A quiet knock startled Ky’ara from her thoughts.
“Ky’ara?” Taren’s voice was muffled through the door. “We are all going down for breakfast, would you like me to bring something up or are you going to come with us?”
Ky’ara climbed out of bed and looked down at her rumpled clothes. Once she would have balked at the thought of appearing before others in such an unpresentable fashion. But her suddenly ravenous stomach just made her happy she was clothed enough to open the door and respond to Taren’s invitation.
“Good morning,” Taren greeted her, a slight smile turning up the corner of his mouth. She took his hand and looked up into his eyes, all the stresses from the previous night momentarily gone as she basked in the all-enveloping sense of comfort she so often felt in his presence.
“Well, is she coming?” Joran’s irritated voice floated down the hall, breaking into the moment. Ky’ara held back a smile as Taren raised his eyebrow, “Are you? Or would you like some time to, erm, tidy up?”
“Do I need to?” Ky’ara asked, only half-joking.
“You always look absolutely perfect,” Taren responded softly.
“Your hair looks awful,” Joran interjected, joining them. “A half-blind troll might mistake you for a bush.”
Ky’ara’s hand flew to her hair, only to discover that her hair had half-escaped her braid during the night, leaving it frizzy and sticking out from her head in all directions.
“Joran!” Taren reprimanded.
“What? The boy replied innocently, “I thought she’d want to know before going downstairs that way…I never understood why men feel the need to lie to women about their appearance. Of course, if your idea of perfection is a bush…”
Ky’ara stifled a chuckle at the face Taren made and turned to Joran. “You could have just said, ‘You might want to look at your hair first’.”
Joran shrugged, “Same result right? Anyhow, I’m going downstairs. You two love-birds can join me later or sit here staring at each other’s perfection, but I’m going to go eat.”
“Go ahead,” Ky’ara told Taren, waving him down the hall after Joran, “I’ll just be a minute.”
Taren shook his head and settled against the wall next to her door, “I’ll wait…Joran doesn’t need me to chaperone him.”
“But I do?” Ky’ara asked archly, raising an eyebrow.
“Of course,” Taren replied, his face straight.
Ky’ara wrinkled her nose at him and shook her head. Then she deliberately closed the door to her room and began rifling through her pack for her hairbrush.
* * * * *
Joran looked up from his heaping plate of hash-potatoes and eggs as Lauryn took the seat across from him. She smiled faintly and motioned to the plate of food. “Any chance they have any more of that left?”
Rolling his eyes, Joran swallowed what was in his mouth and scooped another forkful before replying. “I hardly think one plateful would render them foodless.”
Lauryn shrugged. “I have serious doubts that that’s your first plate,” she said teasingly.
He ignored her and began shoveling food into his mouth again. Why was she all the sudden friendly again? Yesterday she’d barely acknowledged his existence; she’d been too concerned about Sukylar.
Lauryn’s smile faded a bit. She stood and left the table, then returned with a plateful of her own and began to eat.
“So,” she said between bites, “Where are Ky’ara and Taren? I thought they were coming too?”
The boy shrugged. “Ky’ara had to do her hair. I imagine Taren stayed up there with her…he’s like a little puppy following its mother…makes me sick.” That came out a little more viciously than he’d meant it too.
Lauryn looked surprised by his vehemence. “I think it’s sweet. Whatever happened to get them back together anyways? When I left they could hardly look at each other.”
Joran grunted and shrugged, then continued to shovel food into his mouth. He did not actually know what had brought the two of them back together. Ky’ara had not volunteered any information and he’d been a little afraid asking might send her back into her mopey, self-pitying stupor again…He hadn’t cared enough to risk it anyways. It was enough for him that she was ok now. It did not really matter why. Because when he was being honest he was glad they were back together too. He just wasn’t in the mood right now to talk about couples—not with Lauryn’s attachment to Sukylar on his mind.
She watched him expectantly. When an answer wasn’t forthcoming, her mouth tightened. “What is your deal? The food isn’t nearly good enough to merit the amount of attention you’re giving it. Why are you ignoring me?”
“I’m not ignoring you,” he mumbled through a mouthful of eggs.
“Right,” Lauryn said sarcastically, “If you’re angry at me I’d at least like to know why.”
Joran looked up. “You really have to ask? Yesterday you barely said a word to me! Now all the sudden you’re mad because I’ve only answered with short sentences?”
She looked taken aback. “I’m sorry I didn’t take the time to stop and say ‘hi, how are you, Joran?’ I was trying to make sure Sukylar got the medical care he needed, before he died. Sorry if that offended you!”
Joran rolled his eyes and glared down at his plate. “Sukylar this, Sukylar that,” he muttered. “He’s way too old for you, you know that?”
“What?” Lauryn asked, thoroughly exasperated. “I would’ve been just as concerned if Ky’ara or Amischel or anyone else was dying. Does that mean I’m in love with them too?”
Joran didn’t reply. He knew at some level he was being ridiculous, but admitting he was wrong would have felt too…vulnerable. He’d been so excited to see her again, and then to be brushed off…it had hurt him more than he wanted to admit to her, and he wanted an apology. Not that he would come out and just say that.
