Divided Fire

by Jennifer San Filippo

But Zuriel continued. The war is not helping anything. The war will just go on until we all kill each other.

  He met her eyes, looking angry and determined and far older than he had yesterday morning. He signed, I want to help you free the slaves at Amos Steel.

  Kesia blinked, not understanding. And then she did. No. Too dangerous, she signed. You can’t. You don’t know what you’re saying.

  We can do it together! Zuriel signed. I can undo locks and open gates! I can open the collars. I thought you wanted to help the others. He paused, taking in Kesia’s lack of response and desperate expression. Are you all right?

  Kesia shook her head. Memories flooded her, the tangy smell of metal and the roaring hiss of steam and the pressure of her collar, that wretched collar.

  Too dangerous, she signed. You can’t do this. You will be arrested.

  That’s why we should plan—

  Or they may just kill you to keep the secret.

  Not if we’re clever!

  What about your mother? Your grandfather?

  They would agree if it was anyone else doing it, he signed. This is the right thing to do! I want to help people.

  Kesia bunched her skirt in her fists. She wasn’t sure she could put into words what she was feeling. Fear was a heavy buzz in her mind. She forced her hands to relax so she could sign. When they brought us to Amos Steel, we met two men. Parviz and the Earth Singer, Nadav. Parviz warned us that we were his property, and that there were severe consequences for trying to escape. She swallowed. A few days later, I tried to escape.

  Slowly, she pulled up her sleeve and held out her arm.

  Zuriel gasped sharply.

  The heavy line of bruising had faded to yellowish-green, though the huge bruise just above her arm still held a tinge of purple. Burn marks had resolved into angry red scars. She pulled up her second sleeve and showed more of the same, with a heavy gash still crusted red that ran across her forearm.

  Zuriel’s face twisted with horror.

  Kesia pulled down her sleeves, feeling shameful. She had never wanted him to know any of this. She recalled his look of revulsion when she had first showed him the collar. But he needed to understand how foolhardy this was.

  He wiped his eyes. It’s so evil.

  It is, she signed. But these people are ruthless, even to someone your age. I know you mean well, but it is too dangerous.

  But he was shaking his head. That just means I’m right. If I don’t do this, no one will help them. We can help them.

  Stop it! she signed. Please! I do not want to see you get hurt.

  Then help me. If you tell me about the factory, we can make a plan!

  What if I tell your mother?

  He glared. I’ll just do it anyway.

  Kesia covered her face with her hands. She couldn’t bear the idea of him doing something so stupid.

  But he was determined. Kesia thought of the day they met, when he wouldn’t leave her alone until she let him help her. If she refused to help him, he would go in blindly. If she told Tisa, he would go when everyone slept. If she agreed now, at least he would keep her apprised of what he planned to do. The faces of Ayla and the other Singers flashed into her mind.

  Fine, she signed, her hands trembling. I’ll help you.

  Thirty-Five

  Miren

  The next morning, Miren woke and found Liviya already gone from the room. It took her a moment to remember where she was. An inn, in Avi’or. She put on her boots and headed downstairs to the dining area.

  It was far less crowded now. The performers were gone. Only a few tables were occupied with customers hunched over cups of coffee or bowls of porridge. Miren spotted Liviya at the same table they had used last night, her map spread open in front of her.

  Miren took a seat. “Good morning.”

  Liviya waved a hand and tapped the central coast of Avi’or. “This area of the coast is mostly larger cliffs, so there aren’t many port cities, and anything north of here is close to the warfront. Since you are from the southern end of Kaleo, it makes sense that the pirates would have taken your sister directly across the sea to the nearest port city.” She traced her finger from Crescent Bay straight to Peladah City.

  “Are we in Peladah, then?” Miren said.

  “Yes. This is the best place to start.”

  “But does it make sense for pirates to come to a populated area like this?”

  “Every city has its own seedy corners. The question is where would they take her next?”

  Miren studied the map. An entire country stared back. “Do you have any ideas?”

