Divided Fire

by Jennifer San Filippo

  “But what about Uncle Cale?” he said.

  “Uncle Cale is going to be fine.”

  “But it’s bad. I heard Nana say she is a mean lady.”

  “Nana is a mean . . . oh, you mean Lady Rion. I’m sure she is.” Liviya had said as much. “But your uncle is very strong. He will be all right.”

  “You don’t know that. You don’t know Uncle Cale.”

  “You’re right,” Miren admitted. “I’ve never met your uncle. But you know what? I bet that he wouldn’t want you to be in danger. I bet that if we could ask him, he would tell you to stay with your parents and not run off. He wouldn’t want you to get hurt trying to help him. Does that make sense?”

  Ori didn’t respond. He shifted on the branch and swung one leg over.

  “Whoa, careful!” Miren held out a hand to steady him, but he didn’t need it. He swung down to the lower branch with practiced ease.

  “Wait, wait, wait. Ori, we need to be careful, all right?” Miren struggled to follow, the branches swaying sharply as she moved. “We can’t be seen by the men over there.”

  “I know,” he said.

  She dropped down next to Ori. “All right. We need to get back to the barn.” She looked around, but there was no other cover by the sparse tree line. “How did you get here without being seen?”

  “It was still dark out,” Ori said.

  “Excuse me.”

  Miren whirled around. A man in a sky-blue and gold uniform stood a few paces away, a rifle in his hands.

  “You are trespassing on the property of Lady Rion,” he said. “State your business.”

  Miren scrambled for an answer. “I—I’m sorry to bother you,” she said. “I was hoping Lady Rion could help us. We’ve been looking—”

  But the guard’s eyes flitted to Ori’s face. He leveled his gun at Miren. “That boy is wanted.”

  Miren pushed Ori behind her. “He’s just a child.”

  “We have orders to arrest him and his family. Where are his parents?”

  Miren swallowed. “You can’t—that’s what I was trying to tell you,” she said. “I—I found him wandering the streets alone, and I was worried for him. I didn’t know he was wanted.”

  The guard’s eyes narrowed. “I need you both to come with me,” he said. “The Lady will want to see you.”

  Miren looked around, hoping to see a direction she and Ori could run, but the man clicked the gun’s safety off as if he knew her thoughts. “Now, miss.”

  Twenty-Seven

  Miren

  Miren kept her hands up as she and Ori walked. Not far from the field, the green gave way to a cobblestone road that led to the mansion. She kept Ori in front of her so that she was between him and the rifle.

  A few workers in the field seemed to notice the new arrivals, but they hardly gave Miren and Ori more than a glance. A couple of guards nodded to their escort. Ori stared out at the field as he walked, as if still looking for his uncle. Miren could only assume the boy didn’t understand how much trouble they were in.

  “Sir,” Miren said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I’m certain this boy isn’t the one you’re looking for.”

  “I thought you said you just found him alone on the streets.”

  “I said he wasn’t with his parents. I just thought they had—come to work for Lady Rion.”

  The guard gave a disbelieving tch. “Walk faster.” He nudged Miren in the back with the tip of his rifle.

  “Really, sir, this isn’t necessary. I know his parents—”

  “Lady Rion will want to hear about that too.”

  Two guards flanked the front doors. One came over and wordlessly unclipped Miren’s holster. The three guards pushed Miren and Ori through the front doors and into the mansion.

  It was a sprawling space furnished in rich blues and deep purples. Portraits of stoic-looking dark-haired figures in intricately carved frames lined the hall. Servants clad in fine clothes of yellow and light blue walked past without a glance at the odd party.

  They came to a parlor furnished in maroon upholstery and a lightly carpeted floor. Two figures reclined on lush couches.

  One was a woman: angular, with a long curtain of dark hair. She wore a green dress with an embroidered skirt that contrasted with the room’s darker hues.

  The other figure was Cheliem.

  “Ah, and here we are,” the woman said.

  Lord Cheliem leaped to his feet, his eyes on Miren. “Wonderful! Oh, this is stunning. Do you have the others?”

