“What will you do here, in the meantime?” Alizhan asked.
“I’ve been on the Council for twenty years,” Mar said. “I think I can manage a month without you.”
“I might know a ship that would take us,” Ev said. “But Alizhan is right—if we don’t rescue those children right now, we might as well have left them in that house. They might not help us solve the case, but we can’t just leave them at Iriyat’s mercy. We have to hide them.”
Sleeping and eating at Solor House was grander than all of Ev’s wildest dreams, and yet their breakfast of bread and honey on the terrace overlooking the ocean was shadowed by failure. Alizhan, undeterred, was talking as fast as anyone could talk while shoving food into her mouth.
“Zilal helped me slip into the house,” Alizhan said. She paused to swallow. “He didn’t know me then. He might be willing to talk to me again, even if he doesn’t remember me. If we can get into the orphanage—which I’m sure we can.”
“That’s one kid out of nineteen,” Ev said. What worried her wasn’t getting in, but getting out. “How do we persuade the others to come with us? Why would they trust us? Why would they trust anyone?”
“It’s scary to be alone,” Alizhan said. She picked up a green jiyar fruit from a bowl of fruit on the table and shoved her thumbnail into the rind, squirting juice into the air. She began to scrape at the peel, scattering little bits of it over the table. “Scarier if people have treated you like a monster your whole life. But I think I can get them to come with us.”
“You can?” Ev said. The chaotic way Alizhan was attacking the fruit almost made her cringe, but Alizhan handed the whole mess to her before Ev had even lifted her shoulders. Ev accepted the jiyar and methodically removed what remained of its rind in a single spiraling strip, revealing the pink inside. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to sound so skeptical. But we’re talking about you, and, well, a crowd of strangers.”
“I know,” Alizhan said. She took a section of jiyar from Ev and popped it into her mouth. “But I learned from the best.”
At that moment, Kasrik shuffled onto the terrace, barefoot and battered. Bruises ringed his neck and bloomed ugly and purple around both eyes. Sleeping two shifts had done little to heal him. His tunic had short sleeves, and his arms were still covered in thin black tracks. They showed no signs of improving.
He pulled out another chair from under the ornately patterned tiled table, and its metal feet screeched against the terrace. Kasrik collapsed into the chair, and then put both arms on the table and slumped forward like he was planning to go back to sleep right there.
“I’m guessing you don’t feel any better,” Alizhan said, observing this display. Then, checking with Ev, she said, “That’s what that means, right? I don’t like it when I can’t read people.”
“Me neither,” said the pile of limbs and tousled black hair previously known as Kasrik.
“Wait, what?”
“I can’t read anyone,” Kasrik said. “Not her, not Mar, not any of the servants who’ve been in my room bringing me food.”
Ev, who’d never been able to read anyone’s mind, didn’t grasp the problem at first. But it must feel like losing a limb, or even a sense. Going blind or deaf. When she thought of it in these new terms, she understood why Kasrik was so upset. Her instinct was to hug him, or at least to reach out and pat him on the head, but she didn’t know him at all. Was he averse to touch like Alizhan? Or perhaps he had been, and now he wasn’t. Ev glanced at Alizhan for guidance, but Alizhan was staring into the distance. Her usually mobile features were frozen.
“My name is Ev,” Ev said. Strange that she’d never actually met Kasrik, since she’d spent so much time discussing him with Alizhan. “How are you feeling?”
“Bad.”
It had been a stupid question. But Ev had more to ask. “Do you think you can’t read anyone because of what Hakur did to you? Because of the venom?”
Kasrik nodded without lifting his head from his arms. “He told me this would happen.”
“I’m sorry,” Ev said, because she was, and because Alizhan wasn’t saying anything.
In the silence, Ev picked up a thornfruit from the bowl and split its brown rind open. She wasn’t hungry, but peeling the jiyar had been the last moment of calm in her life. She put the peeled thornfruit on her empty plate and the husk on the table, selected another one, and began to make two neat little pyramids. After a while, when the air was scented with the tangy sweetness of the fruit, Kasrik sat up straight and took one of the peeled ones from her plate. Ev pushed that pile closer to him.
