Blade of the North

by Jones, Heath

  “Maybe,” Aveline replies. “But there is fear attached to those walls. Nobody wants to go near them.”

  “Or perhaps those Peace Bringer don’t let them,” I say.

  Aveline swings her head towards me. “You haven’t felt it yet,” she says cryptically.

  “Felt what?”

  “Give it a day or two,” she answers. “It will creep up on you slowly, then you’ll know what I mean.”

  Confused, I glance at Jarryd to see if he knows what Aveline is talking about. He must, as he is slowly nodding his head as he scans the square.

  “The wall and this square in front of it extend all the way around the Royal District,” Aveline explains. “A local told me there used to be houses and other buildings here years ago, but Tigranik tore them all down to make this square. The Square of Harmony and Unity he calls it. It’s more like a giant ‘keep out’ zone.”

  She’s right. No one can approach the Royal District from any direction without being seen a long way off. Only an army would dare assault those walls. And Tigranik is the only one with an army large enough to try.

  “We can’t stand here staring at the walls all day,” Jarryd says. “I think we might be noticed,” he adds, with a hint of sarcasm.

  Aveline turns to him, then back to me, with a strange look in her eyes. “You’re right,” she says. “Let’s keep looking.”

  We wander back through the streets, engaging store owners or market sellers in easy conversation, before occasionally dropping Vahla Jyn’s name. We’re careful not to ask everyone we talk to about him for fear of bringing unwanted attention to ourselves or creating a trail behind us for someone to follow.

  After a few fruitless hours, my frustration is near to bursting. Talking with a merchant selling small, intricately carved pots, I decide to turn the conversation to something other than Vahla Jyn.

  “The emperor’s war is going well,” I say.

  The merchant, a grey-haired lady with large golden earrings hanging almost as low as her gem-encrusted necklace, smiles suddenly. “Yes,” she says. “The emperor will soon bring peace to the warring nations. Once they realise how secure and prosperous their lives will become under the emperor, they’ll wish they’d stopped fighting him long ago.”

  “This city certainly does feel safe,” I say. And prosperous, I don’t add, eyeing her expensive necklace.

  “Is this your first time in Malikaran, dear?” the lady asks.

  “Yes,” I reply.

  “Where are you from?”

  I hesitate for the barest of moments before answering, “Regsen.” It’s a town already under Tigranik’s rule, so I hope it will satisfy her.

  Her eyes narrow then return to normal so quickly that I think I’ve imagined it. “Well, even a young girl like you can feel safe here,” she says. “The only people who have anything to fear are those who harbour ill will towards the emperor.”

  “I hope he lives as long as his deeds deserve,” I say, smiling broadly.

  A few similar conversations later and I am completely confused. I had imagined there would be animosity towards a ruler who leads his people into a long, unending war. But the people of Malikaran adore their emperor. They believe he and his war have brought them peace and prosperity. And from what I’ve seen of the city so far, they are right. But at what cost has that peace been bought?

  At the cost of my family, I remind myself. At the cost of my friends. At the cost of countless innocent lives who have been buried under the feet of the ever-advancing Peace Bringers. Surely that is too high a price to pay. But then, the war is far away and the people of Malikaran are not the ones who have to pay. I am, and too many others along with me.

  The war needs to stop so the bloodshed can end. And for all the blood spilt so far, for all the lives lost, a price must be paid. The emperor’s debt must be settled.

  The sun is beginning to set when Aveline, Jarryd, and I decide it is time to head back to our room in the Weavers District.

  “Hopefully the others have had better luck,” Aveline says.

  “Hopefully the others haven’t been arrested,” Jarryd mutters.

  “It’s getting to you then?” Aveline asks, smiling up at him.

  Jarryd nods. “I didn’t notice it at first, but you’re right. I feel like eyes are everywhere. Hidden, but watching us.”

  What is Jarryd talking about? Other than the coldness that comes over people when I ask about Vahla Jyn, I haven’t noticed anything. Discreetly casting my eyes about, I try to catch a glimpse of these hidden watchers. But nothing. The city still seems so safe.

