by Jones, Heath
“Exactly,” Vahla says, sitting back again. “I keep myself covered, first and foremost. It’s one of the rules of Malikaran. Your friend from the forest knows that but wouldn’t have told you. Ensures your reactions to being arrested are authentic. The Peace Bringers have an uncanny ability to sniff out deception. As for Karadik, he’s a necessary bureaucrat.”
“He’s a corrupt bureaucrat,” Aveline spits.
“What other kind is there?” Vahla retorts.
“Cute,” Theolin says.
“And true,” Vahla counters. He seems to like having the last word. “Now Karadik knows about you, he won’t see you as dangerous. Maybe that’s his mistake, maybe not.”
For all his talk, there is something I still don’t understand about Vahla Jyn. “Why did Storm tell us to find you?” I ask.
Vahla stares at me for a long moment, then leans back and sighs. “Storm and I, we have an… understanding,” he says. I wait for him to say more, but he doesn’t.
“Care to elaborate?” Theolin asks.
“No,” he replies.
The silence stretches on until it is clear he won’t say anymore. I don’t know why she did it, but Storm sent us to this man for a reason. I trust her, so I must trust Vahla as well. “Will you help us?” I ask.
“I’ll do what I can,” Vahla answers. “You’ll still need to beg Karadik for the permits, otherwise he will grow suspicious. Remember, he’s the only way you can obtain your permits. Don’t antagonise him, if he wants anything - ”
“He’s not going to get what he wants,” Aveline snaps.
Vahla smiles wryly. “If you don’t play his game, you can’t win.”
“If I play his game, I lose,” Aveline counters with heat in her voice.
Vahla shrugs his shoulders. “If you don’t want to play by his rules, you still need to play.”
“What does that mean?” Jarryd asks.
“Like I said,” Vahla answers, “Karadik is a bureaucrat. Like all bureaucrats he is self-important, so the more you agree with him, the more he’ll be disposed towards you. So stroke his pride. If you want those permits, you’ll have to work for them. Nothing comes for free in Malikaran.”
“Nothing comes for free anywhere,” Alek mutters. Vahla answers him with a wry grin.
“Assad!” Vahla calls, and the door opens. Vahla orders the man – Assad – who pops his head in to bring us drinks. Soon we all have a glass of wine or mug of beer in front of us. I hope we can trust Vahla – we’re putting our lives in his hands, as we debate the best way to approach Karadik Mors and how to obtain our permits. Dain suggests we kidnap him and force the permits out of him, to which Vahla merely shakes his head. Other ideas, from forging the permits to scaling the walls of the Royal District, from sneaking in hidden under carts to disguising ourselves as Peace Bringers, are all discussed. And all are discarded. The day grows into night, and eventually, I’m tired of all the discussion and suggest we head back to our room to sleep.
“No, you’ll all stay here,” Vahla says. “I’ll have mattresses brought in and this will be your new home.”
“Thank you,” I say, stunned at his generosity.
“I’ve no real choice,” Vahla grunts. “I promised Karadik you wouldn’t cause any trouble. This is the only way I can be seen to be keeping that promise. But that means you’ll have to work downstairs. Serving drinks, cleaning, washing dishes, whatever’s needed. I can’t have anyone thinking I’m taking in strays.”
“Nothing comes for free,” Alek murmurs, his lips curling up into the closest thing to a smile I’ve seen from him in a long time.
The next day, Dain, Jarryd, and I take Vahla’s advice and make our way to Karadik’s office. Aveline and Theolin refused to come – they swore never to go near the man again – so together with Alek and Rose, they wait for us at a nearby bar. The Emperor’s Glory, it is called, obviously trying to keep in Tigranik’s good books. Their task is simply to listen and see if there is any hint of discontent in the city. They may pick up rumours or, better yet, find someone who can assist us. With what I’ve seen of the city so far, I don’t hold out much hope, but it gives them something to do while they wait for us to return.