Kasrik had eaten half a dozen, and Ev had peeled a dozen more, before Alizhan said, “Iriyat wanted to fix me.”
Kasrik whipped around to glare at her. “So this—like everything else—is your fault.”
“It sounds to me like it’s Iriyat’s fault,” Ev said, as gently as possible. Then she looked at Alizhan. “What do you mean, she wanted to fix you? I thought she was using you for your abilities.”
“She was. But she hated that I was suffering. That I couldn’t walk through the city like a normal person. That I couldn’t touch anyone.”
“She didn’t give a damn about your suffering,” Kasrik said. “She was exploiting you, and she was pissed that she couldn’t get more out of you. What kind of shitty spy can’t go out in public?”
“I think she did care,” Alizhan said, but it came out soft and uncertain. “I don’t know why I think that. It’s not like I ever knew what she was feeling. I didn’t know her at all.”
“It’s not your fault,” Ev said. “Of course you wanted to believe she loved you. And you thought she was a good person, because you’re a good person, and it didn’t occur to you that she might lie to you.”
Alizhan hadn’t stop gazing into the distance. “I’m not,” she said. Her hand splayed flat on the table, and then her fingers curled in again. “I should have known.”
“I don’t care how bad you feel,” Kasrik cut in. “That’s not helping me.”
Ev needed to redirect this conversation away from the subject of blame. “I’m sorry to have to ask this, Kasrik, but do you think this change is permanent? Or is it something more like a bruise or a cut that might heal with time?”
“I don’t know,” he said, and drooped back into his chair.
“Okay,” Ev said. “We’ll work on finding out. We’ll ask our friends Mala and Djal when we see them. And Mar has a library. He knows other rich people with libraries. We can try asking at the Temple of Doubt, too. Right now, we also need your help rescuing the other kids. You knew them better than anyone. The Vigilkeepers took them to the Temple Street orphanage after the fire. We want to get them out.”
Kasrik assessed her with narrowed eyes. “What do you want them for?”
It was a fair question, especially considering that Kasrik had just lost his ability to know the difference between her words and her intentions. All Ev said was, “I don’t want them to suffer. And if any of them remember details of what happened, it might help us convince the Council to throw Iriyat out of power.”
“And into prison, I hope,” Kasrik muttered. “Okay. I’ll help them. Them, not you. This doesn’t make us friends.”
“We also need you to convince Mar to house and feed some of these kids. Maybe all of them,” Alizhan said. She couldn’t read his mind or his face, so his glare slid off her like water, but the scene made Ev’s stomach hurt. She wished Kasrik and Alizhan could have met some other way. Then maybe they could’ve been friends.
Kasrik thought about Alizhan’s request, and then he shrugged. “Mar likes me for some reason. He’ll probably do it. He’ll grumble about it, but he’ll do it.”
Ev hadn’t realized this was part of Alizhan’s plan until right now. “Are you sure they’ll be safe here? Shouldn’t we hide them?”
“You know a place to hide nineteen kids?” Kasrik said.
Ev shook her head.
“We also have to get them out without
getting caught,” Alizhan said. “There will be other kids and lots of priests at the orphanage, and Temple Street is busy.”
“We’ll do it right this time,” Ev said. “We’ll make a real plan. And you won’t go in alone.”
“I did what I had to,” Alizhan said. “Kasrik was in there. And we got out just fine.”
After the chaos Ev had witnessed—the fire, Djal’s ugly wound, and Iriyat touching the kids—nothing was just fine. And it could all have been different with a bit more careful planning.
“Or we could have taken our time and planned meticulously and Iriyat could still have outmaneuvered us,” Alizhan snapped. “And Kasrik would’ve spent longer in that torture chamber.”
“Whoa,” Kasrik said, surprise and unhappiness in his expression. He hadn’t expected Alizhan to respond so fiercely to Ev’s silent contemplation—another reminder of his lost ability. He glanced between Alizhan and Ev, both the unwilling subject of and witness to their argument. “Don’t drag me into whatever this is.”
