by L. W. Jacobs
“I’ve been studying. I’m learning the laws around it. I’m sure this will work. And if it doesn’t…well, I have some new friends now. They could get you out another way.”
“The boy Tai? He turned out to be a mercenary?”
“Not a mercenary. A rebel.”
Tunla’s brows rose at this, but there wasn’t the excitement there Ella hoped to see. “We tried rebelling before. That’s how my husband died. Be careful, Ella. The Councilate will not go lightly on those involved.”
She nodded, remembering the risk of being seen here, not only for Odril but for the questions it might raise if Sablo heard. “Right. I should go.”
“Atumbarye,” Tunla said. “May the ancestors keep you.”
Ella nodded, feeling somehow the sacredness of her duty not only to get Tunla and the women free but to support the rebels, to help stop the Councilate here, before the Achuri language and lifeway were lost. She gripped Tunla’s hand through the bars. “Ancestors keep you, too.”
25
Oh, sure, a woman might make herself useful enough to marry up and gain a better name. Doubtless many of the noble Houses got their start this way—but you won’t find any who admit it.
—Madam Kallenia, Speeches of the Day, Yiel 71
Ella woke the next morning to knocking at her door. She sat up, blankets kicked off in the night, nightgown ridden up to her waist. The room was bathed in blue, a deep, cerulean blue, and it took her a long moment to remember where she was. The Tower. Right.
The knocking came again, and fear struck. Did someone see her with Tai? Did Sablo know?
“Just a moment!” Ella looked around, heart beating, but there was nowhere to go. She struck resonance, the knocking dropping to boulderlike thuds as time slowed. She got up, dressed, crunched a mavenstym blossom down, and thought through her options. There was no other escape this high up, and she hadn’t replaced her shank yet. Stupid. She would have to slip past them, then.
Ella took a deep breath, dropped resonance, and opened the door.
To two immaculate Councilate ladies. They were dressed in Brinerider silks, hair tied in elaborate haloes around their head, faces expertly done with brush and rouge. The right one was shorter, dress flame red with white lace. She spoke. “Ellumia?”
Ella started. “Yes. And you are?”
“Clarella,” she said, giving a stately nod. Her eyebrows had been shaved, then painted on higher.
“And I’m Swinecka,” the other said, tall and somewhat horse-faced in a green-and-red gown. She also nodded.
Ella nodded back, feeling suddenly under-dressed. “It’s—nice to meet you. What can I do for you?”
“Nothing!” Clarella called. “Just a social visit. We’d heard you moved in, and thought we’d stop by. There are so few of us lighthaired women about. Single ones, anyway.”
“You are single?” Swinecka asked, eying the room behind her.
“I am,” Ella said, guard coming up. “I’ve only been here a few days.”
“Yes, well”—Clarella touched at her hair—“we keep in close contact with the registrar downstairs. What brings you to the south?”
“Scholarship,” Ella answered, summoning more refined language. “I’d come seeking further knowledge of the Achuri, of their culture and belief system. I’m a student of Markels, hoping to expand his writings on the area. I’ve actually found some very interesting—”
“You had come?” Clarella inquired, prying at the tense of the word.
Shatter the woman, she was sharp. What did she want? “Ah, yes,” Ella admitted. “Initially, I was here under the auspices of a sponsorship, but my sponsor proved untenable, and so I’ve taken rooms here.”
“Sponsor,” Swinecka repeated, rolling the word on her tongue. “Not a patronage of any sort?”
Then it clicked. These were not Councilate wives or working women of the Houses. They were calculors—low-level by Worldsmouth standards, but likely the only single and formally trained ones in Ayugen. A fact they were no doubt using to try to secure better family names through patronage and marriage. Title-grabbers. “I’m not a calculor, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Oh,” they said, almost in unison. Swinecka looked relieved.
“Well, how nice,” Clarella followed, glancing at her taller companion. “We had…heard of a light-haired woman, working recently with Arten Sablo in his chambers. That wasn’t you, I take it?”