  “I have some notion of where to look for information,” Liviya said. “Do you know the name of the ship?”

  “Oh.” Miren took a moment to recall the words emblazoned on the hull. “Darkcrest. The captain introduced himself as Edom.”

  “Good. I’ll go to the docks today and ask around.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Miren said.

  Liviya shook her head. “Not with that accent, no.”

  “What? Why not? I thought Kaleons were welcome here.”

  “They are legally, but there’s still . . .” Liviya’s voice trailed off. “Well, we’re at war, you know.”

  Miren did know. “So, I can’t talk to anyone?”

  “You can. You just might not get a great reaction.”

  Miren echoed in her best Avi’ori accent, “You might not get a great reaction.”

  Liviya smirked.

  Miren winced. “That bad, huh?”

  “You’re dipping your oh sounds,” Liviya said. “Don’t drop your jaw so much.”

  Miren groaned, embarrassed. “Maybe it would be simpler to pretend that I’m a Singer.”

  “No, keep practicing,” Liviya said. “It’s a skill worth having.”

  Cale entered the room, hair disheveled, a sleepy Ori leaning against his shoulder. He grumbled something unintelligible as he approached.

  “Good morning,” Liviya replied. “Sleep well?”

  “Yep. Still sleeping, actually.” He slipped Ori into a chair and fell into the one next to it, rubbing his face. “Is there food?”

  “There will be,” Liviya said. “I ordered eggs and pork for everyone.”

  Miren leaned forward. “How’s Davri?”

  “Still asleep.”

  Arten and Hana joined them just as plates of eggs and bacon and a basket of buns were brought to the table. Miren put some aside for Davri.

  “I’m going to need coin today,” Liviya said. “How much of Davri’s money do we have?”

  Miren grimaced as she produced her pouch. “Eleven silver and eight copper.”

  “That won’t even cover tonight’s stay,” Liviya said.

  Cale glanced at Arten. “I guess we’ll need to look for work, then.”

  “Maybe Miren and I can make a deal with the innkeeper.” Hana glanced at Miren. “Are you all right with that?”

  “Yes,” Miren said. “We need the money, right?”

  “We do.” Liviya stood. “I’ll be back by the end of the day. Don’t cause trouble.”

  Hana went to the kitchens and returned a few minutes later with the innkeeper.

  “Everyone,” Hana said. “This is Bina. She’s agreed to let us work for our stay.”

  Bina eyed the group, looking far less affable than she had yesterday. “You all are new to town with no jobs, is that right?”

  They nodded.

  “Well, it won’t be a problem for you two, I think.” She pointed to Cale and Arten. “Plenty of factories around here. Amos Steel is the largest employer in the city. Start there.” Bina looked to Miren. “You’ll work around here. Ever served tables before?”

  “No,” Miren said. “But I can cook.”

  Bina raised one eyebrow. “Kaleon?”

  Miren glanced at Hana, but the woman shrugged. “Yes,” Miren said.

  Bina looked Miren over. “What are you good at?”

  Miren raised her chin. “Well, not sewing.
But I can cook fine. And clean. And care for chickens.”

  It turned out that the correct answer was cleaning counters and washing dishes. After Cale and Arten left, Ori was given a pencil and paper and sat at a table in the corner while Hana served customers.

  When the morning meal was finished, Miren cleaned the kitchen floor. She scrubbed without complaint, the sudsy water quickly soaking into the knees of her trousers and pruning her fingers.

  Perhaps an hour into her work, the door opened.

  “The floor’s still wet,” she said. “I’ll finish in—”

  Davri stood in the doorway, his shoulders slumped, his hair crumpled to one side. He kept a hand on the door frame.

  “What are you doing here?” she said.

  Helping, he signed, and he Sang.

  Miren startled as Davri’s Voice filled the room. It was still a rich and resonating tenor, but now a heavy rasp colored the notes. The water on the floor shifted and collected itself, in tune with the swelling, shifting melody, pooling into the center of the room. Then it gathered itself off the floor and bounced into the bucket next to Miren.