“At least we caught her a little off-guard this time,” Alizhan continued, ignoring him. “I’m sure it wasn’t her plan for those kids to end up back at Temple Street, but she had to let the Vigilkeepers take care of them, because anything else would’ve raised suspicions. I know they’re not safe yet, but anything is better than where they were.”
“Alright,” Ev said. “Let’s not fight. Let’s go check it out. Maybe something will come to us on the way. Kasrik, you can stay here if you don’t feel up to the walk.”
It was the wrong thing to say, and his fourteen-year-old pride was clearly wounded.
“I said I’d help.”
Kasrik walked with them into the city, although he was stiff and slow in his gait. He wore a determined expression and said almost nothing as he led them along the ridge of Hahim and across the city. Temple Street was in Denandar, a long way from Solor House, but Kasrik didn’t bring up the distance, so neither did Ev.
They paused in Pachisar Fountain Square for Kasrik to catch his breath. Ev was sweating under the long, hooded overgarment she’d borrowed from one of Mar’s servants. She wanted to remove the hood, but it was a poor enough disguise on its own, and they were a conspicuous trio. The chaotic intersection of three streets wasn’t a square at all, but the space was coursing with people. In the shadow of her own hood, Alizhan had the determined set to her jaw that meant she was concentrating hard on blocking out everyone’s feelings. Kasrik just looked tired.
Pachisar was so crowded that it took Ev a moment to hear the crier, and even longer to locate him. He was twelve or thirteen years old, standing on the low stone wall around the fountain with one wiry arm thrust into the air above his head, waving a stack of pamphlets.
“True story! Iriyat ha-Varensi saved orphans from a fire! Read it right here, only two kalap!”
So that was what this shift’s pamphlets were about. The news was already filtering into the city. A pamphlet about Iriyat heroically rescuing orphans was bad news for their cause. At least there didn’t seem to be any pamphlets speculating about a rift between Mar and Iriyat yet. If Iriyat managed to turn the rest of the Council against Mar, there’d be no hope for a trial.
Ev watched the boy for a few minutes, and even without the promise of pornography, he sold several copies.
“Should we buy one?” she asked Alizhan. The story in that pamphlet had come from somewhere—or someone. There was a difference between spinning a tale from thin air and weaving one with threads of truth, and in this case, Ev had an unpleasant feeling that she knew who was pulling the strings. “Maybe it would be useful just to see what it says?”
“I know what it says,” Alizhan said darkly, and turned away. Kasrik went with her, and they made their way out of the square.
After a short time, Kasrik slowed his pace, and Ev fell into stride with him. Alizhan was far enough ahead that she probably couldn’t hear them.
“She feels really awful about everything,” Ev said. “She’s sorry and she’s trying to make things right.”
“What, now you’re a mind-reader too?”
“No, but I know Alizhan. And I want you to know she’s trying.”
“She could tell me herself.”
“You think she’d be better at this stuff, since she’s spent her life feeling everybody else’s feelings,” Ev said, conceding his point. She wanted so badly to apologize on Alizhan’s behalf, to defend her, to make Kasrik see how good she was. “But things have been hard for her, too. That’s not an excuse, I know. I’m just trying to explain.”
“You can stop trying,” Kasrik informed her. He walked faster and was soon too far ahead for conversation.
When they arrived in Denandar, Alizhan picked a ledge overlooking Temple Street and the three of them sat down on the low wall with their feet dangling. Ev positioned herself between Alizhan and Kasrik for peacekeeping purposes, although all three of them were exhausted and prickly enough to fall into an argument at any moment. Alizhan tapped her heels against the wall and drummed her thigh up and down. Their vantage point granted them a view of the flow of humanity through Temple Street, or at least the tops of everyone’s heads. Alizhan had chosen this spot since it was right next to a ladder. Staying above the street kept anyone from touching her, but when their target came along, she’d be able to climb down and follow.
The orphanage wasn’t as worn down and dirty as Ev had thought, at least on the outside. But it was Iriyat’s pet cause and she’d poured money into refurbishing the ancient stone building, set into the cliff like all the others on the street. The massive wooden door was polished and swung silently on its oiled hinges.