  “No, sir,” a guard said. “She is the only one I found.”

  Miren said, “Hello, Cheliem.”

  Cheliem glared at her. “Lord Cheliem, if you don’t mind.”

  The woman laughed. “Isn’t she plucky. Is she yours, Cheliem?”

  “No, she isn’t. But she knows where mine are.” He turned to the woman. “I can’t thank you enough, Lady Rion.”

  “Of course. Although next time, check with me before you insist on wanted posters. It doesn’t serve morale well when servants hear that someone’s hands have successfully escaped. I’ve had more discipline issues than usual this week.”

  “I do apologize for the inconvenience.” Lord Cheliem put a hand to his chest and bowed. “If you’ll excuse me.”

  Lady Rion nodded and waved a hand, dismissing everyone. Lord Cheliem stepped from the room with a beckoning motion, and the guards prodded Miren and Ori to follow.

  They went down a dark, uncarpeted stairway. The light from the hallway sconces faded after only a few steps.

  At the bottom was what could only be called a dungeon: rows of barred cells on the left, faint lantern light to the right.

  “Put the boy in that one.” Cheliem pointed to the nearest cell on the left. “Ready the girl in the far chamber.”

  One guard began to pry Ori from Miren’s leg. She suppressed the urge to try to fight the man off. “It’ll be all right,” she said to Ori as the cell door opened with a heavy squeal of metal. “I’ll see you soon.”

  Ori’s face was blank with terror as he was shoved out of sight. The barrel of a rifle dug into Miren’s back while she was herded to the room at the very end of the hall.

  In the center of the room was a chair with chains and cuffs on the arms. To the right hung strange instruments of metal, some of them stained dark red.

  Miren flailed out, true panic taking over, but the men caught her easily and forced her into the chair. Cold metal snapped over her wrists, ankles, and chest.

  The guards filed out of the room, and the door clicked shut behind them, leaving her alone with Lord Cheliem.

  “Miss Miren,” he said. “Truthfully, I’m not convinced that is your real name, but I’ll call you that anyway. How are you today?”

  “You can’t do this,” she said, her voice shaking. “I’m not—I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “Oh, well, that’s certainly not true. You helped my servants escape.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Oh, is that so?” Cheliem paced leisurely in front of her, hands in his pockets. “You and your Singer friend just decided to come unannounced to my estate with a wild story about a sister who managed to avoid the Singer draft, and then wandered around my mansion and spotted that my crops were on fire. That very night, my servants escaped. You see how it would be quite easy to assume that you orchestrated that entire thing.”

  “I didn’t,” Miren said again. “I really am looking for my sister.”

  “And yet here you are, milling about Lady Rion’s property with the very boy I’m looking for. Tell me where the rest of my servants are.

  “Ori isn’t your servant,” she said.

  “Both of his parents now owe me more money than they will be able to pay in their lifetime. Their debt will transfer to their son.”

  “You can’t do that,” she said. “He hasn’t signed anything.”

  “Sounds like you know plenty about their situation,” he said. “Are you friends?”r />
  Miren didn’t reply.

  Cheliem continued his pacing. “You know what would happen to that family if the Crown’s Guard caught them first?” Cheliem said. “They would be tried in court, all three of them, and then turned over to me to be punished as I see fit. Given the public nature of a trial, I would have to make an example of them. Nothing that would decrease their monetary value, of course, but something people would remember. Perhaps I would sear my crest into their cheeks with a hot iron. All three of them.”

  Miren imagined Ori held down while a red-hot iron hovered. “Don’t,” she said.

  “Tell me where they are.”

  “I don’t know.”

  Cheliem stood over her, leaning on the arms of the chair. This close, she could see the fury that simmered just beneath his surface. “I will be plainer. You have no leverage. You are no one. I could have you shot and buried in a flower bed anytime I like.”

  Miren looked away, her blood feeling like ice in her veins.

