by L. W. Jacobs
She walked back to the desk. What had that been—his journal? It didn’t read like a journal. “Don’t worry about it. All I have time for are legal tracts these days anyway.”
Sablo nodded and made pleasant conversation about her studies and the upcoming arbitration for a few minutes, then returned to his office. Her mind continued churning on the book. What was it about? What had rattled him so much? It had seemed like some sort of theological treatise, but not from any of the religions she was aware of. The highland monasteries, maybe? Was Sablo considering abdication?
Curiosity got the better of her, and a few fingers after he’d left, she crept back to the bookcase. Without breaking the glass front, the best she could do was look. There was a line of eight slender volumes, unlabeled, next to the one she’d pulled out.
Why were they unlabeled? And why had that symbol in the front seemed so familiar?
Ella left by the front door that evening, Sablo still engaged with citizens despite the late hour. She bade him good evening and made her way onto the upper floors of the Tower, mind still pondering the strange book.
The walkway was abuzz with people, ladies in fine dresses and men in House livery crowding the doors of the Councilate offices. Ella caught snatches as she worked her way through them, avoiding the railing and the dizzying drop beyond.
“—unusable. They’ve sunk so many ships—”
“—heard they’ll use brawlers, try to draw them out—”
“—said he went straight into the air.”
This last could only be one person—Tai. If he hadn’t been the face of the rebellion before, he was now. People claimed he’d battled scores of wafters singlehanded and lifted rooftops with his resonance. Exaggerations aside, he must be more powerful because of his transformation, like she slipped deeper after hers. She would have to include that in her notes on overcoming.
A woman turned to her, face red and fleshy. “I say we should round them all up and good riddance to them!”
She appeared to be talking to Ella. Ella tried to move away, but the crowd was thick.
“Wouldn’t you say?” the woman bulled on, pressing close. “We should have done it long ago—just clean ’em out and bring our own people in here. It would’ve saved us a lot of money.”
The woman had a demanding, roosterish way to her. Ella felt compelled to respond. “The Achuri, you mean? What’s happened?”
“You don’t know?” The woman blew out a breath, flustered. Ella could see why no one else was talking to her. “The docks! As though our manse wasn’t enough”—Ella noted the Coldferth colors worked into the woman’s sleeve—“they struck again today, sunk both our ships at the docks.”
“Ours, too,” a man cut in, bushy moustache muting his words. “Alsthen and Galya and Ergstad as well. In broad daylight!”
“Yes, well,” the woman fanned herself, “Coldferth has clearly borne the brunt of the attacks, and I feel—”
Ella took the man’s entrance as an opportunity to escape, pushing between a distraught pair of platinum-haired girls, likely refugees from the bluffmanses. She felt a pang in her chest—hopefully not orphans.
This is war, Ella. People are going to die.
“I know. I just can’t help feeling partially responsible.”
You’re completely responsible for killing me, but I don’t see you broken up about it.
“I had good reasons for killing you.”
Ella felt eyes on her halfway down and glanced back. A dressed-up woman followed her—Clarella, the calculor from the day before.
Clarella’s lips curved. “A little kidtalk, Ellumia?”
Ella flushed. “Clarella. Are you…following me?”
“I was trying to find some place more private, but this will do.”
Ella’s hackles raised. “For what?”
“Where did you sleep last night?”
“In a bed.” Ella arched her head to the side, questioning.
“You were seen with the Arbiter again last evening, walking the town.”
“So? A girl is free to associate with who she wants.”
“Not when he’s my client,” Clarella hissed. “Don’t think you’re fooling me for a second with your scholarship.” She sneered the last word, a passing pair of Ergstad merchants looking over.
Ella stayed cool, cocked her head. “That’s funny. For being your client, he hasn’t really mentioned you.”
Clarella’s hand came back for a slap. Ella was waiting for it. She struck resonance and watched the hand slow to a crawl in air. She leaned back just enough to avoid being hit, then casually plucked the thick rings from the fingers. She stilled her power, hand whooshing by, Clarella’s expression changing to shock.
