Mareti sighed. “You don’t have to convince me, Lilik.”
“But you didn’t drag me out of bed to talk to my sister, right?” Katrikki cut in.
As I turned to face the girl Paono had chosen, Tyrak whispered in my mind. You sure she’s an ally?
I nodded. Like Gaff had said, way back on Ioene when I was holding my secrets too close, I had to trust someone, sometime.
Katrikki’s brows had drawn together when Tyrak spoke. “Lilik?” she asked.
My attention snapped to her. “Yes?”
“Lost you for a moment. You used to do that when you talked to the air.”
I almost smiled. “My imaginary friends.”
“Yeah.” Her voice cracked, just slightly, at the reminder of the conversation I’d had with her and Paono.
“You must miss him,” I said softly.
She nodded. “I’m not the only one, though. We both care about him.”
Her honesty cemented my decision. “I have something to tell you. I need you—both of you—to promise to keep it quiet.”
As I looked between them, the Korpit sisters nodded.
“The nightstrands are here, too,” I said. “In Istanik.”
Katrikki inhaled sharply. “Really? But we never—”
“Did you ever try?”
“No, but someone must have.”
“You’re probably right,” I said. “But there’s a lot we don’t know about nightcalling. Maybe it only works on Ioene. Will you try?”
She blinked, surprised at the request. “I . . . sure.”
Mouthing the Chant of the Five, she closed her eyes. After a moment, her body relaxed, swept away by the trance we’d worked so hard to master aboard the Evaeni. As she fell deeper, I opened my mind, searching for the brush of spirits.
After a moment, Katrikki stiffened. I felt the soul, a tattered thing muttering nonsense, most likely driven mad by centuries of isolation, slip toward her. As Katrikki reached for it, the spirit howled, knocking me aside.
Stop! Wait! I called to the strand, hoping to calm him, but it was no use. The terrified spirit thrashed against Katrikki’s pull.
I stepped to her and laid a hand on her forearm. “Let him go,” I said.
Katrikki’s eyes fluttered open. She swallowed. “They’re different.”
“They had no channeler or histories to explain what was happening. They’ve been lost, floating and alone. Some for centuries.”
“Ioene has the Vanished, and we have the Lost,” she said, a desolate smile on her face. Maybe Katrikki wasn’t so bad. Some of the time, anyway.
“I was hoping you wouldn’t be able to call them,” I said. “If that were the case, I wouldn’t have to worry about the traders imprisoning our ancestors.”
“So that’s why you wanted to meet?”
“Partly,” I answered. “But we need to talk about Mieshk. We can’t keep waiting for the Council. Not if we want to get to Ioene before the storm season.”
Katrikki shrugged. “I’m confined to my house.”
“I need money,” I said bluntly. When I’d asked Mareti to bring Katrikki here, the thought hadn’t yet occurred to me. But after the conversation with Tyrak earlier in the day, I’d realized the Korpits were more than voices on the Council. They were some of the richest people in Istanik.
I almost laughed at Katrikki’s shocked expression. Conditioned to take offense at anyone asking for charity, she blinked and cleared her throat.
“Oh, sail over it, Katrikki,” Mareti said. She turned her gaze to me. “Of course. How much?”
“To start? Let’s say twenty gold shields. But it would be easier if you could give me that amount in smaller coin. Crescents and silver jits, if possible.”
At this, even Mareti’s eyes widened. “It’s a small sum for our family, but I know how little commoners survive on. How will this help you get to Ioene?”
I hesitated. Should I tell them the truth? The defense tax had built the Council warships. Gutterborn had just as much right to them as the traders did. And if any of those ships survived the Ulstat siege, we needed them to sail for Ioene. The fastest way to get ahold of them was to take them. But we couldn’t do that while the Council and their guardsmen had control of the city. If the Korpits were gutterborn, I wouldn’t hesitate to tell them my plans. But could I trust them considering their birth?
“You know that if we don’t defeat Mieshk, nothing else matters, right?” I asked.
