A squeaking of leather drew his attention, and he looked up at the police on the crest of the hill. Half a dozen crossbows and two muskets were pointed in his direction. Before his knees could give way, he slowly knelt in the snow, hands lifted over his head.
If he died here, if he bled out in the snow alone, would anyone know? Would Kazi starve, too proud to ask for help from his followers? Would Nachi ever know what had happened to him? Would it even matter? He was gone either way, a phantom, a rumor of a father. Would they tell Agna, safe at her parents’ house? He was nothing to her, according to the law. Would they bother telling her?
Please, Eytra, Lundra, Tufar, Darano, mercy.
Agna would find out. She’d raze Wildern to the ground to find out what had happened to him. Keifon forced himself to swallow. She would care. His life mattered to her, even if Kazi, who was supposed to have loved him, tossed it around like a betting chip. He would protect his life for her sake, if nothing else.
“You’re Yanweian?” the scout barked. “What’s your name? What are you doing out here?”
Keifon cleared his throat, for all the good it would do him. His voice was shaky and hoarse. “K-Keifon the Medic, ma’am. I live in Wildern, I’ve lived here since the spring. I’m out looking for food. Foraging.”
“Nameless,” someone on the hill muttered. Keifon closed his eyes. He was nameless, yes, even here. And despite the Benevolent Union’s backing, he was still a foreign national, not a Kaveran citizen. The Yanweian police could take him in and drag him to Nijin for questioning, and the Wildern police would look the other way. At least no one from his old unit had talked yet; if the police had known he was still affiliated with Kazi, they would have come to search the house by now. He only had to avoid giving himself away.
“How’d you get to Kavera?” The scout was apparently the spokesperson of the group. At least she didn’t have any weapons pointed at him.
“I work for the Benevolent Union hospital.” He left off the doctor’s apprentice part, and the used to be part of the Army part. Those facts would not protect him now.
“Why’s your name the Medic, then, not the Doctor?” A trace of sarcasm tinged her words. A nameless doctor was an impossibility.
Of course they’d notice that. He wasn’t thinking far enough ahead. Keifon silently recited a string of curses before raising his voice. “I trained in medicine in the Army. But I was here long before — long before the traitors came.”
The scout’s eyes narrowed above the tightly wrapped scarf that hid the rest of her face. “The Benevolents can prove that, then?”
“Yes. Yes. I signed on with them almost three years ago.” He stopped himself from mentioning Dr. Rushu’s name. They wouldn’t know her. And he wouldn’t drag her into this. He licked his lips instinctively, a perilous tic in this dry cold. “I was heading to the hospital now anyway. My shift starts soon. If you want to check with them.” He’d let them drag him in irons if they’d let him go afterward.
The scout’s head angled up toward the others on the hill. “Captain?”
“Search him,” one of the riders replied. “Both bags. We’ll see. Kishu, help her out.”
One of the other riders dismounted. Someone named Kishu — a northeasterner, then, like him. The melting snow soaked through Keifon’s clothes, and his knees had gone numb. As the scout dismounted and Officer Kishu slid down the slope, Keifon lifted his gathering sack where it had dropped and ducked out of his satchel strap. He piled them in the snow and lifted his hands, waiting.
The officers turned out his foraged firewood and food into the snow and rummaged through his satchel; he heard the bottles clunking together. He’d wrapped each of them in scraps of clean bandages to keep them from cracking one another, but they wouldn’t stand up to being thrown around.
“Nothing worth anything in the big bag,” the second officer called up to the captain on the path. “Little one’s full of medicine and such. And Kaveran books.”
“Medicine?” the captain said, as her horse shifted its weight and blew out a cloud of steam.
“What are you doing with this stuff, out here?” The scout held out his satchel. “Are you meeting someone out this way?”
He would not give up Keiva’s camp, either. The Yanweian police had no real jurisdiction over Kaveran citizens, but their local counterparts were always itching for a reason to clear them out. A manufactured collaboration with Kazi’s rebels would be a splendid excuse to raid the camp.