Careful, Ella. These two could be more dangerous than they seem.
“Sablo?” she repeated. “Oh—yes, a kindly man. Offering me some assistance in a legal suit.”
Clarella, shorter of the two, eyed her a moment. “Legal suit. Well, more’s the pity. We’d hoped for some professional companionship. It is a lonely existence here in the borderlands.”
“You’ll join us for tea, at least?” Swinecka asked, face returned to a neutral mask. The face says what the mouth will not, LeTwi had written. “We could use the company.”
“Sure,” Ella said, not at all sure. “I don’t expect to stay long, but perhaps in the next few days.”
This appeared to reassure them even more. “Yes,” Swinecka nodded. “Yes, that would be lovely.”
A note came later that morning, as she was reading through Pyoten’s Arbitrations of the Day with Addendums, Vol. 14 and eating a cold millet cake bought from the Tower’s vendor carts the day before.
Ellumia, it read. You appear too efficient at your work—my auditor informs me there’s not enough work today; I hope a day off won’t be an inconvenience. Still, I’d hate to miss our daily chats—might I invite you out for dinner this evening? I know just the place.
It was signed only Arten. His courier waited outside her door for a response. Ella smiled, bemused. The old man had been nothing but a gentleman, and of course there could be nothing between them—but was she detecting the faintest hints of a courtship here?
All the merrier for you. You’re sure to win the suit if you give him a tumble in the sack.
“Telen!” she barked. “I’m not that desperate!”
Just give me a heads-up on when to look away.
She opened the door. “Tell him I’d love to. I’ll be ready by sunset.”
The courier nodded once, a doe-eyed lighthair boy likely from a minor House, interning with the Arbiter in hopes of getting a permanent position later. He ran off, not without a second glance at her room number.
Ella tsked. If Newgen was anything like the rumor mill Worldsmouth had been, Swinecka and Clarella would know soon enough she was getting more than legal assistance from the Arbiter. So be it. She was no longer lying about a licensure she didn’t have. What was the worst they could do to her?
The day off was welcome—Ella spent it in the stacks, reading dry legal tracts and their slightly more interesting interpretations. There was so much to know—more than she could possibly absorb in a few days, but legal proceedings in cases of money laundering and forced contracts, at least, seemed fairly straightforward.
It was strange, somehow, immersing herself in Councilate legislature and overhearing other people talk of the latest rebel attacks. To feel at once committed to changing the system from within—to winning this suit and getting a degree and becoming a Council Advisor, as she’d always dreamed—and to defeating them militarily. It wasn’t that she couldn’t do both, but—
But neither side would love the thought of you doing the other.
That was another part of it. Tai was the only rebel she knew—none of the others would hesitate to cut her down if she were in their way, if for some reason she found herself in the middle of their attacks. The rumors might be exaggerated, but people said they killed every lighthair they saw. She knew that wasn’t true, and yet—how would any lawkeeper act if they saw her talking with a rebel? If they knew she was passing them information? The penalty for treason was always death—that much was clear from the law books.
So, what are you going to do, sis, dye your hair and join
the rebels?
Ella sighed, turning back to her books. “No. Not yet, anyway. But if they do manage to defeat the Councilate…” It would be a dream. So much better than trying to change the hulking bureaucratic machine of the Councilate from the inside. She’d have Tai’s ear, have the wealth of Achuri culture to draw from in helping them set up a new state—to create something that was neither Councilate greed nor the primitive political systems that left them so open to colonization in the first place.
You mean like the political rank based on number of descendants thing Tai mentioned?
She cleared her throat. “Something like that.” And in the meantime, in case the rebels didn’t pull off what still seemed like a long shot, she would develop her ties with the Arbiter, hone her skills for the arbitration, and build her case for becoming the first female Advisor. After she graduated from the Thousand Spires of Gyolla, of course.
Easy.
