16

TORI

Despair spreads across the city like a cloak. I can feel it, filling my Kindre senses with the taste of ash.

The fear is not surprising. We all grow up hearing the stories of the Empire’s Invincible Legions. For as long as I can remember, they have been faraway things, out in the northern borderlands, along the southern frontier, in the disputed islands. But the government assures us that our safety depends on their continued bravery and prowess, which are fortunately undisputed. Even the Emperor offers gratitude to the Legions, and prayers for their victory.

The Ward Guard are one thing. Everyone knows they would rather collect bribes than fight. And the militia are just peasants with spears pressed into their hands. But the Legions are the true strength of the Empire, trained and disciplined soldiers. Their ranks are thick with mage-bloods, officers drawn from the noble houses and commoners drafted after their abilities were discovered. Whatever hope we felt after the recapture of the Fourth Ward and its vital stores evaporates like smoke.

Isoka and I return to headquarters, but she stays barely an hour, just long enough to let Meroe spread ointment across her powerburn. Then she’s off again, back to the western wall, to organize defenses in the newly reclaimed territory and start moving food out of the Fourth Ward storehouses. She must be in enormous pain, but her energy seems limitless.

She tells me to get some rest, and I make a show of reluctance, when in fact all I want to do is retreat to my bed and curl up into a ball. Meroe applies her medicine to my face and shoulders, and it’s cool and earthy-smelling on my skin. She admonishes me to rest as well, with a gentle smile. I return to my room, burrow under my blankets, and press my face into the pillow before letting out a muffled sob.

The Legion.

I’d convinced the others they weren’t coming. I’d half-convinced myself—at least, we had to act like they weren’t, because if this was only going to end with us getting crushed, what was the point of anything? Now they’re here, settling in on the western rim of the city, ready to storm our walls at their leisure. And there’s nothing we can rotting do about it.

Naga had been right. Garo had been right. Rot, Isoka was right, the first night she came. She’d been able to see clearly what was going to happen. Stupid, naïve little Tori didn’t get it. Didn’t understand that you can struggle all you like, but none of it is going to matter once the Empire brings the hammer down. Now we’re all going to get smashed flat.

I should have stayed in the palace. Talked Isoka into leaving. Let Garo rut me. It might have ended the same way, for the other rebels, but I might have been able to convince Lord Marka to advocate for leniency. And afterward, Garo and I could have pushed for reforms, slow and sensible, just like he wanted. It wouldn’t have done anything for the poor rotscum shipped off to die in this war, but we might have stopped the next one. And those same poor rotscum, because they’d believed in what I told them, were now going to die trying to put up a fight against an unstoppable force. So what did I really do for them, after all?

At some point, I fall asleep. When I wake up, it’s night, and my skin is a dull agony. Lines of itchy fire run across my scalp, and my face and shoulders still throb. My chamber feels icy cold, and I wrap the blankets tightly and still shiver.

More sleep. Bad dreams. I’m burning, fire consuming my flesh, blackening my skin, shriveling my hair, and no one seems to notice. They talk, joke, laugh as I walk among them, and when I scream for help they only look confused. Even Isoka.

I wake again in the morning, desperately thirsty, my skin damp with cool sweat. At least the pain has subsided, though my scalp still itches. I send mental orders to the Blues, and one of them fetches me a pitcher of cool water while the others draw a bath. Between blood, sweat, and Meroe’s goop, I feel disgusting, and cleansing myself in the lukewarm tub helps a lot.

Out of habit, I dress, then realize I don’t know where I’m going. I don’t know anything about what’s happened in the past day. It might all be over by now. It would be a relief, in a way, to slide the door aside and find myself facing an armored legionary. No more decisions to make.

Instead, there’s nothing more alarming in the corridor than a waiting Blue, who bows slightly as I come out.

“Miss Gelmei. Miss Giniva requested to be told when you were awake. Shall I inform her?”

