SEVERIN PACED THE salesroom.
“The mood is getting uglier out there,” he told Kadar, who nodded and continued laying out the silks for the sales event in two days. “And the Voices are doing nothing. No negotiation, no word of concessions, nothing.”
“They’re attempting to wait the Forsaken out,” Nabil said. “It’s good tactics, and with the townspeople still helping out at the Temple, they aren’t desperate yet. We just need to hold tight.”
“We haven’t been able to get any more families out,” Severin told them. “No passes are being given to Forsaken, and every caravan is being searched. We’ve had a couple of families seized as they were trying to escape. One knows where they’ve been taken to now.” He caught Kadar’s glance and lifted his hands defensively. “I know, you warned us to get everyone unnecessary out before we started. But this was the right time.” He paused and ran a hand through his hair. “Voras has soldiers along the perimeter of the town. They’ve threatened to kill any Forsaken who try to escape without a pass.”
“How are the supplies holding out?” Nabil asked.
Severin nodded. “Good. We could last several months if needed. My group of Forsaken have been able to put pressure on the ones guarding the supplies to keep them honest. They know if they try to betray us, we’ll be waiting for them instead of jail.”
Nabil and Kadar exchanged glances behind Severin’s back. Kadar supposed there needed to be someone ruthless in charge of the resistance. But Kadar wondered how different they were than Voras’s men if they had to threaten and injure Forsaken to get what they wanted. He shook his head. Farrah would say “the needs of many trump the needs of few.”
“There have been attacks on Forsaken going to work for merchants,” Nabil offered. “Not up here, this close to the Temple, but down closer to the shanties. Several Forsaken who used to be maids and cleaners for the higher class were shaken up, with some broken bones. They said it was by first-circle teens who were angry they’d work for lowly merchants and not come back to the upper-class families.”
“I thought your guards were protecting against that sort of thing,” Kadar said.
Severin turned back to them and shook his head. “I tried to get them to. The first couple of weeks they were willing to stop people coming into shanties. But now my brother says they are spread too thin to protect the Forsaken. The Templar has been sending soldiers to patrol the streets around the district, and they outrank my guards. Unfortunately, some Forsaken youths decided to throw bottles and other debris at the soldiers from cover. I put an end to it—we agreed to stop the skirmishes until the walkout is over. But now many of the soldiers are furious, and that could work against us.”
Kadar looked down at the silks he was folding. It was Severin’s fault the Forsaken thought it was okay to engage the soldiers. He’d had his group skirmishing with the soldiers for months to detract attention from their theft of the food from the Temple warehouses. It wasn’t surprising that a bunch of children would want to imitate his gang.
“That’s bad,” Nabil said, his tone worried. “They never thought of Forsaken as much more than vermin to begin with. If the Forsaken challenge them, things could get violent.”
Severin shook his head. “We just need hold steady until the Voices decide to act. I’m wondering if the delay is because of the Tribune’s illness. His replacement doesn’t have the authority to act yet, but he’s too sick to make decisions.”
“The Tribune is sick?” Kadar asked. “Will he recover?”
Severin shook his head. “This is hushed up, but he’s dying. The Templar told my father that Parasu chose a new pledge as his replacement.”
Kadar looked up at that. “Someone from Sulis’s pledge class?”
Severin grinned and nodded. “Yeah, a pledge named Jonas. I guess they’re only going to title him Parasu’s Voice, rather than the Tribune.”
“Can we use the confusion to our advantage?” Nabil asked.
“I don’t see how,” Severin said. “In fact, it could hurt us, as the Tribune needs to lead the committee to change laws for the Forsaken. If Parasu’s temple is waiting for the leadership change, nothing will move quickly. The Festival of the Founding is in a couple of months. They’ll need Forsaken labor for that—but I want things resolved long before then.”
There was a noise at the door to the supply room, and the men fell silent as Kadar’s cousin Simon ran in with a braided leather belt. Kadar examined it, admiring Sanuri’s tight weave, before handing it to Severin. Severin had used his worn belt as an excuse to come speak with Kadar and Nabil.
Severin gave the belt a glance and nodded in satisfaction. “You’ve got an excellent braider,” he said. “Was it one of the Forsaken you hired?”
Kadar shook his head. “No, just a new girl.” He didn’t trust the man enough to explain Sanuri to him. “We’ve got everyone working hard for the sale the day after next.”
