by Jodi Meadows
“I don’t have a reason to trust most governments right now,” I said. “So no, I don’t want him to have any version of a Hopebearer to parade around. Who knows what he might use her for?”
He glared beyond me, thinking. Then, finally, he said, “All right. They’re in a house on Weber Street. But you have to go yourself. My people will speak only to you or me, and I don’t expect you’ll invite me to go with you.”
“Not a chance.”
He shrugged. “Your loss.”
I turned to Gerel and Chenda. “Tonight. The longer we wait, the more likely it is the high magistrate gets to them first.”
“We’ll get ready,” Chenda said.
For the first time since the earthquake, I felt . . . good wasn’t the right word. How could I, with a risen god on the horizon and the boy I loved so devastated he could barely move? But I felt resolved. Determined. Focused. We had a goal and a plan. And—if my dragon dreams were real—maybe we had a reason to hope.
HRISTO PULLED ME aside before I left.
“I wish you’d take fewer risks,” he said.
“You heard Altan,” I said. “His warriors won’t give up Tirta and Elbena for anyone else. I have to go.”
He sighed. “Not just this time, but earlier. Anyone else could have gone to see the ships. Gerel could have gone by herself. And all the times you went to the markets . . .”
“You don’t have to worry about me,” I whispered. “Besides, it’s only fair I do my share of the work. I can’t ask anyone to go anywhere I’m not willing to go.”
He just looked at me sadly. “I know you have incredible power over noorestones and dragons now, but that doesn’t mean I won’t worry. I’m not just your protector, Mira. I’m your friend. Never forget that.”
I hugged him as tight as I could, and then Gerel cleared her throat from the doorway. “Are we actually doing this tonight, or are you just going to share feelings until Paorah finds us here?”
I rolled my eyes, but I pulled away from Hristo. “I’ll be careful.”
Together, Chenda, Gerel, and I crept down the stairs and through the lobby. It seemed so mundane. Part of me had wondered if we might rappel out the window, or climb up to the roof and jump from building to building, but of the three of us, Gerel was the only one with any of the necessary skills.
“Excuse me.” Tanhe appeared from behind the desk. “Where are you going?”
“Nowhere you need to know about,” said Gerel.
“Martial law is—”
“Are you going to tell anyone?” I lifted an eyebrow.
“If the high magistrate asks—”
“Does the high magistrate come here often?” I asked. “Do his guards usually have reasons to ask questions about your guests?”
He sputtered a little. “No, I— No, of course not.”
I angled my scar away from him, so that he’d only see the Hopebearer, and I offered the kind of warm smile that put even the most nervous of people at ease. “We’re only going to find a couple of friends. After the explosions earlier, we want to make sure they’re safe. This is a safe hotel, isn’t it?”
“Absolutely,” he assured me. “I’ll stay up, of course. And wait for you. In case you need anything. Something to eat or extra toiletries for your friends. Whatever you need.”
Again, I flashed the Hopebearer smile. “Thank you so much for your help,” I said. “And your discretion.”
Then, Gerel, Chenda, and I went through the front door.
“And to think,” Gerel said, keeping her voice low, “you claim you don’t possess Daminan charm. But if I didn’t just witness it there . . .”
I shook my head and smiled. “That’s not charm. Just the Hopebearer effect. No, if you want to see charm, you should see my mother. Even Zara, when she tries.” My throat tightened up at the thought of Mother in the high magistrate’s hands. From here, we could just see the tops of the Red Hall, its noorestones lighting up the gemstones.
“All right,” Chenda said. “Hush, both of you.”
Though only a couple of hours had passed since the explosions, the streets were dark. Empty. Even so, we kept to the side streets and pockets of deepest shadows.
The air smelled wretched, like dust and smoke and a thousand other things I couldn’t fully identify. A deep, fearful part of me wondered if I was smelling the bodies of people who’d died, but I didn’t let that thought finish forming before I squashed it back down. It was too horrible to contemplate.