“Go ahead,” I say. “Tell her I’m headed over to headquarters.” I hesitate, then add, “Where’s my sister?”

“Asleep,” the Blue responds. “Shall I wake her? Miss Meroe requested she not be disturbed.”

“Let her sleep.” If Isoka’s resting, the situation can’t be that critical. “Just tell me when she gets up.”

“Understood.”

By the time I make it over to the old barracks, I can almost feign normality. The square is empty, no crowds cheering or hurling abuse, and the building itself feels mostly deserted. A few guards are on duty, but the constant back-and-forth of rushing messengers is gone. I see Red Sashes huddled in corners, talking in low tones, conversations that break up as soon as I come into sight.

Giniva is waiting for me in the conference room, which we have to ourselves. She’s standing over the big map, which has been annotated in crimson pencil with the positions of the Legion along the western wall.

“Tori,” she says. “It’s good to see you. How are you feeling?”

“Itchy,” I answer honestly. “But better than I expected. Meroe’s ointment must really work.”

“That’s good to hear.” Giniva smiles slightly. “Meroe dragged Isoka back by her ear to put her to bed. Not a person I would want to cross.”

I smile, too, at that image. Then my eyes fall on the red marks on the map, and all the energy seems to drain out of me. Giniva follows my gaze, and her face falls, too.

“How bad is it?” I ask quietly.

“Bad,” she says. “Our best guess is five or six thousand infantry and a couple of thousand cavalry. Even if they were more militia, that would probably double what the Imperials have around the city. But—”

“They’re not just militia,” I finish. “Are they taking over the siege lines?”

She shakes her head, touching the map. “They’re all camped near where we first saw them, in the west. As far as I can tell they plan on taking the walls by storm.”

“Or tearing them down.” Get enough Tartak users in one place, and it’s not an idle fancy.

“We’ve also had a message from their commander. Lord General Gymoto. He offers mercy to anyone who throws down their arms, and says the Emperor is prepared to be generous to all but the leaders.”

“Which is a small comfort to us,” I murmur. “Have there been desertions?”

“Not many, thus far,” Giniva says. “But the reports I’m getting say that it’s pretty close. If we don’t do something soon…”

“Maybe it’s time to let it go.” I look away from the map, refusing to meet Giniva’s eyes. “We can’t stop a Legion. The more we fight, the more people are going to die for no reason.”

“What’s the alternative?” Giniva says. Her features, normally as calm as a Blue’s, take on a hint of animation. “Throw ourselves on Kuon Naga’s mercy?”

“He hasn’t got any,” I say. “But maybe this Gymoto does. Or maybe the Emperor will intervene.”

“I can’t…” Giniva trails off and is silent for a long while. When she finally speaks, her voice is thick. “You may be right. The ordinary soldiers will probably be pardoned.”

“And Legion troops are less likely to hurt civilians than the Ward Guard and militia, at least.”

“If you think it’s the best we can hope for…” Giniva stops again, and swallows. “I would ask you for one favor.”

“Of course.”

“Have one of the Blues kill me quickly.” Giniva looks up and meets my eyes, calm again. “My sister and I came to Grandma Tadeka’s mage-blood sanctuary because we knew what would happen to us if we fell into the hands of the Immortals. I do not intend to face that, whatever happens.”

“It won’t come to that,” I tell her. “Isoka has been trying to convince me to leave with her on Soliton since she got here. If I agree to go, and ask her to take a few others with me…”

“Take us where?” Giniva says.

“I honestly don’t know,” I say. “But it’ll be away from here, at least.” I stand up, unable to look at the map any longer. “I’ll talk to Meroe about it right now.”

“Thank you,” Giniva says, as I slip away.

I can’t get her look of quiet determination out of my mind. I’d thought of killing myself, when Kadi had me stuck in a hole. But there hadn’t really been any chance I’d go through with it, even knowing what horrors might be waiting for me when the Immortal returned. Giniva faces the same choice, but she’s stronger than I ever was.

