Phoenix Rising

by Rebecca Harwell

  Councillor Aster coughed slightly. “That is, I am afraid, not possible.”

  “For what reason?” Marko demanded.

  “My Lord, the recipe to that compound is a secret of my people, dating back to the founding of our nation. Giving it up would be tantamount to asking Storm’s Quarry to open its gem mines to us for excavation.”

  “Then compensation?” the Duke asked. “You have not allowed us to pay for the compound, and I do appreciate your people’s generosity in this matter. However, I believe we can negotiate a favorable trade agreement, giving Wintercress a greater share of our mine production.”

  “Are those mines currently operational?” Aster inquired, and Nadya gritted her teeth. Of course not. Storm’s Quarry’s workers were being tasked with rebuilding the city’s infrastructure, not mining gems. Something the Councillor very well knew.

  The Duke inclined his head. “No, but with the compound being produced here, I have no doubt—”

  “We cannot give away a national secret on profits that may one day be reaped, Your Grace,” Councillor Aster said, as if speaking to an unruly child.

  “I—I am afraid you have us at a loss, then,” the Duke said, his polite expression straining. A wave of sympathy overcame Nadya for the Duke. She wanted nothing more than to snap the table in two and demand everyone speak plainly, but then she was not raised to play a role in this theater. If his resolve were cracking, however, then Storm’s Quarry must indeed be running out of cards to play. To admit such weakness was tantamount to her lying before the Duke’s Guard, throat bared.

  “Our people need that compound,” Marko added.

  Kesali nodded. Her fingers fiddled with a stray thread in the embroidery of her tunic, the only betrayal to her nerves. “There must be something that your king will take in exchange.”

  Councillor Aster smiled at her. “I understand your grief, my lady. And so little experience in dealing with these matters. I remember it well.” Her kindness dripped like blood from the edge of a serrated knife. “Your plight is close to my heart. I consider Storm’s Quarry a home away from home, if you will indulge me in thinking so. I do want to help you and your people, to overcome the wreckage of your Blood Sun Solstice.”

  “If that is so, Lady Councillor, then I assume you will do everything in your power to share the compound recipe with us,” Kesali said, voice equally as sweet. Nadya felt a pang of admiration for her friend. Here, she traded verbal blows with the same finesse as a master of the political arts. Not bad for a girl from the sea-scum tier.

  “Even my influence will not be enough, I’m afraid.” Councillor Aster looked to the Duke. “Your Grace, my solution is not an easy one. It is, however, the only thing I could convince my uncle of, the only thing that serves the interests of both our nations.”

  “Few things are easy in times such as these,” the Duke replied carefully. Nadya heard his heartbeat quicken. How much, she wondered, how much are you willing to give in order to save the lowest in your city?

  “I am glad you are aware of the severe limitations we face.” Councillor Aster nodded. “I have written up a treaty, one that my uncle and his advisors have gone over and approved. Agreeing to its terms will ensure that Storm’s Quarry does not want for the compound that clears your tainted water.” Without so much as a glance to him, one of her attending soldiers marched over to hand a roll of parchment to the Duke. From the doorway, Shadar’s eyes followed him back to his station.

  The Duke unfurled the parchment. Spiky characters in impeccable calligraphy formed words in Erevo and Cressian which filled the page, silver-blue ink glimmering in the lighted lanterns. “And this agreement?” he asked as he read.

  Nadya wished she could read the written language of either people. It would likely be hours of dancing around one another before the truth of the treaty was revealed, before she could see if she might be able to help, to be more an a presence taking up air and adding little to the machinations of this political duel.

  “Is complete,” Councillor Aster said, her smile wide and genuine. “I am afraid to say that my uncle will not accept any changes.”

  You are afraid to say much, yet all the more willing to say it, Nadya thought sourly. Something about the Councillor’s demeanor, the strong tilt of her chin, the glimmer of her eyes, was more frightening the Gedeon’s dark stare.

  It was the look of a victor, Nadya realized, and she felt sick.