Ella opened her hand, rings thudding to the carpet. “A calculor who lets her emotions rule her is no calculor at all,” she quoted.
Clarella’s painted face squirmed back to rage. “You are a calculor! I knew it.” A group of women passed them, gazing curiously, and Clarella’s paint mottled red.
Ella smiled, pedantic. “I’m a scholar. I’ve run across calculor manuals in my research. Now, if you’ll excuse me?”
The calculor’s eyes narrowed. “If you ever go near him again, I swear I’ll—”
“You’ll what? Slap me?”
Clarella’s face stilled to cold rage. “Doesn’t matter, anyway. After Odril’s done with you.”
Ella turned. “What did you say?”
Clarella smiled, bending to pick up her rings. “Oh, you haven’t heard? Your suit posting is up.” Her eyes glittered.
Ella’s stomach twisted. What could Odril have done to her suit posting? She struck resonance, slipping up the stairs until the crowds got too thick. She ignored the gasps around her as she appeared from thin air. Tax, Titles…Disputes. She pushed in the door, found the registry on the wall. Her name was two-thirds of the way down, scheduled for the day after tomorrow. Under it was written another line:
Countersuit: Odril Alson—illegal commerce.
Her heart dropped. Illegal commerce could only refer to her calculor status—but how did Clarella know that? Were they working together?
Of course they are, Telen said.
So, this was his ploy to escape her suit. He must have found the missing ledgers or realized she could make a solid suit against him. So, he would attack her standing as a good citizen—and if he managed to defame her first, her suit would fail without a champion in good standing.
Not to mention she would be indebted to him, likely right back in his basements with no legal recourse.
Ooh. My sister doesn’t like that.
Ella’s head got hot, vision darkening. “Staining right, I don’t like it. But I’ve got more recourses than the legal ones.”
She struck resonance, noisy room slowing to a rumble, a collection of mannequins beside her. With an effort, she took some measured breaths, calmed herself down. There was still time. And the women under Odril depended on her taking the legal route.
If she was going to win the countersuit too, she needed to know even more—what had Sablo said? You are a bright young lady, Ellumia. I don’t doubt that with time, you could become an accomplished legal counsel. But you would need years, not days.
Ella turned back for the library. She had one day. And she would win.
29
One has to wonder whether the Achuri didn’t first settle Ayugen because of its warm caves in winter and only later discover the yura there.
—Markels, Travels in the South: At’li and Achuri
Morning in the forest hideout was a raucous affair. Cookfires only at night meant breakfast was the one hot meal of the day, and men clamored and women shouted and goats ran underfoot in the crowded camp. Tai walked with Aelya, Curly tagging along behind, telling her of the strike on Newgen.
“They said you were a one-man army.” She walked without crutches, only a slight limp to her step.
“More like a one-man porter.”
“Y
eah, well, either way, I’m ready to see it for myself. Think I’ll die if I have to sit here another day.”
Tai glanced at her. “You that much better?”
“You mean this?” She waved at her hip. “Just an excuse to get dreamleaf now. And there’s a guy down at the forges, Epsley, says he can make me an iron hand to put over my stump. Though he wants a kiss and a tickle for it.” She grimaced. Tai had never known her to take a shine to men.
He spotted a small figure among the men training at swordarms. “Is that Curly?”
Aelya grinned. “Yup. Little guy keeps trying to get on a strike team.”
Worry knotted his shoulders. “Aelya, he barely has eight winters.”
She raised an eyebrow. “And you had more when you were in the resistance?”
“I wasn’t fighting. And anyway, that’s what we’re trying to end, is kids having to do things like we did.”
Aelya shrugged. “I say let him have his fun. Not like anyone will actually let him on a team. And you know we were doing worse at his age.”
