And it all depended, of course, on who you meant by “the city.” The Drowning was outside the walls, but on the day of the cremation, I had watched Rahvey and her family, Aab, Tanish, even Florihn and the rest of the Lani who came to the old monkey temple in memory of Vestris and Madame Nahreem. Though both had left the shanty by the river long ago, it seemed that the entire population of the Drowning had come to pay their respects, and I knew I would fight anyone who thought that Bar-Selehm did not include them. I had told Rahvey about Vestris and Madame Nahreem. About our father’s death. All of it. She had wept a little and hugged her children, and given me her silent nod that was all the gratitude, understanding, and resolve that she could manage.
It was enough.
Barely.
I did not know—would never know—what kind of peace Vestris and Madame Nahreem had achieved between themselves before they had died fighting shoulder to shoulder. It pained me a little that I had not been part of that final communion, however much it had been the end of a personal history that had involved me only obliquely, but I remembered my sister’s parting look at me as she seized Richter and dragged him with her down to the river. Her eyes had shared with me in a heartbeat the sorrow and remorse, the sense of love and of things lost, which she would have never been able to say.
As Muhapi’s coffin was lowered into the ground, the crowd cheered and smiled, and they sang again and waved torches as if in victory, which in the circumstances, felt right. So I was at a loss to understand why I felt so strangely separate from the rest of the crowd and why I was quite unable to stem the tide of my weeping.
“It’s all right,” said Dahria, squeezing my hand. “He did not die in vain.”
I nodded fervently, not sure what I wanted to say. I felt as I had when Papa died, like I was still a child, unmoored and drifting. Lost. It was not simply grief for Muhapi or his family, or even his cause, but something deeper and older, a grief for how the world was, how hard we had to fight for just a little fairness and justice.
“Come along,” said Dahria. “I will buy you lunch.”
“You mean you’ll have the servants buy something and cook it for us,” I said, wiping my tears away.
“No,” she said. “I mean I will take you to a restaurant like a civilized person, and you will sit opposite me, trying not to eat with your hands, while we make polite conversation.”
“In public?”
“I’m always polite in public,” she replied.
“That’s not what I meant,” I said. “And you know it.”
“I know all kinds of things that I do not say because that’s what ladies do. We are figures of mystery and power.”
“You are absurd,” I said.
“That too.” She shot me a grin. “Come on. We have people to scandalize.”
She offered me her arm. I took it and we moved off under the smoky mantle that shrouded the city, but beyond which—high and far above—was a deep, faultless blue as near perfection as the human mind could grasp.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to Finie Osako and Sebastian Hartley, always my first readers; to my editor, Diana M. Pho; my agent, Stacey Glick; to Kerra Bolton, Lee Gray, Brilliant Makhubele, and Ezekiel Bathez Sibuyi.
BY A. J. HARTLEY FROM TOR BOOKS
Steeplejack
Firebrand
Guardian
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
A. J. HARTLEY is the international bestselling author of a dozen novels, including several archaeological thrillers, the Darwen Arkwright middle-grade series, the Will Hawthorne fantasy adventures, and novels based on Macbeth and Hamlet. He is the Robinson Distinguished Professor of Shakespeare at UNC Charlotte.
ajhartley.net
Twitter: @authorajhartley. You can sign up for email updates here.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Acknowledgments
By A. J. Hartley from Tor Books
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
GUARDIAN
Copyright © 2018 by A. J. Hartley
All rights reserved.
Cover art by Mike Heath
A Tor Teen Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates
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New York, NY 10010
www.tor-forge.com
Tor® is a registered trademark of Macmillan Publishing Group, LLC.
The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-0-7653-8815-5 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-0-7653-8817-9 (ebook)
eISBN 9780765388179
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First Edition: June 2018
Guardian Page 29