The Sisters of Reckoning

by Charlotte Nicole Davis

  “Our?” Eli scoffed. “What have you done, exactly, besides sit on your ass and eat up all our food?”

  Derrick flushed but ignored him. “I’m only saying—our actions so far have led the landmasters to this. We have to assume if we keep on this course, they’ll come back with something even worse. I’m not sure we’re equipped to deal with it.”

  “Just say ‘I told you so’ and get it out of your system,” Mallow said acidly.

  “That’s not what I mean—”

  “No, what you mean is that you don’t want us messing with your dear old uncle or his friends,” Eli muttered under his breath.

  Derrick reddened even more. “You don’t get to question my loyalty, Elijah. I have funded this entire operation. I’ve told you when and where to be. I’ve—”

  “This bastard sounds like every ripping landmaster I’ve ever heard. Thinks now that he’s paid for us he gets to order us around—”

  “It’s not like that! You think it doesn’t upset me, hearing that my uncle has done this thing? I want more than any of you to see him stopped. All of them—”

  “I sincerely doubt that—” Clementine broke in.

  “Enough,” Aster said. Her head was pounding, and her heart was sick. “We can’t fight among ourselves.” That was what they wanted, that was how they maintained their control. “Eli, Derrick, you’re both right. We can’t back down, not after this. It’s a ripping declaration of war. But we’re also not ready to take on the whole Landmasters’ Guild … they’ve come together for this. We have to do the same. We have to get help.”

  “Who else is there, though, Aster?” Violet asked gently.

  Aster swallowed. “Well, there are the Lady Ghosts, for one, and the rest of the Scorpions. And there are other dustbloods outside the Scab, working against the landmasters’ expansion in the north. And then there’s the Nine, who have been fighting longer than any of us. This affects all of them. We need to bring them together.”

  “They’re scattered all over the country, though,” Sam said. “How would we bring them together, exactly?”

  Aster was ready for this. “Raven and I can deal with the Lady Ghosts, and I have a contact in Northrock who’s organized some of the dustbloods there—Cora, the girl who sheltered me after we burned down the welcome house. I’ve also talked to Sid back at Camp Deathstalker, and he might be able to get in touch with some of the old rebels of the Nine.”

  “All right, but you’ve met Sid,” Cutter broke in. “What makes you think he’ll go along with this? Him, or any of these people?”

  Aster hesitated. It had taken endless bargaining just to get this one camp of Scorpions to help her with the gambling hall; she had no doubt that getting a larger group of people to agree to further retaliation would take nothing short of a miracle. The Lady Ghosts had not even approved of the rescue mission in Northrock. What she had in mind now went against everything Priscilla believed in.

  But Aster had no choice but to try.

  “It’s like I said—these new laws affect everyone,” Aster began. “They’ll be angry, desperate, looking for ways to fight back. We just need to give them the means to do so. Which we can do, because now we have the one advantage no one else has: an inside man.” She looked at Derrick. “Derrick, I can see you’re afraid that no one listens to you, no one takes you seriously. But I’m here to tell you that I do. So tell me, then—what, exactly, are we up against?”

  There was a red spot on his temple from where he had rested his head in his hand in his exhaustion. He sat up straighter, looking self-consciously up and down the table.

  “Well,” he said, “I only know what I was told before I was ‘kidnapped.’ There’s every reason to think my uncle’s plans have evolved since then…”

  Sam cut him off with an impatient wave of his hand. “Yes, of course, just tell us what you can, Red.”

  “… But, I think it’s safe to assume that he at least intends to make good on his public threat to track you down and capture you as soon as possible,” Derrick went on. “After everything that happened last year, he doubled down on his efforts to hire a new head ravener to lead his bounty hunters in future pursuits. And after the Northrock job, that search became a top priority. He found his bloodhound shortly before I left for Rattlebank: a woman who is a particularly powerful ravener and highly motivated to track you all down. How she even knew you were still alive, when it’s such a closely kept secret, I don’t know—let alone why she so dearly wants you dead. But I promise you that’s who’s searching for us, even now, as we speak.” He had gone twitchy at the thought.