  She heard the instant the Duke’s breath caught. “This—this cannot be—”

  “It is.” Aster did not even attempt to hide her smugness, and Nadya wished to pull on her cloak right there, to see if the great Councillor looked so content when faced with a masked nivasi.

  “To cede sovereignty to the High King of Wintercress.” The Duke’s voice was a whisper but it thundered across the room, into the decades to come. Nadya heard its solemn undertones, and the defeat within banished any breath she had.

  “Sovereignty?” Marko echoed softly. He rounded on Aster. “You want us to lie down as you invade our city?”

  “Not an invasion, my lord. Simply a…reorganization of the current structure of power. You will keep all that matters. And surely infinite access to our compound is worth that.” Councillor Aster reached across the table and grasped his hand lightly, a mother’s reassuring touch to a crying child. Marko snatched his hand back.

  “And what of our people?” Nadya could not stop the question from escaping. “What of the Nomori? Cressians don’t exactly like our kind.”

  Councillor Aster turned to her, raising an eyebrow as if a lump of stone had begun speaking. “Ah, yes, the Nomori truthseer. Forgive me, I had not expected such a question from you.”

  “It does not come from her alone,” Kesali said, interrupting the Councillor. “Wintercress’s disdain for the Nomori is well known. With this treaty signed, what will become of our people?”

  Kicked out, forced beyond the sea to become nomads again, Nadya thought, anger rushing to heat her face.

  “I can assure you the people of Storm’s Quarry have no reason to fear this treaty,” Aster said, and no one at the table needed Nadya’s faux abilities to tell them that lies poured out with every word.

  “And you, Stormspeaker,” she continued, “you will no longer be a pawn in this game of politics. Such a relief, and a gift, once you realize it. No more being forced into an arranged marriage to bring two disparate peoples together. You will have your freedom once again.”

  Marko’s face paled, and Kesali bit her lip. If she looked at Nadya, Nadya did not see, as her gaze went directly to the polished table in front of her.

  Her first thought was not glee. Nor relief. Nor dwelling on the thousands of impossibles that could be turned to maybes with the signing of a single piece of paper. It was not of herself standing beside Kesali, hands entwined, Marko nowhere to be seen.

  It was of a tall Nomori woman clothed in black, paint obscuring the carefree expression, hands gripping deadly blades of light with ease.

  It was of confusion and stomach roiling and the thought of losing what she had not yet even received.

  “If you think one person’s choices are worth this,” Kesali sputtered. She made to stand, but Marko put a hand on her shoulder.

  “Enough.” Duke Isyanov had not spoken, his eyes fixed to the words of the treaty. He smoothed the parchment in front of him. “This is a generous offer, my lady.”

  Generous? Nadya swallowed back an indignant yelp. This was not her game. If someone needed to be dueled, then she could step in. Until then, she must leave it to those who were skilled in such maneuvers. It did not mean she had to like sitting by and letting the future of her people, her city, be decided.

  “But I will require some time to consider,” the Duke continued. He looked up at Aster and smiled. “You must understand. There are many advisors who would need to review this, nobles to be appeased. Such is the way of these things.”

  Councillor Aster inclined her head. “Of course, Your Gra
ce. Unfortunately, no more compound can be sent until you have signed. You must understand, this is a condition of my uncle’s. Shall we plan for tomorrow, at dawn? A new dawn, as it were.” She glanced to the tapestry on the wall behind the Duke, where a golden sun was carefully stitched into the deep blue silk.

  “That will be satisfactory,” the Duke said, ignoring the obvious jab at his ruling symbol. “I will speak to my chamberlain about making arrangements for a ceremony. Such a treaty deserves no less.”

  Councillor Aster stood, and in an instant, her soldiers stood at her side. “Then, I take my leave, Your Grace. My lord, my lady. Tomorrow, then.” With a gracious bow of her head, she swept out of the room, leaving a cold draft in her wake.