“My mother is looking forward to getting her hands on some of your new silks,” Severin said. “Once Afenbach can find someone to sew them. She is quite miffed about the Forsaken leaving. Doesn’t get all the little luxuries she’s used to having.” He snorted derisively.
Kadar glanced outside at the sun and realized the shadows had started creeping in. He sighed. “It’s getting late. I was planning on dropping off some treats at Farrah’s, but I don’t think I’ll make it.”
“I’m heading in that direction,” Severin said. “I can stop by, make sure everything is in order, and drop off what you’ve got. I’ll stop in later this week, after the sale, to let you know if anything’s changed.”
Kadar nodded in appreciation and handed Severin a basket. The dark-haired man saluted them once, then departed.
“I wouldn’t trust him, Kadar,” Nabil said seriously.
Kadar looked sharply over at him. “Do you know something I don’t?” he asked.
Nabil shook his head. “No. There’s just something about him that grates on me. I know Farrah says she has him under control, but he doesn’t seem like a man who can be leashed. He doesn’t want to be the second most important person in the room. I still don’t get why he’s a part of this, but I feel like he wants to best you in some way.”
“Little does he know, I’m not competing,” Kadar said with a laugh. Then he became serious and turned to the other man. “But seriously, Nabil. If you see or hear something about him, I want to know about it. Whether I’ll like what you say or not.”
Nabil nodded, a quick jerk of his head. As he watched the guard walk back toward the break room, Kadar felt reassured that someone was watching out for him.
Later that evening, Kadar sat in the main room of the house with everyone silently but furiously working around them. Kadar was mending tack with his cousins. Two of the seamstresses staying with them were finishing up the ready-made robes and teasing Sanuri, who sat on the floor with Amber on her lap. Her hands were flying over a tiny intricate silk braid the seamstresses would later sew around the edges of the garment. Sanuri smiled shyly at the women.
Kadar was amazed at the change a few months had brought to the girl. Her cheeks had filled out, and she no longer ate like a wild animal. Though she didn’t speak much, she made more sense when she did. She liked being at the edges of a crowd, watching everything with her big green eyes. Dana had the girl learning to read and write, and taught her how to eat politely and be in company, and she picked it up much more quickly than Kadar would have imagined. Whatever was wrong with her, it wasn’t lack of intelligence. Amber spent much of her time with the girl, and Sanuri seldom panicked and receded into herself when the cat was with her.
She had an almost magical touch with Datura, who scooted around in the middle of the gathering, picking up braided toys Sanuri made for her and drooling on them as she cooed. If Datura was fussy and Kadar couldn’t see what was wrong, Sanuri could touch the baby and tell him “tooth hurts” or “bellyache.” Sanuri didn’t seem to be able to actually heal Datura, but her presence soothed the girl, and she was Datura’s favorite playmate.
Kadar studied Sanuri. Occasionally, the girl’s eyes would glaze over, and she’d say things in a voice that wasn’t her own. She would speak in a low voice, mumbling, but usually what Kadar heard was related to the Temple, sometimes even to specific deities. The past couple of weeks she’d been doing that more often than usual. And much of what she said had been about “acceptable replacements” and mentions of “served me well.” It hadn’t made sense until Severin told him about Parasu’s Voice and his replacement.
Was the girl somehow listening in on the conferences at the Temple? Was she eavesdropping on Temple business? If so, could they use that for the resistance?
Kadar shook his head and returned to the bridle he was mending. Grandmother said Sanuri was important to his people, and he was charged by the One with protecting her. He wouldn’t bring Sanuri into something she couldn’t comprehend. Asking her questions about the voices in her head would just upset her. But he would be listening very carefully to her from now on, picking what information he could out of her ramblings. And the next time he spoke to Sulis, he’d have to ask if there was a possibility the girl could hear the Voices.
KADAR AND AUNT Raella were arguing prices on the new ready-mades the next day, before heading to the salesroom. Datura was playing and cooing at their feet.
Uncle Tarik came back from a delivery to the south of the city, his face ashen.