“I guess. Let’s just make sure he doesn’t try to yuraload.” Aelya nodded to that—she’d heard the screams too, seen the graves. Yuraloading had continued just the same since his fight with Karhail, increased if anything with the flood of recruits. “How’s Fisher?”
Aelya shook her head. “Still in her shell. I—don’t know if that’s gonna change, Tai.”
Sorrow filled him, sorrow that had nothing to do with Hake anymore. She was like a sister to him, too. An innocent little sister caught in all this. “At least we have her close.”
Aelya snorted. “But it’s still all your fault, right?”
Tai frowned. “It is all my fault. I’m the one who got us into this.”
“Elkmeck. We got ourselves into this together. We all made our own choices, including when Fishy decided you were a better thing than the Mothers all those years ago. Is Hake still on your neck?”
“Hake? He— No.” He hadn’t told anyone about his fight with his voice. Partly because talking about it meant admitting Hake really was gone, that his friend hadn’t been with him all these years. Though he knew it was true.
“Then come off it. It’s insulting, you trying to take responsibility for the meck that I do. I’m the one who punched Tulric, remember? If all this is anybody’s fault, it’s mine. And I’m not sweating it. So, lighten up.”
Tai sighed, a little of the weight coming off his shoulders. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Thanks, Aels.”
She snorted. “I know you’re not gonna change. Just had to say it.”
Tai opened his mouth, but there was no point in arguing it. So, he smiled instead and just tried to enjoy walking with his friend. Who knew how much longer either of them would be alive, anyway?
They saw Karhail a few houses over, leaning over a map of the city with Ilrick and a few others. Tai tensed, and Aelya sighed. “Better go talk to your boys.”
He grimaced but gave her arm a squeeze. “Thanks, Aelya. I’ll see you later, okay?”
“Tai,” Karhail grunted as he approached. The others gave him a nod. “You might as well be here for this.”
“What’s going on? Planning how to follow up on Newgen?”
“Gods, no,” Ilrick said. He’d come back a day after the strike, wounded and shaken from hiding in Newgen. “Planning how to feed all these people.”
“And house them, and arm them, and keep them safe,” an Achuri man said. Tai thought he recognized him as a shopkeeper from Hightown. He’d stolen yams from the man, a lifetime ago.
“They’ve been pouring in since the attack on the bluffmanse. You’ve seen ’em.” Karhail swept an arm at the hideout, overcrowded despite men clearing forest on all sides. “Between our successes and the way the Councilate is arresting people, we’ve got more than we ever wanted.”
Tai nodded. “But not enough food or sleeping space.” People had been sleeping out of doors for a while now, and most every meal was gruel.
Ilrick nodded. “We can move some to the caves, but that don’t help with food.”
“Game in the forests?”
“It’s getting mighty thin,” Theron said. “I went out with a party yesterday. Men are ranging ten, twenty thousandpace to find game. The animals are eaten, save for milking goats and laying hens.”
“And we need fortification,” Karhail said. “Like it or not, the hideout’s position is obvious now, and the caves likely not much less so, with the amount of traffic coming in and out. Soon or late, the Councilate will mount an attack here. As is, it would be a massacre.”
“Well, the good thing is we’ve got all these people,” Tai said. “Send those fit out to hunt, and put the rest to work felling trees and building fortifications.”
“Aye, but then we’ve no one to train, no one to yuraload,” Karhail said. “We can’t forget our primary objective.”
“And we don’t need to build a second city here in the forests,” the Achuri shopkeeper said. “This is only a temporary hideout.”
Tai pursed his lips. “What if I could get us even more recruits? What if I could repopulate Ayugen with people guaranteed to be angry at the Councilate?”
Karhail met his eyes. There was still a tension from their argument in the caves, but they shared a common objective. “How?”
“The prison camp.”
“We’re not striking the prison camp. The thing’s as fortified as the Titan citadel. We need more people.”