Now, staring at the door to Karadik’s office, I find it strange being in the same building in which I was a prisoner only yesterday. One of the Peace Bringers guarding the door goes inside to let Karadik know we are here, then comes back out and tells us to wait. We wait for at least an hour under the discomforting gaze of the two Peace Bringers standing rigidly beside the door. Finally, without any sign that I can see, the Peace Bringer who informed Karadik of our arrival, tells us we can enter. Was he told to keep us out here just to make us wait?
Inside, Karadik is sitting behind his desk, head down, reading some papers. He looks up as we enter and smiles. “So good to see you again,” he says, his eyes lingering on me. “Please, have a seat.”
The three of us oblige and sit on the opposite side of his desk.
“Only the three of you?” he asks. “Where are the others?”
“They struggled with the thought of being here again so quickly after our previous… visit,” Dain replies.
Karadik shrugs then smiles good-naturedly. “I am terribly sorry about that, but we do take security seriously in Malikaran. We are especially cautious with anyone who wants to enter the Royal District. I take a special, personal interest in those.”
“Some more than others,” Jarryd growls under his breath, but still loud enough for everyone to hear.
“Quite,” Karadik replies, unflustered by Jarryd’s tone. “As you can see from what has recently happened, there are people – foolish, misguided people – who wish to harm our beloved emperor.
“Unconscionable,” I say.
Karadik stares at me for a moment before replying. “Quite,” he says again. “Now, why do you want permits to enter the Royal District?”
“We’ve heard so much about it,” Jarryd answers. “We simply want to see it for ourselves.”
“Of course you do,” Karadik says. “These days, everyone wants to see the Royal District. It has become a kind of rite of passage for many travellers. ‘Let’s see what’s behind those beautiful green walls. We might even catch a glimpse of the emperor himself.’ Bah,” he shakes his head. “All they do is drown a poor administrator like me in a torrent of paperwork.”
“Please,” Dain says, “what do we need to do to acquire a permit?”
“Why nothing. They’re free and available to anyone,” Karadik answers, flicking his eye towards me. Whenever his attention rests on me like that, I feel a chill up my spine.
“Then can we have one for each of us?” Jarryd asks.
“Of course not,” Karadik replies with a brief chuckle. “First I must do a more thorough check on each of you. Granting permission to enter the Royal District is a responsibility that lies solely with me, and with that comes the additional responsibility for the safety of everyone who lives and works there. Including, of course, the emperor. Can you imagine what would happen if I gave permits to everyone who asked? Why, a chaotic rabble would descend on the Royal District. Those beautifully manicured gardens, clean-swept streets, and tranquil ponds would be ruined. Not to mention disturbing the peace of the emperor himself. And for what? For some uneducated farmers, street urchins, and country folk from who knows where, to stare and gape at sights they have never beheld, let alone imagined. And what would happen to me for allowing them in?” He shakes his head ruefully. “No, let’s not imagine that.”
“How long will that take?” I ask.
“I never commit on the timing of an approved permit, just like I never guarantee the granting of one,” Karadik replies. “First of all, you must complete the forms.”
“Forms?” Jarryd asks.
“Of course! There are always forms,” Karadik says, handing them over to us. “Then I will have to examine your application. But be warned, there is a lengthy queue of other applicants in front of yo
u.”
Of course there is, I grumble to myself. Like Vahla said, it is all a game to Karadik.
“Is there nothing we can do to obtain our permits quicker?” I ask, trying to sound helpless.
Karadik raises his hands and shrugs. “Rules must be followed, I’m afraid. But let me be honest with you. I want to help you, so I promise I will do everything within my power to obtain permits for each of you.”
With that, we take our leave and make our way back to the Emperor’s Glory.
“What do you think our chances are?” Dain asks once we are outside.
“He’s playing us,” I say sourly.
“What do you mean?” Dain asks.