I find Meroe in the sitting room of her quarters, with the bedroom door closed behind her. She’s crushing mushrooms with a mortar and pestle, making up more of the powerburn ointment, but she gets up and gives me a bow as I come in.

I return it, uncertainly. I don’t quite know what to make of Meroe, to be honest. The way she carries herself and her foreign features make her feel strange, inscrutable, but that all seems to melt away when she’s laughing with Isoka. Or kissing her.

“How do you feel?” she says. Her Imperial is flawless, with only a hint of an accent. “Do you need more ointment?”

“I think I’ll be all right,” I tell her. “I was feverish last night, but it seems to have broken. But there’s something else I want to talk to you about.”

“Of course. Have a seat.” She takes her place behind the mortar. “I hope you don’t mind if I work. Isoka may need more when she wakes up.”

“How is she?”

“Pushing herself too hard, as usual. Hurting herself trying to do things that she could safely leave to others.” She grinds a little harder for a moment, then sighs. “I heard what happened in the Fourth Ward. You and Zarun saved her. Thank you.”

“I … had to do something.” I shift uncomfortably. “I should be the one thanking you, I think.”

“For this?” Meroe raises the pestle. “It’s nothing.”

“Not just that. Isoka’s … we talked a little bit, after the fighting. She’s … different.” I settle into the cushion, as she rhythmically scrapes stone against stone. “How much did she tell you about our life here?”

“Most of it, I think.”

Isoka must really trust her. As far as I knew, she’d never told anyone the whole truth, not even Hagan or Ofalo. Everyone had half a story, the better to keep me safe. For all the good that did against Naga.

“She would … come to me,” I say, carefully. “To visit. She’d be dressed up in a kizen, nothing like the sister I remembered, and we’d sit in the big house in the Third Ward and … pretend, I guess. That this was normal. That this was actually what our life was like, this safety, with plum juice and dumplings.”

“Your sister loves you,” Meroe says. “She told me, on Soliton, that she knew she ought to stay away for your sake, but she couldn’t bear not seeing you.”

“I know,” I say. “I’m not sure I ever really understood why she needed that from me, that little bit of playing pretend, but I always knew it. I was happy to play along. After everything she’s done for me…” I take a deep breath. “But talking to her now, she’s different. She still cares about me, but there isn’t that need. At first I was terrified that when she realized I wasn’t the perfect little girl she remembered, she wouldn’t want me anymore. But…”

“Isoka loves you no matter what,” Meroe says. “Please believe that.”

I nod. “There’s a difference, I think. Between love, and that need. Whatever it is, I think it’s because of you.”

“Maybe.” Meroe lifts the pestle, frowns, and tosses in another chunk of mushroom. “I can’t say I haven’t done my best. But she saved me first, before she had any reason to. I think I’ve just had to help her understand who she really is. That she’s not a monster.”

Monster. The voices chitter in the back of my mind. Monster, monster, monster. “Of course she’s not. She did what she had to do.”

“She did. So did you, I imagine.”

I blink at her, wide-eyed. Meroe giggles, and leans forward to pat my shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “You’re just … you have an honest face, we’d say back home. It shows what you’re feeling. At least to me.” She gives me a sympathetic shrug. “Don’t worry. I have special training.”

“Training as a mind-reader?”

That makes her stop for a moment, wearing an odd expression. I’m tempted to reach out with Kindre, but I restrain myself.

“No,” she says. “Training as a princess.”

I eye her suspiciously. “Does that mean something different where you come from?”

“It means the daughter of a king.”

“But—you’re really—”

She nods cheerily, attacking the mushroom with extra vigor. I boggle quietly—Isoka had called Meroe her princess, but I hadn’t realized she’d meant it literally. It takes me a few moments to figure out what to say.

“How did you end up here, then?”