“I’m heading to my shift at the hospital.” He bit back as I already said. “I knew I wouldn’t have time to stop and get my supplies before then.” It wasn’t why he’d brought his medical kit, but both statements were true, as they stood.
“Leave it, then,” the captain told the pair at the foot of the hill. Her eyes skewered Keifon over her wool scarf. “What do you know about the rebels, nameless?”
Everything. Nothing. More than I ever wanted to know.
All his life, he had done his best to do what was right, to follow his parents’ example and then the gods’. Even the sins that had earned his un-naming had boiled down to mistreatment of his family and its assets. They had not been crimes. It was no crime to be a drunkard and a terrible husband and a worse businessman. Even on the street, he had never stolen, never fought another person to take their food or money.
The Church and the Army and the Benevolent Union had backed him because he had changed, and proved himself to be honest and diligent. Dr. Rushu had taken him on as her apprentice, trusting him to carry on her work. Eri had let him back into his daughter’s life, even after everything he’d done to hurt them. Agna had accepted him as her friend — accepted him into her home, the next closest thing to a spouse — even though he was nameless and foreign and had treated her badly when they’d first met.
He was not a criminal. He was not a rebel. He was nameless, and he accepted that. But how dare they treat him this way, when so many others had forgiven him? They knew nothing about him. Nothing at all.
The fear remained, and kept him kneeling in the cold. But it was no longer alone. His anger burned low and steady. It had enough fuel to last a very long time.
“I know they turned against the pass project two and a half months ago. I read in the paper that their leader disappeared.”
“Is that all?”
Keifon offered up another silent prayer. Darano forgive me for lying. I’ll do whatever it takes to make up for it. I leave myself at Your mercy, Lord of Justice. “That’s all I know.”
The captain flicked a hand at the pile of foraged plants. “Take your things. We’ll follow you back to the Benevolent Union.”
Keifon bent to gather the firewood and bark and the other things he’d foraged into the sack. The officer tossed his satchel in the snow, and Keifon winced, but he had not heard any breaking glass. He settled the strap around his body and stood, hefting the sack onto his shoulder.
Yesterday, he would have thanked them for sparing him. He turned and set off on shaking legs toward the city. He would show up for his shift, change out of his soaked and muddy clothes, and stuff the sack into his locker in the changing room. He would meet Dr. Rushu, talk with her about the day’s rounds, and get along with his life — the life he had built, day by day. It was a life he would defend, because it was worth defending.
* * *
Keifon closed the door. “I want you out by the end of the week.”
Kazi looked up from his notes, his eyes narrowing, irritated as always to be pulled out of his own world. “What? Why?”
He rested his hands on the back of the chair and kept his gaze steady. Despite the memories crowding his head and the old hurts beating with his heart, he would not look away. “This was a mistake. I can’t change it now, but I can stop perpetuating it.”
Kazi set down his pen. “But the Nijini police are still looking for me.”
“I know. And I hope you find somewhere good to hide. It won’t be with me.”
“Rrgh
.” Kazi leaned back, exposing the stubbled line of his throat. “What brought this on, all of a sudden? I thought we had an understanding.”
He wished he had a nanbur to fidget with, or more space to pace. He’d always had those things when they argued in inns, years ago. And tonight’s argument would not end the way their old arguments had. It would be the last, and it would end everything. Keifon tightened and released his fingers around the top rail of the chair. “It’s — I don’t know that I can explain it in a way you’d understand. Something happened this morning.” He stole a glance up. Kazi’s eyes registered worry. He wasn’t imagining that. — Stay on target. “It made me realize that I don’t have to do this. I don’t have to be treated this way.”
“Hmph. I’m cleaning your damned house for you, you mean treated like that?”