  Nadya thought death would take her before she wished for Gedeon to return from the stars to wreak further chaos upon the city. Or Levka, to break free from the stone prison where he rotted. But now, with silence settling over the room like a pallor of sickness, she could not help but think that Gedeon’s madness paled in comparison to the guile of Aster. With Gedeon, Nadya could fight him, could touch him, could throw his chains off her mind and…and snap his neck and watch the blood run into that of his victims. This woman was willing to let an entire city succumb to thirst and disease, and she had played her game to win without ever striking a single blow. Nadya was not eager to put more blood onto the hands of the Iron Phoenix, but even so, Aster’s death would not stop the tide of Wintercress, as inevitable as the floodwaters.

  Without a miracle, Storm’s Quarry would be lost to a piece of paper, its strength far greater than anything the Phoenix could ever muster.

  *

  Hours later, little had changed, except the abandonment of their seats to pace about the room.

  In the ever-shifting light of the fireplace, Duke Isyanov aged years, crags forming along his brow where none existed before. The copper sheen of his hair dulled, silver-gray growing more pronounced by the moment. He sighed and closed his eyes. Nadya stilled the urge to reach out to him; Marko’s advisor or not, she was still just a Nomori and this was the leader of the city. But she knew that slow, heavy breathing, that sag of the shoulders. She knew what it was to carry the city’s future upon her back, and the Duke’s burden had never been heavier.

  “We can fight this,” Marko said when no one else dared to break the silence of the chambers.

  “Without our walls intact and our waters purified, we cannot hope to go against Wintercress,” Shadar said. He too looked old beyond his middle years. Posture still immaculate, but there was a tightness, a fragility to the way he stood, that twisted Nadya’s insides.

  The Duke shook his head. “It matters not. Whether it takes a week or a season or a decade to win, our people will die. The hospitals lie full already.”

  “The Nomori Elder healers are working on curing the scouring sickness.” Kesali’s voice did not carry the hope of her words.

  “It does not matter, my child. The scouring sickness may be cured, but nothing but clean water can cure the wasting that is thirst.” Duke Isyanov straightened. His fingers brushed the royal circlet at his throat. “I will sign the treaty.”

  Nadya was the only one to remain silent.

  “Father, you cannot sign us over to those barbarians!” Marko slammed his hand onto the table at the same time that Shadar sharply said, “Marko, please.”

  The Duke’s son took a breath. “There has to be another way.”

  “The Nomori will be forced out,” Kesali pleaded. She touched the Duke’s arm tentatively. “It will not take long for their prejudice against us to be revealed.”

  He looked down at her with the fondness of a father, and Nadya’s chest ached. Kesali had so much here, so much that she had gone so long without. Perhaps Nadya had taken things like family for granted. Perhaps Shay had been right; she had what all other nivasi had been denied.

  Shame burned in her throat.

  “Once the treaty is signed and the compound given to our people, I will still possess enough sway to protect the inhabitants of Storm’s Quarry. All of them.”

  Nadya’s stomach fluttered, and she shared a glance with her father. Could he ever have imagined those words coming from the Erevan leader of the city? During a crisis, fragile alliances and promises were often the first to go.

  Another reason for the wedding, she reminded herself.

  “You can’t guarantee that, Father,” Marko pleaded. “Do not give up. Our spies have reported back. Wintercress does not ship the compound here from their capital. The Councillor told the truth in that, at least. The compound is created at their stronghold. Eagle’s Reach, just beyond our borders.”

  “I know this, Marko. Such information is hardly concrete, and even if…” The Duke shook his head. “It matters not.”

  “Matters not? Father, we can strike first. Obtain the compound and the secrets to its creation. We can save our home.” Marko looked around at all of them, seeking support for his foolhardy idea.

  Nadya met his desperate gaze.

  This was her city, her home. She had shed blood for it, fought for it. Sacrificed to protect it. Anger flared in her chest, tightening her lungs until breath came hard. This was where she and Kesali had played in the alleys as children, chased each other through narrow streets, splashing in fountains. Where they shared their first kiss, and where Nadya’s heart broke. Where she met Shay on the lonely rooftops of the Nomori tier.

  “What would it take?” Her voice surprised her, and everyone else it seemed. Everyone turned to her. She cleared her throat, met the Duke’s eyes, and held them. “What would it take for you to not sign the treaty?”