  “Well,” Miren said. “Thanks. But you should be in bed.”

  He waved a hand and leaned against the counter. Thank you for the food.

  Miren nodded, feeling the enormity of all that he had accomplished to get them to Avi’or. She knew there were things she needed to say to Davri, but now that they were alone, she couldn’t find the words. She wrung out her rag in the bucket. “Liviya and the family have agreed to help us find Kesia.”

  Hana just told me, he signed. That’s very kind of them.

  Miren nodded, but Davri was frowning.

  “What?” she said.

  Davri glanced at the door. What if the search for Kesia leads us to another city?

  “Then we go to that city.”

  All of us?

  Miren draped the rag on the side of the bucket and stood. “You don’t think the family will come?”

  Do you think they should?

  Miren paused. “You want them to stay behind?”

  If Arten and Cale manage to find jobs, should we force them to leave?

  “We’re not making them,” Miren said, feeling childish. “They offered.”

  They finally have the freedom they’ve been fighting for. They could save up to afford a home. Ori could receive an education.

  Miren’s chest ached with it. “So we just . . . leave them?” She wanted the words to sound like a betrayal—leave them—but instead they sounded like a lament.

  Davri just looked at her sadly.

  Miren stared at the floor, pulling at a loose thread in her shirt. Her worry for Kesia was at a pitch so high she could no longer hear it. At least in Kaleo, she could fathom some idea of what Kesia would experience in the navy. But Avi’or was different, a void of unknown possibilities in her mind.

  Dragging Liviya’s family along with them didn’t feel right. She couldn’t pinpoint what had changed; it wasn’t that long ago when she had hoped to leave the family for good after their first river trip had gone wrong.

  You care for them, Kesia would say. That isn’t a bad thing.

  No, but it was dangerous. Was she putting the family’s safety over Kesia’s? Was some part of her resigned that they might not find her? Would she spend her life wandering Avi’or?

  Davri caught her attention and signed, We’ll find her.

  Miren took a shaky breath, her throat preparing for tears even though her eyes were dry. “All right.”

  * * *

  Bina was so delighted to find a Singer helping that she offered to cut the price of their rooms.

  “We could never afford a Singer’s pay,” she said. “This is wonderful!”

  She led Davri around the inn to fix leaking pipes and irrigate the garden out back and clean up an unfortunate mess in the water closet. After the midday meal, he was assigned to help Miren scrub the dining area floor. It only took him a few minutes to spread the soapy water, but the effort left him leaning heavily against a table.

  Miren clutched her mop with both hands. “How are you feeling?”

  Davri gave her a knowing look. Much the same when you asked me a half-hour ago.

  “I’m just asking.”

  You worry too much.

  He didn’t seem critical, just observant, but she didn’t feel like being observed. She leaned down to start mopping and said, “Well, there’s plenty reason to worry.”

  He clapped softly. She suppressed a sigh and glanced up at him.

  We will find her, he signed.

  “You said that when we were wandering around all of Kaleo.”

  And now we’re closer than we have ever been.

  “That is a very . . . optimistic way of looking at it.”

  He shrugged, and his gaze slid past her. Liviya is here.

  Miren turned as Liviya marched into the room and took a seat at the table. She said, “Darkcrest was docked here in Peladah about two weeks ago for four days.”

  “What?” Miren said.

  “I went down to the docks and asked the dock master. Had to spend some coin, but now we have confirmation.”

  “Did he say where the pirates went when they were in the city?” Miren said.

  “No,” Liviya said, her voice growing hard. “He insisted he didn’t know.”

  “Do you know where they went next?” Miren asked.

  “No,” Liviya said again. “But at least now we know for certain that they were here.”

  Miren sat down in a chair. “What does that tell us?”

  “It tells us exactly what we need to know,” Liviya said. “Let’s say that I’m a pirate, and I have just found one of the rarest types of Singers by sheer luck.”

