Eliyan had been preparing objections in her head, but the last sentence knocked her out of it. “Why Zilal?”
“Iriyat paid that priest who opened the door for us to inform her. He saw us, but Zilal interrupted our conversation. We need to be gone before he wakes up, and so does Zilal.”
“I see,” Eliyan said, unhappy. It was too much to ask, and too soon to ask it. She was willing to work with Alizhan, but she didn’t want to be pushed into taking risks that might endanger the children. Instead of addressing the question about Zilal, she turned back to her interrupted train of thought. “Adoption is a long, slow process. It could take years for all nineteen of them to get adopted.”
Alizhan was going to have to push her. “Then it’s not safe. We’ll have to smuggle them out. No records. As few witnesses as possible.”
“Smuggle them out where?”
“I doubt we can hide them all in the same place,” Alizhan said. “But we need to get Zilal out this shift, and we’ll have to work almost as fast with the others, so we’ll have to get creative.” Eliyan was wording more objections, so Alizhan continued quickly, “I’ve already told you enough about myself that you could easily report me to Iriyat yourself. You’re not the only one taking risks here. I’m trusting you, too. You saw us with Zilal. He and Kasrik know each other. Let us talk to him. If he doesn’t want to come with us, we won’t make him.”
“Fine. Let me bring him here, just to keep this as private as possible.”
Before Eliyan opened the door to her office, Alizhan closed her eyes and focused on the space outside. Nothing but the quiet, confused mumblings of dreams. Zilal could put a man to sleep for a long time. “Don’t let anyone see you.”
Eliyan left and returned. She gently shepherded Zilal into the small room. Eliyan and Ev both worried about how thin he was, how unnaturally quiet and still for a child.
Kasrik was the first to speak with him, bringing himself down to the boy’s height. “I’m sorry for leaving you in that place.”
Zilal said nothing. It was impossible to know if he remembered the house in Gold Street at all. But he’d recognized Kasrik earlier, so that was something to cling to.
“These are my,” Kasrik paused. He didn’t have to spare Alizhan the truth. They weren’t friends. He’d made that clear. Instead of finishing the sentence, he started a new one. “This is Ev, and that’s Alizhan. We’d like to help you. We want to take you somewhere better.”
If only she could read them! Was Zilal hopeful? Suspicious? What did he know of Kasrik?
“Where?” Zilal asked.
Kasrik was quiet. Oh. He was looking at Alizhan, waiting for her to say something.
She bent her knees, crouching flat-footed so that Zilal could see her face, whatever that was worth. “It’s a good place. The people who live there will take you in and feed you, and they’ll never hurt you. And they have dogs.”
A note of surprise from Ev. She’d been expecting a description of Solor House. Mar didn’t have any dogs. Alizhan had changed the plan at the last minute, but Ev had inspired her. She’d been thinking about how grand and unfriendly Solor House might seem to a child. Her parents’ farm would be more welcoming. And hiding Zilal in Orzatvur might buy them time—Iriyat would be watching Mar, but she couldn’t watch every farm in every little outlying village. And as much as Ev hated to put her family in more danger, they were already involved—and there’d never been any question in her mind that her parents would agree to help despite the risks.
“There’s a striped one named Tez who needs a lot of attention,” Alizhan continued. “It’s a big farm. They have a cow and a donkey and chickens and a big garden where they grow food. They grow these.” Alizhan reached into her pocket and pulled out the last few thornfruits she’d taken from the breakfast table.
Zilal took another one eagerly, letting its rind fall on Eliyan’s floor. With one cheek full, he said, while chewing, “How many dogs?”
A shrewd negotiator. Alizhan tried to take the question as seriously as he did. “We’ll have to ask an expert,” she said, glancing at Ev. She offered Zilal another thornfruit and he accepted it. His hand brushed hers—and nothing happened. Just a touch.
“Three,” Ev said. “And eight cats—six in the barn, and an orange one named Vesper and a grey one named Aurora who sleep in my room.”
“You live there?”
“Yes, although I might… have to go away for a while,” Ev said. “Will you take care of the animals for me?”