Keifon made himself take a breath before he replied. “Like a resource. However it benefits you, without consideration to how it affects my life. As though that doesn’t matter. And I let you do it, I let you take advantage of me. Because — I don’t know exactly why, there are too many reasons. But I thought I didn’t deserve any better. And now I think I do.”
Kazi folded his arms, his mouth setting into a skewed grimace that suggested displeasure. Keifon knew to read it as confusion, something Kazi rarely showed openly. He always had to be a step ahead. And soon Keifon would lose those clues he’d used to read Kazi, the details learned over hours of time together. A pressure gathered in Keifon’s throat, but he remembered the glares of the police and the sting of the snow. He remembered the cold realization that he did not deserve any of this.
He lowered his head and tried again. “I believe that you had some measure of respect for me. Once. And maybe even now. But I didn’t. I took whatever you had to give, because I didn’t think I deserved to ask differently.”
Kazi’s expression eased, and his eyes dropped to the grain of the table. He toyed with the pen lying by his papers, running his thumb over the feather’s edge. “I was always glad when you did ask for things. Even when we disagreed. When you first asked me out, when you finally spoke up… I wouldn’t have asked, but when you came to me and told me what you wanted, instead of just accepting what you were told, it… it meant a lot to me.”
Keifon pinched the bridge of his nose. But Kazi wasn’t searching for weak points, trying to manipulate him. He meant it, this time. “I appreciate that. But I need to talk about now. Today. I am not your pawn. I’m not even one of your followers. I was your friend once. And to me, you were my partner, whether or not you want to call it that. But that’s — that’s over. I don’t owe you this. I don’t owe you anything.”
“I never said you did. As I recall, you said it was the right thing to do.” Kazi’s voice was tight and guarded.
“Perhaps it was. But to continue this, I have to put this life I built in jeopardy, and accept that you can use me whenever it’s convenient to you. I no longer accept that.” He paused, gathering the scraps of his thoughts. Kazi waited, letting him pay out enough rope to hang himself. Fine, if that was his tactic. There was plenty to say. “I believe you have good intentions,” Keifon said slowly. “I know you’ll help people like me. Nameless, and people who don’t fit into society. If not now, then someday. But I won’t risk everything I’ve made here to help you get there. You have other supporters. Followers. People who signed on with you knowingly. Ask them.”
For a while Kazi stared at him as if trying to figure out where he’d come from, as if he were trying to figure out the pressure point that would break him again. “You really think you’re no different to me than some Kaveran I met a few months ago. That our history together doesn’t mean anything.”
The chair creaked against the floor as Keifon shoved it away, setting himself loose on a path around the table. Kazi stood to track him, uneasy, as Keifon circled him.
“How much did our history mean when you decided I was too much of a liability to keep around? When you asked me never to see you again, when you convinced me to move even further away from my daughter? That was the only way, then. It was just too dangerous, you’ll have enemies, it’s for my own safety. Except when you want something. Except when it suits you.”
Kazi rolled his eyes, sighing. “Coming here was one of the best things that ever happened to you. Don’t play the martyr with me.”
“That’s not the point. Every reason you gave me for leaving suddenly disappears when it’s convenient for you. Now, all of a sudden, there’s no risk that your enemies will retaliate on me? What happened to being concerned for my safety?”
“This is bigger than us, Kei, don’t be petty. We have a chance to shift the course of history, to help thousands of people who have been robbed of their potential—”
“I heard your speech. I know you believe that. Still doesn’t answer why you have to put me and my family in danger, and not all those people who chose to follow you. Who chose to risk themselves for you.” He made himself stop and face Kazi, gripping the edge of the counter behind his back. “Maybe because they think you’re Darano Reborn, and you can’t let them see you running and hiding. You came to me because you don’t care what I think, and you don’t care if you hurt me.”
Kazi’s eyes dropped. “I didn’t have any other choice.”
“Yes, you did. Just nothing that was easy. Nothing that was convenient. And that’s too bad. Because I’m done. I am not your resource. I am not your pawn. I want you out of my house.”