“Long story.” She pauses, cocking her head. “Well, not that long. My father found out I’m a Ghul adept, had me kidnapped and sacrificed to Soliton. Isoka saved my life and then I saved hers. I wanted to kiss her really badly but it took me a while to figure out that she wanted the same thing. We took over the ship and”—she waves a hand vaguely—“some more things happened, and then I came with her to come pick you up. Oh, and somewhere in there I realized I’d fallen in love with her.”

“I…” I focus on the most obvious thing. “You’re a Ghul adept?”

“Yeah. Please don’t scream. I promise not to give you bleeding tumors.”

“I’m not.…” I shake my head. “I worked at a hospital for a long time run by a woman we called Grandma Tadeka. She … was … a Ghul user. Probably only a talent, but she saved so many people. I know we’re supposed to be afraid of ghulwitches, but I couldn’t be, after that.”

Meroe breathes out, looking down into her mortar. “Well, that’s something. It still scares me, admitting it out loud.” She swallows. “And you’re a Kindre adept.”

I give a small nod.

“In Nimar,” Meroe says, still not looking up, “we’re more afraid of people like you than we are of ghulwitches. There are horror stories about what you can do.”

“They’re probably true.”

“Isoka told me about the Blues. How you would use people who were going to be executed.” She raises her head, finally, and gives me a smile. “After what happened when we first tried to hand out food, the riot, I really thought what it must be like for you. Stuck in the middle of this, people behaving horribly, and you could just…”

“Reach out and fix them,” I whisper. “It would be so easy.”

“But you haven’t.” She goes back to grinding. “Like I said, you did what you had to. Just like Isoka.”

“I don’t…” I swallow, and fall silent while she raises the pestle with a satisfied look and starts scraping the ground bits into a clay jug. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“You mentioned,” Meroe says cheerfully. “What is it?”

“If I tell Isoka I’m willing to go with her, on Soliton, do you think she’d agree to take some of the others along? Not everyone, just the people who … would do badly, if we left them behind.”

Meroe blinks. “Of course she would. It’s not like there isn’t room on Soliton, or at the Harbor. But I don’t know if she’ll want to leave.”

“That was all she wanted, when you first got here. She tried to get me to abandon the rebels.”

“Well.” Meroe looks a little guilty. “I may have reminded her that helping you was the right thing to do.”

“She’s done more than I could have hoped,” I say. “But now it’s finished. We can’t fight the Legions. They’ll get over the wall, and whoever tries to stop them is going to die. It’s time to save what we can.”

Meroe regards me with wide, bright eyes. “I’ve been thinking about that. Maybe you can answer a question for me.”

“If I can.”

“Why did it take the Legion so long to get here? Why isn’t there one stationed near the capital? In Nimar, the Royal Guard Regiments are always barracked near the palace, so they’re close by if the king needs them.”

“It’s different in the Empire,” I say. “All our enemies are a long way from Kahnzoka, up in the north or down on the southern border.”

“And the Emperors don’t worry about rebellions? They used to, at least.” Meroe nods at the closest window. “Look at this city. It has more walls inside than it does around the outside. The whole place is built to defend the top of the hill from the bottom.”

“There’s a long history of rebellion in Kahnzoka.” I’d learned a little bit about that in my studies, and more when I was going through the Pear Wing library looking for material to argue with Avyn. “It just seems to happen two or three times a century, like major fires.”

“That was my impression,” Meroe says. “But the Emperor still doesn’t want to keep a Legion nearby, just in case?”

“I don’t think the Emperor has much say in the matter,” I mutter. It’s an off-hand comment, but I freeze in place. “Wait.”

“Hmm?” Meroe raises an eyebrow.

“There used to be a Legion based near the capital. Just on the other side of Dragonback. I remember reading about it. That was in the reign of Emperor Farada, the current Emperor’s grandfather.” He’d been a quiet, mostly ineffectual ruler, according to the histories. But he’d lived a long time, and after his death—

That was when Kuon Naga came to power. The Immortals had always been a palace guard, but it was Naga who’d made them into a secret police, aimed at political dominance as well as rooting out rogue mage-bloods.