“Damned fools,” he said breathlessly when they stared at him. “Some first-circle teens were in the shanties taunting Forsaken boys, and a fight broke out. When Voras’s soldiers waded in, a group of Forsaken men and teens pelted them with eggs and rotted produce and trash. It ended being a riot. At least four of the Forsaken boys are dead. Two of the first-circle teens and two soldiers are badly injured. Who knows how many Forsaken were hurt.” He shook his head and sat down as Kadar poured him some spirits. He tossed it back. “They won’t allow in healers for them, though. There were more soldiers there than I’ve ever seen. Now they’ve got the Forsaken pinned in their houses and aren’t allowing anyone in and out of those neighborhoods until everything has calmed down.”
“Should we delay the sale tomorrow?” Aunt Raella asked, worriedly. “Maybe we should shut down for a few days.”
Uncle Tarik shook his head. “Then they would think we were sympathetic toward the Forsaken. No, it’s business as usual. The best thing we can do is pretend we know nothing about it.”
Kadar’s stomach clenched in knots as he thought about Farrah stuck in her house with three families, waiting in fear to see what happened next. He scooped Datura up and held her close, burying his face in her soft downy hair as she squirmed to be put down.
Aunt Raella put an arm around his shoulders. “I’m sure Farrah’s okay, Kadar. She’s a smart woman; I know, I trained her when she first came here. She’ll keep everyone safe inside.” He shook his head, not comforted, and her voice sharpened slightly. “This was her choice, Kadar. She could have hid out here when you asked her to. She knows the danger and chose to stay.”
Kadar took a deep breath and let Datura down before she started squalling at him. He took a deep breath.
“I still say the long tunic with the braiding should be double the price,” he said, pulling the garment in front of him and stilling his shaking hands.
Aunt Raella nodded and sat down, going along with his attempt to be normal. They headed to the hall and spent the rest of the morning and into the afternoon haggling on small, meaningless details, so Kadar could distract himself.
Just before the dinner a messenger boy ran in, calling for Kadar. Kadar took the message and tipped the boy. The crowd of family and Forsaken watched as he opened the message.
Kadar,
Severin told me he could get this to you. We are fine, me and all the families with me. They are leaving us alone, and focusing more on the tent and shanty camps where the violence came from. We aren’t permitted to leave the house, but that is somewhat for our protection, as many of the townspeople are furious about the injuries. I expect they’ll relent in a day or so, when they’re satisfied they got all the criminals. If you can find a space on your floor for your Forsaken workers, you will need to. They aren’t letting anyone back in. Let them know their families are fine. Severin is helping with the investigation, so he was able to reach me. If you need to tell me anything, send it through Severin, and he will reach me if he can.
Farrah
Kadar let out a sigh of relief.
“They’re fine,” Kadar said, to the smiles of his family. “Farrah says they’re mostly focusing on the beggars in the shanty camps rather than the Forsaken in her neighborhood.” He looked over at the Forsaken, who sat in a clump. “She says your families are fine, but you’ll have to stay here until they let people in and out again.”
One seamstress burst into tears of relief as the others comforted her, and Kadar realized they’d probably been even more worried than he was, with their entire families trapped and still at risk.
“I’ll help find spaces for everyone,” Dana said. “We’ve got room in the nursery and my room if Kadar will take Datura and Sanuri in his room.”
It was a sleepless night to rise just at daybreak for the big sale. Their cook had outdone himself with rashers of bacon, baked egg pie, and sweet rolls.
“This is a big day,” he scolded as Kadar picked at his food. “You’ll be hopping all day and need to eat well.”
The food settled heavily in his stomach as the family and their Forsaken salespeople took their places in the sales hall.
“Think anyone will come out?” Simon asked him quietly.
“I think we’ll get a few of the braver curiosity seekers. Certainly not what we were hoping for though.”
The first people started trickling in early morning as their Southern neighbors, desert merchants, and families who lived in Illian came to see the famed silks, gossip, and finish off the cook’s treats. Aunt Raella and Uncle Tarik greeted each of them by name, guiding them immediately to the fabrics they thought they’d like, as well as the new desert goods Uncle Aaron had brought back for his homesick compatriots. The hall started to get more crowded as people came and stayed to talk about the events of the day before. Kadar was kept busy pulling out bolts of fabric and directing the cousins to help with deliveries or to carry packages.
The first of the townspeople started to arrive late morning, and as though there was a signal, the darker faces disappeared, packages in tow.