“We can talk about this, Kei—”
“No. You can stay until you find somewhere else to go. I’ll send messages for you if you need me to. I’ll even address them for you in Kaveran. But you need another exit strategy. Now.”
With a clenched jaw, Kazi blotted his notes and capped the inkwell. “Fine. I’ll think of something.”
Keifon bowed his head. “I’ll help if I can.”
Kazi turned to size him up. “You’ve changed, you know.”
Some old tension let go in Keifon’s chest. “Thank you. May the gods bless your revolution, Kazi. Even if I don’t want to be part of it.”
His former love paused, as if thinking up a retort, then gathered his notes and passed into the living room. Keifon listened to his steps across the floor before sinking into a chair.
Agna and Keifon: Homecoming
The carriages pushed through the snow to reach Wildern before morning. Roused from sleep, Agna’s fellow passengers grumbled about the warnings their driver had issued — Wildern’s inns were packed to capacity, so they would have better luck seeking out friends and relations. Agna took a drink out of her canteen, rubbed her eyes, and plotted her course across the city. She’d sent ahead all of the food she’d bought and collected, and the Benevolent Union would have distributed it by now. The local newsletter from the last town had said that Kazi na Furujia had gone into hiding. And good riddance, Agna thought, as she fastened the pockets and straps on her backpack.
The row of carriages rolled to a stop in the depot’s courtyard. Agna pulled up the hood of the cloak she’d bought in Vertal. She had left Wildern without one, not expecting to be home before spring — but then, she hadn’t expected much of her trip to go the way it had. She looped her backpack’s straps over her shoulders and jumped out of the carriage, standing on Wildern’s soil again. She was here, no matter how exhausted and impatient she felt. That was worth celebrating.
Her crates of art and clothes were buried in the loads of luggage. The carriage company had re-confirmed her Wildern address so that they might send her things along once they were unearthed. She landed in Wildern with her cloak and the backpack.
When she left the all-hours glow of the carriage company’s office behind, the streets grew dim and packed with trodden snow. Agna set out along the first hill, following the linked pools of light under the streetlamps. The path from the carriage company’s office to her building was perpendicular to the Benevolent Union and the Tufarian church, which seemed a shame; she was curious about
the state of both. There would be plenty of time to catch up tomorrow. She would take a day to settle in, to schedule her first round of shifts at the hospital and to take in the state of the city. It would be gratifying to get right back to healing, but realistically, she needed time to regroup and to put her life back in order.
The sight of the gallery building hit her with a wave of relief. Nothing in the world would feel as good as crawling into her own bed. Everything else could wait till tomorrow. Keifon would be asleep, but maybe she’d wake him. He wouldn’t mind. The switch from their old schedule made her feel warm with nostalgia.
Someday she’d have to tell him about what she’d done, about the rings hanging on a chain around her neck, but that could wait, too. One thing at a time.
Agna stopped short in the path that led to the back of the building, and her backpack hit the fence and knocked loose a thin shower of snow. There were lights in the gallery rooms downstairs, glowing through the curtains. She pressed a hand against her hammering heart. Keifon had rented out the rooms, that was all. Like they’d discussed. At least he didn’t have to be alone all winter. She’d have to store the art she’d bought in her studio, in the meantime.
She found her key and let herself into the apartment, toed off her soaked shoes and left her cloak on as she climbed the stairs in the dark. She’d hang it up later. Her extremities were numb from the cold, so the extra insulation would help until she could get under the covers.
The kitchen held a trace of residual heat. Agna laid a hand on the stove’s smooth metal side. The traces of cooking and cleaning smells flooded into her head — roasted poultry, onion, vinegar and soap. Her throat squeezed. She could sink down with her back to the stove and curl up to sleep right here on the kitchen floor. No matter what her parents did to uproot her original home, no matter how the rest of the world tried to throw her off balance, she and Keifon had made this place a home. They’d built a place where both of them were welcome, no matter what.
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