by L. W. Jacobs
The Tower commons was a kicked anthill of lighthairs. Women wept and men wore stern faces, many of them taking weapons from a pair of soldiers offering them out. “We’re done for!” a woman wailed a few paces away. Ella recognized her as the roosterish woman who’d cornered her a few days ago.
“We’re not done for,” one of the men barked, buckling a sword to his side. “The Arbiter has more surprises for these rebels than they think.”
Ella shivered, huddled with the rest of them, unsure who she wanted to win. Would the rebels kill her if Tai didn’t find her first? Would the soldiers kill her if she tried to go join them? What was she even doing here? She crouched, ready to strike resonance at any moment, while outside men shouted and died. The fighting sounded close at times, but no rebels broke into the Tower, and after a few hours, the shouts died down, soldiers beginning to carry wounded in, seeking medical attention.
Brusque men herded them from the central space, saying it was over, the rebels had been repelled, to return to their rooms unless they had medical knowledge. Ella went in a daze. The rebels had been repelled. Had they been defeated? Was Tai dead? It all felt unreal somehow, the Tower’s carpets still plush beneath her feet, her books and room as she’d left them.
The view out the window told a different story. Bodies littered the streets, more floating in the waters beneath, lighthair and dark alike. Blood ran down the stone walls of the city, and figures limped through the streets, moans audible through the glass.
Was this victory?
Part of her wanted to record it, knew history would benefit from a keen telling of what had happened, from accounts of survivors. The other part wanted to forget it, to stop thinking about the dead men down there, wondering if Sablo or Tai or others she’d known were among them. Disputes and politics aside, none of them deserved to die. She could see that now.
Ella went down after a time, doing what she could to help with the healing, carrying water, binding wounds, offering comfort to the soldiers stretched out on the ballroom floor. Victory had come at a heavy cost—the commons was covered in bodies, many rolling or moaning, others too still. Blood stained the fine carpet, and the smell of flesh was heavy on the air. She gave them what comfort she could, holding their hands and listening to them talk of wives far away, rationing dreamleaf tincture to the worst off. One man spoke of his family’s estate; another asked after his children. Some of them were only bodies when Ella reached them, their hearts stopped and eyes dull.
It was exhausting but felt good, too. As much as they needed dreamleaf or medical aid, the wounded needed companionship just as badly. In helping them she found a salve for her own fear, for the loneliness she’d felt since Sablo’s betrayal. Maybe they were Councilate men and women, there only for their own profit, serving only themselves, but their pain was real. Their desire not to die.
Sitting with a panting man, face bruised and chest bound, she had time to wonder: was she any different? Was she really working for anyone other than herself? The arbitration, her time in Ayugen, even her scholarship before that—it had all been about her. The benefit to others put off to some time in the future. Here, at least, she could feel she was something more than a selfish lighthair. It was like a cool drink after days without water. Maybe this was what she’d been missing. Doing something for someone other than herself. Being of service.
With time, the wounds were bound, the fighters asleep or resting, and the volunteers outnumbered the wounded. Ella returned to her room, carrying a bound ball of dried meat and nuts the Tower was distributing. She felt exhausted and cleaned out, like the body after a long cry. Ella laid down on the bed, packet uneaten, and fell asleep.
She woke to more shouts. Ella started up, striking resonance. The sun was low out the window—she had slept an hour or more. She unslipped again, listening. Were they under attack? The city outside looked peaceful, most of the bodies cleared from the street and waterways. The shouts came from inside the Tower—but they were growing distant. Maybe some new thing discovered higher up, some leftover of the battle.
She unwrapped the packet of food, husk paper crackling in the quiet of her room. She took a bite, listening, wondering if more men were dying. If it was her time to die, caught alone in her room by rebels. She took another bite and found herself crying, thinking of the soldiers dying on their makeshift beds.
Ella. Hey. It’s all right.
She snorted, still crying. “Like you would know.”
You’re not alone. I’m here for you.
“You’re not REAL!” she half-shouted. “You’re just some shatting self-talk!”
I’m all you’ve got, Ella.
This made her cry all the harder, shaking her head. Telen was all she had. All her work, all her suffering, and she was alone too. Would anyone care if she died? How would they even find out?
A rumble of boots passed her door, shouts sounding. Ella kept crying, losing herself in it, shoulders shaking, food rolling from slack hands.
Her tears were reduced to dry sobs by the time voices returned in the corridor, sounding calmer. A knock came at the door.
“Yes?”
“Ma’am? Open up. We need to check your room.”
She went to the door, making no attempt to straighten up, to wipe away her tears. What did it matter?
A young Councilate soldier stood there, hardly more than her own age. His eyes widened. “Is anyone here with you?”
She half-laughed. “No one.”
He pushed past her. “I’ll just need to take a look inside.”
She followed him like a lost dog. “Is everything all right?”
“We were attacked,” he said briefly, looking in her latrine area, stooping to glance under the bed. “The rebel’s gone now; we’re just searching to make sure.” He stood. “The room looks fine. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She had an insane urge to reach for him, to drag him to her, to force some kind of connection with him there on the floor with the door open wide.