“The Legion was here,” I say, slowly. “It was sent away sometime after Emperor Farada’s death. About forty years ago.”

“Do you know why?”

I shake my head. “Probably it was needed at the frontiers.” But the timing doesn’t fit. The last war with Jyashtan had been ten years before that, and—“Naga. It has to be Naga.”

“Isoka describes him as something of a power behind the throne.”

“Exactly.” My mind is racing ahead to a conclusion. “And he wouldn’t want a Legion nearby, because they’re the only force in the Empire that can stand up to the Immortals. And the Immortals might be loyal to Naga, but the Legions are sworn to obey the Emperor.”

“You sound like someone who’s just had a dangerous idea,” Meroe says, with a sly smile.

I feel suddenly breathless. “A very dangerous idea, I think.”

ISOKA

I wake up feeling like a blueshell used my left arm as a chew toy, which is a considerable improvement over how I felt last night.

Night? Day? I’ve lost track. It’s midmorning now, and we’re not all dead, so not too much time can have passed.

I sit up with a groan, clenching my left fist experimentally. I can feel the tug of healing skin, and my grip seems a bit weaker than normal, but the pain is manageable. Thank the Blessed for the ointment Meroe got from Sister Cadua. I wonder, for a moment, how Sister Cadua is faring, and Shiara, Lady Catoria, and the others we left behind at the Harbor. With Prime gone, there shouldn’t be any danger in that ancient, overgrown city. Or so I hope.

I force myself out of bed, and spend a few moments breathing deep, fighting the bands of pain around my chest. That Immortal—Kadi—had delivered a beating worse than anything I’ve had since I fought my first hammerhead.

“Isoka?” Meroe’s voice, from outside the door. “Are you up?”

“More or less.”

“Tori’s here. We need to talk to you about something.”

Oh, rot. What’s happened now? Things had been bad enough last night when Meroe frog-marched me back to headquarters to rest. I’d been busy arranging the defenses on the western wall, putting every soldier the Red Sashes could spare into position, with archers up top and teams ready to counterattack the inevitable breaches. I didn’t fool myself into thinking it would be enough. Everyone knew the Legions had plenty of mage-bloods, and Jack, Zarun, and I had demonstrated for ourselves what just a few adepts could do against masses of ordinary soldiers.

But what else can I do? Abandon my home city and the people I’d fought alongside, force Tori to flee, and make sure my sister hated me? We had a moment of connection, up on the battlements, something new and fragile. I want to let it grow, not stomp it underfoot. Try to negotiate with Naga? Hard enough before we’d shown our cards, but now he held the winning hand. Why should he bother?

I feel trapped, like I was back in the Ring with the Butcher closing in—no way to run without surrendering everything, and no way to fight and hope to win. So now what?

Meroe and Tori come in. Faint lines stripe Tori’s face and shoulders, the familiar marks of powerburn. Whatever invisible contest she’d had with Kuon Naga’s Kindre user, it had been nearly as fierce as my own. She seems full of energy, though, practically bouncing on her feet. Meroe fixes me with a knowing grin.

“Are we under attack?” I ask them.

“Not yet,” Tori says. “Giniva tells me the Legion is still moving into place. We’re expecting them at dawn tomorrow.”

One more day, then, to build a sandcastle and hope it can hold back the sea. “So what’s going on?”

“We have an idea,” Tori says. “A plan. Kind of a plan.”

“Tori made a friend in the palace,” Meroe says.

“Oh?” I’m not sure where they’re going with this. “Can they give us any useful information?”

“In a way,” Tori says. “His name is Avyn, and he’s … um … the Emperor.”

“The Emperor.” I look between them. “You just … made friends with the Emperor.”

“More or less,” Tori says.

“How did you even get to see the Emperor?”