After a lull, the women of the town started to arrive in larger groups. Clearly they were putting their faith in there being safety in numbers. The husbands and sons they brought for additional protection were quickly drawn away by Kadar and Uncle Tarik, who had set up a display of tools, weaponry, and tack along with some stronger desert spirits for them to sample while their women talked fabric.
Soon the hall was packed as people came and stayed to talk with one another.
“Thank goodness that whole mess is in the south of the city,” one man confided in Kadar. “Cora would have been devastated if she couldn’t get here today. It’s all she’d been talking about since her friend’s seamstress showed her samples. As it is, she wouldn’t hear of coming unless we stopped by and picked up her friends as well.”
The ready-made clothes sold out by midafternoon, and the seamstresses were frantic, taking in the clothes at spots with quick stitches for a semifitted look.
“Those first-circle snobs can stuff it,” Kadar overheard one group of ladies talking. “They’re still waiting for their silks, and I’ll be wearing mine tomorrow.”
“And Richard can’t object,” her friend laughed. “Because your work at the Temple saved him tithes.”
The heat of the day took over, and most of the crowds left for their cooler homes and gardens. Kadar sagged against the counter, and Simon gave him a despairing look.
“Did you get midmeal?” Kadar asked. His own stomach was growling, but his cousin was still in the midst of a growth spurt and needed to eat.
Simon shook his head.
“The cook delivered a big midmeal in the side room. Take a break. Things probably won’t pick up again today, but your mother might have more deliveries for you after we close. Get a rest in while you can. Grab your brothers as well. I can handle the customers who come late.”
Aunt Raella glanced up from where she was discussing a fabric with a client and mouthed “Thank you,” before turning back with scissors in hand.
Kadar grinned over at Uncle Tarik, who grinned back and started reorganizing the goods.
“A better crowd than I expected,” Kadar said. “I thought they’d be cowering in their houses after the violence.”
Uncle Tarik shook his head. “None of them were involved, and none of them died, and they probably didn’t know anyone involved. The sale made a good, safe diversion and gathering place for them to gossip and get more news.
There was a commotion outside, people running, and Kadar and Uncle Tarik moved to the door. Someone was shouting news.
“What is it, Dono?” Uncle Tarik called to a fellow merchant on the street.
“One of the first-circle boys injured in the riots yesterday died,” Dono said grimly. “The first-circle families are out for blood. Sounds like they’ve formed some sort of mob. I’d close for the day, if I were you. Hunker down and hope they don’t look our way.”
Kadar was running before he realized it, his feet moving. He heard Uncle Tarik shout behind him, but ignored him, intent on getting to Farrah. He chose to cut through some side roads, dodging through crowds that were thinning out as news spread, and people went inside to wait things out.
He had to pause at the crossroads to allow a group of wagons to pass with a panicked mule leading the group, the driver in the front holding a mule’s head as its eyes showed white around the rim. Kadar smelled it now, the thick black smoke he saw rising south of the city, in the Forsaken district.
“Kadar,” Nabil’s voice called as he tried to dodge around the slow traffic. “Hold up, you fool.”
Kadar looked around as feet pounded down the pavement toward him. He wasn’t going to let Nabil fetch him back.
“Here,” Nabil said, thrusting Kadar’s sword and belt at him when he came abreast. “I can’t believe you left without it.”
Kadar quickly buckled it on as the confusion in front of them cleared, then both men were running toward the smoke.
“Don’t draw unless you have to,” Nabil advised, hardly winded from running. “We don’t want to become targets for soldiers or marauders—we just want to get to Farrah and protect her household. A truncheon will work best in hand-to-hand and won’t get you killed by a soldier. Follow my lead. I’ve been trained in close fighting.”
He tossed a small wood club to Kadar, who palmed it, making some swipes and getting the heft of the weapon as they ran.
The city guards were missing from their post at the first of the Forsaken streets, but there were two townspeople with knives drawn facing away from Nabil and Kadar, waiting to kill Forsaken fleeing the melee.
Nabil felled one with his club from behind as Kadar took the other out, then they turned down an alleyway, intent on getting to Farrah. A woman screamed, and they paused in a courtyard where a man with a sword was chasing a woman carrying a small child. Nabil drew his sword and easily disarmed the man, as Kadar clubbed him on the head.
“Get in your house,” Nabil directed the woman, “Bar the door. Put every bit of furniture you own in front of it. Don’t let anyone in until you are certain it is safe.”