  “You know”—Cheliem resumed his pacing—“I did some research into your story. The one you spun at my estate about a sister being snatched by bounty hunters. Despite your rude exit from my estate, I did keep my end of our bargain. It turns out there is not a single record of a Fire Singer being recruited to the navy in the last two months.”

  Miren stared at him, struggling to understand. “No—no bounty hunters have—”

  “Have turned in a Fire Singer, correct. I did quite a bit of digging, as a Fire Singer would incite quite a stir. There are only four others in the entire army. Did you know that?”

  Only four—was her mother one of them? Miren shook her head. “You’re lying.”

  “I can only assume that if your story is true—which again, I highly doubt—then your sister is working in some factory in Avi’or right now.”

  “What? Why would she be in Avi’or?”

  Cheliem paused. “There are a few Avi’ori businesses who rely on Singers to work but can’t pay them what the market demands—rumor has it they use Singers like slaves. Oftentimes Avi’ori prey on their own, but occasionally a rogue pirate ship will wander to our southern coast and find a village worth terrorizing. To find a Fire Singer in such a way would be an incredible stroke of luck, though, so I can’t help but be skeptical.”

  Miren’s mind reeled back to the day Kesia had been taken. The ship had been Avi’ori, hadn’t it? The pirates had spoken with Kaleon accents—but an accent could be faked. Liviya had a decent Kaleon accent. She had never even considered—

  Kesia Kesia Kesia.

  “No,” Miren said. “You’re lying.”

  He looked at her curiously. “Only people without power feel a need to lie, Miss Miren.”

  She shook her head. She had to focus. Ori was still in danger. “You do anything to me,” she said, “and the house of Darius will come down on you with full force.”

  “You’re referring to your Water Singer friend?” Cheliem said. “A Fifth Circle house can’t do much this far north. Try again.”

  Miren twisted against her bindings. Her fear was mounting, she couldn’t think. “Please,” she said. “Please let me go.”

  “As I said, I have no business with you,” he said. “Just tell me where my servants are.”

  Miren swallowed.

  Cheliem sighed. “Fine.” He called through the door, “Bring the boy here.”

  “No!” Miren’s scream echoed in the small space. “I . . . I know where they are.”

  Cheliem waited.

  “They . . . you have to promise not to hurt Ori.”

  “You’re in no position to make demands, but know that I prefer undamaged products.”

  “They’re . . . they’re southwest of here, hiding in a big yellow barn near a field of cotton. It’s easy to spot.”

  Cheliem’s eyes narrowed. “You’re lying.”

  “No, I’m—”

  “Bring the boy here.”

  “No, I’m not lying. I’m not lying. I swear. They’re hiding just around the corner of the barn. I don’t know whose farm it is. There’s a line of bushes. It’s just behind that.”

  Cheliem leaned over her. “If I find out you’re lying, I will show you all the clever ways Lady Rion keeps her servants in check. And I will start with the boy.”

  He left the room, calling out, “Gather a search party.”

  Guards stepped forward, quickly unlocking her bindings and marching her down the hall. Cheliem was already at the bottom of the steps; he didn’t glance back as they shoved her into a slightly larger cell so hard that she fell on the stone floor, pain shooting up her knees and her hip. The metal gate closed behind her.

  Small hands pulled at her arm. She looked up at Ori, his face streaked with tears.

  She pushed herself up to a seated position. “Hi, Ori,” she said. “Are you all right?”

  He nodded. “This is my fault.”

  “No, it’s not.” Miren fought to keep her voice even. “This is Cheliem’s fault, all right?”

  Ori wiped at his face. “All right.”

  She held him in a hug. They were in a windowless cell, nearly too dark to see. The stone floors and walls were slick.

  She sensed movement in the corner of the cell and pulled Ori closer to her. “Who’s there?”

  Ori tried to squirm out of her grip, but she didn’t let go. “That’s my uncle,” he said.

  Miren looked between Ori and the shadowed figure. “Your uncle? That’s Cale?” She stood and crept forward a few paces.

