“Lilik,” he whispered. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“I don’t care,” I said. “They can’t do this to you.”
From the edge of the quayside street, a rotten pear sailed into Raav’s cage. It landed beside him, splattering.
Raav didn’t even glance at it. “The traders don’t have a choice. It’s this or the Ulstats win.”
“Of course they have a choice.”
Rough hands fell on my shoulders, pulling me back. My arms slipped through Raav’s hands, our fingers touching for a last instant before the guards yanked me away. As they carried me off, I thrashed and struggled, desperate to get back to him.
The guards set me in front of Trader Yiltak, who looked down with disappointment. “I thought you might be a help to us,” she said, before gesturing toward the city center with her chin. “Just go, and leave trader business to those with the self-control to conduct it.”
As I stood in front of her, I met her glare. “If you’re an example of trader virtue, I’m not interested in meeting your standards.”
Chapter Nineteen
THE MORNING PASSED, and all I could think about was Raav, caged. I haunted the quay, out of sight but close enough to smell the rotten food and other refuse plastering the wagon. My chest panged when I remembered the stoic set of Raav’s shoulders. Two dozen guards surrounded the prisoners—I had no hope of getting close now, and was grateful I’d had a chance before. Just before noon, a servant from one of the trader Houses brought food for the prisoners.
As the sun passed its zenith, I finally tore myself away and went home to tell Da and Jaret what had happened. On the way, I visited a cobbler who had a room for rent above her shop, a place for me to stay while organizing my gutter army. We agreed on a price, and I handed over the coin in exchange for a key—the presence of an actual lock sold me on the place. When I returned to the quay, Raav had been given shoes. Maybe a guard had taken pity on him where Trader Yiltak hadn’t.
For the time being, the trader ploy seemed to have worked. The Ulstat ships had withdrawn from the harbor, once against standing off the coast at a distance that prevented trader vessels from coming and going while remaining out of firing range of our city. The small Ulstat heir stared from his cage with wide, frightened eyes. Despite his relation to Mieshk, I felt sorry for him. A pair of rat carcasses had been thrown into his cage, along with the rotten food and soiled rags. Unlike the Ovintaks, who cleared the refuse from their areas, the boy seemed afraid to touch anything. Judging by his ornate clothing, filthy now, he’d probably never seen such things. But also, I suspect he was afraid to protest for fear things would get worse.
As the sun descended toward the western horizon, I made a single pass in front of the wagon. Stopping long enough to catch Raav’s eye, I nodded at him. I’d get him out of this. I had to. Chewing his lip—the only weakness he’d shown all day—he returned my nod. In front of him, a guard laid a hand on his cudgel. I took the hint and hurried away.
The first resistance meeting was supposed to be at dusk. With just an hour or two left to prepare, I hurried home. Da and Jaret needed to know what I planned, plus I wanted to take Jet’s advice about moving the meeting. Detouring through the barracks strip, I found Jet standing watch.
“Above the stilts. On the path to the graveyard,” I said.
He nodded understanding. “I’ll tell them.”
I carried the same news to Nan, and finally hurried into the itinerant camp in search of my mother. She wasn’t around, so I left word with the woman whose tent was pitched beside Mother’s jewelcrafting bench. The woman assured me she’d pass the message faithfully. Still, I chose to be vague with my words and hoped my mother would understand.
Finally, I rushed home, jacket pulled tight against the late afternoon cool—the heat wave had continued to ease. In the street in front of my home, a pair of small children played with a ball made of cork. Not very round, the ball bounced in wild directions, causing squeals and sudden chases. Unfortunately, my appearance distracted them, and the ball slipped between bars in the sewer grates. Abrupt wails followed.
“Wait,” I said, hurrying inside. I snatched a small doll from the corner where my old playthings collected dust, and presented it to the older child, a girl. She sniffled and grinned, tears abruptly forgotten. The children scampered off.
“Growing up, I see,” Da said with a wink as I stepped back inside.
