. Rarer still, as Kesali had whisked her into dancing to the traditional chants of the Nomori Elders. Her grandmother was no doubt still miffed that the young Nomori men and women had taken to the dance. Nadya’s face heated with the memory. It was the night she and Kesali had shared their first kiss. Everything had changed since that night, she reminded herself, her stomach turning sour. The Great Storm had taken so much, and continued to take.
“Come on, hurry!”
The desperate voice broke the imaginary peace night brought. Nadya snapped to attention. Below her, two figures ran along the narrow roads. They passed the slumped forms of the homeless. Tripping over refuse and shards of marble, they dashed between buildings.
“They’re coming!”
Do not intervene. The Phoenix is not ready—
She cut off the voice, which was somehow her father’s, Drina’s, and Gedeon’s all at the same time. Damn it to the stars, if I’m not here to stop this, then why put this blasted cloak on in the first place?
Measuring the distance to the approaching figures, Nadya leapt down. The stones beneath her feet thrummed as she landed. Her cloak settled around her in a haze of gray, and she looked up as both runners skidded to a halt.
The first, a woman, Erevan from her complexion, whispered, “Oh gods…”
The other clutched her. A boy, maybe a year older than Nadya. Her son, more likely than not.
“We mean no harm,” he said, putting himself between Nadya and his mother.
His eyes shone clearly in the starlight, watery and afraid. Breath came heavily for both of them, and Nadya’s own throat constricted. No matter what Kesali said, no matter how much the city might need the Phoenix out at night, keeping whatever tendrils of peace still remained, it froze her to the core how the people of this city looked at her. This boy, who might have spat on her in the daylight, shook as if she was about to murder him with her bare hands.
Not an unfounded fear.
His mother pushed him aside. “Some say you’re a demon of the Nomori.”
Nadya’s licked her dry lips. Some of her own people said the same.
“But others say you protect us. So do so. There are soldiers after us. They will kill us.” Her voice cracked.
“Soldiers?” Nadya’s own voice came out harsh.
Surprise registered on both their faces as a girl’s voice came from behind the mask of the Phoenix.
“Yes,” the older woman said. “Shouting in a language we don’t speak, drawing blades. I think my son…” She grabbed his arm tightly as though her very words might cause him to disappear. “He did something, saw something. Now they’re out for blood.”
“No, Ma, I promise…” He looked weakly at Nadya. “I didn’t. I’m no criminal. It’s not stealing to draw from a public well. Those bastards can’t stop us, can they?”
His heart rate, thudding fast from exertion and fear, grew steady as he spoke. Nadya believed him. His story sounded too similar to her own encounter near her home, with the little Erevan boy Puck and two Cressian soldiers.
The echo of boot tread and deep grunts of men pulled at the edges of her senses. “Go,” she said, coming around them. “Find safety. I will deal with those who pursue you.”
Her words carried much more certainty than she felt.
Both muttered, “Thanks,” taking off down the street. Nadya walked to the middle and held her ground. Six men, carrying swords and pistols, raced down toward her. She did not move. Their gait and build suggested soldiers, and when one whispered to another, she heard the lyrical syllables of the language of Wintercress.
Again in so many nights? What had the boy done, that the Cressians would risk a political incident to apprehend him? To kill him? Was his mere presence at the well enough, or did he see something that needed to be unseen, no matter the consequences?
The soldiers only slowed a bit when they came upon her. Whispers throughout the city must have warned them of a cloaked figure in Storm’s Quarry called the Iron Phoenix, that it was no mere tale for firelight. Their own leader, Councillor Aster, wanted the vigilante dead or behind bars.
Two took aim from the waist. Bullets cracked the air.
Nadya moved fast, dodging the shots. She moved through the gun smoke and grabbed the nearest soldier. One strike to the chest, and he went down. But still breathing, she was careful to note.
A blade nipped her shoulder. Without looking, she felt the shape of the soldier in the space. Kicking out, she forced the sword from his grip. An elbow to the shoulder made him drop to his knees.
“Why?” she hissed. “Why are you chasing them? What did he see?”
His only reply was to black out.
The remaining four began shouting, losing their discipline. Nadya smiled and whirled around. Maybe they had not been so informed about her. She had seen firsthand that hearing about the Phoenix was one thing; watching her in action was quite another.
The thought dissipated as she turned back to the fight. On the other side of the quivering soldiers stood a woman in all black. The skin around her eyes had been painted black also, but it did nothing to soften her cutting glare.
The nivasi.
Nadya tried to swallow. She balled her hands into fists.
The other woman stared through the soldiers right at her. In her hands, white light ignited into the shape of blades. Two paces in length, and three fingers’ width, they cut the edge of the night, air around them hazing into a foggy glow. Nadya felt the heat from where she stood.
The Cressian soldiers dove to the side, breaking up and scattering into alleys. The nivasi let them go. In the back of her mind, Nadya hoped the mother and son got enough of a head start.
Her palms ran with sweat. The last night she’d faced an unknown nivasi, she stood on a rooftop with Gedeon. She had been rash enough to confront him without knowing the extent of his ability, trusting too much in her own strength.
I will not make the
same mistake twice.
Thirty paces separated them. The other woman made no move to close that gap. Did her thoughts run along the same currents as Nadya’s? How much of the Phoenix could she know of, beside what little she saw here tonight?
“What is it that you want?” Nadya said in Erevo, loud and firm. Inside, she shook like a pendant in the winds of a Great Storm. “Why pursue those men?”
“Why stop them?” the nivasi responded in accentless Nomori. There was no surprise in her voice to find out Nadya was not a man. “To save Erevans?”
“No crime they might have committed deserves death.” Nadya’s eyes never left the nivasi, taking in every minute movement she made. The rise and fall of her chest. The incremental nodding of her head. Her heart rang steady and slow. She was not afraid, or she was a master of control beyond Nadya, maybe even Shadar.
She did not know which would be worse.
“So you are soldier and judge.” The nivasi took a step to the left. The light of her blades pulsed, giving a soft glow to their surroundings. Any who might have been present for the first fight had long since vanished, knowing better than to stay around while two of the nivasi faced off. “Funny, that you say that. I have heard conflicting stories with regard to the Iron Phoenix.”
“I own my crimes.” Even as the words left Nadya’s mouth, she knew they were a lie. Yes, she worked tirelessly to overcome the weakness that let Gedeon take her and the foolishness that led to her entrapment, but if she truly wanted to atone, she would turn herself in to the Guard as Lord Marko had said.
Or she would burn the cloak, destroying the Phoenix, and remain just Nadya Gabori for the rest of her days. No more nighttime patrols, no leaping between rooftops, no wrestling criminals to their knees.
The young woman laughed. “We all tell ourselves things. I will not stop you from taking a small comfort in that.” She brought one blade of light up, pointing it at Nadya’s heart. “Now, I am afraid I must go. There are matters I must attend to tonight.”
Phoenix Rising Page 7
