The Sisters of Reckoning

by Charlotte Nicole Davis

  The rest of the night passed with creeping slowness. Tansy and Mallow doled out water, first aid, and limited rations of leftover food to any who would accept it. Raven guarded the raveners downstairs. Violet kept in contact with their allies on the outside. Derrick argued his case to the many lesser landmasters, whom he seemed to think would be more amenable than any of the greats. And Aster circled the room, a hawk on the hunt. Any sign of someone escaping their bonds or making a move, and she would strike them down.

  Violet was right—Aster needed to sleep. Her head pounded with every step she took. Her eyes were drying up in their sockets. Midnight crawled into two in the morning, and two crawled to four. Though Aster refused sleep herself, she insisted that the others take their rest. Once Zee and Clementine returned, she sent Tansy and Mallow to go take a couple hours for themselves. Then Violet and Raven, each insisting that Aster take their place, then Derrick, looking defeated after his efforts had yielded poor results. Aster, though, was not yet worried.

  “It hasn’t even been twelve hours,” she told him. “Try them again after they’ve missed a couple meals.”

  “But—”

  “You’ve done well, Derrick. You’ve worked miracles. Get some sleep.”

  By the time the sun rose in the morning, most of the landmasters had succumbed to sleep as well. Aster sat at the front of the ballroom, watching them toss and turn fitfully on the hard marble floor, listening to them whisper among themselves, no doubt about how much they despised her. Hunger was beginning to claw at Aster’s belly, so she knew it would be getting to them by now, too. She let herself eat half of her ration of the food they’d found in the kitchen—fresh fruit, smoked meat, thin slices of bread—but it was scarcely enough to take the edge off. They had to make the limited supply of food last. If everyone here ate only one meal a day, their provisions would still run out before a week had passed.

  And now the battle truly begins, Aster thought.

  She was just starting to nod off despite her best efforts to remain alert, her chin dipping towards her chest, when Raven burst into the ballroom. At her side was a fairblood man in a dark green suit. He didn’t look like a badge, but he had an air of authority to him all the same. Aster climbed to her feet, weary and wary.

  “Who’s this, Ray?” she called across the room.

  “Says he’s here on behalf of Authoritant Lockley,” Raven answered. “Says he’s here to negotiate.”

  “My name’s Mr. Monroe,” the man introduced himself. “And you’re Aster, are you not? Why don’t we find somewhere private we can talk?”

  So he could take her out quietly? Not likely.

  Aster set her jaw. “Anything you want to say to me you can say in front of my friends,” she said. Now that it was morning, they were all here, with the exception of Clementine, who was on ravener duty. One by one they came to Aster’s side, tensed and ready.

  Monroe spread his hands amicably. “Very well, then, let’s talk terms. It’s my understanding you want the authoritant to have another look at those demands you all made.”

  “You tell Lockley he is not to give in to a single one of them,” McClennon interrupted, and shouts of agreement rose up from the crowd.

  “Before we can even begin to discuss it, Authoritant Lockley needs assurance that all of your hostages are alive and unharmed, and that they will remain so,” Monroe continued over the noise.

  “Unharmed?” a woman cried out. “We’ve been drugged, beaten, and harassed—”

  “An exaggeration—” Derrick said quickly.

  “McClennon’s been shot,” a man yelled.

  “Only because he fired first!” Mallow snapped . “And we fixed him up afterwards, too!”

  “This is inhumane. This is degrading—”

  “This is how it’s always been for us!” Aster cut them all off, shouting so loudly she was light-headed from the effort of it. “You’re exhausted? You’re hungry? Good! You feel powerless? Good! You’re tired of being treated like animals? You think you deserve better? You want this all to end? Then you understand. You all have suffered one night, and even so, it’s been gentle compared to the suffering you’ve forced upon your dustblood countrymen. So you tell the authoritant, Mr. Monroe, exactly what I told these fine ladies and gentlemen: their fate is in their own hands. If they agree to change the way things are done here in Arketta, if they give Lockley their blessing to sign the order, then everyone walks free. Until then, no one leaves this building.”

