The Iron Phoenix

by Rebecca Harwell

  Levka Puyatin, the magistrate, rose from the writing desk, off to the left side of the throne. “I’m just finishing up a scroll. Can I help you with something, Miss Gabori?” His voice echoed in the emptiness.

  Nadya inwardly cursed at her bad luck, but she forced herself to walk toward him. In the lamplight, his pale face and brown hair flickered with a darkness she might have imagined. “I’m looking for Kesali Stormspeaker. Or Lord Marko. I haven’t been able to find either of them.”

  “And they just let you loose on the palace? Shoddy guard system, if you ask me.”

  She didn’t ask him, and her feeling of uneasiness intensified. He was staring at her again with a look of scientific curiosity mixed with something feral, and her hands trembled.

  He can’t know, she told herself. There is no way he knows who I am.

  Levka spread his hands. “Well, they’re not here. Is there something I can help you with? Or the Head Cleric? I hear he has been mentoring the young Stormspeaker. I can take you to him, but I don’t know the two lovebirds’ whereabouts.”

  Nadya winced. “No, thank you. I can find them on my own.” She was not truly a psychic, but she wondered if this was what having a normal Nomori gift felt like, all her nerves, her thoughts screaming at her to get out of there.

  “Of course you can.” Levka stepped out from behind the desk and walked toward her. Nadya held her ground. Nothing about him was overtly threatening, but that didn’t shake her bad feeling. Calm down, she told herself as he drew level with her. You’re ten times stronger than him, and you’re alone. He cannot hurt you.

  “You’re one of Lord Marko’s closest friends, and he does not have a lot of friends. Anyone here would be happy to help you. They’d think it would garner favor with the Duke’s son.” Now, as he kept walking in a circle around her, he stood between her and the door. It was innocent enough pacing, but Nadya didn’t like it.

  “Then I should be going,” Nadya said.

  “It is interesting, however,” Levka kept talking, “that he should choose you before the courtiers and scholars. Even if you are his mentor’s daughter.” His tone was friendly, as if he was just making conversation.

  “Because I’m Nomori?”

  “Because you’re a murderer.” His voice took a hard edge.

  Her heart stopped. “What…what?” How could he know? Before the night of Jastima’s death, she had never seen this man in her life. She had barely spoken to him. Why was he looking at her like a piece of rancid prey he had just caught?

  “You hide it well, my dear. From the Duke’s son and his betrothed. From your parents even, and I don’t doubt your father the captain is a very hard one to trick. Though we are most blind about the people closest to us.” The magistrate smiled. “Don’t you think so?”

  “I don’t know what you are talking about,” Nadya said, her voice shaking. “But I won’t stand here and be accused of murder.”

  “Resolve, just like the rest of your people.” He spat out the last word. “How adorable. But no, you are not going to leave. Not until I have said my piece. I have to say, your timing is impeccable. You’ve saved me the trouble of tracking you down.”

  Nadya tried to swallow, but she couldn’t. “What do you want?”

  “Stay away from things that are beyond your ken. There are powers at work in this city that you cannot understand, and I don’t want you fooling around in them.”

  “The murders?” she asked. “Jurek, the ballerina, Jastima. That was you?” It didn’t fit, not in her mind. Levka was not the figure she had seen outside Jurek’s manor. His stance, his walk were all wrong.

  “No, although I’d like to thank those lowlifes for getting their hands dirty. It certainly made things easier. My work, or rather my funding, went toward a bigger project. A couple dozen kegs of gunpowder, for example,” the magistrate said.

  “You were behind the attack on the Guardhouse?” Why was he telling her this? Her hands curled into fists. Damn the answer, he nearly got her father killed!

  “Yes, and believe me, that was just a prequel. But I want you to stay out of it—all right, Miss Gabori?”

  “I’ll tell Lord Marko,” she whispered. Her mind was racing, trying to fit the pieces together, trying to figure out why this man was confessing to her, and why his smile had not wavered.