Ev watched it open and shut many times in the next few hours. The orphanage was a busy place. It was mostly grey-robed priests who went in and out, but occasionally someone in more colorful clothes would enter. Only adults moved in and out freely. Ev didn’t see any children.
Temple Street cleared. A diminutive, veiled woman strode into view. Her hair was covered and her face was difficult to see from this angle, but Ev knew only one woman who could part a crowd like that.
Next to her, Kasrik tensed. “Iriyat.”
Ev couldn’t blame him. She was clenching her teeth. If Iriyat glanced up and saw the three of them…
Alizhan said nothing. She was already moving, climbing down the ladder next to their seat so that she could join the crowd in Temple Street. She wanted to be closer.
“This is stupid,” Kasrik hissed at Ev as she began to climb down the ladder. Ev agreed, but grabbing Alizhan now would cause a scene. People wanting a better look at Iriyat ha-Varensi was unremarkable—even as the crowd held back from her, it thickened with new arrivals hoping for a glimpse.
Thanks to her height, Ev had a clear view through the crowd. She tugged her hood lower and prayed Iriyat and Vatik didn’t turn her way.
The orphanage door swung open and a grey-robed priest appeared on the threshold, a streak of severity in the colorful palette of the street. Her hair was also covered, but Ev would bet it was black with a few silver highlights, after squinting at her face. She looked about forty. Much taller than Iriyat, she squared her shoulders and gave her a decidedly cool reception.
“Who is—” Ev started, but Alizhan shushed her.
They waited in silence until the door had closed behind Iriyat and the priest.
“We need to go,” Kasrik said, his voice low and urgent.
“We should stay and wait for her to come out,” Alizhan said. Her voice was quiet, pitched so that only Ev and Kasrik could hear, but she was calm.
Kasrik whipped around. “Are you insane?”
“I want to listen to them again,” Alizhan said.
Ev scrutinized Alizhan for signs of fatigue. Sweat at her hairline. Circles under her eyes.
“I’m fine,” Alizhan said. “I’m breathing and focusing and paying attention to my body and everything Mala told me to.”
Guilt rolled over Ev. They should have gone to check
on Mala and Djal by now. She’d promised to find them. Was Djal recovering?
“Can we get back to the part where we leave before the woman who wants me dead comes out that door?” Kasrik said.
“Take Kasrik with you and go find Djal and Mala,” Alizhan said. “I’m staying.”
Ev hated that idea, but the door could open at any moment and next to her, Kasrik was ready to jump out of his skin. He deserved better than to be forced to stay here. He’d been through enough. “Promise me you won’t do anything but observe. Don’t go in there. If anyone notices you, you run.”
“Promise,” Alizhan said.
“If you’re not back at Mar’s in four hours, I will storm Varenx House by myself to find you,” Ev said.
“I know.”
Kasrik kept his shoulders hunched and said nothing as they made their way down to Arishdenan harbor. Ev’s first thought was to check The Anchor, but Djal and Mala hadn’t been staying there. Instead, she went back to The Red and Black, where Alizhan had first played cards with Djal. Inside, there were a handful of people drinking in semi-silence, and two people lazily tossing cards down on a table, but no sign of Djal and Mala.
Ev asked the young woman at the bar if she’d seen any Adpri sailors. The woman assessed Ev through her narrowed, heavily lined eyes for an instant and adopted a bored expression again. She reached under the counter, then dropped a stack of playing cards on top of it. Ev spread them out, perplexed. All five cards were Suns. The hand was called a Scorch, but she had no idea what it meant.
Ev wanted to turn to Kasrik and ask if he had any insight, but that would give away how lost she was.
Instead, she nodded as if she’d been expecting a cryptic playing card message. She could work this out. Obviously the bartender had been expecting her and had known her description, which meant the message was almost certainly from Djal and Mala. They’d remembered this tavern, too.
At Ev’s nod, the young woman scooped up the cards on the counter, slid them back into the deck, and offered it to Ev.
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