by Kerstin Hall
“Who is she?” I repeated.
He made a sound of frustration. “Lariel and Millie, they were—they broke up years ago.”
Of all the answers I had expected, this one had not occurred to me.
“And yes, she was involved with the Resistance. Was.” Daje buried his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders. “Even by our standards, Lariel was an extremist. We cut our ties when she started talking about culling Oblates and uninitiated daughters.”
I breathed in sharply. “She suggested killing children?”
“You asked, El.” My reaction must have annoyed him, because Daje scowled. “What did you expect the Resistance would be like? People are justified in hating the Sisterhood. And, in all honesty? You’re not someone who should be talking about child murder.”
A wave of cold swept across my skin. I grew very still.
“What did you say?” I asked.
Something about my expression made him swallow. He glanced toward the street, aware that we were alone here. That it was dark.
“I’m sorry; that was low of me,” he said hurriedly. “Look, if you ever gave birth to a boy, I know you wouldn’t give him up willingly. Please forget I ever said anything.”
He had been talking about the Order’s practices. I breathed out slowly. My skin crawled; I realised my fists were clenched tight, and I relaxed them. Forget he had said anything? Even if it hadn’t been meant as a personal slight, the remark made it abundantly clear what Daje thought of my kind.
“Sacor?” I said stiffly.
He looked relieved, if a little guilty.
“Lariel’s rhetoric only swayed a couple of people before we asked her to leave.” He shifted uncomfortably. “That was a few months ago. She’s since formed her own movement, although sometimes she still tries to recruit from our numbers. It’s just talk, but people like Finn don’t take kindly to suggestions of assaulting Sisters.”
That explained the bruises, then. I tried to keep Finn out of my mind. “So Sacor could betray you to the Order, if she wanted to?”
“Sure, but why would she? If she sells us out, we’d only return the favour.”
“Do you know if she was behind the murders?”
“What?”
“The murders of Zenza Lenard and Ilva Bosch. The two dead Sisters.”
“You think Lariel did that?”
“Based on what you’ve told me, it seems likely. If she was happy to threaten children—”
But Daje was shaking his head. “She was just a lot of talk, El. I know the Order would love to pin this on the Resistance, but that’s not how any of us operate.”
“But say it was her,” I insisted. “You wouldn’t be able to tell Enforcement without putting your lives on the line. Right?”
“Well, yes. But—”
“A week ago, I was attacked by civilians working for Reverends on the Council of Representatives,” I interrupted. “Tonight, one of those Councilwomen mentioned the name Sacor.”
He looked winded. “Why would Lariel ever work with the Order?”
“I don’t know. Money?” I waved away the matter. “You said that people hate the Order. Is it so much of a stretch to believe that this woman would take a paid opportunity to murder us?”
“Yes, actually. The way those women were cut up? It’s too vicious. I’ve known Lariel since we were kids.”
“Kids grow up. Come on, at least concede that it’s a possibility.” I ground my teeth. “I mean, don’t you see? She’s safe. The Reverends would have promised her their protection. So long as they hold power, Lariel Sacor can betray you with impunity.”
He still looked unconvinced. “There could be many Sacors in the city.”
“You’re the one who kicked this woman out of your organisation in the first place!” My temper flared. “Finn only confessed because the Councilwomen threatened to go after Millie. Because they knew she was in the Resistance. Who else would have told them?”
Daje’s face fell. “Is that why Finn said that he killed those Sisters? Does Millie know?”
“Not yet, but she’ll figure it out soon enough.”
Daje rubbed his forehead, grimacing. I knew how he felt. I could only imagine how Millie would react when she learned that Finn had tried to sacrifice himself for her sake.
“Sacor is responsible,” I pressed on. “And if I’m right, that means there are people in the Order who know your name. And Millie’s. That’s why we have to resolve this quickly. These women can crush you whenever it suits them—whenever you cease to be a useful scapegoat for their crimes.”
“They have no proof.”
“Did that matter when they tried Finn? You’ll dance to their tune, and the truth won’t matter one bit. The Resistance is dead.”
He bristled. “It’s not dead until we are.”
“Yes, pretty words.” I made a savage gesture. “I’m sure that will inspire your people, but I want Millie to remain alive.”
“Then what do you propose?” He was also losing patience. “If you have everything all worked out?”
I could hear swift footsteps approaching, Enforcement boots on stone. Relief surged through me, and I smiled.
“A compromise,” I said.
Asan appeared at the mouth of the alley. The Commander looked worn, and sported a livid bruise just below her left cheekbone. At the sight of her, Daje went rigid.
“Raughn?” Asan’s eyes travelled between us, and narrowed in suspicion. “I’m glad you’re not dead. Want to explain what this is about, before I haul you off to a safehouse?”
I gestured respect. “Good evening, Commander. I heard you were arrested.”
She shrugged. “Correct. It’s been kind of a shit day. Talk quickly.”
“El?” said Daje in a strangled voice.
“Not the best day for me either,” I replied evenly. “Commander, this is Daje Carsel. In exchange for your protection, he is going to tell you everything he knows about the people who murdered Zenza Lenard and Ilva Bosch. Daje, this is the Commander General of Enforcement, Councilwoman Saskia Asan. Although I suspect you already knew that.”
