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Even from his obstructed view, Diego could see La Belleza was a charred shell of its former self. Half the roof had collapsed, and the windows were nothing more than reflective pools on the ground. The fire had burned so hot and quickly it had destroyed the building in minutes. Diego was intimately familiar with flames that hot. It was the work of magia.
A numbness threatened to drown out his thoughts until he forced himself to shake it by sheer force of will. He would deal with this as he dealt with most things, with grim resolve. He removed a wine flask from his inner pocket and drank.
Kay pushed her way up the hill from behind him. There was a look of complete terror on her face that squeezed at Diego’s heart. He thought about that lanky boy she had come to the brothel with. A crowd gathered around the wreckage and whispered in hushed worried tones.
It took effort for Diego not to rush in with Kay, but he noticed the hill was teeming with guards picking through what was left of the building. He couldn’t risk being recognized. There was still a job he had to do.
Diego heard the people around him whisper about the fire, which appeared seemingly out of nowhere, and then disappeared just as quickly leaving behind scattered flames that the soldiers had put out with buckets of water carried from the fountains. The older citizens, the ones that could remember the Great Flame, remarked on how similar it was to the catastrophe that had almost destroyed Alderas nearly thirty years ago.
He could smell the acrid smoke in the air. It was mingled with something almost imperceptible to him if not for his memories. He had smelled this before on the night he murdered Daeve, Mari’s brother.
He waited for Kay to return while trying his best to make himself inconspicuous. Some of the older men and women around him turned and stared, but if they recognized him, they said nothing. He hated the helpless feeling in his stomach. It had plagued him his entire life, a curse that followed him wherever he went, forcing him to live with it while so many people around him died.
This was the first time since leaving the castillo that he was left without a plan. He was left to do nothing but stare into the faces of the people around him. He didn’t like what he saw. There was a haunted look to them. Their eyes darted left and right as if afraid of the shadowy corners. Their fingers as skittish as tiny mice. He didn’t blame them. They had been through much in their lives, and like a crack on a stone roof, any more pressure could send the whole thing collapsing.
“This city is cursed,” a wrinkled man with a shaggy beard whispered to a woman beside him.
She nodded silently.
“It hadn’t always been,” a younger man with the same broad nose as the other interjected. “All this wasn’t happening when the Old Fox was up at the castillo. Things had been better then.”
“Yeah, but where is he now? Dead like the Reals, I suspect.”
“Dark days are coming,” the woman added.
Diego had heard enough. He moved away and brooded silently. The fools. They seemed to think he was some sort of charm, that having him at the castillo helped better their lives in some way. If they only knew who he really was, nothing but a murderer, they would be quick to change their minds.
It wasn’t long until Kay’s smiling face found him sulking among the crowd.
He let out a long breath when he saw her, and the knot in his stomach loosened slightly.
“Everyone’s fine. The place was raided when the fire started. They all ran away when the building caught on fire. Everyone escaped by the time the guards realized what had happened. A woman that lives nearby said she saw Mari with a man and a boy heading down the road.”
Raymundo was with Mari.
“That’s good.” He couldn’t help but grin himself.
Everyone was okay. Nobody was hurt. Mari’s brothel was half burnt to the ground, but she could rebuild. Diego would help her do it even if he had to force his coin into her bitter hands.
“Nobody was hurt,” he repeated to himself.
“Well...I wouldn’t say that. A guard got charred. Other guards are picking up what’s left of him away now. Good riddance, right?”
A dead guard. Another death. So many bodies. Where does it end? The list of dead was long, and it grew longer still. It didn’t seem right, but he was grateful it wasn’t Mari. He had no more room for the guilt that would undoubtedly cause.
He wondered who the soldier was and if he had anyone that would miss him. The worst thing about all the death was it no longer troubled him as much as it used to.
His smile vanished.
The craving for wine intensified tenfold.
“What is it?” Kay asked.
“Mari and the others. We have no way of knowing where they’ve gone now,” he explained, burying his previous thoughts.
He eyed the thinning crowd. A serving woman. Two orphans. An older man and wife. A well-to-do merchant. An elevada of the lowest order judging by her simple robes. All of them with the same thin frown. They had gone silent as the guards pushed forward with their dead. None of them were lasiim, he noted. Another thing that didn’t seem right.
“I know where they went.” Kay’s crooked smile returned.
“And how do you know a thing like that?” asked Diego, wondering how she knew what he was thinking.
“If I should trust you then you should trust me. Mari and Gad are fine.”
Mari. Of course.
“Fair enough,” Diego said, taking another drink of his wine. “Lead the way.”
She left the dispersing crowd and smoldering remains of the brothel. Diego made to follow her but stopped. A thought suddenly struck him now that the shock of the fire had worn away. The lasiim hadn’t been able—or more accurately not willing—to help. He was no further in stopping the traitor Antonio, no further in helping Isabella or Victor than when he first left La Belleza.