  Turning down another alley we follow its unusually sparsely populated winding curves.

  “Something’s not right,” Jarryd says, sounding suddenly worried.

  “What is it?” Aveline asks, instantly on guard.

  I’m about to ask the same thing when my stomach turns to ice. “Keep walking and don’t look around,” a voice whispers behind me, at the same time as something sharp sticks painfully into my back. Aveline and Jarryd’s eyes are open wide and they’re staring straight ahead – they’ve obviously been given the same instructions.

  “What’s going on?” Aveline whispers fiercely. I can see her hand reaching slowly for the knife which would usually be hidden under her shirt. It is nothing more than a reflex though, as no weapons are allowed within the city. But then… why do I feel the point of a knife in my back? Are they only carrying knitting needles too, like Aveline? Another prod in my back proves that whatever the men are carrying, they are definitely sharp.

  “Don’t be stupid girl,” a voice whispers behind Aveline. “Eyes are always watching in this city. If you create an incident, you and your friends will all be dead.”

  “Then so will you!” Aveline snaps, but quietly.

  The man behind her laughs. “Unlikely.”

  “What do you want with us?” I ask, trying to emulate the strength in Aveline’s voice.

  “Nothing,” the man replies. “But since you seem so eager to meet Vahla Jyn, he has decided to oblige you.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Given the prevalence of the Light Bearers and the street lanterns, I had assumed that the entire city was well lit. But the men lead us down narrow streets and alleyways that are surprisingly dark. There are still lanterns hanging here, but they are unlit. Either that or they have been extinguished.

  Ahead of us, at the end of the alley, a woman is sitting on an upturned barrel beside a wooden door. She is dozing, her back against the stone wall.

  “Maize,” the man behind me says. “These are our guests.”

  The woman jumps to her feet, her sudden movement causing me to take an involuntary step back. I smother the cry that wants to escape my lips as the knife at my back digs in further.

  “You weren’t very careful, were you,” Maize says. “The whole district knows about you and your friends. You’re just lucky the Peace Bringers aren’t very bright.” She grins, but it isn’t friendly. “But then, luck is relative.” She pulls out a key and unlocks the door. “Welcome to The Den,” she says.

  As the door opens, light and noise spill out from inside, then we are shoved through before the door is slammed shut behind us. Inside, the room – The Den, Maize called it - is much larger than I had anticipated, and it is crowded. Tables fill the room, with men and women around them playing cards, drinking, and eating. The air is filled with the acrid scent of burnt lensil leaves rising from their owners’ pipes. Scattered throughout The Den, others are engaged in lively conversations with hands moving animatedly, voices raised in passionate debate or full of unrestrained laughter. It is so… lively and chaotic. Totally unlike the city outside the door.

  The knife at my back jabs me forward, and we are ushered through the crowds towards the back of the room. Not a single person we pass so much as glances at us - it is as though we are invisible, or simply beneath their notice. Our captors stop us in front of a table in the corner.

  “Sorry to dist
urb you, Vahla,” the man behind me says.

  The conversation at the table stops, and everyone turns to look at us. A man on the other side of the table looks up slowly, taking us in one by one. “I thought there were seven?” he asks.

  “We have these three for now,” the man behind me answers.

  “Very well.” Vahla Jyn gestures with his head and the men who had brought us back away from the table, far enough to not overhear, but close enough to be called if needed. “Please, sit down,” he says to us.

  Immediately three chairs are brought over to the table and we sit down. The others at the table make room for us, then turn their attention back to Vahla.

  Vahla Jyn watches us, his brown eyes keen under a slightly prominent forehead. His face is weatherworn and his dark hair is slicked back. Even with a nose that is just a little too large for his face, he is a handsome man.

  “An interest in anyone in Malikaran can be a dangerous thing,” Vahla says. “You have an interest in me. I’d like to know why.”

  “A friend told us to find you,” Aveline says.