“I should have gotten rid of the stuff long ago.” In truth, I was still reluctant to say goodbye to much of it. So many of my things reminded me of years past when Paono and I played together in the streets. Pretty much like the children I’d just seen. But it was time to focus on the future. “We need to move, Da.”
His brow knit. “What?”
Jaret wasn’t at home, which was probably just as well. After suggesting Da sit, I pulled out a chair opposite him and told him my plan.
Da shook his head, slowly. “Why you? Why does my little girl need to be the one to set the traders straight?”
“Because there’s no one else. And it has to happen. Listen, I have money.” As I spoke, I dug a toe under the cot where I’d shoved the last coin pouch, pulling it free. “We won’t give up this place—how could we? But I want you to take a room near the city center. One of the blocks near the courthouse and prison. I’ve found a room above a shop on the edge of the slums.”
“I won’t do it, Lilik. I won’t be separated from you just because you’re worried about my safety.”
I shook my head. “It’s not just your safety, Da. It’s Jaret’s too.”
My father leaned forward, cupping his lower face with his hand. When he exhaled, his breath whistled against his thumb.
Abruptly, he straightened, pounding fists against the table. “All right, Lilik. But you need to make me one promise.”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t tell Jaret what you’re doing. You’re seventeen. I can’t decide your life for you. But your brother is still a child, no matter what he thinks. I’ll make up some explanation. Until this is over, I want you to stay clear of him. For his sake.”
My eyes fell to my lap. It made sense, even if I didn’t like the thought. “Okay, Da, I will.”
Uncinching the coin pouch’s draw string, I pulled out a handful of silver jits. Da’s eyes widened as I slid them toward him—that much silver was more than he earned in half a year.
“I’d rather have you safe than take this money,” he said softly.
“I know, Da. But I promise you I’m doing what I believe is best.”
“I suppose I just have to trust you then,” he said.
“I’ll be back late tonight to gather my things. If you can, take Jaret to the evening market. By tomorrow evening, it’ll be best if none of us come back here until I send word.”
Da didn’t answer. I grabbed the leather backpack Mieshk had given me and dropped the coin pouch inside. I laid a hand on Tyrak’s hilt, assuring myself with his presence, then gave one last glance around my childhood home before stepping into the darkening street.
Beyond the stilts, the trail along Istanik’s border turned to traverse the hill and intersect the graveyard path. As I headed for the site of the meeting, I hitched my backpack up on my shoulders—thinking of the coins within, I’d tied a spare strap around my waist for extra protection against thieves. The sun had set, leaving the sky a bruised color. From this vantage, Istanik was a blanket of patchwork lights. With each district lit a distinctive color, it was easy to see how the territory was divided. Home to just two dozen or so Houses, the trader district was nearly as large as the entire gutter slum, where ten thousand people lived.
The sight made me glad Jet had suggested I move the meeting. The view could only aid my cause.
At a clearing where the trail widened into a trampled circle of packed earth, I stopped. It was early still—I’d planned to arrive first. But a twinge of worry pinched beneath my breastbone. What if no one came?
; As night crept across the island, pooling first in the hollows and folds of the terrain, then creeping through alleys too far from the light-bearers to keep the dark at bay, a sick unease settled into my gut.
“Lilik.” Mother spoke softly, slipping into the clearing from the direction of the stilts. A man and a woman followed her, clad in patched clothing and wearing cautious expressions.
I flashed them a smile. “Thanks for coming.”
Shortly after, Jet entered with a single man in tow. He nodded, lips thinned, at my questioning look. The single follower was the best he could do. I bit the inside of my cheek as two more people, the flinty-eyed leatherworker I’d seen with Nan and another woman strode into the space. The gathered group shuffled in mild discomfort, regarding each other with veiled suspicion.
I gave the group a curt nod, pretending I hadn’t expected more than the small handful of people who’d come to the meeting.
“I sent a man to watch the shore, Councilor,” Jet said.