“Of course,” both sisters spoke at once.
“Then you must believe that this is the best way to manage it.”
I explained what I intended to do, focusing more on getting to Ioene than my plans for changes to the Council. After all, even if the traders lost the defense tax, it didn’t mean they’d lose their fortunes. From now on, gutterborn and trader would work together to govern in the Kiriilt Islands. If we managed to retake Ioene, that is. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be anything left to govern.
As I spoke, Mareti’s nods went from slow and considering to firm and resolved. My heart slowed as I realized she wouldn’t betray me for this. After I’d finished talking, she didn’t hesitate. “You’ll have it. Tomorrow evening. I’ll meet you outside the walled garden, same time as before.”
“Mareti!” Katrikki said.
Mareti turned her back on her sister, rolling her eyes. “She’ll come around,” she said with a wink.
I smiled, feeling strangely like I’d made a new friend where I least expected it. “Before I go, I was wondering . . .” I glanced up at the tree. “Any ideas on how I’ll get out of here?”
“Follow me,” she said, hooking elbows with me. “That is, if you don’t mind swimming in the drainage channel from an overcrowded duck pond.”
“Sounds fun. You two plan to join me?”
At that, Katrikki turned her nose in the air, a look of profound disgust on her face.
I smirked.
A clinging fog had flowed over the city, cloaking the streets and suffused with the glow from the light-bearer’s lamps. In the trader district, the lanterns burned a deep purple, the color of wealth in the Kiriilt Islands. Slipping along the slate-flagged streets, I kept my head ducked, the hood of my cloak pulled tight. On nights like this, people’s suspicions ran wild. If the House guards spied a gutterborn girl out after dark, they were unlikely to treat me kindly.
Plus, the hood made me feel safe, as if by wrapping it around myself, I became invisible.
At the entrance to the Korpit House grounds, I paused, glancing up and down the street to assure I wasn’t spotted. As during my previous visit, no sentry guarded the front door.
You’re improving, Tyrak said. I feel your awareness of your surroundings.
I hope so. After tomorrow night, I’ll need to watch over my shoulder until the resistance succeeds.
You’re right, of course. It surprises me. Zyri was always naïve in that way, thinking that no one could ever hurt her.
I envy her for that, I said.
But if she’d been more wary, maybe she would have . . .
He trailed off, but I could fill in the missing thought. Maybe she would have survived. But wariness wouldn’t have helped Zyri. She drowned when her family’s ship sank during the cataclysm. I didn’t mention that to Tyrak, because it would only remind him of the terror she faced in the end.
Softened by fog, the paths within the Korpit gardens held a sort of mystery. I wondered what it was like to grow up as a trader. To have all this beauty and luxury surrounding you. From what I could tell, the trader heirs took it for granted. Well, most of them. Raav had been different. And Mareti, too. At the thought, a sort of cold regret filled my chest. Mareti and Raav were so well matched. If they’d stayed together after the Nocturnai’s return, I’m sure Trader Korpit would have convinced the Council not to arrest him. But Raav had chosen me, and now he faced execution. Some trade.
Though a little disoriented by the fog, I kept the wall of the house to my left and eventually fo
und my way to the walled garden’s entrance. As I slipped through the gate, Mareti stood from a bench and hurried over, her silk slippers whispering against the stone path.
“We shouldn’t speak long or loud,” she whispered into my ear. “My father is holding a conference in one of the back rooms. Katrikki is listening in.”
“About the Ulstats?”
She nodded. “And Raav, I assume.”
A battered leather backpack rested against the carved-stone leg of her bench. When she hefted it, the contents jingled. Mareti cringed.
“I tried padding it, but couldn’t quite silence them.” She held the pack out.
When I grabbed the strap, the weight nearly unbalanced me.
“You asked for small coins,” she said with a crooked smile.
“I’ll pay you back,” I said. “I swear. Once we retake Ioene, everything will change.”