Ev always knew the right thing to say. After a moment, he nodded. Eliyan wasn’t fully satisfied, but she’d keep her word. Alizhan couldn’t blame her for her attitude. That skepticism might save her memory or her life. But maybe there was a way to address her fears.
“Will you be sure to write to your friends here?” Alizhan said. That would provide a way for Eliyan to watch over him. The letters would have to be hidden or encoded, but that could be arranged somehow. “Kasrik will deliver the letters.”
Zilal nodded again.
Eliyan and Kasrik could do good work together, but they’d need a whole network of people if they were going to secret nineteen children out of Iriyat’s reach. And Alizhan and Ev wouldn’t be there to help.
“Kasrik, the other eighteen kids—are any of them like Iriyat?” Alizhan asked. “Can they alter memories?”
He shook his head. “No, no one like that ever came to the house.”
There was a mystery to ponder. Was Iriyat’s ability rarer than others? Or was she doing something else with children who were like her?
“Too bad,” Alizhan said. “We could use someone like that. What about other mind-readers?”
“One besides me,” Kasrik said. “A boy named Sorav. And maybe a girl named Orilan, but she never talks so it’s hard to tell what she can do. Both of them are little, though. I’m not sure how good they are.”
“You’ll have to teach them to sense anything unusual or dangerous,” Alizhan said. “Sneak back in.”
God, there were so many ways this could go wrong. Alizhan had never done anything like this—and she’d never depended on other people before. Iriyat had made sure she worked alone. Could Kasrik and Eliyan handle this? Would they work together? Would they find other people to trust?
Luckily, Ev was already solving the same problem. “My father sells fruit in Arishdenan market. A big, tall Adpri man with a shaved head. He’ll help you—smuggling people or carrying messages or anything else you can think of. He won’t betray you. At least… not if he’s in his right mind.”
“You think we should just walk up and talk to him about this?” Eliyan asked.
“Of course not,” Alizhan said. This part was easy to plan. And she already knew the schedule. “He’s there on Estri and Chistri, always during the first half of the shift of the Rosefinch. Sometimes longer if he doesn’t sell out. Start frequenting his stall. Develop a regular order. Next week, Kasrik can lurk around there and you can run into each other. Don’t have a conversation. Just… bump into each other.”
Ev was remembering the card messages at The Red and Black. Her thoughts fizzed with amusement. “Kasrik should steal some thornfruits. You can catch him at it. Make a little scene. That way, my father will recognize you.”
“And if things go wrong, you should know that there’s a man in Iriyat’s guard who’s… not entirely evil,” Alizhan said. “He has one brown eye and one blue eye. His name’s Vatik. Remember that—try to keep it separate in your mind. I can’t guarantee he’ll help you, but…” She finished her sentence with a shrug. It was hard to shake the feeling that she was assigning them an impossible task and abandoning them. But right now, her presence endangered everyone more than her absence. “We need to go. Iriyat’s mole will wake up any minute now. There’s a back door that will let us out into Arishdenan, right?”
Alizhan no longer sensed the quivering tension of worry from Eliyan. Instead, she was emanating a very particular, serene kind of focus. Like one of Mala
’s breathing exercises, but where would she have learned that? Oh—praying. She’s praying. None of the other priests had felt anything like that. It lasted only a moment, then Eliyan stepped out into the hall decisively. “Follow me.”
The back exit of the orphanage was in the kitchen. Eliyan had said the door let out into a short alley where they dumped their refuse, which would give them a moment of cover before they went into the street. Ev’s head kept brushing the kitchen ceiling as the four of them crammed into a passageway that served as a pantry, next to jugs of oil and sacks of rice, ready to rush out the door at any moment.
She watched Alizhan’s hand hover over the door handle for two long minutes before she grasped it at last. But she didn’t open the door. “The street is crowded,” Alizhan said. “A guard from Varenx House—or someone working for Iriyat who had our descriptions—just passed by.”
Mar had been right. They needed to get out of the city. Ev’s stomach twisted. They’d been awaited at the orphanage, and there were people looking for them all over the city. It was a miracle they hadn’t been caught already.