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes,” she said in a stronger voice. “I’ll have you arrested for the sixteen men that died. Then I’ll find out who’s behind the murders, and I will make sure this city doesn’t destroy itself before the solstice.” She took a deep breath. She hadn’t meant to say it all, but her words carried a weight of conviction behind them.

  But instead of bristling with rage, the magistrate laughed. “You can’t prove anything. Moreover, you won’t prove anything. Because you are not going to tell anyone about this.” Levka grabbed her arm and whispered, “I know what you are.”

  Nadya jerked back, knocking him to the ground. The magistrate slowly got to his knees, coughing, as she backed away. Every nerve in her body was on edge. Did he actually just say those words? Maybe he meant that she was Nomori, though that was obvious to anyone with a pair of eyes. The door was in front of her, not twenty paces away, but her legs were rooted to the carpet as if bolted down by metal that even she could not break. She could do nothing but watch Levka get shakily to his feet.

  He rubbed his elbow, turning to her with that awful smile. “Seeing it is one thing, but experiencing it is another. You are an unnatural creature, aren’t you, Nadezhda Gabori.”

  “No.” It came out a whisper. He didn’t know anything. He couldn’t prove anything. That thought gave Nadya enough strength to say, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” All desire to goad him into spilling the truth disappeared as the game of words had turned on her.

  “Of course you do.” He said it so matter-of-factly.

  “I’m going to report this all to Lord Marko.” Nadya didn’t know if she wanted to cower in fear or throw Levka across the room. She needed to get out of there, but she needed to make sure he wasn’t going to do anything rash. You could stop him, you know. That awful thought froze her. No one is here.

  As if he read her mind, Levka spread his hands out and said, “Why let Marko handle it? You could take care of it yourself. Why not string me up by a hand and snap my neck?”

  A cold sheen washed over Nadya. Her breathing was suddenly very difficult, as if something incredibly heavy had settled on her chest. Her chest rose and fell fast, but she couldn’t get any air.

  Levka nodded. “So, we can drop all pretenses now. You will leave the palace and go back to your own tier. If and when you see Lord Marko or your father, you will not repeat any of this. To anyone. You will stay at home like a good daughter, and the Iron Phoenix will not make another appearance. If you do, I’ll be sure to reveal the secret you have tried so hard to keep, to tell the entire city of the true murderous nature of the Phoenix.”

  “They won’t believe you,” she whispered.

  “I am a magistrate in service to the Duke. You are a Nomori girl. Who will be believed?”

  If he revealed her secret, she would be cast out of her family, her people. Nadya was left without a choice, except to obey. Finally, she nodded.

  “It’d be so much better for you if you had the heart of a killer, Nadya, as you did once.” He walked past her, disappeared through one of the servants’ doors, and let it slam behind him, shattering the silence.

  Nadya drew a deep rattling breath. She looked down and realized she was bleeding. She had gripped her fists so tightly that her fingernails on her right hand punctured the tough skin. Several drops of blood fell to the red carpet, disappearing into its softness.

  Standing alone in the throne room, she didn’t know which was worse, that Levka knew her secret and could set the entire city on her at his whim, or that she had a solid lead to the perpetrator of the riots, to saving Kesali, and she couldn’t tell anyone without losing everyt
hing.

  For the first time since she discovered her abilities, Nadya felt well and truly helpless.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Nadya?” The voice echoed about the servants’ hall.

  She jerked up and whirled around to see Kesali standing just beyond the double doors that led into the palace kitchens, hands raised in the air. Her chain of betrothal rubies glimmered in the dim light.

  “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  Nadya swallowed. Was she cursed to be looking over her shoulder for the rest of her life for that smirk and those haunting words, I know what you are? She wiped her eyes and straightened. “You didn’t. I’m fine.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I…I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  “And you came here to find me?” Kesali smiled. “We need to work on your reasoning skills.” When Nadya did not return her grin, her tone changed. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

  “No.” The Stormspeaker was not the only one who could keep secrets. Nadya still couldn’t put what had occurred in the main hall into words. Her entire world had been thrown into chaos. In the past hour, she’d learned her secret was no longer her own and saving Storm’s Quarry now came with a heavy price.