She was dressed and ready when Sablo arrived that evening, wearing a blue Brinerider gown she’d found at market. Sablo was in a pale calf-length kurta, stripes of office pinned tastefully to one sleeve. “Ellumia,” he said, offering her a smile. “You look lovely.”
“You look quite dashing yourself, Arbiter.” She held her arm out.
“Please,” he said, taking her arm, “no need to add vanity to the list of an old man’s vices. I’m afraid my dashing days are over.”
She smiled. “Perhaps that’s for the best. All the dashing of younger men can get quite tiresome.”
He quirked an eyebrow at her but didn’t bite at the innuendo. “How do you feel about Yati cuisine? I thought we might go to the Thousand Hills.”
“I’ve—never had it. You don’t hear much praise for hilltribe foods.”
“It’s a shame,” he said. “The capital looks down on the hilltribes, but they have a refined cuisine, when they get around to making it.”
The Arbiter was right. Staffed almost entirely by red-haired Yati, the restaurant served tray after tray of unusual delicacies—smoked quail, roast goat in chokecherry sauce, pungent cheeses and pickled fish and platters of highland fruits, many of which she’d never seen. It was delicious.
They chatted pleasantly, talking mainly of Ayugen and how it had changed over the years, while the waiters brought small trays of food and spiced honeywine. “And we’re still not done. Once the rebels are finished, we can officially annex the Achuri and bring in acculturation schools.”
Ella nodded. “It’s a shame the Councilate can’t do something more to preserve local culture even as it modernizes them.” Tellemsworth argued Councilate schools were the main cause of cultural erasure. “Much of the Achuri lifeway is worth preserving.”
Sablo pursed his lips. “The schools are not easy, it’s true. But I’ve never known a graduate to want to go back. The project of uplifting the darkhairs is vast, and sometimes what’s necessary is neither pleasant nor gentle. Still, we have to think of their own good.”
Typical Councilate rationalizations. “And the prison camp? Is that for their own good too?” She couldn’t keep all the bite from her tone, and Sablo looked up sharply.
“The prison camps are what pass for justice until we achieve annexation. I don’t know what you’ve heard, but most of the people in there are dissidents, dangers to the civilizing process.”
Ella took a bite of preserved plum to quell her burst of anger. To stop from blurting that she knew children were in there without cause.
“They’re there without arbitration,” she said instead. “Much as I trust our lawkeepers, the opportunity for corruption seems too great.”
“You are one for pleasant table conversation, aren’t you? Still, that’s what I appreciate about you.” He took a sip of infused dreamtea. “It’s an imperfect system, I admit, and there are likely those who fall through the gaps. But most of the people inside will end up in the culture schools or in short periods of indenture before they’re released again.”
A shout sounded in the distance, followed by another. Sablo broke off, listening, then continued. “It’s really just to keep the rest of us safe until the Councilate sees fit to establish a real military presence here instead of relying on the House militias.”
Ella took another bite. Sablo was a valuable connection, and she would not waste it by getting angry.
Use that anger to learn something, sis. Something that will help the rebels.
“Are the rebel attacks so dangerous, then?”
Sablo considered. “So far, they confine themselves to House targets, though there was a report of disturbances at the camp a few nights back.” He leaned forward, taking her hand in his. “Between you and me, though, there’ll be nothing to worry about soon.”
She resisted the urge to pull her hand back. “What do you mean?”
He glanced around. “I mean the Council has approved sending in a legion from the Yati garrison. I’ve convinced them the yura trade is worth it and that Ayugen will make a long-term protectorate. That’s two thousand trained legionnaires. More than enough to put down this little uprising.”
Fear punched her in the gut—along with excitement. Tai needed to hear this. But neither emotion was right for the moment. “Oh, that’s so reassuring. Let’s hope more equitable treatment of the locals follows close on their heels.”
“It will,” he said, patting her hand. “It will.”
As he spoke, more shouts echoed in the distance, muted in the stiff breeze. She met his eyes. “Do you think it could be rebels?”