  If Monroe was at all affected by any of this, he didn’t show it, a pleasant, unassuming smile still gracing his face. If anything, it just made Aster even more incensed.

  “I can see you feel strongly about this, Aster. I’ll tell you what—I’ll have my people provide some more provisions to these folks while you and I take our time to work out the details—” he began.

  “No,” Aster bit back. “They can starve, just as I did when I was a child, just as thousands of dustbloods are doing now.”

  Her friends nodded in agreement beside her.

  “Aster, please,” Monroe continued. “This all started because of your, truly, moving concern for women in welcome houses. Might we not at least discuss letting these women here return to their homes? They are too delicate to be tested like this—”

  “And we weren’t?” Violet snapped.

  Monroe, at last, scowled slightly.

  “There’s no dealing with these people,” Jerrod McClennon huffed. “You have to speak to them in their own language. Tell Lockley to send more lawmen out here and tear this place down if they have to.”

  “Our friends outside won’t hesitate to return whatever fire the law throws at them, and neither will we,” Zee warned, his voice rough.

  “Then we’ll blow you traitors halfway to hell!” Henry McClennon roared.

  There were shouts of agreement, and the noise in the room became overwhelming. Monroe whispered something to Raven, who then escorted him out of the ballroom.

  “He says he’s going to update the authoritant on the situation and that he’ll be back soon,” Raven reported when she returned.

  “All right, good. We better settle in for the day—” Aster began.

  Raven shook her head. “You need to get some rest, Aster. You look about ready to drop.”

  “I’m fine—”

  “She’s right,” Tansy interjected. “We can handle them for a few hours. You shouldn’t be here, not like this.”

  Not like this. Was it that obvious then, how little she had left in her? Could they see her swaying on her feet? Could they hear her heart fluttering weakly in her chest? She wet her dry, cracked lips.

  “Do you want me to come with you?” Violet offered softly.

  Aster shook her head. “No, no, they need you up here. I’ll just … I’ll go lie down,” she conceded. “But if anything changes—if anyone breaks—I want you to let me know immediately, hear?”

  * * *

  As it turned out, though, nothing changed for three days. Outside, the law made no attempt to breach the capitol building, as ordered by Authoritant Lockley, and the Reckoners held the line, having heard no news from their scouts yet that any troops had been sent to Crimson Glen. Inside, the landmasters grew weaker and more desperate, pleading for extra rations, but any time one or two of them sought to negotiate they were quickly shouted down by the group. Monroe came back each morning to offer concessions lesser than the ones Aster had asked for, and each morning she and her friends turned him away.

  Aster herself was growing feral—she could feel it. Hunger twisted her up, both in her body and her mind. Her stomach cramped painfully, daggers stabbing with every breath she took. Her head swam, spots floating in her vision. Her thoughts ricocheted off each other in her skull, disjointed memories colliding to form horrifying waking nightmares. She was back in McClennon’s cellar, being tortured by raveners, but this time her mother was there with her, offering Aster up to them. She was back in the Graveyard, but it was Mother Fleur
in charge, not Priscilla, and Mother Fleur was berating her in front of all the Lady Ghosts. She was back in the tunnels with Eli, but the vengeants tore them apart and they died in the dark.

  Aster’s only grim comfort was the knowledge that, for as much as she was suffering, the landmasters were surely suffering more. She saw them whispering among themselves and knew they were talking about giving in. They had to be. They were used to three meals a day, and it had now been four days with only one meal each. They could not endure this for much longer.

  And sure enough, on the afternoon of the fifth day, Derrick came up to Aster to let her know that Jonah Boyle was ready to talk.

  Aster snapped her eyes open at the sound of Derrick’s voice, startled. She had not meant to fall asleep, but hunger had weakened her. She berated herself, sitting up straighter.

  “Boyle?” she repeated foggily.

  “Yes.” Derrick slowly came into focus. His eyes had sunk deep in their sockets, bruised with exhaustion, and the faintest peach fuzz had fluffed up on his chin. He had always had a gaunt look about him—the sharp cheekbones, the slender jaw—and now the effect was twofold. Unlike the rest of them, he had never gone hungry like this before, but if he suffered, he did so in silence.