She nodded and fled into her home with her child, closing the door as they ran on. The acrid smoke was wafting through the streets, but none of the houses seemed to be on fire.
“Looks like they torched the tents and shanties,” Kadar called to Nabil, as they dodged through panicked Forsaken, fleeing from the south. Nabil nodded.
“They’d be putting the rest of the city in danger if they tried to torch these houses,” Nabil said. He stopped and shouted at the top of his lungs. “Get inside, all of you. Bar the doors. Don’t let anyone in. You aren’t safe in the streets.”
Kadar didn’t see the response as two burly men leapt from the shadows, intent on taking him down. He sidestepped and kicked out into one man’s knee, sending him crashing to the ground. The other man grasped at his robe, and Kadar saw a knife in his hand. He blocked with the truncheon, deflecting the weapon, and punched the man’s windpipe with his fist. He staggered back and Kadar flicked the man’s wrist with the truncheon, breaking it and disarming him.
Nabil had already taken out the second man, and they left the men groaning and semiconscious in the road. They turned the corner onto Farrah’s street and Nabil stumbled on a woman’s body with a toddler crying beside it in the street. Kadar slung the toddler on his hip as they went past, knowing Farrah would shelter the child if she was able.
They pounded into Farrah’s yard, and had to duck as something scalding hot flew by their heads. “Farrah, it’s Kadar and Nabil,” he yelled, hunkering down and covering his head. “Don’t attack.”
He almost collapsed with relief at the sound of her voice. “Get in here, you idiots,” she said, pushing the door open. “I almost got you with the turnip.”
They crowded in, Kadar handing the wailing toddler to the older woman he’d met before, and took position with Nabil on either side of the door, swords drawn. The room was packed with people, and he could hear dozens of children crying in the adjoining rooms.
Farrah had a crew of people arranged by the windows. Some had slingshots with rocks piled beside them; some were armed with long laundry spoons and had boiling kettles full of root vegetables ready to sling.
“I’ve people on the roof, too,” Farrah said with satisfaction. “It’s packed with people from the shanties who escaped. We’ve had men trying to push into the courtyard, but they only want easy targets. I hate wasting good food, but when they get a faceful of turnip, or rocks tossed down on them, they give up and move on pretty quick.”
“You’re not really what they’re after,” a ragged man with a bandaged arm said. “It’s us out in the tents they’re exterminating. There were packs of them circle men, killing unarmed women and children. Cowards.” He spat off to the side in contempt.
“We’ll be fine unless they try to burn us out, too,” Farrah said.
Nabil shook his head, from where he was standing guard at the door. “A fire could spread too easily to the rest of the town. The soldiers won’t allow that,” he told her, keeping his gaze on the courtyard. “Most of these dwellings are stone and sand, so there isn’t much to burn. We didn’t see that many fighters in the streets, so I’m more worried that they’ll come in here when they get done with the shanties. Hopefully, their taste for blood will be sated by then.”
“We’ve not done anything wrong,” one woman cried. “We didn’t attack nobody. Where are the guards? Why aren’t they protecting us?”
“Because a soldier died, too, along with the first-circle boy,” Nabil said grimly. “The guards won’t want to risk the soldiers’ anger. I heard that before I came. I told you all”—he glanced over at Farrah—“that you needed to do this without blood. You needed to get the sympathy of the townsfolk and make sure the soldiers didn’t have a reason to hate you. But now that Forsaken have spilled blood, they can brand you as violent criminals. No one will help you now.”
Farrah grimaced and looked like she was going to say something, but four men ran into the courtyard, weapons drawn.
They were promptly pelted with rocks. Two turned away, but two kept coming and as they came in range, had boiling missiles lobbed at their necks and face. They ducked and swore, retreating in search of easier targets elsewhere.
They had two more close calls as the sun started to set. The third time, Kadar and Nabil had to disarm the men and use their clubs to drive them away. After that, they remained standing outside the doorway, swords out.
They exchanged glances as they heard the clomping of horses’ hooves on the cobblestones. A feli flashed past the gate in full run. A group of soldiers rode past, and one man peeled off into the courtyard.
Kadar sheathed his sword as he recognized Severin, who dismounted and approached them. The man was soot-stained, his clothing burned through in spots.
“Farrah’s okay?” he asked, and Kadar nodded. Severin closed his eyes and ran a hand over his face in relief.