  “A friend?” Vahla replies, a trace of mockery in his voice. “Your friend didn’t go to the trouble of telling you how to find me. One might think this friend of yours actually wanted you to look like fools, asking around the city after me, until you finally got arrested… or killed.” He takes a long drink of the wine in front of him. “I wouldn’t call that a friend.”

  “Sto… she wouldn’t do that to us!” I object, thankful that I stopped myself from saying Storm’s name. Aveline and Jarryd glare at me and I quickly clamp my mouth closed.

  Vahla’s lips turn up in a mocking smile and his scorn is palpable. “Of course, no one has ever betrayed anyone before. What other naïve stories would you like to believe, girl?” He turns to the lady on his left. “Here you have Rayn. She’s not really the city’s foremost seller of peppers and exotic spices. She’s actually the queen of Rillayd in disguise.” The woman, wearing a beautiful red silk dress, laughs, along with the others at the table. “Or take Verim,” he continues, gesturing to the dark-skinned man sitting next to me. “He’s a spy from Tarmaik, here to gather information on the city’s defences.” Vermin sits back and tries to look serious, pretending to be a spy in truth. Then his composure cracks and he laughs harder than all the rest.

  Vahla takes another long drink of his wine then turns serious. The look in his eyes frightens me. “Now,” he says, “you’re going to tell me exactly why you are here. But listen well. If you lie to me, you die. If what you say displeases me, you die. If I think you’re nothing but stupid young fools who have interrupted my night for no good reason, you die.” He looks at each of us in turn. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” I squeak, and the others echo me.

  Vahla gestures with his head and everyone else at the table stands up and leaves. At another gesture from Vahla, the men who had brought us here return and stand between us and Vahla.

  “Pathetic nobody’s the lot of them,” he says, watching the others who have just left. “But they have wealth and influence so they’re not totally worthless.” Turning his attention back to us, his face darkens. “Seems like you were about to mention someone’s name there, girl. That would have been a mistake.”

  “Someone’s name?” I ask, trying to sound confused.

  “Don’t take me for a fool. Talk,” he commands in a low growl. “And talk quick.”

  “Sara’s right,” Aveline says. “We’ve come from… the forest.”

  I glare at her – giving away that secret could cost us our lives.

  “The forest,” Vahla repeats, “I like it. At least you’ve got more sense than your friend,” he says to Aveline, before turning to me. “If you’d mentioned Storm’s name, I’d have had no choice but to turn you over to the Peace Bringers. I still will if you can’t convince me why I shouldn’t. It’s treason to have anything to do with… the forest.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, regretting how close my tongue had come to putting us all in danger. Nevertheless, I take a deep breath and plunge ahead. “We were told you could help us obtain permits to enter the Royal District.”

  Vahla leans back slowly in his chair. “And why would seven people foolish enough to admit they’ve come from the Daishen Forest want to enter the Royal District?”

  I open my mouth to answer then close it again. What answer can I give? Beads of sweat begin to roll down my face as I realise the precipice we’ve come to.

  “Why should it matter?” Jarryd answers calmly. “Either you can help us, or you can’t.”

  “It always matters,” Vahla replies absently, almost as though he is talking to himself. His steely eyes slide from one of us to the next, silently waiting for us to respond.

  “Please,” I say. “You’re the only hope we have of obtaining the permits.”

  Vahla shakes his head. “You’re in the wrong place if you’re looking for hope.”

  “The… the mistress of the forest told us to seek you out,” Aveline says. “Can you help us?”

  Vahla takes another long draught of his drink. “You still haven’t answered my question,” he says. “Why do you want to enter the Royal District?”

  “Sightseeing,” Jarryd says, with enough trace of sarcasm to let Vahla know he’s joking.

  “You’ll get a good view from the gallows,” Vahla replies. “Won’t be a long view, but still…”

  “There’s someone we wish to meet,” Aveline says.