“This is ridiculous,” Lauryn said after a moment, pushing her almost empty plate away and standing. “You’re acting like a grumpy two-year old…and a blockhead, you know that? When you’re ready to grow up and tell me what this is really all about, I’ll be upstairs.”
Joran felt a small twinge of guilt. Maybe he should apologize for being so immature…but he couldn’t quite make himself say it and by the time he looked up again she was gone.
* * * * *
Ky’ara emerged from her room in some moderately fresh clothes and with her hair brushed and re-braided. Taren straightened from his spot on the wall and smiled at her.
“Better?” Ky’ara asked playfully.
Taren nodded. “Nothing like a bush.”
Ky’ara grinned at his perfectly straight face, knowing he was teasing her. His answering grin only lasted half a second before giving way to a quizzical look.
“Did you not sleep well last night?” he asked, reaching toward her and softly brushing the dark shadows under her eyes. She shook her head.
“I slept ok. I kept ending up back in the Dreamworld though, so I’m mentally a little fuzzy…and I think I’m still tired physically from healing Sukylar.”
Taren looked like he wanted to ask more, but whatever he was going to say was interrupted by an audible growl from Ky’ara’s stomach. His mouth twitched into a small grin. “I think you’d better go down and get something to eat.”
Ky’ara nodded. “First I want to check in on Sukylar—is he still sleeping?”
Taren frowned. “He was when Joran and I left the room this morning…but if you would like, you can check on him while I get some food and bring it up for all of us. He’s bound to be hungry—even with the help of magic, healing from wounds that serious takes a lot of energy.”
Ky’ara hesitated. “I think I would rather get the food….” She grinned a little sheepishly, “That way I can snag something to eat while the kitchen prepares a tray…but I would feel better if you could go try to wake him. He needs rest, but I want to make sure he isn’t still in a coma.”
Taren nodded. “You get the fo
od then and I’ll go check on Sukylar.”
Ky’ara turned to go, but Taren caught her hand and pulled her back. “The stairs are that way,” he told her, a trace of laughter in his eyes.
“Oh, right.” Ky’ara smiled self-consciously. Taren gave her hand a quick squeeze before letting her head down the hall in the other direction. He looked after her for just a moment, feeling a little wrench in his chest when she turned the corner. Even allowing her out of his sight for a few minutes was difficult…but he knew she wouldn’t like being smothered. He ignored the instinct to follow her and turned instead to check on Sukylar.
She would be back soon enough.
* * * * *
Lauryn was just starting up the stairs when a group of soldiers entered through the back of the inn. As the owner met them at the door, she slipped into the nook under the stairway and peered out through the slats in the steps. There were eight men in uniform. The one who appeared to be the leader was listening intently as the owner spoke hurriedly, motioning with his hands as though describing something. Then the captain nodded curtly to his men and they headed down the hall to the dining area. Lauryn held perfectly still as they tromped past, and then gave herself a count of ten before slipping out of her hiding place and following them casually through the doors of the mess hall. She lingered by the door as the soldiers split and moved easily around the outside of the room, barely attracting the notice of the other diners. She sucked in a worried breath as they approached the table where Joran still sat sulking.
“Joran Haeskoul?” the captain addressed the boy, Joran looked up in surprise. Before he could confirm or deny his identity, the captain raised his fist to bash him across the face. Joran caught the blow easily on his forearm, slammed his elbow into the man’s ribs, and stood, knocking the chair over in his haste. Before he could escape, two of the soldiers leveled their swords at his throat while a third and fourth wrenched his arms behind his back and bound them together.
“What do you think you are doing?” Lauryn looked up in alarm as Ky’ara’s voice rang out across the dining hall from where she had just entered.
“Keep out of it, wench. This man is under arrest and no concern of yours.” The captain barely spared a glance in her direction before backhanding Joran across the face with the hand that held his sword. The boy went limp.
Lauryn caught Ky’ara’s eye as she drew herself up, clearly planning to pull rank. She shook her head frantically, hoping the noble would realize how stupid it was to reveal who she was. If only she’d thought to mention the public notices she’d torn down…but Ky’ara saw the warning and sank into one of the seats nearby, pursing her lips and looking away as the guards dragged Joran’s motionless body past her and out the main door. One of the men spat contemptuously at her feet as he passed by. Ky’ara kept her head down, but Lauryn saw her jaw tighten in anger. During the small commotion some of the other diners had looked up in curiosity, but most quickly averted their eyes and returned to their conversations. Lauryn caught Ky’ara’s eye again and indicated the door with her head, then slipped back out into the hallway, hoping Ky’ara would follow.
* * * * *
Ky’ara felt her insides burning with indignation. What did they think gave them the right to treat her or Joran that way? Civilians were still supposed to have the right to know what they were accused of and to be given the chance to comply with government officials…of course, everything she’d seen in the last year clearly indicated that ordinary citizens were not treated the way the government claimed they were. She’d known that of course. The incident with the council and her later experiences with trolls (which had clearly not been banished from Tirem to nearly the extent that the government perpetuated) had indicated that the government was involved in all this, as the rebels claimed. But somehow it hadn’t quite hit her that the law was no longer her friend.