Tai clenched his fists. “This is how we get more people. We don’t have time to play it safe anymore, not with the army coming. We have to take risks. And if we want the Achuri on our side once this is done, we have to do something more than just attack the Houses. Hell, half the people coming to us are just mercenaries afraid they’re on the losing side. If we want the people on our side, we need to do something for them. For all their friends and family that are still locked up in there, dying. That will bring the whole city over to our side. And even the Councilate won’t be able to stop us then.”
Karhail shifted, cracking his knuckles.
“He’s right,” Eyna put in. “There are twice as many people in the prison as in our ranks or the Councilate’s. And they’re the people we’re supposed to be defending.”
Still, Karhail worked his knuckles.
“This could work, Kar,” Theron said. “If he can find a way to get them out—”
“It won’t work,” Beal interrupted. “It’s another stupid idea that’ll get us all killed. Your plan is still the best, Karhail.”
Karhail studied the fish-eyed wafter, then the rest of the fighters before returning to Tai, blue eyes dark. “How would you do it?”
Tai thought for a second. “We’re going to need a wagon, and oil, and weapons.” He grinned. “Lots of weapons.”
An hour later, a girl with one arm shuffled through the Hightown shopfronts. She clearly had neither the money nor the social position to shop there, and the Yersh jeweler was ready to cry thief when her good arm clutched a chain of pearls. The girl was ready to run too, though not fast enough, and the lawkeepers caught her halfway across the square. What the Yershman couldn’t understand, angrily polishing his smudged necklace, was the girl’s satisfied smirk as they dragged her away.
In the forested hills west of Hightown, in a glade near the Ayugen prison camp, two figures sat on a pair of dead trees, kindling a fire. They wore Councilate white, though the young man looked too rough to have come from the capital, and the woman’s red hair marked her as unlikely to have risen anywhere in Councilate service. She strung and unstrung her bow, checking every arrow, and he blew on the fire with the intent look of a winter traveler, as though everything depended on the flames.
A hundredpace distant, a group of burly lumberjacks rode away from the glade on a creaking wagon. Closer inspection might have noted a House Galya sigil hastily scrubbed from the side of the wagon. Or the way the wagon clanked as much as creaked, as if carrying a load of iron rather than
wood. Or the really very burly nature of the lumberjacks, and the way their axes were better shaped for battle than forestry. Strangest of all was a Minchu among them, wiry red hair seeming to cover all but the most prominent parts of his face. As the elk pulled them toward the prison, he hacked at the largest log, sharpening the end into a wicked point.
Tai blew on the fire, now popping merrily with the addition of dried needleaf branches. Eyna worked behind him, applying cooking oil in little spurts to the crackle-dry branches of the two downed trees, humming an unfamiliar tune. She returned when the flask was empty. “Think it’s time?”
Tai left his meditation to gaze at the sky, counting hands from the horizon. If all had gone well, Lumo and the others were in position, and Aelya had been in the camp for over a hand now. “Aye. Waiting won’t make the sun shine.”
He stood, taking a ball of yura, and locked arms with her in the rebellion way. “Remember, we’re not here to fight. If you get surrounded, if you get overwhelmed, run. I will do the same.”
They moved to the thick ends of the two trees, tiny fire crackling in between. Tai wrapped his arms around the trunk and struck resonance. “Three—two—one!”
They pulled out and up, rising into the air. Eyna was not as strong as he, her tree maybe half the size, but she was still the next strongest wafter in the rebellion. Her tree caught first, cooking oil and dry needles lighting in a whoosh of heat and light. Tai’s caught a moment later, dragging over the fire. He shoved up and out, as much to escape the heat as to make best use of the fire.
The forest canopy spread beneath him, Eyna ahead trailing a column of black smoke and sparks. He shot above and to her left, following the road below until it opened in a giant cleared glade. The prison camp was a bulbous porcupine in its middle, new expansion mostly finished and people jammed inside. Even with the expansion, the grounds inside were packed, many of those faces watching the sky.