He left, shutting her in the empty room. She sat, looking at her hands, feeling hollow.
A knock sounded. “You already checked,” she tried to call, voice little more than a whisper.
Another knock. Ella pulled herself up, opened the door. “You already checked this room. No one here.” She began to close it.
“Ella, wait!”
She looked up, eyebrows knitting.
Tai’s face was a shock. “Tai? What are you doing here?”
“Trying to stay alive! Let me in?”
She shook her head, thoughts a mush. Telen was yelling at her to shut the door. “Are you the one they’re looking for?”
“Yes,” he hissed. “I am. I did something stupid. Now let me in?” Something in her opened at his gaze, his need. “Please.”
She swung the door wide. “Of course.”
Tai darted in and she closed it again, turned to face him.
“I’m sorry to put you through this trouble,” he said. “If they come in, I’ll go. You can say I forced my way in, I—”
He broke off, watching her approach. Ella was shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter. It’s okay. Sit.”
“Are you okay?” he asked, glancing again at the door.
She pursed her lips. “I’ve been better. But you’re safe now; that’s the important thing. They already checked once. I’ll keep them out if they come again.”
He nodded and sat, body taut as a bowstring. “Thank you.”
She sat next to him, searching for words. “What did you do?”
“I tried to abduct the High Arbiter.”
She nodded, unsurprised. “I saw you in the fight this morning. What you did—”
“It was terrible,” he said. “Stupid. I should never have agreed to it. Too many people died today.”
“I know. It’s okay. You did your best.”
Tai said nothing, staring at his bare feet, one bound in bloody cloth.
“It’s nice to see you,” sh
e said honestly. “I thought maybe you’d died too. I tried to warn you—of the traitor—”
“You knew?”
She nodded. “But Newgen was locked down. I couldn’t find you.”
He nodded, hand going to the back of his neck, where she saw another bandage tied. “It’s all right. We were recruiting too fast, anyway. There were probably tons of traitors among us.”
She heard the finality in his voice. “The rebellion. Is it done now?”
He rolled his shoulders. “I don’t know. We lost a lot of people, and with the army coming up the river…taking Newgen was our last chance. Their last chance. But maybe it’s better if it’s done. We can separate into the forests, move to the towns along the ice sheet. Let them have the yura if they want it so bad.”
“That will give you time,” she said, thinking of her histories, “but the Councilate won’t stop with the mines. They never do. Once they’re dug in here, they’ll spread out to the ice sheet. Find what they can exploit there, food or resources or just human labor, and probably out to the At’li after that. They won’t stop until the whole world is theirs.”
Tai put his head in his hands. “I know. We should fight. But I—I can’t keep doing it like this. You said whatever we replace the Councilate with has to be different. But I keep thinking the way we replace them has to be different too, or we’ll still have enemies, still have widows and kids and—” He choked off.
“Are you okay?”
“My— Someone very close to me almost died today.” He took a shaking breath. “And I don’t know how many I killed.”
Her heart opened to him. “I’m so sorry.”
A wounded sob came from him, tears rolling down his cheeks. “All I can think,” he said through it, “is that I can’t do it to anyone else. And at the same time, I want to. I want to go and take revenge for my friends, for my kids. Want to win this war.” He shook his head, tears drying up.
Ella just sat with him. What was there to say? “Revenge is for you,” she said at last. It was a LeTwi quote. “Justice is for everyone.”
He shook his head. “I don’t even want justice. I just want them to understand what they’re doing to us, to the people in the camps.”
She felt the same way. Justice hadn’t changed anything with Odril. “They’re too blinded by their notions of the world. Like Sablo was. He actually said the prison camps are the best we can do to bring civilization to the Achuri.” She paused. “I used to think there was nothing we could do. That the whole thing was too big.”
He furrowed his eyebrows. “And then what?”
“And then I realized that’s what my voice wanted me to think. That it was just one truth among many, and a truth that was holding me back. And once I realized that”—she shrugged—“I saw through it. He lost his hold on me.”
“So, how do we get everyone else to see through it? Get the Councilate to see through their illusions that this whole thing they’re doing is right?”
She pursed her lips. “I think they have to do it on their own. But we can be examples.” She thought of something. “How are your yuraloaders?”
Tai pursed his lips. “Actually, most of them that managed to load agree with me. They don’t want to keep killing and dying either. But no one’s got a better way.”
“Maybe this is the better way. That we all just have to see through our illusions, through whatever voice is holding us back. And if enough of us do it, the Councilate won’t be able to stop us. The Councilate won’t be the Councilate anymore, if people stop believing in it.”
Tai worked at his hands. “But how do we do that? The army gets here tomorrow.”
Footsteps sounded in the hall and they both paused, listening. Ella shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe this is the time to run. Regroup somewhere and try it a different way.”
He nodded. “But I can’t. I can’t leave them in the camp like that. The Councilate will kill them all.”
“You’ll think of something.”
He kept working at his hands, and she felt the pull to do something for him, to help him somehow. At least with hope. Ella put a better expression on her face. “Tell you what: I’ll fix the Councilate if you’ll handle the rebellion.”