Their enemies up until this point had not been in government uniform, had not appeared to be connected to the aristocracy in any way. Now Ky’ara felt an overwhelming sense of trepidation. It was abundantly clear that government officials were not on their side.
While these thoughts ran through her mind, Ky’ara crossed the room and slipped out the same door Lauryn had used. She met the younger girl at the base of the stairs leading back to their rooms.
“Where’s Taren?” Lauryn asked, starting the climb with Ky’ara beside her.
“He was going to check in on Sukylar while I got us food,” Ky’ara said, “If he hasn’t passed you he’s probably still upstairs.”
“Good,” Lauryn said, “We need to pack up and get out of here NOW.”
“I agree,” Ky’ara replied, “If someone found out who Joran was and reported him, they’re going to connect him to us sooner or later.”
“It’s worse than that.” Lauryn shook her head. She quickly explained about the posters she had torn down a week or so earlier in the town near the edge of the swamp. “I’m assuming if we were to look around here we’d find some as well. And, the owner of the inn is the one I saw talking to the soldiers. We don’t have ANY time before someone connects us to Joran. The innkeeper already knows we’re connected. I’m assuming the soldiers took Joran first because they could identify him specifically—but I’d be willing to bet they’ll be up to our rooms to find out who exactly we are as soon as he is taken care of.”
Ky’ara felt the apprehension she’d experienced earlier grow. The government had never taken an interest in the rebels before—at least not officially. Not even at the level of the Council. How much more had changed since the Council’s assassination? Suddenly she felt very cut-off from the world. Once, knowing the ins and outs of politics in the capital had been her entire life. Now, after having spent almost a year away dealing with matters of magic and survival, she found that she felt lost without knowing what the people in charge were up to. Of course, she reminded herself, even then she hadn’t actually known anything—it had all been lies. But still, she’d once felt safe in simply knowing and now it seemed everything was about what she didn’t know.
* * * * *
Calistra read the report with increasing dismay. The king was no longer trying to hide the existence of her organization from the people. He had issued warrants for the arrest of various members of the rebellion, including herself, Joran, their uncle, the Gighus, and about a dozen others. Ky’ara had been formally summoned to court, though the announcements failed to give a reason why. About a quarter of her agents had been apprehended already or had disappeared. The rest were restricted severely in their intelligence-gathering efforts. Avoiding discovery was now the main concern of every member of the organization.
She sighed, setting the parchment down and drumming her fingers irritably against the table. They no longer had the time to recruit in secret and build their strength. They had to act soon, before the public exposure further crippled them. When the government had refused to openly acknowledge their existence they had been safe from the prying eyes of neighbors, needing only to be wary of law officers or the upper nobility. Now the king had made commoners his unwitting spies. Anyone who seemed suspicious or was seen associating with anyone on the list was bound to be turned in by their acquaintances. Despite public favor being generally apathetic—or even antagonistic—towards the nobility, Calistra knew the reward offered would tempt most people to turn in even their friends. Particularly among the very poorest—those who would typically give the most support to the rebels—because they needed the money more desperately.
She set her jaw and grabbed a pen to draft the orders for deployment. Families like Hal and Jenie’s would not be able to retreat to the safety of Doraicolé at only a moment’s notice—not without leaving everything they owned behind and risking exposing themselves to governmental pursuit and retribution. The rebellion would have to come to them…and in doing so risk everything they had built by showing their hand too soon. If they were lucky, they would be able to persuade the townspeople of the lands they invaded t
hat joining the rebels was in their best interests. If they weren’t—well, she didn’t want to hurt the very people they were trying to help, but defeating the Destroyer was essential to the continued existence of their very world. She hoped she wouldn’t have to make that decision, but if it came down to it, she would choose the fate of a world over the lives of a few stubborn civilians.
Finishing the instructions, Calistra set the paper aside to let the ink dry and leaned back in her chair. She hoped Ky’ara and the others were wary—they’d long ago been properly lectured about how free with magic they’d been during their travel to Ainon Caseia, so she assumed they were being more discreet this time around. But still, if they were unaware of the public bulletins requiring their arrest…well, she could only pray they’d see the warnings and avoid attracting undo attention.
Calistra’s concern stemmed from more than her mere familial relationship with Joran. Their mission, now more than ever, held the key to the success of the rebellion. If Ky’ara succeeded in finding Eléirathös and learning how to use the crystal, then she would be able to defeat the Destroyer. Calistra had to believe that. Because if Ky’ara succeeded then it didn’t matter how many lives were lost—the rebels would have accomplished their goal.
The invasion was a risky move, but it was her only move. It would hopefully save more lives than it took—lives of good people like Hal and Jenie and their children. And it would serve as a distraction for the King and by extension the Destroyer as well, allowing Ky’ara a little more freedom to do what she needed to. Calistra knew this, but she still felt a twinge of guilt as she looked at the call to arms she had written up. The land would be thrust into the upheaval of a revolution. Innocent lives would undoubtedly be lost. It would all be blood on Calistra’s hands—the result of her choice. But Ky’ara’s success would validate that. It was the only thing that could.
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