“We met in the library,” Tori says. “Listen, I know it sounds crazy. He’s practically a prisoner in his own palace. Kuon Naga runs everything. But Avyn knows all these secret passages, and he’s got a Xenos Well power that lets him hide, so he sneaks out. He was the one who helped me escape when you came for me.”

“You didn’t think this was worth mentioning earlier?” I ask incredulously.

“We haven’t exactly had a lot of time to catch up,” Tori says. “And I promised him I wouldn’t tell anybody. If he gets caught they’ll throw him in a box ‘for his own safety.’ But he’s willing to listen, I swear.”

“I can certainly believe that Naga’s running things,” I mutter. “But what does this actually change? Even if … Avyn were inclined to listen to us, you just said he’s not actually in charge of anything.”

“Because Naga controls the Immortals, and nobody can stand up to the Immortals,” Tori says. She’s speaking too fast, almost tripping over her words. “But the Legion can. And the Legion might listen to what the Emperor has to say.”

“It makes sense,” Meroe says, putting a hand on Tori’s shoulder as she stops for breath. “It explains why Naga has taken so long to bring in the Legion. He’s been afraid of destabilizing his position politically.”

“And you think you can convince the Emperor to help?” My eyes narrow. “You don’t mean—”

“Not with Kindre,” Tori says, flushing a little. “Naga’s Immortals would stop me anyway. I don’t know if Avyn agrees with the rebellion, but he’s certainly eager to be out from under Naga’s thumb. If we offer him a chance at that, I think he’ll take it.”

“All right.” I take a deep breath. “So that means, what? We have to break into the palace, then somehow get the Emperor to a place where he can appeal to the Legion before tomorrow morning? And hope Naga doesn’t get in the way?”

“I had … some thoughts on that,” Meroe says. “Trying to get the Emperor to the Legion camp won’t work. He wouldn’t be able to reach everyone before the Immortals counterattack. I think our best chance is to have him talk to them when they’re formed up for battle tomorrow morning.”

“Except that if we break into the palace and steal the Emperor—which, let me add, is a pretty rotting crazy thing to try—then Naga will know what’s happening and change his plans.”

“Right.” Meroe’s eyes are bright. “So we wait until the Legion is getting ready to attack, stall them at the walls, and then get the Emperor. Naga won’t have time to react.”

“Meroe.” I shake my head. “It’s a good plan, except that both parts of it are impossible. We can’t stop the Legion at the walls, and we certainly can’t abduct the Emperor.”

“That’s what I’ve been working on.” She looks at Tori, who gives a hesitant nod. “I think I know how to do it. But it’s going to be … well…”

She explains. I listen, my brow creasing deeper as she goes on. Now and then Meroe glances at Tori for backup, and my sister gives another nod. She seems reluctant to meet my eye.

When they’re finished, I take a deep breath.

“Tori,” I say, “can I speak with Meroe alone for a moment?”

Tori gives another wordless nod and slips out the door. I stare at Meroe.

“It’ll work,” Meroe says. “You’ve seen what she’s done with the Blues.”

“I have,” I say. “Frankly that isn’t rotting reassuring. I thought you were the one who couldn’t bear the thought of a Kindre adept.”

“I admit it still turns my stomach,” she says, disgustingly cheerful. “But that’s just my training. I’m a Ghul adept, I should know that better than anyone. If this is the only way…”

“It’s still a rotting big risk. She’s just…” I glance at the door and lower my voice. “She’s just a kid. If she’s wrong and screws this up, a lot of people are going to die. I could die. Or worse.”

Meroe steps closer to me. “When you were hurt, on the march to the Garden, you asked me to heal you. Even though you saw … what happened to Berun.” Her throat works. “You trusted me.”

“That was different,” I say weakly. “You’re … different.”

“I trust Tori,” Meroe says. “You should, too.”

There’s a long pause.

“Well.” I let out a breath. “Even if we assume this is going to work as planned, there’s another problem we’re going to have to deal with.”

Meroe’s grin returns. “Isn’t there always?”