  Miren frowned and glanced at Davri, but he seemed genuinely curious. “All right.”

  “Now let’s pretend that there were a number of places I could take her. If I had a prize as valuable as a Fire Singer, one of two things could happen. Either I tell all potential buyers about what I had and coax them to bid against each other, or—I sell as soon as possible.”

  Miren frowned. “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “Who’s to say there wouldn’t be other pirates willing to raid my ship and steal the Singer as soon as they heard about her? Keeping her long enough to encourage a bidding war might be too much of a risk. It might be better to sell her quickly.”

  Miren shook her head, not understanding, but Davri gave a sharp clap and signed, You think Kesia is here in Peladah.

  Liviya nodded meaningfully. “If there is a buyer in Peladah City, then I think your sister is here.”

  Miren looked at Davri, who looked back at her with an arched eyebrow. She shrugged. Hope fluttered in her chest like a caged bird, but she vowed not to indulge it. What if they were wrong?

  Then I’ll go to the next city, she thought, and then the one after that.

  But there was no rallying power in those words; the thought just made her ache.

  Liviya and Davri stared at her with a mix of excitement and pity. She said, “What do we do?”

  “We need to find out who the potential buyers in the city are,” Liviya said, tapping a finger on her knee.

  “Hey!” Bina appeared in the kitchen door, hands on her hips. “If you all want dinner tonight, you’d better have this floor sparkling in the next hour.”

  Miren and Davri pushed themselves to their feet. “I think she’s just trying to get as much work out of us as she can,” she muttered.

  Davri smirked in agreement but began another Song.

  By the time the evening meal had been served, Miren’s back ached as much as it had when she’d helped row the boat across the Sea. Her knees were bruised and stung with splinters, and her hands felt dry like paper. She staggered upstairs and would have missed the meal entirely if Hana hadn’t brought up a tray.

  Just as the sky was growing dark and everyone had begun to worry, Cale and Arten stomped into the room, lookin
g sweaty.

  Hana jumped to her feet. “There you are!” She kissed her husband.

  Ori leaped up and waved his arms until his father rubbed his head and Cale threw him over his shoulder.

  “What took you?” Liviya said.

  “Long workday,” Arten said. “They were getting ready for some inspection or other.”

  “Inspection? Who?” Hana asked.

  “Amos Steel.” Cale snatched a roll from the tray and bit into it. “We’re employed.”

  “The first place we went to hired us without much issue,” Arten said. “Even though we have no factory experience. Apparently they always need workers.”

  “Factory work is almost as difficult as farming,” Cale said, but he looked delighted about it.

  “And they pay pretty well,” Arten said.

  Miren glanced at Davri, remembering their earlier conversation. They had only been in Peladah for a day, and the family was already growing roots.

  Arten took a seat on the bed. “We heard something today. The factory foreman mentioned that Amos Steel has a contract with the military. A work program for prisoners of war.” He glanced at Miren. “Singers.”

  Miren stared. It took her a moment to understand. “Singers? They have Singers working for them?”

  “Prisoners of war. At least that’s what he thought. We tried to ask more questions, but one of us”—Arten glanced at Cale—“was a little obvious.”

  Cale groaned through a mouthful of bread.

  “Where is Amos Steel?” Miren asked.

  “South end,” Arten said. “It’s on a plateau at the very edge of the city. You can see it from the street.”

  Hana’s gaze traveled between Arten and Miren and Liviya. Arten stared at his mother, who crossed her arms. Davri looked ready to jump from his seat. They all seemed convinced, but Miren wondered what the odds were that Kesia would be in the first city they came to, or the first place they thought to look.

  Could Kesia really be so close?

  Surely it was too convenient, too improbable.

  So why was her heart racing?

  Liviya uncrossed her arms. “What do you say, Miren?”

  Her voice just above a whisper, Miren answered, “Let’s take a look at this Amos Steel.”