  “Don’t lie to me.”

  “Then don’t ask me questions I cannot answer,” Nadya snapped.

  Kesali sat down next to her. “I’m not accusing you of anything.”

  Neither had Levka, in so many words.

  “I know I’m the last person you probably want to confide in. I’m happy you came to see me. But I’ve noticed things. You keep pushing me away, and I know it’s not just because of the betrothal.”

  Nadya’s heart stopped for a moment. Watching me. Had she seen something? Did she know? She couldn’t handle Kesali finding out, not right after Levka gave his ultimatum.

  “I know you, Nadya, and I know you’re hiding something.”

  Nadya gulped, staring at her knees. “What makes you think that?”

  “Coming and going at night. You don’t speak to me anymore. Well, recently, I know why, but before that. You always look scared. I had to practically order you to attend the theater with me, something we both regret. When you do reveal anything of yourself, you seem very hesitant, like any single word could expose you.” She put a hand on Nadya’s knee. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  “Is that an order from Lady Kesali, princess of Storm’s Quarry?” Her words came out carrying the bitterness of her heart that had festered since the betrothal announcement.

  Kesali removed her hand. “No, it’s a request from the girl you danced with in the public square, angering the Elders and not caring. The girl you kissed—well, or maybe who kissed you. Who you didn’t push away, regardless. From just Kesali, and if you can’t answer…” She didn’t finish the sentence, and she didn’t look at Nadya.

  Nadya closed her eyes for a moment, thinking through all the possible lies she could tell her. But she was tired of lying, and in the oppressive damp heat breathing through the kitchen doors with the day’s events and revelations hanging over her like stone weights, she was too tired to come up with a lie. “I can’t. And I wish I could.”

  “What kind of answer is that?”

  “It’s the only answer I can give.” Nadya laid a tentative hand on Kesali’s thigh, ignoring how natural it felt, and waited until Kesali looked at her. To reassure herself that her dearest friend did not see the monster Levka did.

  For a moment she thought Kesali was going to pull away and stand up, accusing her of treason and lies. She thought Kesali would call her out for being the Iron Phoenix, and bring the Duke’s Guard here, led by Shadar, to lock her up.

  Instead, Kesali put her soft, callused fingers underneath Nadya’s chin. She leaned in, neither of them breathing, and gently kissed her.

  Nadya stiffened. This was wrong. Her hands opened and closed at her sides, not knowing what to do. But as Kesali pulled her into an embrace, Nadya stopped fighting against her better judgment. Her hands stilled, coming to rest on Kesali’s waist, then tracing a line along the seam in her vest up to the back of her neck. Her eyes closed, and she melted into the kiss. It was warm and soft and tasted like wine and spring. Kesali’s scent filled her nose, overpowering even the damp. Kesali’s heartbeat, separated by nothing but two thin layers of cloth, thundered in her ears.

  They pulled apart. Nadya took a deep breath and blinked. Fool, she told herself. “We can’t,” she said. “I told you, we can’t do this.”

  Kesali rose. “You’re right, and I’m sorry. But I think we both wanted that.”

  “People like us,” Nadya said, staring straight ahead, “rarely get what we want.”

  She did not turn, even when Kesali’s footsteps echoed across the hall. Going after her would only bring more pain. She swallowed, but she could still taste Kesali’s spice. Worse, she did not regret it.

  *

  Nadya tried to bury the memory of that kiss over the next few weeks. It was not easy, as the only other thing to think about was the seawater that trapped the city. Storm’s Quarry rose like a pale rock in the middle of a pond. The sun rarely showed its face, and the waters did not recede. Food had become harder to find. The Nomori tier had long run out of new stock. Its citizens lined up every morning at the ration stations. Lines circled around the warehouse, clogging streets. More often than not, the Guard’s presence was required to keep the peace. Day by day, as the floodwaters showed no signs of relenting, fewer believed the Stormspeaker had spoken truly. As people gave up hope, fear took its place.

  Nadya feared for her city.

  As she walked past the ration line one morning, she overheard the mutterings of two guardsmen as they wheeled out yet another box of hardened nut bread. “These won’t last much longer.”