I’m about to round on him but then I see he is looking at me as though I’ve said something crazy. Of course. He’s a man. He didn’t notice. Even with Karadik singling out Aveline and Theolin when we were in prison, he still doesn’t see it. But I do see it. The way Karadik kept looking at me made me want to take a bath. “He wants us to bribe him,” I say. I refuse to elaborate further. Even Jarryd is watching Dain incredulously.
“Maybe some of Aveline’s jewels will help,” Dain offers.
Exasperated, I storm off ahead of him, and a minute later throw open the door of Emperor’s Glory. The sound of the door bursting open silences the room, and the heads of all the patrons swivel towards me. Calming myself, I walk to the table where my friends are sitting and pull up a chair. A few moments later Dain and Jarryd join us.
“What did he say?” Rose asks.
“He gave us forms,” I reply, dropping the papers on the table.
“That’s it?” Aveline asks, surprised.
“He said there’s a long queue and we will have to wait,” Jarryd replies dryly.
“If our applications are accepted,” Dain adds glumly.
“What did anyone expect?” Alek asks. “He had us in prison yesterday. Why is he going to turn around and issue us permits today?”
“He won’t give them to us until he gets what he wants,” Aveline says.
“Do you think we can bribe him?” Rose asks.
Aveline’s face hardens. “Not with what he wants.”
I give an emphatic nod at the same time as Theolin. Agreeing with me obviously doesn’t sit well with her though, as she directs a dark scowl towards me.
I’ve never been a good cleaner, but now I have no choice. Broom in hand, I sweep the floor of The Den, trying my best not to knock anyone over. Aveline is weaving her way through the crowds, carrying a large tray of drinks. Somehow, she makes it look as though she has served tables her whole life, even though she has never done it before. Jarryd and Rose are in the kitchens scrubbing plates, while Dain and Alek are chopping vegetables. Theolin is wiping the tables with enough vigour to rub the varnish off. Thankfully the patrons think she is glaring at the stains, not the work she is being forced to do. That, at least, brings a small smile to my face.
“Be careful,” a man grumbles at me. “I ought to have you flogged.”
I look up into the bearded face staring down at me. Shocked, I realise I’ve swept my broom right into the man’s foot! “I’m sorry,” I say, before quickly scurrying away.
A chuckle from behind me sends a chill down my back. If Theolin thinks she can…
“You’re not a natural with that broom,” Vahla says.
I turn to see his amused smile, which he quickly wipes away.
“Don’t worry about him,” Vahla says quietly. “Ruddick is all bluster, but he’s a complete coward at heart.”
“How do you know?”
“For a start,” Vahla says, “he’s here to gamble. But he’s never bet anything worth losing.”
“Maybe he just doesn’t like losing money,” I offer.
Vahla gives me a pitying look, as though I’m a child who doesn’t understand what the adult is saying. “Or maybe he’s a coward.”
A burst of raucous laughter turns my head towards a small group of people clustered around a thin, tall man. His clothes are impeccably clean, with not even a crease on his embroidered silk vest. His listeners are paying rapt attention to whatever he is saying and nodding whenever they aren’t laughing along with him.
“Seems like a popular man,” I say, showing Vahla that I can discern a person’s character just as well as him.
“Of course he is,” Vahla replies, with a contemptuous sneer.
I turn to him, surprised. “But those people all want to listen to him.”
“Because he knows what they want to hear,” Vahla says, his voice barely above a whisper. “His opinions are like his clothes, changed to suit the latest fashion.”
I follow Vahla towards the back of the room, sweeping the floor as I go.
“Do you judge everyone’s character?” I ask when no one is close enough to overhear.
“Of course I do,” Vahla replies. “Most people decide what they want others to see about themselves. So, they make a role for themselves then act it out the best they can. But if you look a bit deeper… that’s where you can see who they really are. And that’s important for me to know.”
I’m stunned. Cynical, shallow Vahla Jyn, probably has a better understanding of people than almost anyone. Especially me.
“What about me?” I ask tentatively.
He looks up at me with raised eyebrows. “What about you?”