“Here? No.” He popped a ball of yura into his mouth. “More likely some of those young men doing their dashing, playing with their resonances. But if you’ll excuse me for a moment.” He got up, and Ella was surprised to see an unobtrusive man rise at the back of the restaurant. She watched Sablo over her glass of tea. Did he really believe in the Councilate’s ethics? That this was the best possible way? Did he not know about the violence and deaths in the camp? Or did he see all that as the best possible way as well?
He returned a moment later, the other man slipping out the back. “There,” he said, settling back in. “Should be nothing to worry about. Care for some dessert?”
“I really couldn’t,” she said honestly.
“A stroll around the town, then?” he asked. The lanterns were lit below them, swaying in the breeze. Couples and groups strolled the arched walkways, a pleasant woodsmoke scent to the air.
“Yes, thank you,” she said. “Our apparent difference in politics aside, I really do enjoy our conversations. I’ve had so little chance for stimulating conversation since coming to Ayugen.”
He smiled, waving a hand at the waiter, who had long since recognized his symbols of rank. “I was just about to say the same.”
They took the small bridge from the restaurant, this one sheeted in colored Yersh glass, and joined the current of revelers passing slowly around the town, smell of woodsmoke stronger on the air. Men murmured greetings to Sablo as they passed, observing the night-walking etiquette of Councilate nobility.
“You aren’t embarrassed to be seen with such an old man?” he asked after a time.
“I could ask the same of you, to be seen with an unconnected and Houseless young lady.”
“I’m the envy of the town,” he said, gray eyes meeting hers.
Ella, this guy is seriously gross. He’s what, three times your age?
Professional hazard, she thought, the conversation turning to Newgen’s history. They stopped to admire a school of painted fish, and Ella started. “I do believe the water level’s dropping. I’ve never seen that.”
Sablo frowned. “Neither have I.”
They turned, a change in the wind carrying more shouts and the unmistakable crackling of fire. A wave of people rose from the bluffs, looking harried. Wounded.
A familiar figure limped at the front, trousers bloodstained. Ella gasped. “Tai?”
26
The bluffmanses are a second marvel of New Ayugen: spilling down the bl
uffs like the waterfalls which thread in and through their intricate construction, each one a work of art, a luxurious home, an escape from the rigors of the South and a statement of arrival to Houses established and upcoming. Plus, with space in New Ayugen’s original enclave so limited, bluffmanses offer an affordable alternative within easy distance of the Tower itself.
—Galya advertisement, Councilate broadsheet
“You sure this is safe?” Berlaw, a new recruit from the Red Elks, looked a little queasy.
“This is the safest part of our plan,” Tai answered, wafting up against their combined weight. “Just don’t let go.”
They were floating over the fields between the mine entrances and Newgen, Berlaw clinging to one side, Lumo holding on to the other, a giant wooden plank in the Minchu’s hand. The setting sun glinted on the Newgen canal, bringing water to feed Newgen’s artificial lake and the waterfalls beyond.
The timing was crucial. Tai needed to get Lumo and Berlaw down, then get Ilrick, Weiland, and a new timeslip, Pendra, over to the manse just as the sun was setting. Not only were they least likely to be seen in this light, but sunset was the changing of guards at Coldferth headquarters. Ilrick and Tai had been watching the manse following Ella’s tip about Coldferth storing yura there, posing as street cleaners among the elaborate mansions and waterways spilling toward the river below.
“I should have been on the attack team,” Berlaw moaned. “At least then I’d only have to fly a few hundred paces.”
“Then you should not have overcome your revenants,” Lumo said. “You are too strong now to waste in fighting.” The Minchu looked much better for his time at Marrem’s, though he still wore a bandage around his middle.
They wafted over the road leading from Ayugen proper to Newgen, watercourse flowing silvery beside it in the falling light. “Here we go, guys,” Tai said, dropping them beside the water. “Remember, hold position long enough to see flames but not if guards come in force. We need you more than we need the dam.”