I raised my eyebrows at the title. It was better than Nightcaller, at least. Thinking about it, I realized that it fit. Each of the trader families sent someone to their Council. Time for us to demand entry, too. And I was the first representative.
“Good. I’ll find you tomorrow,” I said. “We’ll know from his report whether word of our meeting has been leaked to the traders.”
As I spoke, I scanned the small group, searching for nervous fidgets or guilty expressions. But aside from the discomfort of having come here, an act that would surely bring the traders’ wrath if we were discovered, none seemed concerned about the beach spy. That, at least, was good news.
“I assume you were given a brief explanation about why we’re here,” I said. “We can’t bow down before the Trader Council anymore.”
Aside from my mother and Jet, my words were greeted with skeptical glances. Unwilling to give up, I casually pulled up my sleeves to expose my glowing scars. Though not as bright as on Ioene, I knew the sight would have an effect, if only to remind them that I’d taken on a trader before—and won.
The leatherworker’s mouth twisted before she spoke. “Some of us have been meeting about this for years. What’s to say we should follow you all of a sudden?”
I stared at her, an emotionless glance that—I hoped—would show I wouldn’t be easily intimidated. “Seems simple to me. What have you accomplished in all those years?”
The woman snarled, and I wondered whether I was pushing too hard. But I couldn’t back down, not if I wanted to convince these people to follow me.
“Listen,” I said, “I understand why you were cautious. No one wants to see gutterborn hurt or killed. But this is about more than overthrowing the traders now. The situation is urgent. We can’t afford to watch and wait any longer.”
Still bristling, the woman shifted her weight onto her other hip, thrusting out her chin. “That may be a fair assessment of our efforts, but you still haven’t explained why we should change course now. What’s so urgent that we should risk ourselves while the traders fight amongst themselves?”
“We must return to Ioene and defeat Mieshk Ulstat—something that isn’t going to happen with the Trader Council in power. If we don’t stop her, nothing else will matter.”
“And why, exactly, is that?”
“Because she’s close to destroying Kiriilti civilization. All of it. She’s uncovered hidden powers that will destroy Ioene and send disaster to our shores.”
“And you know this because . . . ?”
I scanned the group. “Trader Yiltak asked me a similar question. What evidence do I have? Why is Ioene more important than fighting off the Waikert? Or the Ulstats? Or for that matter, why should we do anything at all?”
The leatherworker shrugged as if agreeing with my assessment. But I’d captured the others’ interest. Though the ghost-gray light of dusk was fading, I glimpsed curiosity on their faces.
“You’ve heard much of what happened on Ioene. Mieshk Ulstat mutinied. Those of us who made it home were fortunate to survive. Maybe you even heard that I am a channeler. But nothing else, right?”
A few people shrugged and nodded.
Standing tall, I continued. “Well, there’s a lot more. For a time, I held the memories of a girl who lived one thousand years ago. Zyri was on Ioene the last time someone like Mieshk rose to power. Through her eyes, I saw the end of her world. And if we don’t stop Mieshk, I’ll have to watch it all over again.
“Our port cities will fall first, smashed beneath waves as tall as mountains. Darkness will come and go. Crops will fail. The last cataclysm still echoes, rippling through time. The Vanished told me that storm season and the erratic start and end of the long-night are caused by those ripples. One thousand years after the disaster, it still affects the area around Ioene.”
“But that’s Ioene,” one of my mother’s Outer Isle friends said.
I nodded. “True. We don’t feel it here anymore, but that’s because the last cataclysm has had centuries to fade. Or rather, it was fading. Not anymore. The swell that smashed your village is just the beginning of a new cycle.”
“If all that’s actually true,” the leatherworker said, “what are a bunch of gutterborn agitators supposed to do about it? Overthrow the Trader Council, commandeer their ships and soldiers, and sail off into the dark? What about the Waikert? Some of us have family in the city.”