  Vahla grunts. “You’ve gone from discreet to blandly useless in a few heartbeats.” Aveline’s eyes flare at the insult and she opens her mouth to argue, but Vahla continues. “Don’t play games with me. You seem like the smart one, so act like you are. Why do you want those permits?”

  How do we answer that - can we trust Vahla with the truth? He speaks so easily of betrayal – is that what he has in mind for us? Storm certainly wouldn’t betray us, I’m certain of that. Perhaps Vahla Jyn is no longer the man Storm once knew. But then… “How do you know Storm?” I ask suddenly.

  Vahla turns his gaze on me. “Who says I do?”

  “She does,” I reply.

  “If she said that then she lied to you,” he says.

  “But...” Aveline says, obviously sharing my shock as she struggles to get the words out, “but… she told us to look for you. She said you could help us obtain the permits.”

  “I don’t issue permits either,” he replies.

  This doesn’t make any sense. “She obviously knows you. Why would she send us to look for you otherwise?”

  The look in Vahla’s eyes is dangerous. “You’ll have to go back and ask her. Like I said, maybe she wanted you all dead to protect herself. It’s what I’d do.” He nods to the three men guarding the table and they move towards us.

  This can’t be true – I can’t have come this far to be stopped now. I’m so close to the emperor - after months of training with Storm, almost dying on the journey to Malikaran, then finally finding Vahla Jyn, this can’t be the end. Storm wouldn’t have directed us to Vahla if he couldn’t help us. There must be a way to get the permits.

  “Wait,” I say, thinking quickly as Vahla’s men stand behind us. “This isn’t right. Storm wouldn’t sell us out.”

  “There’s a lot of things that aren’t right in this world, girl,” Vahla says, standing up. “And some things, whether you like it or not, are always for sale. Including you.” He nods to the men standing behind us then leaves the table and begins talking with an old, grey-haired lady, who laughs almost immediately at what he has said.

  “Up,” the man behind me orders.

  Reluctantly, I stand up, exchanging glances with Aveline and Jarryd as the men lead us through a door in the back of the room. They march us through the kitchen then out into an alley beyond it.

  “For your own sakes, leave Malikaran quietly,” one of the men says to us. “And quickly.” With that, he slams the door.

  “Something’s not right,” Ja
rryd mumbles, echoing my own thoughts.

  “We need to work out a new plan for ourselves – and fast,” Aveline says, before spinning on her heels and striding off down the alley.

  I have to run to catch up to her. “What do you have in mind?” I ask, keeping pace with her as we walk out into the busier streets of the district.

  “I don’t know yet,” she replies, “but if Vahla isn’t going to help us… how do we know we can trust him? He knows we’re here to assassinate someone in the Royal District. I don’t like our chances of him keeping that information to himself for long.”

  I hadn’t thought of that, and it sends a shiver of fear up my spine.

  “Then why didn’t he have us arrested when we were inside?” Jarryd asks. “Something just doesn’t fit. I agree with Sara, Storm wouldn’t sell us out.”

  Aveline shoots Jarryd a fiery glance that is gone as soon as it appears. “Didn’t you hear him earlier? He knows there are seven of us.”

  That silences Jarryd.

  After a moment, I ask, “Do you think he knows where we are staying?”

  “I don’t know,” Aveline sighs. “Regardless, we’re in trouble now.”

  We walk in silence through the night. Deliberately taking wrong turns and backtracking, we try to look lost, all the while looking over our shoulders to see if we are being followed. I can’t see anyone behind us, but I now have the uneasy feeling of being watched. The nervous look on Jarryd and Aveline’s faces suggests they are feeling it too.

  We finally make our way back to our small room in the Potters District. They are all there, waiting for us.

  “Any luck?” Dain asks, his voice betraying his lack of hope.

  “Yes… and no,” Aveline replies.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Theolin demands.

  Aveline doesn’t answer, apparently lost in her own thoughts.

  “It means,” I reply, “we found Vahla Jyn - ”

  “You found him?” Rose interrupts, jumping excitedly to her feet.

  “Yes, but so far he refuses to help us,” I finish.