“How do you judge my character?” I can’t believe I’m asking for his opinion. Standing in front of him, broom in hand, I suddenly feel naked. And very, very vulnerable.
He watches me for a moment, weighing me. “There’s a hardness about you,” he says slowly. “A hardness and a grace. The way you walk, the way you move – every action, every muscle seems like it’s under your control. You look like a deadly weapon. And that’s got nothing do with me knowing you came from the forest.” My breath catches for a moment – do I really look like that? “But,” he continues, and my heart sinks, waiting for the sting, “that’s not all there is to you. Your eyes betray your insecurity. You’re hesitant, unsure of yourself. Which will be a problem for you if you plan on using the skills you’ve learned.”
“I.. I’m not unsure of myself,” I object.
Vahla smiles. “If you weren’t, you would have hit me with that broom, instead of bleating like an indignant sheep.”
Vahla takes a drink from Bella as she passes with a tray loaded with cups of wine. “I don’t know what you’re going to do if you ever get your permits,” he says, as I follow him up the stairs, “but if you hesitate, you’ll fail everyone.”
“But… wait,” I splutter, as we come into our room, “I won’t hesitate. I won’t fail anyone. What makes you think I will? Because you see something in my eyes?”
Vahla turns back to me. “Like I said, I don’t know what you plan to do in the Royal District. But Storm liked you enough to send you to me. So let me tell you something Storm and I have in common. We’re both honest with ourselves. And you need to be too, otherwise you will fail.” He drains his drink then walks out through the opposite door.
I stare after him long after he has gone. Fail? I can’t afford to fail. I’ve already failed too many people. Mother and Rehana. My brother. Father. Bree. The list could go on, I think sourly, as I feel like there isn’t anyone I haven’t failed.
Well, Vahla’s wrong. When the time comes and I’m face to face with the emperor, I won’t hesitate. I won’t fail.
The following morning, we split up into pairs to learn what we can of the security around the walls of the Royal District. Not knowing when, or even if, Karadik will come through with our permits, we have decided to search for other possible ways of entering the Royal District. With Aveline beside me, we peer out from the mouths of alleys and streets, trying to discreetly observe the movement patterns of the Peace Bringers on the walls. As usual, the Square of Harmony and Unity in front of us is crowded except for the clear space immediately adjacent to the walls. I scoff at the formal name of the square. The irony certainly
isn’t lost on me.
Making our way from street to street, we never stay in one place for too long, but sometimes buy the occasional trinket from a street vendor to avoid arousing suspicion.
“There’s no pattern,” Aveline says, as we weave our way around the tables of dinners in the square. “There’s no regularity in how long they stay in one place, how long they remain on duty, or even how far along the wall they march before turning back again. Nothing.” Even though she keeps her voice low, frustration still simmers in her words.
“Maybe one of the others will have found a way in,” I offer feebly.
Aveline shakes her head. “Do you really think they’ll find anything different on those walls?”
I don’t answer – there’s no need.
“There’ll be another way in,” Aveline continues, sounding as though she is trying to convince herself. “There always is.”
But I’m beginning to realise that there isn’t. There’s only one way into the Royal District, and that is through Karadik Mors.
We continue our surveillance of the walls and the Peace Bringers guarding them, sometimes pausing in the shadows of a side street, other times wandering through the square to the very limits of the exclusion zone beneath the walls. Aveline is in no mood for conversation. Her jaw is set, determined to find a weakness somewhere, an unpatrolled section of wall, a blind spot, anything. But I know we won’t find one. So my mind is occupied by thoughts of the entry permits, and what I might have to do to get them.
Suddenly the blaring sound of trumpets fills the air. It comes from the direction of the Royal District but is quickly taken up all around us. Trumpets, hundreds of them, thousands even, call out from across the city.
Every face in the square turns towards the Royal District, and a heavy blanket of gloom descends on them. Slowly, they all disperse, heading away from the square and the gleaming green walls.
I stop an old woman who is making her way past us. “What is happening?” I ask her, yelling to be heard over the blasting trumpets.