Where were they now, he wondered. Comfortable in a furnished room? Rotting in a cell like the one they gave him? His mind refused to think of the alternative. No. Antonio wouldn’t dare. Not even a comandante would be stupid enough to murder a reina.
The image of Carlo’s head rolling along a carpet came to him unbidden, and he became less sure of that fact.
Fuck it all.
He turned around and went in the opposite direction. Kay had already gone several paces before she turned to him, confused.
“You coming?” She caught up to him, confused.
“No,” he said.
She crossed her arms as if waiting for him to continue.
“Why?” She threw her hands into the air when she realized no other explanation was coming.
“Because we had a plan.”
“The plan was to meet with the lasiim. We did that. They won’t help us,” she said. She batted her hair away. He could tell that the meeting still frustrated her.
“No, the mission was to get help in stopping Antonio,” Diego reminded her.
“So, what are you going to do?” She raised one thick eyebrow and crossed her arms.
“If they won’t help us, then maybe someone else will.”
Raymundo had been right, but not in the way he might have thought. They should have sought help from those powerful enough to speak up against a comandante, not from a group already berated into placidity.
After pausing to consider his words, Kay followed him.
“Who else is there? Do you know some fancy nobles with an army?”
“Yes...but most of them hate me,” he admitted.
“You? But you’re so likable. So, who then?”
He thought about how much to involve a child. The danger she would be was minimal for now. He was confident she could disappear if guards were to somehow identify him.
And then there was the question of how much to trust her. She was lasiim, at least partially, and that made it unlikely that she would be a spy for the lasiim hating Antonio, but one could never be too sure. He learned long ago that Alderian politics was a snake pit of lies. But there was something he liked about her, and he decided to start listening to his instincts.
“The elevadi,” he explained to her.
She coughed as she choked on her laughter. He waited for her fit to pass. It was understandable, after all. The elevadi were an uppity bunch of squabbling old men and women for the most part.
“You’re not joking, are you?” she asked.
“I’m not the joking type.”
“But they're a bunch of skeletons in robes! What makes you think they could help us even if they wanted to?”
“Shedding blood isn’t the only way to wage war,” he said.
“Most would disagree,” she said as they passed a timid group of wine sellers scurrying around a pair of guards.
Diego put his head down like a good old beggar as he passed.
“This isn’t going to end well.” She sighed but wrapped her tattered cloak tighter around herself and kept pace.
“What I said still stands. You completed your part of the deal, and I will stay true to mine. You can go and find your brother.”
He couldn’t forget that he was now considered a traitor. As a traitor, anyone associated with him would be in danger of being labeled one too. It was for the best that Raymundo and Mari had gotten away from him.
“I’m seeing this through. Just think of it as securing what is owed.”
He wasn’t surprised by her decision. He recognized that gleam in her eyes. It spoke of a hunger for something she was trying to find. It spoke of the death of complacency. It was a hunger a younger him would have understood. An older him though questioned the decision.
He pulled her away from prying eyes. To anyone watching it would look like a father scorning his daughter. He wanted to make sure she understood how serious her decision was.
“At the first sign of danger, I want you to leave.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” She smirked.
“I’m serious, Kay.”
She crossed her arms, questioningly. Her posture told him she was annoyed, but her face told a different story. Was it appreciation?
“Okay. I get it. Trust me. The first sign of danger, I’m gone. I’m pretty good at that,” she mumbled.
He raised an eyebrow curiously but decided not to press her. Everyone had the right to their secrets. He found himself feeling relieved. It had been too long, and he had grown too old to remember the city like he used to. Her knowledge of the calles would be useful.
“Besides,” she added, grin back on her face, “I wouldn’t risk anything for a noble.”
“I’m a pretty pitiful noble,” he said.
“Now that’s something to brag about.”
“I think so.”
They left behind the Calle Ambar with its bright and crowded throughways and entered a narrower calle. Here there were no deftly pulled carrulis. It was narrow enough to limit traffic to only litters and pedestrians.
“So where are we meeting this elevadi?” Kay asked.
“We are going to a taberna with an ugly green door known as—”
“The Ugly Door. I know the place.”
He wasn’t surprised.
“Wait, an elevadi at a taberna? Aren’t they supposed to be a symbol of virtue or something?” Kay asked.
“And that means they can’t drink?”
“Well...yes. Doesn’t it?”
Kay was surprisingly ignorant about people for someone who knew so much about Alderas, even more than he would have expected from an orphan. It was like she found the buildings to be more important than the people who lived in them.
He remembered his own time spent on the calles. The way he had to survive by living in the shadows. The way everyone disregarded him and hated it when they were forced to acknowledge him. He understood how that way of thinking could take root.