  “Boyle…”

  “He wants to talk to you,” Derrick pressed. “Here, I’ll take you to him.”

  Derrick helped her up. Aster murmured a thanks but refused to take his arm. She would not let any of these bastards see her weakened.

  Jonah Boyle had taken over the southwest corner of the ballroom, and several other landmasters had maneuvered themselves so they were gathered around him, shifting their eyes as Aster approached. Aster did not know what Jonah Boyle had been like on the outside, but in here, he seemed to be a man of quiet strength—tired, clearly, as they all were, but still alert, with his head held high. Aster knew he was the second most powerful man here after McClennon, and she had expected him to behave accordingly, talking over everyone and shouting out orders. Instead, this was the first time in five days that he’d called attention to himself.

  “Aster, is it?” Boyle asked. Aster sat down across from him, and he held out his bound hands for Aster to shake one. Aster crossed her arms.

  “I don’t shake hands with landmasters,” she said. “But might be I’ll listen to one. Derrick says you want to talk?”

  Boyle let out a heavy sigh. “That I do. I’ve been speaking with some of my colleagues here. They’re in a bad way. Kathleen passed out this morning, and she’s only just now fully lucid again. And Gregory has a heart condition—he can’t go on like this for much longer.”

  Aster considered the other landmasters, who still wouldn’t meet her eyes. “That so?” she asked flatly.

  “McClennon has faith the law will bring you all to justice, but I begin to worry it will come too late for some of us … and, perhaps, I begin to see some of the truth of your words, as well. And I believe there are many more who would admit the same, if only someone else were to go first.”

  Aster looked at Derrick in surprise. She had thought if anyone were to break, it would be because they wanted to end their ordeal, not because they had taken any of her words to heart.

  “And you’re … offering to be that person?” Derrick asked.

  “It must be me. I’m the only one who might be considered a match for the McClennon brothers. Jerrod in particular … he holds a lot of sway over this crowd, you understand. And he clearly would rather risk some of us dying than give up his power. But most of the people here don’t yet have that kind of power, as much as they may aspire to it. And soon enough they must realize that what power they do have … is not a fair trade for their lives. I’ll make a speech saying as much, tomorrow morning when the negotiator returns, and I’ll do my best to plead your case.”

  “Why not now?” Aster asked, unable to keep the edge of desperation from her voice.

  “Because we cannot give people too much time to think. If I speak now, McClennon will just scare anyone I win over back into submission by tomorrow. It must be when Mr. Monroe comes back, and not a moment before.”

  Aster knew he was speaking the truth. She glanced back at Derrick, and they separated themselves from the group so they could talk privately.

  “Well? Do we take him up on his offer?” Derrick asked, excitement cutting through the fatigue in his voice.

  Aster was more reserved. “I don’t know, it seems too good to be true,” she muttered. “What’s he really up to?”

  “I don’t know that he’s ‘up to’ anything. Boyle has always considered himself to be a righteous man. My uncle hates him for it, but as far as we’re concerned, he’s one of the good ones.”

  “There are no good landmasters, Derrick,” Aster said wearily. “Any halfway decent person would leave the life behind … like you did.”

  “Well, that’s what he’s offering to do, too, isn’t it? By agreeing to our terms? He’d be giving up his power—and convincing others to do the same.”

  Aster glanced across the ballroom, to where the McClennons sat in their own corner, surrounded by desperate, lesser landmasters who’d crawled over to them like they were a raft in a storm.

  “And do you think they’d be convinced?” she asked.

  Derrick hesitated. “Well, I don’t know how many of them will have genuinely come around like Boyle has, but I have no doubt he was right that most of them would be willing to give in anyway—they don’t want to die here.”

  Aster still had trouble believing Boyle himself had come around. She chewed her lip, trying to think of all the ways he might be manipulating her.

  Derrick sighed, seeming to read her silence. “Why should it be so surprising that someone was persuaded by your passionate words? Why else say them, otherwise?”