Daje was backing away toward Lavais Street, shaking his head. I brought him up short with a rope of lace.
“You have similar goals,” I said. “You might not necessarily see eye-to-eye—”
“You’re a real piece of shit, El,” snarled Daje.
“But I think working together would serve both your interests.”
Asan eyed Daje like a cat stalking a bird. “Mr. Carsel knows the people who were hired to carry out the killings?”
“Yes,” I said. “Catch them, tie them back to the Council, you’ll have all the evidence you need to take down Celane. Once the truth comes out, the rest of the Sisterhood will turn on her.”
“I doubt it will be quite that simple. And in exchange, Mr. Carsel wants…”
“Amnesty from prosecution on treason charges. For himself and his associates.”
“Treason?” said Asan.
“I am not helping the Order,” said Daje angrily. “Go jump off the Edge.”
“You each have something that the other desperately needs,” I went on with greater urgency. “It doesn’t have to be a close partnership, but at least consider it. When I asked for this meeting, I didn’t even realise all the ways that you could help one another.”
“Get to the point, Raughn,” said Asan.
“The Order needs to reach out.” I was speaking too quickly, but I had to make them understand. “There need to be conversations now, or else we’re risking a whole city of hungry, angry people turning on us.”
“You’re making the generous assumption”—Asan gestured toward Daje, who was glaring at me with seething resentment—“that your insurrectionists want to talk.”
“It’s going to take some trust. But it can be done. It needs to be done, before things fall apart.”
Asan sighed. “What kind of treason are we talking?”
“Sedit
ion.”
“So, the ‘Resistance,’ then.” She grimaced. I could see her weighing up matters in her head, her eyes raised in thought. After a moment, she nodded.
“All right,” she said. “My protection, provided no violence was involved. And only if I receive his full cooperation in finding the killers.”
I turned to Daje eagerly. “Well?”
He remained tight-lipped and silent. His eyes were stony.
My hope wavered. Had I miscalculated so badly? I had thought that, even if he was angry, Daje would see sense. What did you expect the Resistance would be like? Like Finn, or Millie, or even like Daje himself, although I realised now that I scarcely knew him at all. Before tonight, I had thought the Resistance might hate the Order in an abstract way—that even if they opposed our methods, they might still recognise Sisters as ordinary women. Might see that we had the least choice, the least room to breathe.
Maybe, if I was truly honest, I had thought that citizens should actually feel a little more grateful for the fact we protected Aytrium at the cost of our own lives. That I endured my role, that I fulfilled my duties, so that people like Daje could play at being heroes and tell themselves stories about how righteous and honourable they were in comparison. Brave scions of rebellion. The glorious lost people, reclaiming their birthright. A pity that their fantasies were built upon the bones of every martyr who had ever served Aytrium.
I released the lace binding him.
“If you want to disappear, start running,” I said. My voice was toneless. “I can hold off the Commander long enough to give you a head start. But when the Order finds you, I want you to remember that I warned you, and I gave you a way out, and that you made this choice anyway.”
“It’s not a choice!” he burst out, throwing up his hands. “You never asked me whether I wanted this until it was too late to escape.”
“It’s as much of a choice as I’ve ever had.” I pointed at Lavais Street. “You get to decide whether to run, or work with us. And no, I haven’t placed you in any new danger; ever since Sacor sold you out, you’ve been standing within the Order’s line of sight. The fact you were unaware of the danger doesn’t make it any less real.”
“Cooperate or die, is that how it is?”
“Two women were murdered in cold blood, and you might know the person responsible. Where is their justice, Daje?”
He glared at me, and it looked like he was going to argue more. I returned his stare without flinching. If this was what he wanted, I would make him own it.
He took a deep breath and shook his head.
“What do you want from me?” he asked Asan.
The Commander had been observing the argument, a thoughtful look on her face. She tilted her head to the side.
“Come to the Detainment Offices in an hour,” she said. “I’ll need a proper statement, but first I have to take care of Raughn.”
He nodded. “Fine.”
“Daje?” I said.
He looked at me.
“Thank you,” I said.
His mouth twisted downwards, displeased.
“I know you mean well, El,” he said. “But I’m still not on your side. This is for Millie’s sake.”
As much as I could hope for, I supposed. Daje turned and quickly walked away, disappearing onto Lavais Street. I had done what I could; at the very least, Millie would be safer than before. There was no sense in feeling guilty.
“Well played, Raughn,” murmured Asan.
“If he actually shows up in an hour’s time to make the statement.”
“I think he will. But we’ll see.” She rubbed her jaw and glanced at me sidelong. “Osan told me what happened after my arrest.”
I lowered my eyes. “About Finn?”
“I’m sorry that I failed to protect him. Deeply, deeply sorry.” She bowed her head. “The responsibility was mine. This might not bring you much comfort, but in light of the fact that he confessed, Deselle Somme managed to convince the Council that he should be drugged before the execution. He would have been unconscious.”
I shut my eyes for a moment. The flames flickered behind my eyelids.