  “The city wasn’t meant to be able to withstand a siege, whether by armies or water. It’ll run out of food by the solstice, mark my words.”

  Despite the damp, their conversation gave Nadya’s shivers. Later, she asked her father if it was true.

  His answer was the long sigh of a tired man. “The palace storehouses are nearly depleted. If it continues this way, on the morning of the solstice, the people will go to the ration lines and find no food.”

  “There will be riots,” Nadya said.

  “If we are lucky, that is all there will be.”

  As the city tightened its belt and the violence grew worse, she began to understand what Lord Marko had said the night of Jastima’s murder. As much as she wanted to solve the mystery of the murders and the enigmatic man behind them, it all really seemed inconsequential compared to what the city faced now.

  She could not shake the feeling that had those people not been killed, Storm’s Quarry wouldn’t be ready to devour itself in civil war.

  Just days before the solstice, a sharp rapping on the outer stone wall of their house roused Nadya from a fitful sleep. She glanced down over the ledge and saw her mother sleeping alone on the pallet. Her father must have stayed on duty all night.

  Nadya leapt down, landing quietly on the balls of her bare feet, and padded around her mother’s bed, through the workshop, and to the door. She opened it. The early morning’s dampness, thick enough to touch, hit her in the face, and it took her a few moments to realize the cloaked and hooded figure standing outside her home was Lord Marko.

  “Good morning, Nadya,” he said cheerfully, and she blinked again.

  “Um…good morning.” She rubbed her eyes. “Is something wrong?”

  “No, I was just out for some air.”

  She frowned. “Out for some air…in the Nomori tier. When the city is practically ready to rip itself apart.”

  “Okay, so I came to see you. Do you have a few minutes?” His eager expression, nearly hidden in the shadows of the hood that covered his brilliant red hair, didn’t exactly give her room for an answer. She didn’t think it was anything serious, or Iron Phoenix related, but she had
to be cautious.

  The memory of Kesali’s lips filled her mind, and she could not look him in the eye. The kiss on Arane Sveltura was one thing. Nadya hadn’t known then. In the palace, she knew about the betrothal, she knew how much it would hurt, and she did it anyway.

  She had not seen the Stormspeaker since.

  Nadya shook her head. “My mother’s asleep.”

  “The morning is cool, if damp. Would you join me on a walk?”

  She bit her lip, scrounging for an excuse. But her mother was feeling better since taking the Erevan medicine, and Nadya was not needed to sit in their house and watch her sleep. She nodded and was about to step outside when she realized she was still dressed in only a nightshirt. Marko was making a valiant effort to keep a straight face, and her ears started to burn.

  “Give me a moment,” she mumbled and shut the door in front of his face. As quickly and quietly as she could, she crept round her mother, jumped to her loft, and donned a vest and trousers. She sniffed them and muffled a groan. She would need to wash them soon.

  Marko was lounging up against her house when she came outside. He straightened and offered her a hand. Nadya stared at it.

  “Never mind,” he said. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?” He started walking. Instead of heading toward the marble stairs, he walked in the opposite direction, farther into the Nomori tier.

  Nadya matched his step. “It’s damp enough to scoop it out of the air and bottle it. The sun hasn’t come out from behind the clouds, and it smells like rat droppings and wet fur. Lovely day. Haven’t ever seen better.”

  He laughed. “If only my father’s courtiers spoke like that during meetings. They would be much less dull.”

  She blushed again. “Sorry, mi—Marko.”

  They stayed on the main cobblestone street that ran around the entire island like a snake circling its prey. On either side, stone shops stood with doors sealed and men holding knives guarding the windows, warning off any looters. Through the narrow alleys and side streets, the rest of the dwellings that the Nomori lived in could be glimpsed. Most had wood boarded up over their doors, the windows dark. Nadya kept one eye on the ground as they walked, dodging the numerous puddles that remained weeks after the storm had ceased. They had become home to buzzing insects that laid their eggs and attacked any, Nomori or bug, that invaded their territory.