  Aster stiffened, glancing over at Zee, who had tensed and reached for Clementine’s hand.

  “Did you say a … a lady ravener?” Zee asked levelly.

  “Yes, it was unusual, to say the least—”

  “What did she look like?” Aster interrupted.

  Derrick looked between them. “Brown-skinned, average build, with her hair pulled back in a low knot and these upsettingly filed nails…”

  “Lizzy,” Zee concluded. Aster could see the anguish threatening to tear him apart.

  “No, it’s not possible,” Clementine murmured. “You said she wasn’t completely gone. Why would she—how could she—”

  “She blames me for what happened, remember,” Zee said, swallowing. “Whatever feelings she has left for me … they aren’t good ones.”

  “Ripping hell, Zee,” Sam murmured.

  “Zee, I’m—I’m so sorry,” Tansy said haltingly.

  “Wait, what have I missed here?” Derrick asked, bewildered.

  “That ravener is Zee’s sister,” Violet explained. “They’ve been in contact—that’s how she knows about us. But Derrick, how does McClennon know about her?”

  Derrick looked horrified. “I—I have no idea. My uncle never even learned your name, Zee. He certainly didn’t know you had a ravener sister.”

  “Maybe she went to him,” Raven said darkly. “After Zee showed up on her doorstep and told her all about his adventures, she probably saw an opportunity to take that information to the McClennons. Raveners are coldly calculating like that.”

  They all fell silent at the thought. Aster felt instinctively that it was true, and it filled her with despair.

  “We can deal with Elizabeth when the time comes,” she said with forced calm, for the sake of the others. “We faced down a dozen raveners in Rattlebank. What’s one more? Derrick … please … is there anything else you can tell us? Anything at all?”

  Derrick was still silent, looking down at his hands, a dark scowl drawn onto the pale canvas of his face. His brows furrowed further as he seemed to come to a decision. Aster watched it flicker across the blue of his eyes, like light on water.

  “You haven’t said yet what your plan is, but I can imagine well enough: you and your friends are going to want to take another prisoner or two. Real ones, this time. Landmasters with considerable power. Men these laws can’t be passed without. Losses devastating enough to convince Authoritant Lockley to listen to you, and not the Guild.”

  Aster opened her mouth—not to deny it, because it was true, but to reason with Derrick before he inevitably tried to talk her out of it. They had to take this all the way to the top of the government—nothing less would do now.

  “Derrick—” she began.

  He looked up at Aster and held her gaze. “I can tell you where to find them.”

  * * *

  They spent the next day writing the messages to their allies, to be carried through the Scorpions’ tunnels. Now that they had a fresh supply of theomite, the runners could deliver the messages and escort everyone back with considerably less danger … assuming, of course, that there would be anyone to escort back. But Aster had to hope that what she’d told her friends was true—that people would be too desperate and too angry to ignore her call to action.

  The other Scorpion captains were the first to arrive.

  There were some two dozen all told, the
ir closest neighbors arriving within two days’ time, the others straggling in throughout the week. Not every camp had answered Aster’s call, but Sam seemed impressed by the turnout, greeting many of his fellow captains as old friends. As desperate as their situation was, Aster could tell he was still excited to host what was going to be, in his own words, a giant party. And so she left the planning of it to him, letting him find rooms for everyone to sleep in in the already-crowded camp and confine Eli to the kitchen to prepare feasts every night.

  The Northrock dustbloods were the next to arrive—Cora and a handful of her crew. Aster greeted her with an arm clasp that turned into an embrace, eager to introduce her at last to her friends. It filled Aster with some much-needed confidence to see Cora’s excitement and enthusiasm, and she felt sure that, whatever else happened, she’d have at least one faction’s support.