Mareti regarded me with a flat stare. “I’d rather not strike another bargain. We know what the defense lien has done for our nation.”
As I slipped the pack onto my shoulders, muscles twinging with the sudden, heavy pull, I met her eyes. “That’s true. But I won’t accept charity either.”
Inhaling, she nodded assent. “Do what you must, but understand that I expect no return.”
“I’m grateful to you,” I said, turning to go.
“Lilik . . . I don’t mean to condescend, but I wonder: do you have a plan for keeping that safe?”
I chewed my lip. “I’m learning to fight,” I said.
She laid a hand on my shoulder. “Traders never keep all their assets in one place.”
Right. I shouldn’t just hide the backpack.
“I’ll keep separate caches,” I said.
Turning again, I clasped her hand in mine. “Thank you, Mareti.”
I slipped out of the garden, already planning my hiding spots. Once free of the trader district, I turned for the hills that backed the city, my pace quick but not hurried enough to draw attention. When I’d passed beyond the reach of the light-bearer’s lanterns, I swung the pack off my shoulder and peered inside. Mareti had split the coins into smaller, oiled leather sacks. Perfect.
When Paono and I were young, we spent many days exploring the outskirts of Istanik. Between the narrow, brush-choked canyons, the graveyard, Nan’s house and mine, I was able to tuck the coin pouches into nearly a dozen different locations.
By the time I returned home, my legs were exhausted. I hadn’t checked the clock on the courthouse, but by my guess, it was nearly midnight. I shoved the final coin pouch under my bed, then peered into the empty backpack. In the bottom was a note.
He made the right choice.—M
Chapter Seventeen
“YOU SAID OUTER Islanders are good at defending themselves.”
My mother looked up at my words, clearly surprised to see me. She’d been bent over a makeshift workbench, winding a strand of worked silver around a metal dowel. When I was young, she’d stopped her jewelry-making business to help my father with the eggs and to take care of me. Because of that, I’d never really seen what she did, or if I had, I didn’t remember.
“You’ve decided to come with me?” The hope in her voice was so sudden, so strong, that I almost felt bad.
I shook my head. “I won’t abandon the people who need me.”
Her hands dropped to the scarred wood of the bench. “Right,” she said softly. “Unlike me.”
I kicked my toe into the dirt. “Sorry, Mother. I didn’t mean to start off that way.”
“When you were little, you called me Mum.”
“And then I grew up. So, are they here? Your defender friends?”
Fiddling with the supplies on her bench—silver wire, a range of pliers, polished stone, and leather cord—she wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Some. Why?”
“Because it’s time for things to change in the Kiriilt Islands.”
Beside her was a sawed round of some sort of tree, probably the local pine species. Tipping it onto its bark, she rolled it toward me with her foot. “Will you at least sit?”
“I guess.” I nudged the log, sending it thudding back down flat, and sat on it like a stool. My mother and I faced each other over the workbench, holding our silence.
“So you’re going to start a revolution.”
“I’m going to free my imprisoned friend, get rid of the Ulstats, and make sure the traders can’t cause these problems again. Then I’m sailing for Ioene to rescue my friends. You can call it a revolution if you want.”
“Okay.”
“The traders have had one hundred-fifty years to make things better. They’ve failed. It’s the commoners’ turn now.”
Around us, tent dwellers moved back and forth, ducking under canvas flaps and taking seats upon whatever makeshift chairs they could find. Many had cookpots suspended on tripods over campfires. Nearing midday, the day wasn’t nearly as hot as the last few, but I still didn’t envy them the task of cooking beneath the blazing sun. I’d spent the morning inside, counting out the remaining days before storm season and jotting down my plans, but now I wished I’d come to visit Mother earlier. At least I hadn’t put it off—I had other stops to make but I’d decided to tackle the most difficult one first.
“So . . .”
“So I’m going to lead them.”
“You want to lead an army?” she asked.
“I’m organizing a resistance. Army is a strong word.”
“But you asked about the Outer Islanders and our experience fending off attacks.”