“We should split up,” Alizhan said. “I’m going back to Solor House to retrieve the book and whatever papers Mar has had forged to get us on a ship and into Nalitzva. Then, after a while, Kasrik will go back—discreetly.”
“I robbed Varenx House right under your nose,” Kasrik said. “I’m stealthier than you’ve ever been.”
Alizhan made a sound of frustration, but otherwise ignored this jab. “Just do what you’re told. And remember, for now, you trust Mar and Eliyan and Obin and no one else.”
“I’m not the one who trusted the wrong person to start with.”
Alizhan turned toward him, nearly knocking over a stack of jugs in her haste. At the sudden movement, Zilal backed up into Ev and hunched until he was as small as possible. She wanted to offer him some comforting touch, but she really couldn’t afford to fall asleep right now. She laid her hands on his shoulders, hoping his threadbare tunic was enough to protect her.
They’d already been speaking with lowered voices, and in her anger, instead of raising her voice, Alizhan lowered it further. “What do you want me to do, Kasrik? I am trying to fix this.”
“You could start with ‘sorry.’”
“Wait, really?” Alizhan said, her tone jumping up with surprise. “But isn’t that obvious?”
Ev recalled her own version of this conversation, and she couldn’t fight the disappointment that Alizhan hadn’t figured it out by herself. But at least they were talking about it. She’d asked what he wanted. That counted for something.
“Not to me,” Kasrik said. “Not anymore.”
“You said you didn’t care how bad I felt,” Alizhan said.
“Yeah,” Kasrik said. “Because you were making it all about you.”
“Oh. Well. I’m sorry. I’ve been sorry this whole time. I didn’t know I had to tell you. I’m sorry about that, too. Is this all you wanted?”
“No,” Kasrik said. “You still have to do the other stuff. But it helps.”
“This is lovely, but could we get back to saving ourselves?” Ev said. Zilal wasn’t cowering quite as badly as he had during their argument, but his shoulders were still tense under her hands. “You two are going to Solor House. Zilal and I are going somewhere else, I take it?”
“Your trip is much shorter,” Alizhan said. “You’re going to the market.”
To see Papa. Of course. She’d gotten him thoroughly mired in this. One smoking hell of a mess, he’d called it, and it had only gotten messier. But they could rely on him to get Zilal to safety. “Where should I meet you?”
“The Red and Black,” Alizhan said. “Then we’ll go find Vines. Djal said they were leaving on the twelfth of Alaksha. If you’re not there by then, I’ll have to leave with them. But if I’m not there, run or hide or whatever you have to do to save yourself from Iriyat.”
“Fuck that,” Ev said. “If you’re not there, I’m sure as smoke gonna fucking look for you.”
Zilal straightened up to his full height. “That’s a bad word.”
Ev’s cheeks heated. “Sorry.”
“Fuck,” he said with more cheer than he’d displayed since Alizhan had last offered him food. At least he was resilient. He was handling this at least as well as any of them. He displayed more patience than Ev while they waited for Alizhan to slip out, and then again while Kasrik cracked the door open and peered into the alley and the street beyond for an opportunity.
When Ev and Zilal finally left, she had to fight back the urge to hold his hand as they joined the surging crowd in the street. She rested her hand on his shoulder instead as they made their way down to the market. The collection of carts arrayed in a half-circle at the innermost point of Arishdenan was a familiar sight. Ev breathed in the scents of the harbor, the people, the animals, the dirty city streets, the fruit, the cheese, the fish. It was easy to see her father, standing taller than everyone else.
Obin wasn’t alone. Ajee was with him. Would he accept this task? Could she confide in him? Zilal batted her hand away from his shoulder when worry made her grip uncomfortably tight.
Before Ev got close enough to say anything, a shape shot out from under Obin’s cart and a dog came bounding toward her. Tez jumped up and put his front paws on her stomach, panting with joy. No face veil could fool him. Ev scratched his head and ears and back, and a moment later, she was bending down to rub his belly.
“Can I pet him?” Zilal asked.