I folded my arms over my chest. “More or less. I know it will be difficult. But I also know that we have no other choice.”
“And you really think we should follow you,” she returned. “A gutterborn teenager.”
Be yourself, Tyrak advised. If you pretend, you’ll lose them all the same.
“I understand your reluctance,” I said. “What am I besides another gutterborn girl who wants things to be different? The truth is, I don’t know how to fight—though I’m learning. I need advice on tactics, organization—most everything, really. But I have done something that none of you can claim.”
The leatherworker rolled her eyes. “You sailed on the Nocturnai—”
“I’ve died.” I paused to let that sink in. “I know exactly what it feels like. You think seawater in the lungs would be cold, but it’s not. It burns like molten metal in every cranny of your chest. And the terror. You try to swim, but you’re coughing and sucking in more water and your arms and legs just thrash. And all the while, the ocean drags you deeper and deeper. It crushes you, and somehow that’s a relief because you just want it to be over.”
Silence followed my words. The small cluster of people shifted before me. A tear slipped down my cheek as I mourned again for Zyri, and I didn’t wipe it away.
“You ask why I’m qualified to lead you. That’s why. I’m terrified of dying again. I know exactly how the end of my life will feel. I know the risks of taking on the Trader Council. I know what I’d be asking gutterborn to do. And I’m asking it anyway because the other choice is total eradication.
“You can choose to walk away,” I said. “Go back to your secret meetings and your waiting. But I won’t give up. I’ll find others. But I’m asking you to stay. Advise me. Teach me what you know. And together, maybe we can save the Kiriilt Islands.”
One of the Outer Islanders who had come with my mother had sidled toward the edge of the clearing. A crunch of feet on gravel told me when she left. Ignoring it, I fixed my eyes on the others.
I scanned the group. “Questions?”
“The Waikert?” asked the man who’d come with Jet.
“In Zyri’s time, even the poorest of the Vanished filled their homes with magical objects we’d consider priceless treasures. Our nightforged weapons have helped us hold off the sea tribes. The magic we’ll learn once we retake and heal the island will help us annihilate them.”
In my time, we used scrying globes to see distant places, Tyrak said. Clothing that let our fighters blend into their surroundings. Not that we needed many fighters given our other advantages.
I n
odded at his words. “Some of you have seen Zyri’s Promise. She sails many times faster than our sleekest ships. That’s just the first example. In the Vanished times, the leaders used magical devices to look through their enemies’ walls. Armor that allowed the soldiers to hide in plain sight.”
“And what if we . . . heal the island, only to find that most of that magic is gone?” Jet’s man asked.
“Then we still have Ashkalan. If we save Ioene, gutterborn can leave their shanties and stilt houses and live protected by walls of polished stone. It would be years before the Waikert found us there, if ever.”
In the following silence, the group shifted as if thinking.
“Listen,” I said, “even if Mieshk never manages to gather enough power to create the cataclysm, even if the traders and the Ulstats fight it out without harming the gutterborn, the Waikert will return eventually. And after the Nocturnai failed, we don’t have the weapons to throw them back. We simply can’t sit by anymore. Not if we want to survive.”
Abruptly, the leatherworker smirked. She pulled a throwing knife from her belt and spun it in her hand. I narrowly avoided flinching.
“I like you,” she said, pointing the knife at me. “Like you enough to give you a chance, even.”
As if loosed by the woman’s words, heads began nodding.
“About time someone stepped up to change things,” Jet’s man said.
“So what’s next?” the leatherworker asked.
I tried not to let my relief show. Better to have them believe I’d had nothing but confidence that I’d convince them. “I need you to spread the word. Quietly. We’ll meet again in a few days. In the meantime, I welcome suggestions. Jet will continue building up the gutter wardens to defend against the mercenaries—and the traders if necessary. We’ll secure our boundaries and go from there. I’ll be by tomorrow with some . . . resources.”
Shattering of the Nocturnai Box Set Page 40