“I want to avoid conflict, but it’s not realistic. The Council won’t be pleased when we stand up to them. Plus, we need to be ready to take on the Ulstats and Mieshk’s forces after that.”
“You didn’t mention the Waikert,” she noted.
My toes tapped the ground. No, I hadn’t. Even with nightforged weapons, the traders’ mercenary soldiers could barely hold off the sea tribes. I wasn’t so stupid as to think a gutter army would succeed against the Waikert. Not yet.
“The traders are fighting amongst themselves. If the sea tribes attack now, we’ll lose anyway.”
“I see. Well, I suppose you can hope they won’t attack.”
“Not until we’ve returned to Ioene, at least. After we heal the island, I really believe we’ll be able to defeat the sea tribes for good.”
“You realize you’re talking about pitting untrained gutterborn against multiple sets of seasoned fighters,” she said.
“I don’t plan to attack directly. We have to be smart. Start small and in the shadows. I have ideas, but I’d like help . . . advice. That’s why I came to you.”
My mother shook her head. The expressions on her face suggested she was torn between pride and pity. “Say I introduce you . . .”
“I’ll agree to spend time in your new colony if that’s what you’re going to ask. After the Trader Council is disbanded, the Ulstats removed, and Ioene healed.”
“My daughter . . . such modest ambitions,” my mother said, a smile teasing her lips.
“I plan to hold the first resistance meeting in two days. Will you stay that long?”
“I lasted five years here after I married your Da. I’ll manage.”
“The ocean beach at dusk,” I said. “Ask them to come. They don’t have to commit to anything—yet.”
At the edge of the barracks strip, I hesitated. I wished I’d asked for the man’s name, the organizer of the gutter wardens. It would be safer to ask him to come out to me than to go into the strip in search of him. But if I were really going ahead with this, I couldn’t expect safety. The traders would figure out my involvement soon enough. I’d want to find a new place for my family to live, too—ideally, separate from me.
The thought of leaving them made my limbs weak. But it was only for a short time. Whether we won or lost, I doubted this conflict would last long.
Gathering my courage, I strode into the barracks strip. The farther downhill I traveled, the more my nerves prick
led. Eyes seemed to watch from the shadows, and each rustling in the alleys sounded twice as loud in my ears. My shoulders hunched while my fists clenched.
You can’t defend yourself when you’re stiff, Tyrak said. Alert but at ease.
With a deep breath, I willed my muscles to relax.
Be a sapling, bending but not breaking.
What are you, some wise-man poet, I asked.
Hey! I thought it was good.
Feeling better, I scanned the street. Though dirtier, the homes and shops here weren’t all that different than those in my neighborhood. As I turned to search the next block, I stood a little taller.
I found the warden not long after, on a street that ran parallel to the alley in which we’d first collided.
“Lilik,” he said with a smile. If I wasn’t mistaken, his chest puffed, ever so slightly, when he realized I’d come looking for him.
“I’m glad I found you,” I said. “I was beginning to think you’d given up on the strip.”
“Never. I even recruited a few more helpers. Didn’t you notice them on your way in?”
I shook my head.
“Good,” he said. “We’re trying to keep our actions hidden. The last thing we need is some House guards in here mucking things up.”
“Speaking of,” I said, “I have a proposal for you.”
He listened to my plan avidly. Once I’d finished, there was a gleam in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. Pride? Hope?
“Will you come? We’ll meet at the ocean beach at dusk, two nights from now. Invite the others you’ve recruited.”
“I’ll be there, Nightcaller. But you’ll need a new title, don’t you think? Nightcaller Boket just doesn’t apply all that well here.”
“Do you have a suggestion?”
He paused. “I’ll think about it. But you can’t have head gutter warden. Sorry.”
I liked this man. “What’s your name, anyway?”
He blushed at the question, perhaps unused to mattering enough to have someone ask. “Tavenijet,” he said, “but most people just call me Jet.”
“All right, then, Jet. I’ll see you there.”
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