“Of course. This is Tez.”
Zilal got to his knees on the dusty cobblestones and for once in his canine life, Tez met a human who had as much energy and enthusiasm as he did.
Ev let them enjoy it for a few minutes, and then said, “Hey. I need you to meet someone.”
What could she possibly say to her father? And Ajee? She and Alizhan had come up with a way for Eliyan and Kasrik to reveal themselves to Obin without saying a word, but it would already be obvious to anyone watching that Ev knew them. Tez had taken care of that.
Tez jogged along beside her as she walked up to the cart, then flopped on the ground and demanded more affection from Zilal, who was happy to give it.
Ev didn’t have to say anything. Obin hugged her as soon as she got close. “Bad news in the city of late,” he murmured.
“It’s worse than you know,” she said.
As she was looking over her father’s shoulder, her gaze connected with someone else’s. One brown eye and one icy blue. Vatik was standing on the other side of the market, watching. Ev’s breath cut off.
Her father’s embrace loosened in response, as though he’d been hugging her too hard.
Would Vatik keep his word? Or would he report this to Iriyat? Worse, would he march over here and take Ev prisoner? He could make some loud, made-up claim about her crimes against Varenx House. Ev would fight him, and so would her father, but he had a sword.
Ev’s eyes hurt from not blinking. But as she stared, Vatik lifted his chin in an almost imperceptible acknowledgement of her.
And then he turned away.
He wasn’t coming for her. He wasn’t even going to watch what she did.
That must mean he planned to keep his word. If he didn’t know what she was doing, he couldn’t tell Iriyat anything. If she dug through his memory, she might find the agreement he’d made with Alizhan in the burning garden, but she’d only go looking if he gave her cause for suspicion. Ev hoped he could play his part.
“Are you alright?” Obin asked.
Ev took a breath. “Yes. And this is my friend Zilal.”
Zilal glanced up, deemed them boring, and went back to playing with the dog.
“Hello, Ev,” Ajee said, his voice carefully neutral.
“Hi,” she said. He chewed his lip, looking like he wanted to say something, but Ev’s silence couldn’t unlock it.
So she said, “I have to go away for a little while. I’m sorry I’ll miss your wedding. I’m sure it will be
lovely. You and Seliman will make each other very happy.”
Ajee nodded, and then quickly, as though to spit out the words before he could reconsider them, he said, “I was wrong about you. I’m sorry about the things I said.”
Ev was conscious of her father standing beside her. Would Ajee have apologized if Obin weren’t looming over him? Maybe Ev didn’t want to know the answer.
“Thank you,” Ev said. Kasrik had wanted an apology from Alizhan so badly, and getting one seemed to bring him a measure of peace. Ev hadn’t expected an apology from Ajee, and all she wanted was for this conversation to be over. She couldn’t remember what it felt like to care about his opinion. That had been some other lifetime. “But you know what’s better than an apology?”
Ajee looked wary, like she might say a punch in the gut next. “What?”
“Help,” Ev said. She tilted her head down toward Zilal.
“You need help?” Obin cut in.
“Yes, but I can’t talk about it here.”
“Of course you can,” he responded in Adpri. “Look around. There are maybe two or three people in this crowd who could eavesdrop on us, and none of them are close enough to try.” He’d hardly spoken it to her since she was a child. She had vague memories of him singing lullabies to her. It was funny to hear her father talk without a foreign accent—an accent that ought to remind everyone that he was accommodating their inability to speak his language, rather than the other way around.
Djal and Mala had wanted to speak Adpri with Ev, and she’d demurred. She wasn’t good at it, and she hated being unable to express herself with nuance. But now was the time to try.
And if the conversation happened to exclude Ajee, it was pure coincidence.
Ev explained, as best she could, that Zilal was in danger and he needed to be hidden somewhere outside the city. There were more children like him. They’d all been in the house that burned down and now they were in the orphanage. Sometime soon, while he was in the market, he’d meet a priest and a teenage boy he could trust. He’d know them when he saw them. She tried to fill in as many details as possible after that, but at least she’d conveyed the important parts.
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