  Then, coming all the way from the Graveyard: the Lady Ghosts. Priscilla herself had not made the grueling trip through the tunnels, having sent Aggie in her stead, along with a few of the younger Ladies. Aster’s chest tightened with a mix of emotions as she welcomed them—joy to see her sisters again, and regret for the way she’d left things. She knew Priscilla would not approve of any violence or law-breaking. What if these Ladies had only been sent to stop her?

  And then, at last, trickling in from every corner of Arketta, came the rebels of the Nine Nations. Aster was most anxious about these allies, since they were the ones she had the least history with. And so, before it came time for the big meeting with everyone, Aster held a smaller welcoming party just for them. There were men and women of every age and from every nation. They all sat together in the meeting hall, passing around the platter of pork chops that Eli had made special.

  “This is a clever thing you Scorpions have done, using the old mines for a hideout,” an older woman was saying to Aster. She had introduced herself as one of the leaders of the southeastern tribe, her dress adorned with beadwork. “Our rebel camps are aboveground, so we have to constantly be on the move. But our ancestors were nomads anyway—we were ready for this.”

  Mallow was practically humming beside them. She was not usually one for shyness, but she had been uncharacteristically quiet throughout the meal, as if afraid to say the wrong thing. Finally, though, she couldn’t seem to hold in her excitement.

  “Our nations were neighbors, right?” she asked the older woman. “I’m southern tribe.”

  The older woman smiled with her eyes. “Yes, I can see that. You made your headband yourself?”

  “Well … I had help…” Mallow admitted.

  “Still counts!” Tansy reminded her.

  “I’m from the northern tribe,” a young man said. “So this is probably the first time in a generation your people and mine have been under the same roof. That’s something to celebrate, no matter what comes of this larger meeting.”

  “About that—” Aster jumped in, hoping to settle into her pitch.

  “Wait a minute,” Derrick said, interrupting her. He had that gleam in his eyes he got whenever he sensed an opportunity for learning. “You mean you aren’t all working together, all the time? The way my uncle described it—”

  “Please, Derrick, don’t ruin my appetite by mentioning that man,” Cutter interjected.

  “We’re the Nine, not the One, McClennon,” Sid added with a dry laugh—he seemed to have softened up at the sight of so much family. “We may work together, but we’re all still separate, sovereign nations.”

  “So … we have to convince all of you?” Derrick asked slowly.

  This was met with more laughter, though, privately, Aster was thinking the same thing. Her stomach churned with anxiety despite the sweet aroma of seasoning filling the air. She felt wildly out of her depth. The more time she spent with the Nine, the clearer it became that she had entered in the middle of a story, one that had begun long before she had been born and would continue long after the last landmaster had died. Who was she to tell anyone here how to write the next chapter? Most of the Nine were dustbloods, yes, but unlike the rest of them, they had a history here.

  Aster’s anxiety only deepened as the night drew to a close, and by the next morning, it had settled in her chest like an illness. It had been an agony, waiting to see which allies would arrive, but now that it was time for Aster to address them, it suddenly felt as if everything was moving too quickly. Convincing everyone to come and hear her out had only been half the battle—now she had to convince them to stay and fight. She doubled back over every detail as she readied herself in her cabin, stalling for more time. She had asked Violet to help her make herself presentable—partially because Violet was the best at these things, but mostly because Aster just wanted the reassuring comfort of her presence.

  “… and not that Raven ever tells anybody anything about anything, but, being the gentle soul I am, I finally got her to admit she had a drink with Sam the other night … Aster … Aster! Are you even listening?”

  Aster looked up sharply from her mirror, to where Violet was watching her from her bunk, already—effortlessly—glamoured up in the evening dress she’d been wearing the night they’d kidnapped her.

  “Sorry, I—I—” Aster stammered.

  Violet stood and glided up behind her, close enough that Aster could feel the heat of her breath on her neck, her knowing smile fading as she met Aster’s eye in the mirror. Aster’s cheeks grew warm, and she quickly looked back at her own reflection, eyes drifting over the favor on her neck and the scar on her cheek and the line between her eyebrows that had settled there after years of wearing this exact scowl. She’d spent longer at the mirror this morning than she ever had at the welcome house, when it was actually expected of her. Combing through her growing hair, smoothing every wrinkle on her dress shirt, rubbing grease over her face until it gleamed. She needed to look like a leader today.