“I know you tried,” I said. “And you were not responsible; he confessed. What else could you have done?”
“I promise to get him out of the Renewal Wards at least.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
Asan frowned. “Even if he’s already infected, we can still spare him that experience.”
I knelt and opened my bag. “I have something for you.”
“Unless, of course…” She groaned when I lifted out one of the jars. “Oh fuck, you’ve already done it, haven’t you?”
The lump of flesh inside the glass glistened wetly. I had cut Verje’s heart into four pieces, consumed one, and placed the others into separate jars.
“What did you do?” Asan demanded. She raked her hands through her hair. “How did you get hold of that?”
“I broke into the Martyrium.” I held out the jar to her. “Reverend Verje caught me, there was a fight, she lost.”
“That’s Belia Verje?”
I nodded.
“Fuck.”
“I didn’t plan it this way.”
“Of course you didn’t, but there’s still a dead Councilwoman lying in the Martyrium.” She rubbed her temples. “Is that what happened to your arm?”
“Verje cut me.” Bile rose in my throat, the taste of iron and salt. “And she … ate. In front of me.”
Asan looked repulsed.
“Eater,” she muttered.
“They’re getting more desperate,” I hurried on. “If you bring witnesses against Celane, I don’t think she will go down quietly. But with more lace, you can level the scales.”
She scowled. “I’ve suffered gorge sickness once this month, and I’m not eager to repeat the experience. Let’s just go to the safehouse. We can discuss this later.”
I dropped my eyes, and shook my head slightly.
“What now?” she snapped.
I set the jar down on the flagstones at my feet.
“Take it or leave it,” I said. “I’m not coming with you.”
“Oh yes you are.” Asan squared her shoulders. “What, you think I’ll risk Celane tracking you down? Verje proved how far these women are willing to go for the Renewer’s power.”
“I know.” I gestured regret. Gratitude. “But there are things I have to do, and I can’t allow Celane or her associates to stop me.”
“And if I try to stop you?”
“I hope that you won’t.”
Asan was silent for a moment. I readied my lace. Just in case.
“This is stupid,” she said at last.
“Probably.”
“But you are sure?”
I nodded.
“Rhyanon’s going to kill me,” she muttered. The tension went out of her, and she sighed. “Fine. Go. But don’t you dare let them catch you.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
THE EMERGENCY MUSTER sounded as I reached the edge of Major West. The bells clanged, ringing out over the sleeping city.
Had someone found Verje or the Acolyte? Or had the Sister at the Renewal Wards escaped from the cleansing chamber? Either way, the Order would be rushing to fortify Ceyrun’s defences. I kept my head down as I hurried along Swallow Road. That might make matters more difficult for me. I shouldn’t have spent so long talking to Asan.
The windows of the old house were dark. Dried-out weeds poked through the steps leading up to the front door, and mounds of sand marked where termites had started to burrow. The property looked deserted, and the sight of it caused a flicker of worry to stir inside my chest. I had assumed that no one would think to look for us here, not even Osan—it seemed like a safer location to regroup than Millie’s or Finn’s place. On the other hand, it was a long way from the Renewal Wards. Plenty of opportunities for them to run into trouble.
I glanced down the street in both directions, then quickly walked
up to the door. But before I could try the handle, it swung open. Millie put a finger to her lips and ushered me inside.
The faint smell of lye lingered in the entrance, as if the house itself exhaled it. I blinked, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness. Millie shut the door behind me, and the key ground in the rusted lock.
“You took so long; I was worried,” she whispered. “Where were you?”
“I was talking to Commander Asan. Told her about Verje.”
“Eater, El, that seems awfully risky. She’s still the Head of Enforcement.”
“I didn’t mention your involvement,” I said, trying to keep the bite out of my voice. Daje’s words were all too fresh in my mind; I was oversensitive, trying to come to grips with Millie’s association to the woman who had murdered my supervisor. I would not be bitter; I would not hold it against her. And yet the faint voice at the back of my mind would not shut up either. What had existed between her and Lariel Sacor? For years, I had taken it for granted that Millie cared about me. That, in some way, our relationship was special. Its own category. Sure, she had other women in her life—she had Hanna—and occasionally I would get jealous and stupid when I saw them together, but it was fine. If Millie didn’t desire me, that was okay, because what we had still mattered.
But Sacor? Sacor was not Hanna; this was different. If Millie could be with someone who murdered Sisters, if she could overlook that, then … Then what else didn’t I know about her?
“Asan can be trusted,” I said, a little too forcefully. “Besides, it’s done now. Did you have any problems getting here?”
She shook her head. “No, we were fine. Come through to the basement, Finn’s already down there.”
The walls in the passage were bare, and the panelling stained with old mould. Millie had tried renting out the building, but the place had a bad reputation in the neighbourhood, and none of the tenants stuck around for long. People said it was haunted, that old man Vidar still lingered here and his dogs continued to whimper in the cellar at night. Which was a lot of nonsense, but even so it was strange how unhappiness seemed to cling to the building like a second skin. One set of stairs led up to the bedrooms on the second floor, a second down to the basement. From below, I could see a faint orange light.