by Levi Jacobs
Curly’s eyes were saucers in the night. “Are you going to turn into the Blackspine?”
“I—yes. But I’m not going to hurt anyone. All I want to do is get us to safety.”
Curly nodded, grabbing on. Tai was relieved to feel Fisher already holding tight. Pang took his shoulders from the back. “Are you sure you can do this?” she asked, mouth right next to his ear. “Do you have enough power?”
He wasn’t sure if she meant his uai, just beginning to ache in his spine, or the strength of his resonance, but it didn’t matter. Either way he didn’t know. But that was not what you said to a group of kids you loved just before you flew them past hostile Titans. “I’ll be fine,” he said.
It was a gamble. But once his uai was digested—likely by the morning—they would truly be stuck. And a life inside these walls, having failed his kids, would be worse than death. Part of him still couldn’t believe the rebels hadn’t come, not at least Eyna and Theron, but maybe something had happened. “Here we go. Close your eyes if you get scared okay?”
Tai struck his resonance, air thickening, and pushed up, holding nothing back.
They didn’t shoot up, like he would have alone, but they left the ground, fast enough. Curly gave a yelp and Tai winced, but there was nothing for it. They rose into the air.
And here was the test: the walls panned past them, three times the height of a man, four, five—then the walkway was sliding past, fighters lounging on the wall in the torchlight. All it needed was one of them to look over, to notice something in the torchlight, to feel a resonant hum—
They didn’t. Tai let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and Pang relaxed against him as well. They were free.
Then someone shouted.
Tai cursed, eyes snapping to the wall, looking for targets, trying to think of solutions. Fighters were rising all around them. What could he do--drop? Ram them? Anything he did would hurt the kids.
But no one flew at them. Instead more shouts sounded—from the far side of the wall. Where a ruddy orange blaze was growing in the night.
The rebels. They’d come.
Tai held back a shout of triumph as they rose higher, two paces or more above the guard’s line of sight now. The rebels had come as planned, dousing the stacks of timber stacks with oil, then torching them in the night. “Thank you,” he whispered as they rose higher. “Thank you.”
Wafters rose from the wall to investigate, air humming with resonance. And only then did Tai realize his mistake.
A shout sounded, much closer by. A wafter. Tai looked left and saw him, flying for them. He’d spotted them when he rose off the wall to get to the fire. Of course.
Tai cursed, and pushed upward harder, with little effect. He was at his maximum, and weighed down like this the Titan was faster. Something else, then.
Tai dropped his upward push and shoved them at the wafter, the sudden motion jerking them ahead. The Titan, surprised, shot out of the way, and Tai poured everything into the forward shove, losing height fast as they streaked over the wall. They wouldn’t get away with speed, and he couldn’t attack the man—he had to be smarter. So one pace past the wall he shoved down, dropping into the black shadow cast by the high wall in the torchlight. The kids tensed against him, feeling the drop, and he pressed them back, into the wall, three paces or so from the ground.
The wafter shot overhead, then slowed, trying to find them in the dimness, fire raging around the far corner.
“C’mon,” Tai found himself saying, pressing them all against the wall, “go, give it up, go.” His back was starting to ache—he was burning uai much faster than normal, holding up this much weight.
The Titan didn’t go. He circled around instead, looking for them. They were sitting ducks in this position.
He wafted back closer, even as shouts and cries rang out from the direction of the fire. Tai let them drop, slowly, backs to the wall, deep in the shadow, murmuring to the kids. “There’s a Titan who’s trying to find us. It’s okay, but when we hit the ground I’m going to need you all to run, okay? Run into woods, and keep running till you’re sure you’re safe. You can all meet at Marrem’s, and she’ll help you from there. Okay?”
Curly clutched him harder as they neared the ground, and the Titan was almost directly overhead. “Tai no,” he whispered. “We need you.”