  If only she actually felt like one.

  “You know, if you’re not careful about that grimace, your face is going to get stuck like that,” Violet said lightly.

  “Vi, this is serious,” Aster muttered, turning away from the mirror.

  “I know it is. But you always look good, Aster. Where’s all this sudden self-doubt coming from?”

  Aster refused to meet her gaze. “I just … how the hell am I supposed to convince them, Violet? Every time I’ve tried to fix this mess, I’ve only made it worse. It’s like I said before. They shouldn’t be following me. But now, if I do nothing—” Her voice cracked, and she shut her mouth, swallowing painfully.

  “Hey, hey,” Violet said softly, taking Aster’s face in her hands. Aster’s breath hitched at the sudden contact, but something stilled her normal instinct to flinch away, Violet’s cool touch soothing her. She leaned into it, pressing their foreheads together. “Everyone here believes in you, Dawn. They wouldn’t have come all this way if they didn’t. You’re the leader of the Green Creek girls. You’re the martyr McClennon never meant to make. Hell, half these people still believed you dead, only to hear from you, personally, that you’re still alive and fighting and that you want their help. They’ll listen to whatever you have to say. So just be honest with them, hear? It’s okay to let them see that you’re angry and scared and confused. We’re all angry and scared and confused. But by bringing everyone together, you’re giving us a chance to do something about it. You’re reminding us we’re not powerless. And there’s nothing more important than that right now.”

  Aster exhaled, reaching up for Violet’s hands and pulling them down gently, their fingers intertwined. “You think so?”

  “I know so. Have a little faith in yourself. Have a little faith in the rest of us. It worked out for me, yeah?”

  Aster snorted a little and pushed Violet away. She felt lighter now, but stronger, too. Herself again.

  “I guess,” she admitted.

  20

  Aster had never seen the meeting hall so full.

  For every familiar face there were a dozen Aster didn’t recog
nize. The hall echoed with the sound of conversation and arguments and laughter. Rigid Northrock accents clashed with the lazy drawls of the Scab. The clink of cutlery scattered throughout the background like rain. Music floated above the cacophony, a frenzied jig played on banjo, harmonica, and drums. Eli stood behind the serving table, elbows deep in a pot of chili. The serving line snaked out the door. Sam breezed from table to table with easy confidence, introducing himself and welcoming the guests, flashing his charming smile at friends and strangers alike. The rest of Aster’s friends sat at the head table. Zee tried to coax his little sister to eat her vegetables. Tansy and Mallow were playing a card game with Clementine and Raven. And Violet sat somewhat protectively beside Derrick, who looked so nervous that he might vomit.

  Sam was right, Aster thought from the corner where she watched it all. This was a party. Not because they had anything to celebrate—no, quite the opposite—but because this was probably the first time in Arketta’s history that so many dustbloods from so many different backgrounds had been able to gather out from under the eye of the landmasters. They could be themselves here, they were safe. There were more of them here than most of them had probably seen in their lives. And so there was a thrilling energy to every interaction, and even Aster, in all her trepidation, couldn’t help being buoyed by it.

  Sam sidled up to her, his face gleaming with sweat from all the running around he’d been doing. “There have to be over three hundred people here, Aster,” he said with breathless excitement. “I’ve never seen anything like this. No matter what comes of today, you’ve done something great here.”

  Aster looked up at him. “You sure you don’t want to be the one to take the reins, Sam? This is your home. None of us could be here if it weren’t for you.”

  Sam sucked his teeth. “Not in a thousand years. I can wrangle a bunch of runaway miners into something halfway resembling a respectable community, but I never would have had the vision for something like this. You dared to imagine what the rest of us accepted as impossible. I’m just honored to bear witness.”