“Took you folks a while to get here,” Nabil said sharply.
Severin shook his head, looking ill. “We had to first get a brigade going to contain the fires they set, the damned fools. The fire was spreading through the dry grass at the city’s edge and could have destroyed the entire city. That took most of my guards and what soldiers I could rally.”
He shook his head. Farrah opened door and stepped out, nodding grimly to him. He spread his hands apologetically.
“I don’t have good news, Farrah. It was a slaughter out in the shanties. By the time I got there with the city guard, they’d already torched the place. Half the Forsaken were burned to death in their tents. The ones who fled either ran back into the city or tried to flee out into the south. The ones fleeing the city south were killed by the soldiers set around the perimeter of the city, and the ones fleeing toward the city were killed by the men who started the fires. Even after the fires were put out, it was all I could to do rally some of the soldiers to protect the Forsaken.”
“How many did they kill?” Farrah asked, her voice steady.
“Hundreds, and that’s just out in the shanties, not in the city proper. I passed a handful or so dead in the streets on my way here.” He looked seriously at Kadar and Nabil. “I’m just glad they got here to protect you.”
“Wasn’t much protecting to do,” Kadar protested, putting an arm around Farrah’s waist. “She’d already organized her people and was holding off armed men with potatoes and rutabagas.”
Farrah shrugged off both his arm and his praise. “Tell the leaders we can’t give up. We give up, and all these lives will have been in vain. I’ll go around later and tend to our people.”
Severin shook his head. “The soldiers have taken over and are setting a curfew,” he said. “No one in the city is allowed out after nightfall.”
“Then I’ll go out in the morning,” Farrah said. “They’re going to need us to be strong now, to give them guidance and rally them after this. We can’t give up now. I have some ideas on how to move forward. I’ll pass them along.”
“We’ll meet as soon as I can clear a time. I’ll send word,” Severin told her, approval for her persistence evident in his voice. “I’ll accompany you two back to the main neighborhoods, before the curfew goes into effect,” he added to Kadar and Nabil.
Kadar looked at Farrah uncertainly, not wanting her to be unprotected in the fallout from these riots.
“I’ll stay the night here,” he told Severin.
Farrah shook her head. “The worst is over. I don’t think we’ll be threatened again. Go to Datura; go reassure your family. Tell your Forsaken I don’t have word on their families. They’ll have to wait until morning, when we can reorganize and see who still lives.” She hugged him and pushed him away.
Weeping and wailing punctuated the smoky dusk falling on the Forsaken neighborhood. Two women were tearfully dragging the body of the dead woman Kadar and Nabil had found from the street, and he directed them to Farrah’s for the toddler they’d rescued. They thanked him, and Nabil helped them carry the body inside.
Soldiers were now everywhere, ordering Forsaken to their houses, informing people of the curfew. They couldn’t be bothered to help the Forsaken tend their fallen family members, though, and were more menacing than comforting.
As they approached the edge of the neighborhood, Kadar heard a familiar female voice shouting at some soldiers who were guarding the entrance to the street.
The healer Nala stood with her hands on her hips, a group of people behind her. Kadar recognized most of the group as healers and realized Nala must have gathered all the Southern healers in the city to aid the Forsaken.
“If your people won’t help with the wounded, mine will, so get out of my way,” she shouted. “It’s criminal, a healer violating her oaths and not helping out where needed. Do you want to force me to violate my oaths?” she jabbed a finger into the man’s chest, and he stepped back.
“No one allowed in or out without permission.” The man stood firm, a belligerent frown on his face.
“Let her in,” Severin said. The soldier turned to him, frowning, then gave way. “I’ll accompany them and see that they get back to their compound once they are done.”
Severin glanced at Kadar, a weary look on his face. “You should be fine from here. If someone stops you, tell them you were helping the viceroy clean up. Looks like my night is just beginning.”
“One be with you,” Kadar said. He stopped by Nala as she organized her troop of healers. “Do you need anything?” he murmured.
She shook her head. “Not right now, not with the blasted curfew in place. But in the morning, if you could send some food and helpers, you’d be blessed.”
Kadar nodded, and he and Nabil continued on home, hopefully to reassure his family. He shook his head, knowing he was about to disappoint the Forsaken waiting for word of their own families, still trapped in the smoking, blood-soaked district.