He laughed, some humor in it. “Deal. Don’t forget to call the army off, too. Oh, and if you could, get these soldiers to stop looking for me.”
She smiled, happy to see him happy. “Sure thing.”
Their laughter quieted, and she was suddenly aware of her hand on his arm. Of how short their lives could be. Tai stood. “I should go.”
“No,” she said, holding tighter to his sleeve. “I— It’s too dangerous still. They’ll find you. Stay at least until starset, until it’s too dark for them to see you.”
He turned, their bodies close in the small room. There was need in his eyes, something vulnerable beneath the surface. “Ella, I—”
A knock sounded at the door. Tai tensed under her hand, the air suddenly shaking as he struck resonance. “What is it?” she called.
The door burst open. “It’s him!” a voice called.
Tai shot up from her and, in a shatter of glass, was gone, cold air rushing in.
The officer cursed, soldiers flooding into the room. “You were right!”
“He’s here!” others shouted. “The rebel was here!” A wafter shot out the window after Tai.
The officer turned to her, eyes narrowing. “What were you doing in here?”
37
Now and then, I could almost swear my powers extend beyond my own body.
—Artimus Kellandrials, Collected Broadsheets, Yielmoon 109
Tai smashed through the glass, arms crossed before him, shooting into the night. A wafter burst after him and he shoved downward, cutting between the shingled rooftops, slicing left, then right along the enclave’s winding streets, until he couldn’t see the wafter behind.
Tai pressed himself against a high wall, watching for pursuers. No one came—he must have lost the man. His first thought was of Ella. She’d been caught with a rebel. Lighthair or not, they would take her for questioning. He couldn’t leave her like that.
He flew back, staying low along the water, then bounced up along the spiraling glass walls of the Tower. Her room was obvious, its large pane shattered. From the dark he watched Ella wrapped in a blanket, talking to the captain of the guard. They were discussing something, but she didn’t appear to be in any danger. Ancestors, she was beautiful. In another time, another place—
He pushed the thoughts out of his head. This was neither of those, and he still had people to protect. Too many. Ella said something to the captain and he nodded, turning to leave. She was safe.
Unlike him. He might have the lost the wafter, but the Councilate would keep looking. And when they didn’t find him, his attack on the Arbiter would make them move against the rebel caves. If they hadn’t already.
With a last look to make sure Ella was okay, Tai shoved up and out, cold wind whistling past him. He arced toward the rebel caves, the city’s lights sparse in the night.
Even in the dark, their location was painfully clear. Their retreat had trampled a road from Newgen straight to the caves—but it was all of a piece. Whether they fled or fought, the Councilate knew where they were now. Tai knew in his gut Ella was right—fleeing and regrouping would be the same as giving up. The Councilate would follow them, would be stronger for the money they made from the recaptured mines, would push out to the ice sheet and beyond now that they had a foothold. They needed to stop that push now. But how?
Tai dropped to the trampled field. They had tried the all-out attack, and the Councilate had been ready for them. He had tried a surprise attack and been overwhelmed. What else could they do? It had to be something new, something they wouldn’t be expecting. He still liked the idea of hostages—life for life rather than death for death. The compound of Newgen was out, but the High Arbiter would still be a powerful chip. Perhaps if he went with a team, just the best�
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Tai followed the trail of discarded armor and weapons between two boulders. Cold iron found his throat. “Who goes?” a voice whispered.
“It’s Tai, Pendra.”
“Prophets. We thought you’d gone.”
“I did, and I’m back. I plan a strike on the Tower, now, tonight. We can’t wait another day. Are you with me?”
Pendra met his eyes in the dim light and held up her fist.
Tai locked arms with her. “Good. Let me gather the others.”
“Karhail has been in a foul mood since your leaving.”
“Let him be. This is bigger than our squabbles.”
The chamber below was as he’d left it, the wounded and sleeping crammed next to each other, a few up tending the wounded.
Karhail sat up on seeing him. “Tai. Where have you been?”
“I tried to take the High Arbiter hostage.”
“You what?” Weiland barked. Others woke at the sound of their voices.
“I failed,” Tai said, “but I believe with more men, we can succeed.”
“We need our men here,” Karhail said, “to defend the caves.”
“For what, to die slowly? We are in no shape to lead a second assault, and we saw today Newgen has more troops than they’d let on. In a few days, they’ll have thousands more. Our only hope is to strike now, behead their forces here.”
“To what end? They will just appoint a replacement and wait for their troops to arrive.”
“No,” Weiland shook his head. “That’s not how the Councilate works.”
“It’s how the army works,” Karhail glowered. “I should know.”
“But the civil side works different,” Weiland said. “High Arbiters are chosen from a Council House, often a second or third son. They have to forswear their loyalties to take the position, but it’s known they still serve their House’s interests, and their House will protect them as they would any other family member.”
Tai nodded. “My thought was to take the Arbiter and anyone else we can manage in this strike. Tomorrow, we announce a parley and take whatever high-ranks they send. If we can get more hostages after, good.”