They touched down, Tai’s spine burning, and just crouched there for a moment, watching the Titan overhead. Go, Tai urged him, forget it, Hake saying them with him, like a prayer. Just go.
A commanding shout came from overhead and the Titan flew off. Tai’s shoulders sagged with relief. “Can we go?” Ping hissed, staring up as well.
“Yes,” he hissed back. “We’re going to run for the woods. Stick together, and watch out for stumps.” They all three nodded, eyes wide but determined. “I love you guys.”
They started to go, but Fisher stayed put, clinging to his coat, shaking her head. With a last glance up, Tai hoisted her onto his back, and they ran into the dark.
23
We have determined that the refinement of one’s thoughts are directly related to the consistency and tint of one’s hair. The Minchu, At’li and Achuri reveal their base natures in the twiglike proportion of their mops. The Seingard and Yati, though thinner in strand, are yet stained black and red by their baser mentalities. It is only we, the true Yersh descendants, who are possessed of the finest and lightest of hair, indicating our proper place in ruling the world.
--Eglen Fetterwel, Human Nature and Divine Right
The kids took to the forest hideout like fish to water, memories of their time in the prison camp sloughing off in the excitement of a new home. Curly liked to hang around the training grounds, imitating the new recruits with a stick for a sword, and Pang usually worked in the longhouses, mending clothes and tending cookfires. In a lot of ways, it was the sort of life he’d always wanted for them. Except the threat of Councilate attack.
And except for Fisher. He’d never seen her withdrawn for this long. Even when he’d first found her on the streets, she’d started to come out of it after a few days. But something about this time was different. “Oi,” Aelya said, interrupting his thoughts. “Getting broody on me again?”
“What?” Tai stood over a large pot, wood spoon forgotten in his hand. “No. Just thinking.”
“Same thing.” Aelya stood next to him, giving the roasting barley a critical eye. “What about?”
Tai shrugged. “How if we could just stay here, if the Councilate would just disappear, how good a life this would be.”
Aelya nodded soberly. “And if I could grow a cock I could lay any woman in this hideout.” She gave a wry grin when Tai didn’t laugh. “No sense in worrying about it, though. We’re doing what we can. Meck, half the time you’re off raiding or fighting or whatever. How do you think I feel, sitting around here with a bandage on my belly waiting for you to die and the mecking Titans to pour in?”
Tai nodded. “I just wonder if it’ll be enough. You weren’t there, Aelya. You didn’t see the people in the camp, the bodies they were carting out. We need to get them out now.”
Aelya worked her jaw. “I saw the ones that escaped. I’ve seen Fisher. But you’re the one who said it, we need an army.” She gestured to the woods, where new recruits were clearing more forest for longhouses. The hideout had doubled in size. “And we’re making one.”
“Yeah. I just—even if we kill them all, they’re just going to send more. Can we ever get big enough to hold off the whole Councilate?”
“We don’t need to. We just make it too expensive to stay.”
Tai shrugged. “Every time we do a strike, I can’t help thinking it’s that many more people they’re going to throw into the prison.” Councilate arrests had stepped up in time with rebel attacks.
Aelya waved a hand. “It won’t matter once we get them out. And with yuraloading, meck, we’re already stronger than them.”
Tai paddled the barley up from the
bottom, muscles straining against the weight. “That’s another thing, forcing the new recruits to load. Have you been to the Gauntlet?” That was what they’d started calling the row of trees a few paces into the forest, where they tied new recruits to yuraload. “Have you seen how many are dying?” You could often hear their screams, ringing through hideout.
Aelya shrugged. “It’s on them to join us or not. If they’re willing to die for it, we know they’re loyal. And most of them come out stronger than they were. Sides, not that many of them actually die.”
With the amount of new recruits though, it was still a lot. He had seen the bodies getting carted away into the forest for burial, reminding him too much of the cart in the prison camp. He needed to ask Ella if she had any theories on how to prevent yuraloads from going bad. “I still think it should be a choice.”