  “A guarantee of clean water. Enough of the compound to last until the waters purify themselves.” The Duke shook his head. “Miss Gabori, I appreciate your zeal, but ruling comes with sacrifice. I will give up our name and my throne before our lives. To those living in the bottom tiers of this city, having the wells run clean and full is far more important that who sits up here.”

  I know of what you speak. She took a breath and looked over at her father briefly, trying to communicate everything that pounded through her head. “I know. But perhaps there are avenues in thwarting the Councillor that we haven’t yet explored.”

  For a moment, she thought her father would not comply, deeming compliance too risky for a reward that might be only fantasy. But Shadar cleared his throat. “I do have an idea, Your Grace. No one hear is going to like it.” Including me was left off, but his tone betrayed him.

  “Captain, I like none of our options. But I will take what hope we can get.”

  “Call upon the Iron Phoenix.”

  Stunned silence greeted his words. Nadya struggled to keep her face straight. She did not know where to look, and she could feel Kesali’s stare boring into her.

  “No, absolutely not,” Marko said. “That man cannot be trusted, you know that, Captain.”

  “And would the Phoenix be able to help?” came Kesali’s quiet voice. Nadya swallowed at the concern. “I do not think there is anything anyone, even one such as he, could do.”

  If you had cared so much, you would have chosen me, a tiny voice in her mind spoke, but Nadya was surprisingly able to ignore it. Even more surprising, another voice spoke, Shay would never question your abilities.

  She shook herself. Now was not the time for her feelings to go to war within her. Too much was at stake.

  “I don’t know, but we must try.” Shadar turned toward the Duke. “This is his home, and he cannot wish it to fall to Wintercress with the signing of a paper. Let him try to recover the compound from their troops. The Guard cannot do this without risking war, as you’ve said. But the Phoenix just might.”

  “I do not disagree.” The Duke looked at Marko. “But I agree that he cannot be trusted. Not after the fourth tier square.”

  Scent of blood, screams of the children watching their parents die under the hands of a puppet, her hand, dripping red…

  No. Do not fall apart. You a
re needed to save lives, not dwell on those you’ve taken.

  The flashback faded, and Nadya caught herself. She drew a rattling breath, remembering the steady rhythm of Shay’s hand stroking her hair. She was okay. Gedeon’s control was long behind her. Her heart rate quieted.

  Maybe I am starting to believe it.

  “I remember that day. I also remember the nivasi puppeteer that the Phoenix killed on the Blood Sun Solstice,” Shadar said, a gentle rebuke. Nadya never thought she would hear her father talk to the Duke in such a manner. “I believe this man, the Iron Phoenix, has more nobility than any of us realize.”

  Papa…Nadya felt the tears at the edge of her eyes. Shadar was careful not to look at her, but the way he held his head, the sudden strength of his posture…he was proud of her. He was proud of the Iron Phoenix.

  The Duke’s face was unreadable. He waved a hand to silence Marko’s next objection. “Perhaps,” he said softly, “you are right. Perhaps the Phoenix can save us all.”

  Chapter Twelve

  For the first time since the Blood Sun Solstice, there was a plan to end Storm’s Quarry’s suffering, and with that plan brought hope. The Duke and Shadar would meet the Iron Phoenix on the rooftop of the fourth tier where the masked vigilante first encountered Gedeon Chaos-maker. Shadar would spread word that would reach the Phoenix’s ears.

  Only the Duke and Lord Marko did not know there was no risk in meeting the Iron Phoenix, that she stood in that very room, off to the side, listening intently. The Duke deemed such risk acceptable. Marko, however, did not.

  “Storm’s Quarry needs you! You cannot expose yourself to a powerful nivasi, no matter whose side he falls on. He is too unpredictable.”

  Marko’s objections stung, even though Nadya knew them to be rooted in concern for his father. Once she had hated him, her heart burning with jealousy for everything he could have and she could not. For Kesali. But now, now he trusted her as an advisor, listened to her would-be counsel with thought, and considered her a friend.