  “I guess I’m just … not used to it…” she admitted. “Not from the likes of him.”

  “These people know, in their heart of hearts, that what we do is wrong. It’s no wonder, in the face of death, that some should want to absolve themselves—or, at the very least, that they should want to delay their judgment a little longer. This was always the plan, Aster. Do not fault it for working so well.”

  He was right. This was only what they’d always hoped for. If she accepted Boyle’s offer, this whole thing could be over by tomorrow.

  And then, oh mercy, they could go home. Aster tried to imagine it. Home. And the picture that floated up in her mind then was not Shade Hollow, not Green Creek, not any place in the Scab. Not any place at all. It was Violet’s face, the two of them lying side by side in the sun, their hands tangled together, their steady breaths in sync. At ease, at rest. Finally done with the fighting. Finally free to live.

  Aster’s stomach twisted then with a want more powerful than any hunger she’d ever endured.

  “All right,” she said softly, gripping Derrick’s shoulder and meeting his eyes. “All right, let’s tell him we’re agreed.”

  When the sun rose on the sixth day, Aster barely had the strength to rise with it. But even so, excitement sparked in her empty belly. She saw her anticipation reflected in the eyes of her friends—she’d told them about Boyle’s decision, and, like Derrick, they had all agreed it was the inevitable end of this gambit. Of course the landmasters had blinked first—why was she surprised? Even Zee, still hollowed out from the loss of his sister, had managed a smile at the news.

  “Stay strong, brothers and sisters!” McClennon shouted as Aster started her morning patrol. In the beginning, some of the landmasters had refused food and water on principle, but now no one turned it down, and McClennon never had. It was no doubt the only reason he still had the energy for his preaching. He only ever showed optimism in these sermons, never mentioning that he’d had to kill his head ravener or that he’d been shot twice himself. Perhaps he sought to keep the others’ spirits up, but, more likely, he sought to keep himself from looking weak. “Trust our deliverance is coming!” he went on. “Today! I can feel it! These v
ile traitors will get what’s coming to them.”

  “By the dead, I can’t wait to see the look on this bastard’s face when all his own people turn on him,” Violet sighed, patrolling at Aster’s side. Her hair had long since fallen out of its careful braided bun, her face gone gaunt with exhaustion. It hurt Aster’s heart to see her this way, to see everyone she loved so diminished. They had come here of their own free will, yes, but still … she felt responsible for them. The relief she felt, knowing she was finally getting them out of here, was almost enough to make Aster forget her own suffering.

  Aster let their fingers brush together. “I know. We’re almost out of here, Vi,” she promised.

  Not ten minutes later, the ballroom doors opened, and Monroe strode through, Raven at his side. Raven’s face looked drawn, washed out, as if she’d seen a remnant. Something about her expression made Aster’s gut clench with sudden dread.

  She’s just exhausted … we’re all exhausted—

  She locked eyes with Aster, shook her head once.

  Jonah Boyle stood and cleared his throat. “Mr. Monroe—if I may say a few words—”

  “These negotiations are closed!” Monroe announced. “Authoritant Lockley has sent the army. There are two thousand armymen outside the city. The Reckoners have twenty-four hours to turn themselves in.”

  30

  There are two thousand armymen outside the city.

  Outside the city.

  The words echoed in Aster’s mind like damnation. What had happened to the Reckoners’ scouts? Where had been the warning? Someone, somewhere, must have been captured or killed by the law. That was the only explanation. A full regiment of armymen took time to travel in the Scab; they should have known about this days ago, when there would still have been time to fight their way out. But now—now—

  It’s over.

  The raveners, they could handle. The law, they could fend off. But the Arkettan armed forces—

  “HOW THE HELL ELSE DID YOU THINK THIS WAS GONNA END, LUCKERS?” McClennon jeered. He had not stopped laughing since Monroe delivered the news, a hideous, hacking sound that set Aster’s skin crawling. “JUST WHO THE HELL DID YOU THINK YOU WERE? I TOLD YOU THAT YOU WERE GONNA GET WHAT’S COMING TO YOU. I TOLD YOU—”