It wasn’t that Alderians were the enemy, not really, but the entire world was.
When did he stop seeing the world in that way? It was when he met an impossible man by the name of Victor and a naïve woman named Isabella. They had saved him. He hoped he could do the same for them now.
They reached the taberna without any incidents thanks to Kay’s knowledge of the city. There had been a point where a group of patrolling guards were stopping random people they came across, but she had found a way through a side calle—startling a group of orphans—and they avoided the guards with ease.
The sounds of the taberna could be heard from outside even though it was still the middle of the day. There was music and laughter coming from behind that ugly namesake door. It was entirely too loud and forced as if the occupants were trying desperately to keep away the troubles of the outside.
“I’m coming with you,” said Kay from beside him while staring at the bright green door.
“I know.”
“You’re not going to stop me?”
“Would you listen if I tried?”
“No.” She shrugged.
“As I thought.”
They entered the dimly lit taberna. Tables were scattered randomly in the two-story building. The place was half empty although the patrons made enough noise to compensate for it. The back wall was carved from the side of the mountain. It gave the room an earthy scent that mixed with the smell of ale and wine. There was a round, balding barkeep standing in front of the wall handing out drinks from behind a large counter that took the length of almost the entire floor. He was laughing along with a group of men that sat together in the corner. A musician on a squat stage was playing—a not so very well—rendition of the Ballad of My Lost Loves on his guitar.
The place hadn’t changed at all from what he remembered. It brought back memories of drunken nights and good friends.
Kay tried her best to hide her curiosity, but the look on her face betrayed her.
“Never been in a taberna before?”
She shook her head.
“They don’t usually appreciate lasiim orphans hanging around.”
“Stay close,” he said.
Diego led them to the steps leading up to the second floor. The second floor circled above in a half stone and half wooden arc that the patrons were able to peer down and see whoever was on the small stage.
Diego put the hood of his cloak up—which would have looked out of place in any other place except this one—and climbed the stone steps. Kay did the same with her tattered grey one. Just when he began to question if who he was searching for would be here Diego spotted him.
There in the corner, just like he had been every other day since Diego could remember, sat a man by the name of Juan Pavlo. He was Isabella’s Guide, the elevado in charge of the reina’s spiritual wellbeing. Among the people dressed in the colorful Alderian clothes of purples, oranges, and reds, his simple robes of black and white were easy to spot.
The man was stopping his feet and playing along to the music with a flute.
“Still an old drunk I see,” said Diego.
Juan looked up from his ale, face red from drink, and wrinkled his face in confusion, but like the clouds parting after a storm his face lit up in recognition.
“Diego? Frolicking Mother. What are you doing here?” He whispered above the din of the taberna.
“Well from one drunk to another, I could use a drink for a start.” Diego smiled.
“No, but what are you doing here?” Juan emphasized by pointing the flute. “You’re wanted by every Guard in the city.”
“Just like old times then.”
“Well, I suppose it is. Then come and sit and be done with it.” He gestured to a chair.
Diego took a seat across from Juan, and Kay sat beside him with her hood still high on her head. Juan raised his two grey eyebrows, questioningly.
“She’s here with me,” said Diego.
“A little young for you,” said Juan.
Kay made a rude gesture by placing a fist against her chin.
“Feisty too.”
“Are you sure this man is an elevado? Aren’t they supposed to be less...like this?” She gestured towards Juan.
“I admit he’s not the best example of sacred living.” Diego shrugged.
“You’re one to talk. Leti, three ales!” He told a barmaid as she came nearer to clean a table.
Leti stared at them for a moment, eyes lingering on Kay, but eventually nodded and headed downstairs leaving them alone with only two other tables occupied with patrons on this level. Luckily, there were far enough—not to mention drunk enough—away that they had a reasonable amount of privacy.
“This round is on you on account of my elevado salary.”
“You mean nothing,” asked Diego.
“Nothing,” he agreed.
Kay mumbled something along the lines of probably being expected to pay for these as well.
Juan drank the rest of his drink and burped. He wiped casually at his two chins with the collar of his robe. It was hard to believe the man was of the faith, but Diego knew firsthand how deeply the man’s devotion to the Mother and Father went. Besides, he wasn’t one to judge, especially since he thought it was mostly stories told by old men and women to help them sleep better at night.
“I need your help,” said Diego.
“That’s obvious. Why else would you be here when you have the entire city searching for you.”
“I’m no traitor.”
“Another obvious statement. Even the blind could see how much you loved that familia. One can argue a little too much, which I have many times if you remember.”
Leti approached the table. Her thin mouth grew even thinner as she set the drinks down. Her pointed face daring them to say something because she only returned with two drinks. She placed them down with a loud thud that shook the small table.
“The lasiim gets none.”