Gerel and I kept close to Chenda, letting her shadows darken around us. Having Aaru’s silence would have been useful, too, but this wasn’t the time to ask him to use the gift of his god.
I didn’t even know if he could anymore.
Worries haunted me as we made our way through the dark, dust-choked city. I had never seen it so deserted. During the day, even with the horror of the Great Abandonment sitting on the horizon, the narrow, twisty streets were always filled with a steady roar of voices, punctuated by occasional shrieks of laughter or outrage. On corners, people usually begged for spare coins, but everything was empty now. Even the heavy carts that were pressed up to the sides of buildings had no merchants standing there, no one calling out for buyers seeking silks or honey or spiced cloudfish. There was no clatter of horsecarres, no tolling bells, no shouts of police struggling to create orderly traffic.
The quiet was eerie. Uncomfortable. Unbearable, so soon after disaster. That was why people had gathered together after Idris rose up from his seabed, rattling the bones of the earth and causing the western horizon to darken with a silent promise: worse would come; the Great Abandonment was upon us.
People had needed community. Companionship.
But now, just two hours after explosions rang through the streets of Flamecrest, there was nothing.
“We’ll have to run,” Gerel said as we reached Revis Avenue. We had to cross, but there were no shadows to hide in, no crowds to get lost in. “One at a time. Keep your steps light, and aim yourself there.” She pointed to a pocket of darkness between an abandoned food cart and a bank. “Mira, you first.”
My back was pressed against a building. I hated the thought of crossing the street, so exposed to anyone who might be looking down from a building, but I’d made the decision to come out tonight. I had to do this. And I had to do it first.
I sucked in a deep breath and set my eyes on the food cart, and then, nerves steeled, I pushed myself off the wall and sprinted. One, two, three: I ran on the balls of my toes, keeping my breaths long and even. I felt too slow, too clumsy.
And when I reached the middle of the street, I could look to my left and see the Red Hall all the way down the illuminated stretch of road, glowing so bright it washed out the stars.
The building was immense, imposing. It seemed like an eye that stared straight down at me.
My mother was in that building.
Then I was across the street, tucked away in the shadows Gerel had indicated.
Chenda came next, graceful in her long strides. She crouched next to me while we watched Gerel.
Then I heard them: footfalls. The steady cadence of guards patrolling the area came from behind Chenda and me, moving straight for Gerel.
Chenda noticed at the same time as I did, and I knew she didn’t think—she just acted—because at once, shadows fell across the street where Gerel was running. A moment later, Chenda hissed, realizing her mistake. The sudden darkness would make Gerel more obvious than she had been before.
A small shout sounded. The footfalls sped up. The guards had noticed.
I squeezed myself between the building and the cart, trying to make myself as tiny as possible next to Chenda.
We needed a distraction. Something to hide this shadow and let Gerel through.
As the guards went rushing by, I reached out with my mind, touching all the noorestones nearby—and pushed their inner fire away, toward noorestones farther down the road.
Darkness rippled, spreading both ways do
wn Revis Avenue. Lights dimmed and went out.
The guards stopped on the other side of the cart, and in the moonslight, I could just see the tops of their heads. They looked from side to side, shifting their weight.
“What happened?” asked one.
“Can noorestones do that?”
Both stood there, letting their eyes adjust to the darkness, while Gerel slipped behind the cart with Chenda and me. It was cramped, but we kept as quiet as possible. I wished we had Aaru’s silence.
Now that she was safe, I allowed the noorestones to shine again, one at a time.
“Strange.” The first guard took a few steps forward.
“Lots of strange things today.” The second followed a moment later. Both, I saw now, had their weapons drawn. “Those explosions, the raids, martial law. Now this? Do you ever wonder—”
“Don’t finish that question.” The first guard looked sharply at his friend. “You know better.”
The second guard sucked in a deep breath. “Right. Sorry.” They were quiet a moment, still creeping forward as the last of the noorestones illuminated once more. “Maybe they will fix this at the summit,” he said. “The Great Abandonment, I mean, not the noorestones.”