“We don’t have choices now. It’s either kill the Councilate or get killed.”
There was something wrong with that, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was.
Before he could, Curly ran up to them carrying a wooden sword comically outsized for his thin frame. “Tai! Can you show me how to fight like you do?”
Tai grinned despite himself. “You probably already use it better than I could. Who gave you that?” Fisher came trailing behind him—she followed one or another of the kids around all day.
“I earned it,” he said, chest puffing out. “Theron made it, and told me if I could beat him at one-handed combat, I could keep the sword. And I beat him!”
Tai struggled to the keep the smile from his face. “Well done. Did you see him do it, Fishy?”
The girl just stared at him, silver-black locks in her eyes.
“It’s just us, Fishy,” Aelya said, holding out a hand to her. “Everything’s okay.”
She scooted behind Curly, one hand shooting out to hold his. “Don’t worry, Tai,” Curly said, his voice high and scratchy. “I’ll take care of her.”
Tai nodded, stomach knotting. “Good. Thank you, Curly.”
Curly nodded sharp like Tai had been an officer barking orders, then pulled Fisher away. “C’mon Fishy, let’s go find Pang.”
Aelya put a hand on Tai’s arm. “Fisher will come around.”
Tai watched them go, emotions roiling in his chest. What if she never did? What if she was the price he paid for failing them?
He couldn’t tell if this last thought was his or Hake’s—it was hard sometimes. But instead of gratitude, or relief, Hake had just been putting more guilt on him since the camp, saying he should have saved them sooner. And much as he felt that way, Tai didn’t want to hear it from Hake too, so they hadn’t been talking much.
At the other end of the clearing fighters were emerging from the forest with a wooden wagon, painted in Galya’s seven-armed squid. From the looks of it, it was loaded down with foodstuffs meant for the mines. The fighters wore green bands tied around their necks, something they’d taken to in recent days for ease in battle. A cheer went up, as it usually did when a successful party returned, though Tai noticed two of the fighters were limping.
Tai stood, restless to do something, to work out the worry in his chest. Aelya took the paddle from him with a sigh. “Better go see what happened then, hero.”
Karhail was among the fighters, wearing a green cape. “Successful strike?”
“Aye,” the Seinjial grinned, wolfish. “And we got one of them to talk. More wagons headed out around starset. We could use your help on this one. You in?”
“Always.” It was doing something, at least.
First he had a meeting with Ella, though. They’d agreed to meet every three days, to share updates and information. This would be their third or fourth meeting, and on the walk in to Ayugen Tai was surprised to find himself actually looking forward to it. Though she was a lighthair, and looked and talked and acted that way, she was funny too, and she seemed to really care what happened to the Achuri. Which made her very much not a lighthair, as far as he was concerned.
Their meetings were also a welcome break from the bustle of the camp and the constant danger of their raids. A chance to just stroll and chat, without kids or rebels demanding things of him.
She was waiting as usual on the railing of the carved bridge that arched over the Sanga, milky water rushing underneath.
“Afternoon, ma’am,” he said, dipping the ridiculously tall hat he’d chosen on purpose from their store of Councilate disguises.
She glanced over, hair tucked into a Yati wrap and long figure hidden in a bulky dress. “You must have me mistaken for someone else,” she said, as though her mouth were full of mush. Was that supposed to be a Yati accent? “I’m just waiting for my mistress.”
“Well perhaps you’d enjoy a stroll in the meantime?”
This had become a thing they did, after he’d shown up in Councilate whites and her in Achuri roughspun for their second meeting, pretending to be someone else and generally failing miserably.
“I’d be, ah, scandalized sir, but yes, I suppose.”
She took his arm like a lighthaired lady, breaking her disguise, but then he was probably walking or talking or likely doing it all differently than lighthaired gentleman would.
“What news from the Tower?” he asked, once they were out into the fields south of the city.