It hurt him to see that things have gotten worse throughout the years he spent hiding in the castillo. Kay clenched her fists. The girl looked as if she could have thrown both drinks in the woman's face. Diego opened his mouth to object, but before he had the chance Juan spoke in that booming voice of his.
“Now Leti. Is that any way to treat a customer? She’s the same as you and me.”
“They’re not the same. They’ve always been nothing but a bunch of thieves and murderers. You of all people should know. They killed the Real boy.” She crossed her arms and puffed out her chest as if she had just explained something as simple as water flowing downhill.
Kay shuffled beside Diego, but he gently held her down and gave a small shake of his head. It would do them no good to draw attention to themselves. He hated to admit it, but now wasn’t the time to be fighting this fight.
Kay frowned under her hood but stayed quiet.
“Did this girl kill the principe?” Juan off-handedly gestured to Kay. “I sincerely doubt that. Let us remember that The Doctrine of the Dance states that we should treat others as brothers and sisters for we were all born of the Mother and Father’s union. For instance, I wouldn’t dare talk about your affair with a certain barman downstairs to your sweet sister because I would expect the same discretion.”
Diego couldn’t believe that Leti’s lips could get any thinner, but they had completely disappeared into her red face by this point.
“You would know, Brother Juan, about the proper way to treat others I s’pose. I’ll bring another ale for her.” She gave the most sickening smile and left.
“I didn’t need you to speak for me,” said Kay, her face unreadable.
“Yes, well, I’ve been meaning to get her irrevocably angry at me. Keeps her on her toes,” said Juan.
Diego sighed and took a drink of his ale. It was harsh and bitter. It was the best drink he ever had.
“Affair?” Kay asked.
“Hmmm?”
“You said there was an affair she had with a certain barman.”
“Oh. She and the barman frolic in the storage room when they think nobody is looking. Her sister wouldn’t much appreciate her husband doing that. Coincidentally, her sister also works here. Familia business you know.”
Kay laughed almost as loud as the music—which had now turned into a drunken verse of Kisses for the Buffoon—it lingered on her lips even as Leti brought up the other drink. The woman left, suspicious of the laughter. Even Diego found himself smiling at the retreating woman.
“So, what’s this you need now?” Juan took a humongous swig of his drink and wiped at his chin again with his collar.
Kay sniffed at hers and gave it a cautious sip.
“You’ve heard the lies coming from the castillo?” Diego leaned in and whispered, not willing to take a chance at anyone overhearing. The patrons from the next table were singing along and chatting, but one could never be too cautious.
“The entire country has probably heard them by now,” Juan retorted.
“I think it’s time someone starts speaking the truth.”
“Which is?” Juan asked.
“The principe was murdered by his guards to seize control of the city. Not by any Crown men and certainly not by lasiim assassins.”
“You mean to say the Guards, and by extension, Antonio Gavilan?” Juan swept his gaze around the room and if expecting a guard to appear at any moment.
“That’s your plan? Talking?” Kay leaned in to join them. “What happened to getting an army?”
“There isn’t one large enough on this mountain that could take the city in time,” Juan answered for Diego.
“I’ve told her that.” Diego leaned back and drank again.
Kay rolled her eyes.
“But your plan won’t work either. What’s one man, even an extraordinary elevado like myself, supposed to do?”
“Nothing on his own.” Diego grinned. “But hundreds of elevadi spread throughout the city...”
“Hundreds of...” Juan sat back and looked pensive. “That might get the truth out alright.”
“It won’t work. The High Elevadi won’t listen to us, and the people won’t listen to them. Trust me. The commons don’t put much stock into people that don’t care about them,” burst in Kay, taking a drink from her ale.
She drunk deep this time.
“I wouldn’t put it quite like that, but she has a point. The High Ones have lost themselves to the political game.”
“We won’t go to the High Ones. Stay with the lower elevadi. The ones that do their work on the calle alongside the commons,” Diego explained.
“And you think they would listen to an old man like me?”
“You would be surprised,” said Diego.
Juan stared at the musician play for a long while. Kay, too, seemed lost in thought.
It wasn’t lost on Diego how she had included herself in this whole mess. He suspected it was more than the promise of coin that made her tag along. He wondered if he should do more to discourage it.
“If anyone gets a whiff of what I’m doing, it won’t end well,” said Juan at last.
“I know what I’m asking you is dangerous—”
“Damnation to the danger. I’ll do it. You’re not the only one who loved that boy. He was supposed to be the best of us. I would like to see his murderer hanged before I die. Now get out of here before anyone sees us together. It’ll be harder to spread the truth from a dungeon cell.”
All three finished their drinks and let out a hearty burp. Kay’s was the loudest among the three.
“One last thing.” Diego leaned in close enough to speak barely above the din of the dying music. “I need your help to arrange a meeting with the reina.”