  She saw dark hair and familiar cheekbones. He was younger than she had expected, perhaps twenty years old. He seemed shorter and stockier than his brother, but that could be because he was slouched against the wall, hunched as though in pain. Even in the faint light, she spotted several bruises along his arms, and she could see that one eye was nearly swollen shut.

  He turned his head in her direction. “Ori knows you.” His voice was a heavy rasp.

  “Yes,” she said, crouching in front of him. “I’m Miren. I know your family.”

  Ori plopped down next to his uncle, looking oddly calm.

  “You helped them escape?” Cale asked. She couldn’t tell if he was incredulous, or if his bruised eye was warping his expression.

  “Not exactly,” she said.

  “What did Cheliem want with you?”

  “He’s looking for . . . Ori’s parents.”

  Cale tilted his head up to look at Miren. “What did you tell Cheliem?”

  Miren glanced out of the cell, but the guard was down the hall, sitting in a chair by the stairs. She leaned forward and whispered. “I lied. I told them some place close so the others would see the men searching. But Cheliem is going to hurt Ori when he realizes I was lying, so we need to get out of here now.”

  Cale straightened, his eyes wary and confused. “You lied?”

  “Shhh! Of course I did.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I panicked. I didn’t know what else to do. Hopefully Liviya is with them and will figure out what happened when she sees the search party.”

  “My mother’s here too?”

  She nodded, glancing through the bars again. The guard was still out of earshot.

  “But who are you?” he said. “How did you get involved in this?”

  “Your mother and I have a deal. It’s a long story.” Miren suddenly felt exhausted. She slid down the wall and sat on the floor. “What happened to you?”

  He eased himself back onto the floor, wincing. “Rion. What else?”

  “Why? What does she gain by doing this to people?”

  He shrugged. “Fear of pain, possibly?”

  Miren huffed a frustrated sigh. “You know what I’m asking.”

  He glanced at Ori, who was trying to tie the laces on his boot. “When I heard that Arten and his family managed to escape Cheliem’s estate, I tried to do the same. Didn’t even make it to the coast before the guards caught me.”

  “You tried to escap
e on your own?” she said.

  He nodded. “Thought I could surprise them, but I guess Rion was expecting me to pull something like that. It’s not the first time I’ve been down here.”

  Miren leaned forward and whispered. “Do you know how to get out?”

  “Of the dungeon?” He glanced at Ori again. “No one has ever escaped here.”

  Miren stood and walked over to the door. The lone guard leaned far back in his chair, blinking slowly.

  “You still haven’t told me how you know my family,” Cale said.

  Miren didn’t look at him. “It was . . . coincidence, really. Hard to explain.”

  “Well, we’re not going anywhere.”

  So she told him—how she and Davri left Crescent Bay to pursue her sister, how they ran into Liviya at Cheliem’s estate. She explained the deal they made: Davri would help get them safely out of Kaleo, and in return, Liviya would give them information to help them find Kesia.

  “But now Cheliem is telling me that there is no record of a recruited Fire Singer—there hasn’t been one in months—and that Kesia must be in Avi’or as a—as a slave. How is that—does Avi’or have slavery? I thought they didn’t have anything like this—this horrible servitude system.”

  “They don’t,” Cale said. “It’s why our family came here in the first place. Common story. But there are big companies in Avi’or that rely on cheap labor. Very cheap. Maybe they use Singers.”

  Miren turned away. She had spent all this time searching, and it was all for nothing. She wasn’t even in the right country.

  Kesia Kesia Kesia.

  Where are you?

  A jangling of keys caught their attention. The door swung open, and Miren saw five armed guards.

  “Cheliem wants to see you,” one of them said. “All three of you.

  Twenty-Eight

  Miren

  Cheliem paced across the lush carpet in the center of the parlor, hunched and red-faced. His head shot up like a predator’s as soon as they entered. Lady Rion lurked in the back corner, arms folded, her expression unreadable.

  The guards forced Miren, Cale, and Ori into a line. A heavy kick knocked Miren to her knees. Cale fell beside her without resistance, his injuries stark in daylight. Ori whimpered, and Cale placed an arm around him.