“Wouldn’t hurt if someone fixed the noorestones, too, though.” The first guard shot a nervous smile over his shoulder, and then they were taking long, steady strides across the street.
Huddled in the shadows behind the cart, my shoulder pressed up against Chenda’s, I let out a long sigh.
“Sorry,” Chenda whispered. “I panicked.”
“It’s all right.” Gerel took Chenda’s hand and squeezed. “They didn’t see us.”
We watched the guards until they disappeared down the road, and then we drew ourselves up to walk the last few streets. How would we get Tirta and Elbena to the hotel like this?
Finally, we reached the house Altan had told us about.
Weber Street was quiet—residential, with all the curtains closed as far as I could see. Not a hint of noorestone light shone anywhere except on the streetlamps.
I steeled myself and crept up to the door.
And listened.
Wind breathed down the street.
Noorestones hummed in the back of my head.
And my heartbeat thudded in my ears.
No sounds came from inside the house, but maybe everyone was sleeping. If Aaru had been here, he’d have been able to say for sure.
Cautiously, I gave a soft knock, waited, and when no one answered, I knocked again.
Nothing.
Gerel and Chenda exchanged worried glances. “Try to open it,” whispered Chenda.
I tried to turn the knob, but it caught. Locked.
Gerel shifted us all around so that she stood closest to the door. She tested the knob, as though confirming I wasn’t just terrible at opening doors, and then gave a sharp twist. The door swung open, and the smell hit.
It was a terrible, sick odor, like someone hadn’t made it to the washroom in time. The stink rolled from the front door and knocked all three of us back a couple of steps. “Seven gods.” I coughed. “That’s vile.”
Chenda’s face was drawn with disgust as she pulled her shirt up to cover her nose and mouth. “It smells worse than the sewage holes in the Pit.”
Even Gerel looked ready to vomit, but she just shook her head, silently ordering us to stop talking, and pushed the door open wider.
It was dark inside, but there was a covered noorestone on the wall right beside the door. After checking that the door was shut behind us and the window curtains drawn tight, I lifted the velvet away and let cool blue light shine across the parlor. Empty. Except . . .
Red-brown streaks marred the golden hardwood floor, making a choppy trail into the hall. Gerel knelt and held out a hand for the noorestone, which I gave to her.
“It’s blood,” she said. “Dry now.”
The three of us went from room to room, finding only bloody trails—evidence that something terrible had happened here. The stench of bodily waste grew stronger as we reached the back of the house, and that was where we found them:
Four warriors had been laid out on the floor of the back bedroom. Dead.
There was no sign of Tirta or Elbena, and suddenly I realized what the guards had meant by “raids.”
High Magistrate Paorah had known they were in the city. He’d sent his soldiers looking for the last Luminary Councilor and the false Hopebearer. Now he had them.
We were too late.
CHAPTER FOUR
I STARED AT THE DEAD WARRIORS, SWAYING ON MY feet. They’d been slashed open with knives or swords—some sort of blade—and their bodies dragged through the halls and deposited in the back bedroom. To be dealt with later? Or to lie here and rot?
The overwhelming stink of blood and feces scraped the back of my throat, then slid down until my stomach turned over. I wanted to heave, but not here. Not next to their bodies.
I half stumbled, half ran from the room, threw myself out the back door, and vomited into a scraggly bush.
They were killers, I knew. Monsters, like Altan. They’d worked under him, and they may have been part of the group that destroyed the council house in Crescent Prominence less than a decan ago, but still.
Still.
I vomited until my stomach was empty, felt through my pocket for my calming pills, and held the cool glass bottle in my hand. I didn’t need a pill right now—I didn’t have anything to swallow it with, anyway—but knowing they were there helped.
“Fancy?” Gerel touched my shoulder. “We should head back.”
She was right. We couldn’t stay here. Not with bodies. Not with martial law.
After I spit the taste of bile from my mouth, I pulled myself straight. “Sorry,” I said. “I’ve never seen anything like that.”