“The usual gossip,” she said, switching to her regular, slur-mouthed Councilate Yersh. “The rebels are going to destroy the city, they are almost wiped out, someone cheated on someone else’s fiancé, that sort of thing.”
He didn’t actually know what that sort of thing was, but he nodded. “Anything that seems useful?”
She pulled a flower from the dewblossoms edging a melon field. “There’s been a lot of talk of the raids on yura shipments. Sounds like they are sending yura in smaller quantities now, and storing them in Newgen or their bluffmanses rather than down at the docks.”
“Great, thanks. It does seem like there’s been less yura in the raids we’ve been doing.”
“Are you—involved in all of them?”
Was she hesitant because it meant he was in danger, or that he was hurting other lighthairs? “I am. The rebellion doesn’t have any wafters as strong as I am, and it comes in handy.”
“So what’s the long-term goal, then? You just keep harrying their flanks until they give up?”
“The goal is to get him of them.”
Her eyebrows raised. “You mean kill them? I’m technically one of them, you know.”
“No, not kill them. The plan is to push them out economically. To keep raiding mines and burning dockhouses and sinking ships until it’s too expensive for them to stay here, and the Houses pull out.”
She regarded the dewblossom she’d plucked. “That’s a pretty good idea, actually. But it’s still a Councilate idea.”
“What do you mean?”
“Economics. Money. That’s how the Councilate thinks. You’re beating them on their terms, and that’s good. It’ll probably work, if you get big enough. But I mean what’s the solution after they leave?”
Tai shook his head. “To…live in peace, I guess.”
“Okay. So who are the rebels, really? Achuri people?”
“No. They’re mostly not Achuri, actually. We’ve got Seinjials, Yati, a Yershman…”
She nodded. “It takes people who were born and raised in the Councilate to figure that kind of plan. But it’s not a solution.”
Tai frowned. “I just figured that’s all a problem for after the rebellion.”
She shook her head. “Don’t you see? Your rebellion is thinking in Councilate terms. It’s people raised in the Councilate, or affected by it at least. So say you push the Councilate out. Then what?”
“Then we organize locally, and get back to living how we want to.”
“And how do you organize it, the way it was before the Councilate came? But there are new people here now, and a new source of money. Yura is the most valuable substance in the world. Who gets to c
ontrol that?”
Tai struggled. “I guess I thought we’d figure that out when we got to it.”
“Well the easiest answer will be to set up Houses, or companies, or whatever you want to call them, that run their own mines and sell their yura. And soon enough you’ll have a mini-Councilate. And if you keep them out and make enough money, your Houses might start thinking about expanding, hiring more people, finding more markets. So maybe you conquer the Minchu, or try and take Yatiland back from the Councilate.”
“We would never do that!”
She raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t you? Maybe you wouldn’t, but what about the people in the rebellion? Karhail, the one you said was leading, others who came from the Councilate. Will they be able to imagine anything really different? Be happy with the kind of life people might have been leading here, before they knew yura was valuable and before the Councilate cared about anyone this far south?”
“I… don’t know.”
She nodded. “Even if you do get them out, their ideas are still here. Newgen is still there, and people are still going to look at it and think the best life is one lived in glass towers, with fancy buildings and imported foods.”
“Maybe they will. With yura to sell, we’ll have enough to do that, if we want to.”
“But to make enough money off that yura, you have to undercut your people in the mines. And to sell it somewhere, you’ll have to sell it to your enemies downstream, powering their armies to come back. This is what I’m saying. It isn’t the people that are the enemy. Killing lighthairs won’t change anything. Yes, there are some bad people in the Councilate, people who are so obsessed with money or power or whatever that they’ve lost all sense of humanity. Odril is one of those. But most of them are like you or me, caught up in Councilate ideas, in the wave of change that’s made it the biggest empire in history. And if the rebellion is caught in that wave too, at best you’ll end up just another Councilate, with its own rebellions to crush.”