“That’s a normal way to react.” She squeezed my shoulder. “There’s no reason to be embarrassed about it.”
I took a gulp of fresh air before moving into the house again. It was strange what the mind and body could get used to in such a short period of time, because the stench didn’t seem quite so bad as I marched through the hall, making sure to avoid stepping in the congealed blood.
On the walk back to the hotel, I couldn’t get the sight of those warriors out of my mind. High Magistrate Paorah must have sent scores of soldiers in there. Warriors—even those away from Khulan—were not easy to kill. And now, Tirta and Elbena were in the high magistrate’s hands. He had his own Hopebearer, and it was impossible to say what he would do with her.
“We should have gotten to them sooner,” I said. “I should have forced Altan to give them up days ago.”
“He wouldn’t have revealed anything.” Gerel led us around a corner. Our hotel glowed cheerily just a block away. “You’d have had to tell him the truth about the empire and Anahera, and I assume that’s not something you’re willing to do yet.”
“I want to tie a rock to him and throw him in the deepest part of the ocean.”
“I can arrange that.” Gerel looked hopeful.
“He still has Kelsine.” Even as I said the words, I wondered if the Drakontos ignitus had been in the house, too. But I hadn’t sensed her presence, nor had I noticed molted scales or talon scrapes.
Then, we reached the hotel. I knocked a quick pattern, and Tanhe ushered us inside. “Your friends?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I need a favor.”
“How can I help?” The end of his question held an unspoken Hopebearer.
“High Magistrate Paorah is holding a summit to discuss the Great Abandonment with the other island leaders.”
Tanhe nodded. “That’s good. Perhaps there’s a way to preserve our islands after all.”
“Perhaps.” I offered my warmest, most patient Hopebearer smile. “I’d like to attend the summit.”
“Of course. You belong there, what with the Luminary Council being . . .” His shoulders curled inward. “Excuse me. I only meant that some
one needs to stand for Damina.”
Gerel shifted her weight, and Chenda frowned. I let the beat of silence persist just a moment into uncomfortable, and then I said, “I’m afraid I didn’t intend for anyone to learn my identity.”
His smile didn’t falter, but the light in his eyes dimmed. “The attack. That’s why you’re in hiding.”
I bowed my head, not outright lying—Mother said I was a terrible liar—but allowing him to believe I was confirming his suspicions.
“I was so sorry to hear about that,” Tanhe went on. His gaze slipped toward Gerel as she walked partway up the stairs, watching the landings above for signs of anyone eavesdropping. This wasn’t the best conversation to have in the lobby, but moving it to his office would invite more questions. “Such a tragedy. And now you’ve come to Flamecrest, only for everything tonight . . .” He waved a hand toward the front door.
“It’s been a difficult decan for everyone,” I said. “And since you’ve cleverly found me out, I must ask your help in keeping my secret.”
“Of course. Guest privacy is a priority at the Fire Rose. As is ensuring our guests’ needs are anticipated and met.”
I smiled. “Then you already know what I’m going to ask.”
“You’ll have everything I can find by tomorrow afternoon.”
“The Fire Rose came very highly recommended. Clearly its reputation is well deserved.”
Tanhe bowed as Chenda and I followed Gerel up the stairs.
“Was that wise?” Gerel kept her voice low. “Can we trust him?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “But we need help.”
“We should make a plan in case he betrays us,” Chenda said.
“We should.” Gerel glanced over her shoulder. “But first I’d like to hear what Mira thinks she’s going to do. You really think it’s possible to get into the summit as anyone other than yourself?”
“Now that he has Tirta, I can’t go as me. Imagine the chaos of two Hopebearers.” I hauled myself up the last few stairs. “No, I’ll go incognito and look for Nine. It will give me a different sort of freedom, not being myself.”
Gerel nodded slowly. “I hate this idea, just so you know. It’s stupid, going straight into the Red Hall when fake Mira was just kidnapped—again—and all her guards killed. But I can’t think of anything better right now, so I’ll help you.”